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Chapter 102: Everyone Has Their Little Secrets
🕑 Added 2025-08-21 15:21:18 +0000 UTCChapter 102: Everyone Has Their Little Secrets
"Please, be seated, everyone."
As the shadows cast by the gothic arches engulfed the tactical table, the sound of ceramite greaves striking the stone floor announced that everyone had taken their seats. Only then did Romulus choose to sit, his companions following suit. The remaining warriors took their seats in order of rank, the process orderly and disciplined.
The elders, who had entered their new bodies through Ramesses's ritual, were solemn, their eyes holding a depth of age that could not be faked. They sat beside the various Chapter leaders, yet it was as if the modern commanders were their guardians.
Beside the Nemesis Chapter Master sat Drakus, leader of the Invictarus Suzerain. His posture was ramrod straight, his cobalt-blue armor inscribed with the glorious heraldry of the Great Crusade era—details he had asked Romulus to help him restore after the battle, providing Romulus with a wealth of information about that time. He was a legend of that age, second-in-command of the ever-victorious army. Although the transmigrators knew little of his story, due to the sheer number of famous Ultramarines, his steady presence was incredibly reassuring.
The other elders were all forebears of the various successor Chapters' original companies. And since all the Chapters present were Second Founding successors, there was a high degree of compatibility, saving the transmigrators the trouble of explaining things one by one. It seemed the Emperor had put some thought into the allocation of His "Stormcast."
And when their gazes shifted to the Imperial Fist who had assisted Romulus in the defensive battle...
Barabas Dantioch, former Warsmith of the Iron Warriors. During the Horus Heresy, at the Schadvermund Forgeworld, he had, with only a few dozen Iron Warriors and mortal troops, held off an assault by tens of thousands from the traitor legions, annihilating thousands of his former brothers and a Nurgle-corrupted Emperor-class Titan in the process. He had later traveled to the Five Hundred Worlds seeking aid, and in the process, had discovered the Pharos beacon, a device that could replace the function of the Astronomican. He had cracked the ancient technology in a short time, lit the beacon, and laid the foundation for the meeting of the three... ahem, the five... ahem, the three Primarchs on Macragge.
To be honest, looking at this Warsmith, who was of a similar height to the other Space Marines, the melancholy Romulus felt for the fallen was somewhat alleviated. He knew that Dantioch, a veteran of the Horus Heresy, not from the Adeptus Mechanicus, and a formidable warrior in his own right, was an excellent choice to supplement the transmigrators' own research capabilities.
But still...
A feeling of sheer absurdity spread through the transmigrators' minds. They could feel the Emperor's wicked sense of humor. All the others had been placed in bodies with their own Chapter's gene-seed. Emperor, what was the meaning of putting an Iron Warrior into the body of an Imperial Fist?
Romulus's mouth twitched, a hint of helplessness in his eyes. He looked up at the vaulted ceiling. The statue of the Emperor in the shadows seemed to be looking down on them, a faint, almost imperceptible smile on its lips.
What in the hell did Ramesses pump into the Emperor?
"..."
The commanders present all patiently watched Romulus, who seemed to be deep in thought. Their gazes were calm, as if they were awaiting some important revelation. Even the most esteemed High Marshal Helbrecht showed no sign of impatience. He sat at the other end of the long table, his hands folded on his lap, his golden pauldrons gleaming coldly in the dim light, his deep eyes fixed on Romulus.
These battle-hardened warriors showed little emotional reaction to the brutal sacrifices. In this galaxy, death and sacrifice had long since become the norm. From the moment of their birth, brutal combat and endless sacrifice had been their constant companions. After several hundred years, the hearts of these warriors had been forged as hard as iron. They felt only a numb acceptance of death itself. All they sought was the day they could give their lives for the Emperor—only that was a supreme honor.
At the beginning of the war, everyone had thought the cost would be far greater. The Carcharodons had even been prepared to be wiped out. Yet Romulus, with his astonishing command talent, had led their forces until the arrival of reinforcements, and the main force had not suffered significant losses. This outcome had exceeded everyone's expectations.
After the campaign, when they reviewed the entire battle, they truly realized the extraordinary nature of this commander. His tactical deployments were precise and bold, every move as if it had been forged a thousand times. If it had been them, the final outcome would have likely been to consolidate their forces and defend the Mechanicus Temple, awaiting the judgment of fate. But Romulus, in a near-miraculous fashion, had turned the tide of the war.
Drakus tilted his head slightly, a look of reminiscence in his eyes as he thought of Romulus's performance on the battlefield. His fingers tapped lightly on the table, a low, rhythmic sound, as if in silent approval of the commander.
Dantioch, meanwhile, remained expressionless. He sat beside Pedro Kantor, the First Captain of the Crimson Fists—the Chapter left behind by his old friend Polux. A flicker of thought passed through his eyes. As the one who had directly taken over the defensive command, he knew better than anyone just how absurd this strange elder's information processing capabilities were.
Romulus remained silent, his fingers unconsciously tracing the patterns on the tactical table, his brow slightly furrowed, as if weighing something. The servo-skull at his side dutifully recorded his strategies.
"The Astra Militarum will rest and refit in place. The Church will be responsible for coordinating the post-war recovery efforts. Pay attention to identifying individuals with psychic potential. The Dawnlight will be absorbing such personnel in the future. Here is the detailed procedure."
As the servo-skull spat out a detailed document, Romulus handed it to the representatives of the Ecclesiarchy and the Astra Militarum. "Yes, my Lord." The representatives of the mortals quickly accepted their orders and departed.
Romulus then turned to the Archmagos, who had remained silent. Even in just a proxy-body sent to the surface, Romulus could feel an inner joy radiating from him.
"Archmagos, have your calculations been completed?"
Now it was time for the rewards. The transmigrators already knew that Cawl's research was complete. Not long ago, the Primaris Space Marine technology Ramesses had acquired through his Warp-channels had been updated.
"Of course. My payment will be delivered in full. This includes the various Chapters that came to our aid; I will provide appropriate compensation for all of them. The Adeptus Mechanicus will take full control of this planet. The Pierdra Hive will be converted into an eco-preserve, to serve as a Shrine World for the worship of the Imperial Cult."
His words echoed in the air. The warriors present accepted the lists he provided, a clear picture painted within them, their eyes filled with their own thoughts and expectations.
Cawl had come to this planet for one reason only: to complete the two tasks given to him by the Omnissiah and a Primarch.
First, to improve the Space Marine surgery, to make the Space Marines a more adaptable fighting force for the future galactic battlefield.
Second, to develop the technology to resurrect a Primarch. The Ultramarines' Primarch, Guilliman, had foreseen his own death ten thousand years ago. For the future of the galaxy, he had ordered Cawl to prepare a method to resurrect him after he had fallen.
At first, Cawl had thought this would be no difficult task. He had already obtained the mysterious device, the "Sangprimus Portum," which contained the genetic material of all twenty-one Primarchs. With a Primarch's backing, it would be easy for him to modify the surgeries. Then he could calmly research the resurrection technology.
However, unexpectedly, not long after Guilliman had given him this task, he had been mortally wounded in a duel with the Daemon Primarch Fulgrim. So much so that the Third Founding of the Astartes had to be presided over by the Imperial Fists' Primarch, Rogal Dorn.
But no matter. The Imperium still had other Primarchs. The wise Primarchs would surely see the benefits Cawl's research would bring to the Imperium. All he had to do was convince them.
Then Dorn vanished. Corvus Corax, Lord of the Raven Guard, vanished. The Khan, pursuing the Drukhari into the Webway, vanished. Leman Russ, the Wolf King, vanished. Vulkan, Lord of the Salamanders, after a brief return during the War of the Beast, vanished.
The age of the Primarchs was over.
This had led to the current situation, where Cawl had a considerable number of Primaris Space Marines, and had, over the long ages, used his imagination to create a significant amount of supporting equipment for them, but could not reveal any of it to the current Imperium.
Because he had already stockpiled a hundred thousand Primaris Space Marines on Mars alone.
With a Primarch's backing, it was an offering of a hundred thousand Space Marines for the future. Without a Primarch's backing, it was hiding a hundred thousand troops in the Imperial capital. If it were exposed, it would likely start an Imperial civil war no less devastating than the Horus Heresy.
Cawl could only continue to perfect the Space Marine surgeries, increase his stock of Primaris Marines, and try to create the "Armor of Fate," which could heal a Primarch's wounds. And now, Cawl had seen hope. The planetary computer on Pierdra had allowed him to perfect the flaws in the Primaris surgery, and the Armor of Fate was nearing completion, requiring only minor adjustments.
All he lacked now was one thing: a mysterious power from the Empyrean that could assist him in resurrecting Guilliman. This was beyond Cawl's field of research. Both his omens and the calculations of the planetary computer told him that he needed to wait for an opportunity.
Cawl looked at the four ancient warriors, who were bathed in the bright light of the Omnissiah. The operating speed of his data-terminals even increased slightly. Before then, he had to use every bit of the production capacity he had accumulated over ten thousand years to pave the way for the Imperium's future.
No one knew just how wealthy the Archmagos, who had lived for ten thousand years, truly was.
"..."
Aglaia looked at her own reward. The Archmagos was very generous, directly assigning an escort fleet to her Inquisitorial fleet. They tacitly did not mention the issue of the planetary computer on this planet. The biggest impression this journey had left on her was to not try and interfere in matters that were clearly not for you to handle.
And a hundred years of a Forge World's production capacity... even if she had not contributed much to this process and could probably only take a small portion, that small portion was enough to greatly elevate her status within her Ordo.
"The Ordo Originatus thanks you for your compensation. We will do our best to repay you in kind." Although her Inquisitorial identity was screaming at her every moment to just launch the cyclonic torpedoes and blow this planet up, and her desire for knowledge was urging her to try and use her authority to threaten the Archmagos into using this machine to calculate the past and the future... a strong desire for self-preservation was telling her to just ask these elders if she had any problems, and to not meddle in things she shouldn't.
Recalling the garden world villa she had just paid off, Aglaia, having narrowly escaped death, felt it was necessary for her to live long enough to move in.
"As it should be." The Archmagos nodded, his assessment of Aglaia rising a few more points. Such self-aware humans were a rare commodity in the Inquisition. That's right. There is no secret that cannot be covered up with a little quid pro quo. It's all for the Imperium, for humanity.
With the Inquisitor leading the way, the rest of them said nothing. No one was going to take this hot potato.
Then, the group discussed the delivery of the compensation and the plans, all tacitly avoiding the little secret of this planet.
Karna watched these people with a smile. At times like these, you could almost see a glimmer of human flexibility.
"We will take our leave." The process of exchanging benefits was quickly concluded in the efficient wrangling of the various parties. The Archmagos and the Inquisitor then rose to depart, leaving the council chamber entirely to the Astartes.
"My Lords, what are your plans for the future?" Helbrecht was the first to ask.
"We do not intend to be integrated into any one Chapter." Romulus knew what the sons of Dorn were thinking. They were definitely going to establish their own, independent force. The transmigrators were still obsessed with their "Fourth Reich."
"Yes, my Lord." Visibly, a deep disappointment appeared on the faces of the Astartes.
"Then, my Lord, during your journey to Terra to apply for the establishment of your force, I hope you will accept the Black Templars as your escort," Helbrecht continued. He knew the dirty tricks of the High Lords and certain Chapters. Without the protection of a powerful faction, these elders would never come out of Terra once they went in.
"There is no rush for that matter."
Since Pierdra had now gathered the majority of the Black Templars, as well as the main forces of several other major Chapters and the Adeptus Mechanicus, although Romulus did want to do some farming, he had to make use of this gathered force to do something.
He opened his interface and displayed the information they had collected on the Hive Fleet to everyone.
"After this period of combat, you should all have a sufficient understanding of this type of xenos."
Everyone nodded grimly. The ability of these xenos to convert biomass was on an absurd level, and their adaptability to their enemies was extremely high. Fighting these opponents was like fighting a unified consciousness that had been divided into countless swarms. If not for the elders' precise understanding of these enemies' weaknesses, and the powerful fleet that had directly destroyed their mothership, this campaign would have dragged on for much longer, even with the help of reinforcements.
"According to the information we possess, this type of xenos from beyond the galaxy is currently invading the galaxy from various directions. The fleet we encountered is only a very minor splinter."
Relying on his superhuman brain's precise recall of his past life's memories, Romulus marked the attack routes of the various Tyranid hive fleets.
"My Lord, why are the attack routes of these xenos concentrated in the galactic southeast?" Aelon Laseus asked nervously, noticing that Ultramar was almost completely surrounded by the tendrils. The Nemesis Chapter was born from the Destroyer Company of the Ultramarines' 22nd Company, which was mostly composed of Terran-born Astartes. Although Guilliman did not like exterminatus weapons, he believed the existence of this company was a necessary evil. Although the company itself was severely isolated within the Legion, the Primarch still valued them greatly. Even after being separated for ten thousand years, they still worried about the safety of their gene-sire.
"The Hive Fleets are constantly optimizing their own genes in the process of devouring life, in order to create even more powerful combat bioforms," Romulus hinted with a strange tone. "What else in this universe is a pinnacle masterpiece of genetic engineering?"
CRASH!
Before anyone could answer, the sealed doors of the council chamber were suddenly blasted open. Cawl's body reappeared, the blue light of a teleportation beacon still lingering at his side. He strode back to his position, his demeanor unusually serious, as if the meeting had only just begun.
"Please continue, Lord Romulus."
(End of Chapter)
