Chapter 1 A New Master of War

Chapter 1.1 The Death of a Son

Malcador hobbled slowly through the steel passageway onto the bridge of the Vengeful Spirit, command vessel of Horus Lupercal and his Sixteenth Legion, the Lunar Wolves. His movements were sluggish, lethargic, as if the centuries that creased his wrinkled face had finally caught up with him. He leaned heavily on his staff for support like a crutch or walking stick, with all the strength of a man who has lost hope. The vigor and determination of the old man was all but gone in this moment, and although it would return in time the sombre occasion of the event was plain in every step he took.

It had taken a tole on the Sigillite, rushing from Terra at the heart of the Imperium, all the way out to Ullanor on such short notice. But his Master had summoned him, and he had felt the urgency in his call. Something had gone wrong, terribly terribly wrong. The Master of Mankind, the Emperor, was not one to make such commands idly.

Before him the Vengeful Spirits' crew continued their duties as ordered, occasionally looking over at the old man and the other 3 giants stood in the room. The 3 Demi-Gods. The 3 Brothers.

Roboute Guilliman stood near the command seat discussing strategy and tactics, planning coordination for future engagements. It didn't matter that the Ullanor campaign was now over. It didn't matter that most of the Green Skins had been purged or driven to ground. It was something to keep him focused on the theoretical, rather than the horrid truth of the practical. His Legion, the Thirteenth, also known as the Ultramarines had been a key part of the pacification of Ullanor. Roboute had worked closely with Horus to establish the plans, the supply lines, the infrastructure of the campaign.

In the corner resting with his back against the wall stood the Khan. Jaghatai simply held back and observed, like a bird of prey waiting to strike. But there was nothing to strike here. Even the Great Khagan couldn't fight away death itself. Along with the Lunar Wolves and Ultramarines, the White Scars, also known as the Fifth Legion, had brought a ferocity to the battlefield that despite the judgement of others, had impressed Horus with his martial prowess.

And in the centre, pacing back and forth like a man in a medical facility anxiously awaiting news of a family member or trusted friend, was Sanguinius.

The one who loved Horus most of his brothers had rushed to be by the Lupercal's side. The Great Angel was one step away from abandoning his duties to the Great Crusade, forsaking his given task in order to be here, so desperate was he to be a comfort to his greatest friend and kin. He had assured Malcador however that prior to his command ship's departure from the main force, the Lord of the Blood Angels Legion, the Ninth, had left strict instructions for how his legion was to operate during his absence.

Malcador could not blame him. Horus was beloved by all, but none more than the Angel other than the Emperor himself.

As the old man entered the room all 3 of the giants turned to look at the Sigillite, expectantly. With a heavy sigh, Malcador shook his head, the folds of his hooded robe rippling like a dark pool.

Roboute looked down at the floor taking a moment of silence to reflect on the news. Jaghatai simply turned to look forward out the main screen to the planet below. Sanguinius however…

The Great Angel let out a yell of rage and anguish that echoed around the bridge. All but the giants and the old man staggered and recoiled in fear at the sound. The psychic echo of the yell reverberated through the ship with not a single man, woman or Astartes not feeling the aftershock.

Raising his fist to the ceiling, Sanguinius brought down his gauntlet to smash into the deck plating, ripping and tearing the metal floor like wood, sending sparks and shards of the wiring below scattering across the bridge. Sanguinius pounded the deck again, and again, and again as silvery tears fell from eyes in cascade of emotion that would not stop. Over and over, smashing and ripping away chunks of plating until eventual at last Malcador spoke 1 word, as softly as a grandfather to his grandchild.

"Stop."

Sanguinius obeyed, his entire body shaking with emotion. The noise of shredded metal ceased and suddenly the bridge fell into a silence far deeper than before.

Roboute approached Sanguinius and lifted him back to full stature, pulling a few small shards of metal that had gotten lodged in the Great Angel's beautiful white wings, causing small droplets of blood to gently pitter patter to the floor. Sanguinius grabbed the wrist of Roboute as he attempted to pull out another and utter quietly, "Thank you brother, I will address this. Thank you, I am alright now."

Roboute turned to Malcador, his eyes dark and stern, without a word demanding to know and understand everything that had transpired, how any of this was at all possible. Malcador drew himself up to his full height, restoring some of that dignity and presence the old man had in better times.

"My Lord did everything in his power but the wound… the wound was too severe. The weapon that caused this injury was not a thing of Ork make, nor anything that we possess, even in the forbidden vaults on Terra. He is certain, as am I, that this is a weapon of Xenos making, something we have never encountered before."

The old man took a deep breath in before continuing.

"What is more such a weapon could not simply have been used rashly. It had to hit its mark with precision, a precision that only someone with a degree of foresight could have accomplished. This was no accident or mere coincidence. Someone set out a dark and calculated plan to assassinate your brother during a moment when he was at his most vulnerable. Locked in combat with the Ork Overlord Urrlak Urg, it is believed in a moment where he guarded against his foe, a third party whom had until that time remained hidden struck Horus with this weapon whilst his attention was otherwise focused."

"Cowards..." muttered Sanguinius darkly.

"We are endeavouring to find out exactly who this might be, but there are… a number of collectives who have the motive and opportunity to interfere with your Father's plans. The means however are a different matter, to use a weapon like this would be obvious to draw attention, not just to the Emperor, my Lord, but to the entire galaxy. To use such a weapon, in such a bold and braisen fashion is nothing short of a direct declaration of conflict with the Emperor personally. They would know he would bend his will to find and punish them by any means possible, so why anyone would bring this kind of wrath down on their heads is a mystery. But be sure, it is not one that will remain a mystery for long."

Rage burned in the eyes of Sanguinius as he growled, "Once my Father finds out who is responsible I will personally remove their heads after making them suffer a thousand fold for what they did to my Brother, I swear this Malcador that my brother's killers will be punished by MY hand."

Roboute looked at his brother with concern, the ordinarily beautiful visage of the Great Angel twisted into something monstrous and almost ugly. It was unlike anything he had seen before. He had seen Sanguinius in battle, focused, even a deadly fury when combating an opponent of skill, but this was something new, something darker.

Malcador plainly saw this too as he raised his hand.

"Peace, Sanguinius, I will see to it that agents of every discipline are committed to finding out the truth of this matter. Now is not the time for more bloodshed, this is the time for acknowledging the loss. Whilst you have lost a brother, the Sixteenth have lost their father. The Lunar Wolves have lost the leader of their pack and are now struggling to establish a new normal. I personally had to help other members of Mournival to restrain Ezekyle Abaddon from beheading a member of the Justaerin who was closest to Horus when he was felled. They are hurt, Sanguinius, as much as you, maybe more. In these days you will be instrumental of putting the pieces of the Sixteenth back together. They know of how close you were to Horus and your Legions have always been mutual support. Go to them, when you have managed your own grief, and help them with theirs. Share in your suffering and together heal your hearts from this tragic affair."

Almost as quickly as the darkness had fallen on Sanguinius, it vanished once again. Once more stood the noble Angel, his face troubled with concern for those not present.

"Yes, yes of course you are right, Malcador. I have been so selfish. I should have been thinking of my brother's sons. This is the greatest tragedy that could have befallen them. They will need guidance, and whilst I am not fit to stand in my brother's place, in his absence I shall comfort them in their time of need."

Malcador shifted slightly, with a mild nod of approval masking something more. Roboute caught the gesture and glanced over at Jaghatai who was watching closely all that was transpiring. Turning back, Roboute questioned, "There is something more, isn't there Malcador? This always felt strange, our Father himself being part of this campaign. Even for an Ork horde of this strength it seemed more than just another campaign or crusade."

"You are very astute Roboute," replied Malcador, "Indeed, this was to be the Emperor's last act of the Great Crusade. It was to be the last action of My Lord in this War of Unity before he handed the duty to one to carry on in his name whilst he attended to new matters on Terra."

This caught Roboute's breath with shock.

"The Emperor is returning to Terra?"

Malcador nodded, "That was the plan, and to my knowledge this is still to be the case. Your Father had planned this to be a Grand Celebration with every Legion represented in a Triumph celebrating the accomplishments of you all thus far. It was at this time he would hand the duties off to his successor to continue the Great Crusade in his name. A new Warmaster."

Another tear dropped from Sanguinius' eyes to metal below, mixing with the small pool of blood leaking from the self inflicted wounds as he uttered a single word.

"Horus."

Malcador nodded again.

Roboute glanced again at the ever stoic Jaghatai who now came forward to join the conversation.

"If the one chosen by the Emperor to be Warmaster has fallen in battle, yet he still seeks to return to Terra on this duty so important it cannot even take the death of a son to change the tide, who now will be our new Warmaster?" asked the Great Khagan, tapping his fingers at his waist.

Malcador sighed, "That has yet to be decided."

"Horus was the best of us," murmured Sanguinius, "The only one who could command the respect of us all. Even Konrad and Angron would have heeded his call."

"Even with that future battles must be considered more carefully," said Roboute, "If weapons of this power can be deployed to the field… We will need to ensure greater security for them. We will need more security for all of us. Before it seemed that we were… forgive my words… invulnerable. None could match us when we took the field. No Primarch has ever died before. Even the lost two-"

Malcador turned sharply to Roboute and tapped his armour with his staff.

"Do not speak of the these things in this time of mourning Roboute. Enough."

Shocked into silence, Guilliman withdrew a step. Malcador retracted his staff and his stern features returned to that of the kindly old man.

"We do not need to fear such a weapon being used again. Its use required the element of surprise to be effective, that element is now lost. Further more I think it unlikely our enemy will be so bold as to make another strike, if they manage to do anything before we inevitably find them and put them to justice. I believe our enemy took the one opportunity it had to strike a blow against and to our great regret, succeeded. But whilst caution is always the watch word Roboute, rest easy knowing such weapons are rare, costly to use. We will ensure all the protections required are made so that such a tragedy does not occur again."

"I will trust your insight in this matter then," uttered Roboute in the manner of a scolded child.

At that moment the doors to the bridge opened again and a Titan of Gold emerged. He glanced briefly at his 3 sons, and then to Malcador who gave his friend a respectful nod.

"It is time."

Together, Malcador ushered the 3 along with his Lord to the view of the bridge to gaze out at the planet below. As commands were given by the Sigillite the brothers and their Father looked out to see blades of fire streak out from the thousands of arrayed warships beside the Vengeful Spirit. Flames burned in the blackness down towards the planet, as fires and explosions covered the surface of solar body. Again and again, endless payloads of ordinance were unleashed, enough to devastate the surface a hundred times over.

Whilst his brothers continued to observe the spectacle, Roboute glanced back over at the bridge readouts of the planet. Wordlessly, he read and processed the data displayed.

Either through the overwhelming firepower of the fleet, or perhaps by some Great Will of his Father or Malcador, the planetary orbital trajectory was slowly changing. Inch by inch, mile by mile the planet was being moved from its ordinary rotation into a death spiral that would see it collide with various other bodies within the system.

It would take months, years even, but the Emperor's command would see the entire Ullanor system reduced to rubble, with not a single planetary mass left intact.

In the future, the Ullanor system would be nothing but a graveyard of worlds, huge chunks of rock left orbiting a crippled dying star. It would be a reminder to every sentient being in this sector the consequences of taking the Emperor's favourite son.

A fitting end, thought Roboute, and fitting tribute to the brightest star of us all. Ullanor would forever be the memorial of Horus Lupercal, Lord of the Lunar Wolves, First Found and most beloved of the Emperor's son, and the first Fallen of brothers of the Imperium.