"So..." Rogal Dorn began, his deep, measured voice breaking the stunned silence that had fallen over the gathered Primarchs. The shock in his tone was rare, a stark contrast to his usual stoicism, but understandable given the circumstances. The revelation they had just been given changed everything. "They're led by a brother of ours."
The other Primarchs, standing around the massive hololithic map of the star system, wore similar expressions of surprise. Sanguinius knew the feeling all too well; it had been his own reaction when he had first set eyes on Argall. The Grand Regent of the Hyperborean Collective. High Chancellor. Protector.
A Primarch.
One of them.
How long had it been since any of them discovered another of their scattered siblings, lost in the galaxy like pieces of a shattered puzzle? The recognition had sent a surge of emotions through him, equal parts joy and dread, for this revelation complicated everything.
Sanguinius nodded slowly, his expression calm but his mind racing. The implications of this were vast.
"I've confirmed it with my own eyes," he said, turning to address his brothers. "Grand Regent Argall, or High Chancellor, as they call him, is definitely one of us. A Primarch. He did as most of us have done – conquered his world, united its people, and became its defender. The only difference is that Argall has stepped down from power. He no longer rules his empire directly. Instead, he acts as a protector, letting his people govern themselves."
Leman Russ, the Wolf King, barked out a sudden laugh, the sound booming in the chamber.
"Aye! Only a brother of ours could give us such a damned headache!" He slapped Dorn's pauldron with a grin, but Dorn didn't return the enthusiasm, his granite features remaining set in their customary frown. Sanguinius knew that beneath that stern facade, Dorn was calculating, always planning ahead. He would have already considered the strategic advantages and potential pitfalls of this situation.
Dorn's eyes, sharp and analytical, flicked to Sanguinius.
"This brother of ours," Dorn began, his voice deliberate, "makes use of artificial intelligence to direct his fleets. I observed it firsthand."
His tone was as calm as ever, but the statement carried weight. The Imperium had long ago declared artificial intelligence to be heretical, dangerous, and abominable. The Legio Cybernetica used machine-controlled war robots, but those were bound by stringent laws, governed by the Mechanicum's strictures. True, unshackled AI, however, was something else entirely.
Sanguinius nodded in acknowledgment. He had noticed it too. Argall's fleets operated with an efficiency and precision that seemed beyond mere human command, almost unnaturally so. This would be a contentious issue. Dorn's mention of it was a sign of the deeper concerns brewing beneath his calm exterior. None of them had ever encountered the Men of Iron before, but the stories told of them were enough to paint a rather vivid picture, alongside their father's memories of what had transpired in the Cybernetic War and the horrors wrought by the living machines.
Russ, always quick to react, narrowed his eyes but didn't laugh this time.
"I noticed as well," he said, his usual jovial tone subdued. "Argall will learn the dangers of abominable intelligence soon enough, once he sees what it's wrought elsewhere. But for now..."
He shrugged, a grimace crossing his face. "Leniency is needed. If we go in preaching purity and righteousness, or the abhorrence of abominable intelligence, we'll alienate him. We can't afford that, not when he's built an empire that rivals most of our own. We need him, not as an enemy, but as an ally. No war is worth losing a brother."
Sanguinius couldn't help but smile at the Wolf King's uncharacteristically diplomatic stance. It was a rare moment, but it spoke volumes. Leman Russ knew the stakes. They all did. This wasn't just about another system to be brought into the Imperium's fold. This was about one of their own, a Primarch, and that changed everything.
Dorn, ever the strategist, nodded thoughtfully. "His empire is highly advanced. I've seen enough of their technology to know they've achieved things we haven't even imagined yet. But what could we possibly offer him? A ceasefire is the first and most obvious concession, but that alone won't be enough."
Sanguinius and Russ both nodded in agreement. None of them wanted to wage war against a brother, and a ceasefire was a given. But Argall's people had attacked the World Eaters, Angron's legion, an act that could not be easily ignored, regardless of Angron's notorious unreliability when it came to reporting the truth. The attack had sparked this conflict, and now they stood on the edge of a war that no one wanted. But more than that, they now stood on the edge of something far more delicate – the chance to bring another lost brother into the fold.
Sanguinius let his mind drift over the possibilities. What could they offer Argall? His empire was technologically superior, socially progressive, and he had built it on principles so foreign to the Imperium's rigid structure that a direct integration seemed impossible without conflict. Democracy, the rule of the people, was antithetical to everything the Imperium stood for. And yet, here was a Primarch who had chosen that path, and it had worked. Trying to force anything would only lead to tragedy, something that was easily avoided with a little bit of diplomacy.
"We could offer prolonged negotiations," Sanguinius said finally, breaking the silence. His brothers looked at him curiously. "It would give both sides time to observe and learn from each other. Democracies are slow to act, but they can be influenced. If we give Argall's people time, they might begin to see the value of the Imperium, even if it takes longer than usual. We've absorbed other systems with unique forms of government before. It can be done. They just need to understand what we offer."
Dorn's eyes gleamed with thought.
"It will be difficult," he said slowly, "but not impossible. And Argall... if we can convince him to see the Imperium as a force for good, to stand beside us as a Primarch of the Emperor... it would be worth every concession we make. He would be a powerful ally."
Russ grunted in agreement, though his face showed more skepticism. "Aye, but what about Angron? He'll want revenge for the attack on his legion, no matter how justified it was. And what of the abominable intelligence? The Mechanicum won't stand for it."
Sanguinius sighed. These were real concerns, but they had to be addressed delicately.
"Angron can be dealt with," he said firmly. "We just need to tell father to keep them away from each other. If we bring Argall into the fold, we can negotiate restitution. As for the Mechanicum, we'll have to tread carefully. But brothers, this is about more than just one system or one war. This is about family. We've never had to fight a brother, and I don't intend to start now."
The room fell silent again, each Primarch deep in thought. The challenge before them was monumental. Argall was no ordinary warlord, no petty ruler clinging to power. He was a Primarch, like them, but he had chosen a path so different from the one laid out by the Emperor. It would take all of their cunning, patience, and unity to bring him into the Imperium's embrace. And so it became doubly fortunate that Angron was not here to ruin everything.
And yet, Sanguinius knew, deep in his heart, that this was a battle worth fighting. Not with swords or bolters, but with words and wisdom. Because the reward for success was not just another system or another victory. It was the return of a lost brother and that was worth more than any planet. Sanguinius smiled. "We should send a message to the Second Legion. Their Primarch has been found. Argall's sons will want to meet their father. Who knows? Seeing them for himself might just be the means through which we may bring this brother of ours into the fold."
Chancellor Thanil had not been there when Angron descended upon the Old Republic like a storm of blood and iron. In truth, he had been there, but far too young to remember any of it. The devastation, the massacre of his people by the World Eaters, the sight of titanic war machines and howling berserkers tearing through the cities of his ancestors – these were not his memories. They were stories. Stories told around the fire, whispered in the shadows of a recovering world, etched into the collective memory of his people. He had grown up on those stories, haunted by them even as a child, and the deep-seated hatred his people harbored for the Imperium was as much a part of his upbringing as the air he breathed.
And yet, Thanil was different.
While the Old Republic had been devastated and its people marked forever by Angron's brutal invasion, Thanil himself had spent much of his formative years not among the Republic's veterans and survivors, but with the Hyperboreans. These people, once isolated and fiercely independent, had risen to greatness under the guidance of the Grand Regent, Argall. They were advanced, peaceful, and united in a way that the Old Republic had not been. The Hyperboreans abhorred the concept of war – not out of weakness, but out of a deep-seated belief in the value of human life. Their technology was advanced, their society progressive, and their culture infused with a profound respect for reason and dialogue. Where the Imperium glorified conquest and power, the Hyperboreans celebrated wisdom, diplomacy, and the art of peaceful resolution.
At least, among humans. Their view on aliens was on the entirely opposite spectrum, with Hyperborean Doctrine being extermination upon first contact, but that was another matter entirely.
It was among these people that Thanil had spent much of his youth, learning their history, their triumphs, and their defeats. More importantly, he had learned of their greatest leader, the enigmatic and legendary figure known as Argall – a man who had chosen to relinquish the mantle of ruler and act solely as a protector. The Hyperboreans revered him, not as a conqueror or a king, but as a guardian, a father figure who had nurtured their civilization without imposing his will upon it.
For years, he had lived among them, studied their philosophy, and come to believe in their way of life. He had seen firsthand how a society could flourish without the iron hand of oppression or the constant drumbeat of war. He had seen how peace, rather than war, could elevate humanity to heights that even the Imperium had never dreamed of.
But not everyone shared his perspective.
The Honored Lady Jadan, his political superior and mentor, had been there during Angron's invasion. She had fought in the bloody streets, seen her loved ones butchered, and witnessed the horrors that the World Eaters had unleashed upon their people. For her, the Imperium was not a distant, abstract entity – it was a living nightmare. The name "Imperium" was a synonym for tyranny, bloodshed, and destruction. Lady Jadan had seen the very worst of it, and her deep-seated distrust of the Imperium was woven into her very being. She stood among and represented the old ones, the honored elders who were responsible for saving what little was left of their republic and sailing out into the void.
Thanil understood her stance. How could he not? She had lived through the horrors that he had only heard about. She had felt the fear, the anger, the helplessness of watching her world burn under the heel of Angron's legion. For Jadan, no amount of diplomacy or negotiation could wash away the blood that had been spilled. Her scars, both physical and emotional, ran too deep. To her, the Imperium was irredeemable, and the thought of any kind of peace with them was anathema.
And yet, something had to change. His people, despite their strength and resilience, had been living in the shadow of that war for too long. The hatred they harbored was not just a burden, but a chain that held them back, a shackle that prevented them from moving forward into a future that did not revolve around fear of the Imperium. The Hyperboreans had shown him that humanity could achieve so much more when it let go of its past and embraced a future built on cooperation rather than conflict.
It was these very same thoughts that passed through Thanil's mind as he reached out his hand to a very tall, blonde, armored, winged man with a presence that was almost as overwhelming as High Chancellor Argall's. Sanguinius smiled back and reached out. They shook hands. The angel smiled. "Greetings. You must be Councilor Thanil. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. And, on behalf of the Imperium and all its subjects, I offer my sincerest apologies to any damages you may have incurred on our behalf."
"And, on behalf of the Hyperborean Collective, we offer you our apologies."
And, in that moment, Thanil allowed himself to dream that peace might not just be a dream.
AN: Chapter 50 is out on (Pat)reon!