Sanguinius immediately took note of the Hyperborean delegation the moment they entered the room. His sharp, golden eyes narrowed in the slightest, scanning each figure carefully. It didn't take long for him to recognize something unusual, something remarkable.
They were enhanced – physically, at least – on par with an Astartes, or close enough that the tiny differences no longer mattered.
The first thing that struck him was their height. The shortest among them stood at least seven feet tall, towering over most humans. Their physical build was impressive, too. Each of them had the broad shoulders and powerful musculature characteristic of his Space Marines. Yet, they were not as bulky, possessing a leaner, more graceful frame. These were civilians, not warriors, and their bodies reflected a balance of strength and elegance rather than the hardened bulk of soldiers trained for war. One of them, in fact, was clearly more fond of food than his fellows.
It was startling to Sanguinius. Civilians, with no formal military training or inclination for combat, displayed a physical prowess – or the potential for it - almost indistinguishable from the members of the Legionnes Astartes. They moved with fluidity, their steps measured, their posture straight – inhuman movements, but otherwise graceful and beautiful. But there was something else about them – something more human.
Their eyes lacked the cold, battle-worn hardness of his sons, and their faces carried none of the scars that came with centuries of warfare. They were vibrant, alive with intelligence and curiosity, and their features, while enhanced, were still unmistakably those of ordinary men and women.
Interesting, Sanguinius thought, his mind racing through the possibilities. Were these Hyperboreans born like this? Or were they genetically altered in some way? And if so, how?
His thoughts immediately turned to his brother, Argall. If these people had been enhanced, it was almost certain that Argall had played a role in the process. But how had he managed it? Unlike other civilizations that tampered with human biology, there were no visible signs of deformities or mutations among the Hyperboreans. No elongated limbs or unnatural growths. No twisted features or signs of psychic instability. Instead, they were a picture of genetic perfection – an ideal form of humanity. Or, at least, Sanguinius' ideal form of what humans were supposed to be.
Strong, powerful, imposing, but beautiful.
Sanguinius marveled at them. If Argall had indeed perfected a method of genetic enhancement that produced such flawless results, it could be invaluable. His thoughts turned, as they often did, to his own legion. The Blood Angels were suffering, plagued by a ravenous thirst for blood, a genetic flaw that haunted their ranks and threatened to undo them, something he'd hidden from the knowledge of all other legions, kept secret from even his brothers. If Argall's techniques could be studied, understood, and applied, it might be possible to cure his sons of their affliction.
The thought filled Sanguinius with a quiet hope. He'd long since struggled to find a cure, a means of fixing his sons, to hide the shame of his Gene-seed and to cure it forever.
But the questions remained. If these Hyperboreans were simply born like this, what would happen if they were further enhanced with Astartes augmentations? Would they become even more powerful? And if they had already been altered, how had Argall achieved such a transformation without the usual complications when not even the Emperor and his greatest Geneticists were unable to do so? Did he uncover some awesome device from before the Age of Strife?
The longer Sanguinius observed the delegation, the more fascinated he became. Their very existence raised so many questions – questions that could hold the key to unlocking the future of humanity. But before he could dive into the answers, there was a pressing matter at hand: how to approach this delicate moment.
For now, he would observe, listen, and learn.
There was no telling what genetic secrets his brother, Argall, might have uncovered, but Sanguinius knew one thing for certain: these Hyperboreans were not to be underestimated. They were more than just citizens of an advanced civilization. They represented something far greater – something that could potentially change the course of everything. That was, of course, assuming these delicate negotiations went well and that Argall and his Hyperborean Collective would somehow agree to peacefully integrate into the Imperium.
Fulgrim would be better suited for this, Sanguinius thought to himself. Fulgrim always excelled at diplomacy. Horus too.
Their silver tongues could likely charm the Hyperborean leadership, ease their concerns, and broker peace. But here, Sanguinius had to tread carefully, relying on his own diplomacy skills to navigate this unprecedented situation.
The key would be to agree with most of what the Hyperboreans asked for—within reason. The only thing that truly mattered to the Imperium, after all, was Argall himself. A brother, a fellow Primarch. That was the primary concern. In the Imperium's eyes, Primarchs always mattered more than the worlds they ruled. That was the standard. But here, that norm no longer applied. These Hyperboreans were no ordinary humans. They were far above the baseline of humanity, and that fact alone shifted everything.
Sanguinius couldn't ignore what he had seen. The idea of an entire population of baseline humans enhanced to the level of Astartes was almost inconceivable, yet here they stood. An entire world of people who, by their very nature, rivaled his Space Marines in physical strength and stature. The possibilities this raised were as extraordinary as they were terrifying. The thought of superhuman legions of Imperial soldiers, drawn from the Hyperborean homeworld, crossed his mind. A single baseline human soldier, equal in ability to an Astartes... The idea was both amazing and horrifying.
It was precisely this – Argall's people, not just Argall himself – that made this situation so critical. A Primarch was valuable, undeniably. But an entire civilization of humans with the potential to rival Astartes? That was a game-changer. Argall's homeworld, wherever it lay, was not something that could be ignored or taken lightly. The Imperium would have to handle this delicately.
Sanguinius knew that meant he was negotiating from a position of weakness. The Hyperboreans wanted peace, but convincing them to join the Imperium? That was going to be far more difficult. They maintained a democratic government, a stark contrast to the Imperium's autocratic rule. It was clear that their values and ideals did not align with the Imperium's rigid hierarchy. The challenge, therefore, was to somehow talk them into joining without alienating them completely.
There was, of course, the worst-case scenario – an all-out war. Sanguinius could already imagine how it would unfold. The Hyperboreans, with their technological advancements and superhuman population, would put up a fierce fight. But the Imperium, with its overwhelming numbers and logistical superiority, would eventually crush them. It was not a matter of if, but of when. The Hyperboreans' little empire would be flattened beneath the boots of Imperial soldiers, just as so many other civilizations had fallen before them.
But it would be a costly war. Sanguinius knew that. The Hyperboreans would inflict heavy damage, perhaps enough to cripple the Imperium for a thousand years to come. In an all-out conflict, hundreds of thousands of Astartes could fall and entire legions would be devastated. Billions of Imperial soldiers would die in the meat-grinder of war. It would be a bloodbath like no other. And yet, despite the heavy losses, the outcome was inevitable. The Imperium would win. It always did.
But victory at such a price wasn't something Sanguinius wanted to contemplate.
That wasn't the outcome anyone desired. No, the real challenge lay in preventing that war from ever happening. Convincing the Hyperboreans to join peacefully, to find common ground, was the only way to avoid the unimaginable destruction that would follow otherwise.
Sanguinius steeled himself. The weight of this negotiation bore heavily on him, but he would not falter. He had to find a way to make this work, to bring Argall and his people into the fold of the Imperium without losing what made them so unique, so valuable. He had to succeed – for his brother, for his legion, and for the future of humanity itself.
Those were the thoughts that flickered through Sanguinius' mind as he sat down across the Hyperborean Delegates. They hadn't sent their full council. There were a lot more of them from the brief peek he'd taken of them during that ceasefire exchange, but there were only six delegates – four councilors, an elderly woman in some kind of hover-device, and Argall himself. He didn't recognize the old human. She hadn't been with the council, but she was clearly a figure of great importance among the Hyperboreans, important enough to be sent as a delegate. Unlike the rest of them, however, the elderly woman clearly was just... normal. Or, perhaps, she was simply so old that her natural physical gifts had withered away into nothing, leaving behind a sharp and clear mind in a decrepit body. Sanguinius couldn't imagine such a fate.
"As you may know, I am Thanil, a councilor of the Hyperborean Supreme Council," Thanil introduced himself first. This one, Sanguinius mused, liked speaking and was passionate about it. Thanil then stepped back and held out his hand towards the other delegates, likely to introduce them. "And these are my fellow councilors; Councilor Valorum, Councilor Shar, and Councilor Thingol. And these are our honored delegates; Grand Regent, High Chancellor, and Lord Protector Argall and his sister Syreen, Keeper of Ancient Knowledge and the last of Elders."
Sanguinius turned to the old woman. Sister. She must've been a part of the family who found and raised Argall. That was nice. Sanguinius almost smiled. Only a few of his brothers had the privilege and the blessing to be found by a loving and caring family. And, from the way Argall looked upon the elderly woman, he had been loved and cared for. It also meant that the Hyperborean Homeworld probably wouldn't be classified as a Death World. Syreen, Argall's sister, was known as a Keeper of Ancient Knowledge and the last of the Elders, titles were attributed to her old age, which made Sanguinius wonder just how old she truly was, which also brought him back to his earlier question of whether or not the Hyperboreans were born as they were now or if they were enhanced. If it was the former, then Syreen had to be many hundreds if not thousands of years old. If it was the latter, then she may simply have been one of the few to refuse augmentation, which was an odd choice, but nothing Sanguinius had never seen before.
Sanguinius smiled. As agreed, there were no armed guards around them. The meeting itself was held on one of the nearby asteroids, broadcasted to every ship in every fleet for all to witness. Sanguinius had briefly contemplated bringing Dorn and Rus along, but ultimately decided against it; neither of them were any good at diplomacy. The irony being that Dorn was actually a worse choice, compared to Rus, who was also bad at it. So, it was just him. A few of his captains advised against him coming alone, but Sanguinius saw no need for an honor guard. The Hyperboreans sued for peace when they could've continued fighting, there was no reason to believe they'd try anything funny.
He locked eyes with Argall for a moment.
And, in that brief passage of time, Sanguinius caught a glimpse of... something that may yet come to pass.
Argall standing tall, eyes glowing a baleful emerald green. Around him marched legions of skeletal machines, each of them bearing the same eyes as Argall himself. There were humans too, Hyperboreans... but... they were... changed, merged with living machines to create misshapen pariahs. A deathless army. Standing by Argall's side was a King, young, but ancient, bones of metal and green fire. And thousands upon thousands of worlds falling and burning as they marched.
Sanguinius blinked. What did that even mean?
"And I am Sanguinius," He introduced himself again for the sake of formalities. "Primarch of the Blood Angels and son of the Emperor of Mankind. Shall we begin our negotiations?"
Thanil smiled. "We shall."
Before they could even begin, however, alarms began blaring. Sanguinius's eyes widened as another fleet entered the system. Oh no - not now!
The World Eaters were here.
AN: Chapter 51 is out on (Pat)reon!