Chapter 101 - The Indomitus Crusade (2)
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Before departure, the four Primarch brothers visited the Golden Throne one last time to receive the teachings and warnings of their father, the Emperor of Mankind.
Old Goldie, fitted with his speech device, delivered his wisdom in fits and starts, punctuated by the occasional cryptic, off-color remark that left his sons shifting their weight in varying degrees of awkward silence.
But on certain matters, he was entirely serious. The Plague Wars, for instance. He warned Guilliman and Horus about that bloated green bastard, the Lord of Plagues, his plans, his intentions, and the relevant details on his chief general, the Plaguefather Ku'gath, and the Daemon Primarch Mortarion.
The Emperor also told them that Lion El'Jonson was soon to be awakened, and instructed them not to seek out the Lion too early. The Lion had a trial to complete.
The four brothers gave their word, then left the Imperial Palace.
Before going, though, Horus made a point of stopping at one particular hall. It was a place where countless heroes of the human Imperium were honored, their names preserved in the annals of history.
At the very center stood a small tombstone. A single name was engraved upon it.
Bram al-Khadour.
Even among the Primarchs, that name would likely draw blank stares, because it was the name Malcador the Sigillite had carried before all of this. The Emperor's loyal servant. His steward. One of the architects of the Primarchs themselves.
Guilliman, Curze, and Sanguinius followed behind Horus in silence, watching as he took the flowers he'd gathered from the palace gardens and laid them gently on the tombstone.
The Wolf Shepherd was mourning the man he had once despised most in the world.
Tears of remorse slid down his face.
There was so much he wanted to say. In the end, it all came down to two lines.
"You are our hero, Uncle."
"Goodbye."
Guilliman and the other two each stepped forward in turn to pay their respects. Sanguinius reached up and plucked one of his own feathers, then set it carefully on the stone.
When it was done, the four of them turned and walked out of the hall. The great doors swung slowly shut behind them. A breeze drifted in through the ventilation ducts. The white flowers and the single feather swayed in the current, as if the old man's lingering spirit were waving farewell to these children heading out into the dark.
Once the Regent of the Imperium returned to the fleet flagship, he stood before his Primarch brothers, his senior officers, his politicians, and his Astartes, and made his formal declaration.
"Ten thousand years ago, the Emperor of Mankind led us on the Great Crusade. Together, we drove back the ignorance of Old Night."
"Now darkness rises again. But we will not yield. Because ten thousand years later, there will be another Great Crusade."
"I, Roboute Guilliman, Regent of the Imperium, hereby declare: the Indomitus Crusade begins!"
Seven crusade fleets launched into the void. The timeline had been brutal, and Guilliman felt the anxiety of it, he hadn't managed to assemble the eighth, ninth, and tenth fleets in time.
Kaelen told him not to lose sleep over it. Leave those three fleets at the Throneworld as a reserve. They'd be needed eventually.
Guilliman turned it over and had to admit the logic held. With 4 Primarchs holding the line, even if Curze and Sanguinius weren't exactly pulling administrative weight, Horus's talent for commanding grand armies and fleets could cover the gap without breaking a sweat.
A great general can win brilliant victories with a broken army. With Horus leading a crusade fleet at full strength, the victories would be something else entirely.
Guilliman could rest easy. His brother would deliver.
Just as he had in the Great Crusade of old.
As the fleets set sail, the Imperium of Man officially entered the 42nd Millennium. This millennium would bear the name of the crusade Guilliman had launched. Human civilization and the Imperium of Man would fight on, unbowed, in a galaxy that wanted them dead.
The Era Indomitus had arrived.
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The scale of the fleet was staggering. The First Fleet alone dwarfed the legendary crusade fleet of the ancient Solar Lord Macharius.
And that was before counting the logistics. Every fleet was supported by twice its number in supply vessels, accompanied by officials from the Ecclesiarchy, the Cult Mechanicus, and the Terran government. Guilliman's plan was methodical: capture a key node world, then immediately fortify and industrialize it. Lock down the supply lines. Consolidate the territory before pushing further.
Guilliman is a tyrant. That's not really up for debate, what he did in the Terran Senate earned him that title. But he is also generous. He delegates. He finds young people with capability and potential, hands them real authority, and lets them operate freely within the broader framework.
It lit a fire under the younger faction and the reformists. Efficiency climbed sharply.
He had genuinely wanted to hand supreme military command to Horus. The Wolf Shepherd wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. Avoiding past mistakes was part of it, sure, but honestly, it was mostly selfishness.
More power meant more work. He'd already suffered through a few days of administrative duties in the Administratum, and that had been more than enough.
The Warmaster's chair could wait for the Lion when he woke up.
Sorry, Roboute. Suffer a little longer.
The Primarchs' fleet drove hard toward the Nachmund Gauntlet. With 4 Primarchs aboard, enemy forces didn't so much get fought as get processed. Chaos warbands, xenos raiders, rebels, pirates, it didn't matter. They were swept aside.
The efficiency was so high that the fleet arrived ahead of schedule, a full half-year early, just as the Defense of Baal was drawing near. They reached the Nachmund Gauntlet in the Segmentum Obscurus, the only passage connecting the Imperium Sanctus to the Imperium Nihilus.
Horus, Curze, and Sanguinius went in personally. The 3 Primarchs led several newly-founded Primaris Astartes Chapters in a surprise assault on the region's critical stronghold: Vigilus.
The planet had been overrun by Ork Greenskins and Genestealer Cults. Imperial forces on the ground were fighting both xenos factions at once, stretched thin and grinding down.
With the Primarchs and Astartes hitting the line, those enemies stopped being a problem. A small remnant of Genestealers fled into the underhive. The Orks scattered into the wastelands. The local garrison and Astartes would handle the cleanup.
Now came the moment of parting.
Horus and Curze were taking Sanguinius into the Imperium Nihilus, to reinforce the Blood Angels and their successor chapters fighting the Tyranid Hive Fleets on Baal, and to meet the awakened Lion El'Jonson.
"I will miss you, brother."
Before they left, Guilliman pulled the Great Angel into an embrace.
The blueberry hamster couldn't bear to let the great white goose go.
Sanguinius smiled and patted his brother's head with fond indulgence.
"We'll see each other again, Roboute. Don't worry."
"When the time comes, I'll come visit you with the Lion."
"Ah — that cat, though. I could do without him..."
Guilliman muttered, already picturing the Lion's cold, scowling face.
He turned to Horus and Curze and gave them each an embrace as well. Then he shook hands with Kaelen, Cullen, and Loken, and told them all to be careful.
As the farewells ended, Guilliman's crusade fleet split in two. Horus's contingent turned and headed into the Nachmund Gauntlet.
"My lord, shall we return to Macragge now?"
Guilliman watched his brother's fleet until it was gone, then turned at the voice of Second Captain Cato Sicarius.
"Yes. We need to go back to Macragge — I forgot to bring my Gloriana-class battleship when I left for Terra."
He looked at Sicarius, and something Kaelen had mentioned once surfaced in his mind. The Ultramarines had a remarkable Second Captain, one who, a century ago, had been taken by the Inquisition because of his unusually high resistance to Chaos corruption.
Commanders like that didn't come along often.
"Is there any news of Demetrian Titus?"
Sicarius blinked. "You mean Captain Titus, my lord?"
"Yes."
"He's still serving in the Deathwatch."
"Recall him. The coming war to reclaim the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar — I'll need him for that."
"Yes, my lord!"
Sicarius practically lit up as he went to handle it. Captain Titus, after all, was his idol.
➤ Next: Departing for Baal
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