Chapter 199 - The Iron Hands Diplomatic Delegation
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The arrival of the First Expeditionary Fleet lit a fire under the vast majority of the Imperial defenders on Armageddon.
To fight alongside gene-primarchs, three of them no less, was the finest morale booster imaginable for loyal warriors of the Imperium.
A sentiment began spreading through the trenches and encampments:
When the Bonebreaka descended upon Armageddon once more, the primarchs would take his head.
Victory would belong to the Imperium. It was inevitable.
Yet this was the wishful thinking of ignorant mortals who knew nothing of the three primarchs' pasts. To Inquisitors versed in Imperial history, and to the two Astartes Founding Chapters who had lived through the Horus Heresy themselves, Horus and the others still required close surveillance.
Even if the God-Emperor had personally absolved them.
The Iron Hands in particular had fallen into fury the moment they heard Fulgrim was coming.
Horus, ever the diplomat, understood the feelings of the Space Wolves and the Iron Hands perfectly well. They were the sons of his brothers. He invited both Chapter Masters to attend a negotiation conference.
But on the day before the conference, an Iron Hands squad arrived at the meeting site ahead of schedule.
They identified themselves as advance representatives dispatched by Iron Father Kardan.
Horus received them warmly.
Looking upon the sons of his brother, he felt guilt rise in his chest. He thought of what Kaelen had told him, that during the period when the corruption had scrambled his mind, he had bitten Ferrus Manus on the head.
A sin. A genuine sin.
An Iron Hands company captain strode into the conference chamber with his warriors, came to attention, and saluted. Their armor was functional but worn raw from prolonged hard campaigning. Horus could barely make out the Chapter markings on the plate.
"I am deeply gratified that Chapter Master Kardan has dispatched representatives."
Horus spoke with sincerity.
"This will help both sides speak plainly and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Captain, may I know your name?"
"Tarekh of the Harmaek Clan, my lord." The warrior's voice was even and low.
Steady. But Horus caught the undercurrent beneath that steady surface, a hatred pressed down deep, still seeping through the cracks of every syllable. And underneath even that, the near-nauseating disgust Tarekh was clearly forcing himself to swallow for the sake of diplomatic courtesy.
Tarekh paused. His gaze swept the conference chamber once.
"Forgive my presumption, Lord Lupercal. Are Lord Konrad and Lord Fulgrim... not present?"
Horus noticed it. When the captain spoke Fulgrim's name, his jaw clenched once, almost beyond his control.
He also noticed that the entire squad was armed. Bolt pistols holstered, combat knives and power swords hanging from their belts, every piece of kit maintained in combat-ready condition. That kind of loadout was perfectly normal on the front lines. In a conference chamber that was supposed to be a place of peace, it was a statement.
Horus forgave them for it.
They harbored deep wariness toward him and toward the other two. That was only right.
"They still need a little time before they can reach the chamber," Horus replied, smiling. "As it happens, my equerry and First Captain have stepped out temporarily and can't see to you. If you don't mind, I'll play host myself."
He gave them that signature smile.
Tarekh said nothing. He inclined his head slightly.
His fingers curled at his side, just faintly, as though suppressing an impulse.
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"Guilliman was speaking with his warriors. But midway through the conversation, he noticed that his warrior Hill wasn't carrying a certain power sword from the Macragge's Honour."
"The primarch observed that his son had never actually appeared in person, and began questioning his warriors about the sword. Hill and the other Ultramarines said nothing. They drew their bolt pistols, aimed them at Guilliman, and pulled the triggers."
On the way to the conference chamber, Kaelen was telling Cullen and Loken about something that had happened on Macragge 10,000 years ago. Nothing better to do.
"...So how did the primarch respond? My lord."
Loken pressed the question.
He could not wrap his head around it. Ultramarines loyal to Lord Guilliman, opening fire on him.
Cullen was equally baffled. Why would Ultramarines attack their own primarch? Had they somehow discovered Guilliman's intention during the Heresy to break the Five Hundred Worlds away into an independent realm?
"Guilliman got wounded. After that, the rage took over and he stopped thinking clearly and just dealt with the assassins."
Kaelen smiled as he said it.
"They weren't Ultramarines. They were Alpha Legion."
"The 20th Legion?"
Cullen frowned on instinct.
"That Legion is as enigmatic as their primarch. Assassinating a primarch is exactly the kind of thing they would do."
"Our First Legion rooted out Alpha Legion infiltrators more than once in the past."
Loken blinked.
"I am unwilling to believe there were Alpha Legion sleeper agents within my old Legion."
Kaelen and Cullen both snorted at the same time.
"That's because their infiltrations were quiet enough that no one noticed, Captain Loken." Kaelen shook his head. "I find that sometimes you can be adorably rigid."
Loken replied flatly, "I merely believe that before confirming a fact, one ought to exhaust all possible conventional explanations first."
"But was the Alpha Legion traitor or loyalist, in the end? After being evacuated from Isstvan III, and later going through the historical records of the Heresy, I simply can't make sense of that Legion."
"Because their primarchs were unpredictable. Alpharius and his brother Omegon both joined the Cabal, a xenos-founded secret society. That explains why they helped Horus launch the rebellion, and why they crippled three Loyalist Legions at Isstvan V."
Loken and Cullen both stopped walking. Cullen's brow pulled tighter.
"Doesn't a Legion have only one gene-primarch? How can there be two?"
"One soul that split." Kaelen shrugged. "Hardly anyone would have known that secret back then. I'd wager even Malcador the Sigillite didn't know."
"As for the true Alpharius, Rogal Dorn killed him personally. If some being claiming to be Alpharius and looking like a primarch turns up alive after that, it's almost certainly Omegon."
His tone shifted. The lightness went out of it.
"Their infiltration tactics warrant our highest vigilance, especially right now. Primarchs are returning one after another. The timing is sensitive."
"It's entirely possible that some of their warbands have already thrown in with Chaos, burrowed into other Chapters, and are waiting for the right diplomatic moment to ignite a conflict between Imperial factions from the inside..."
The words had barely left his mouth when a thought knifed through Kaelen's mind.
Ice-cold. Sharp.
It shot from the base of his spine straight to the top of his skull.
He stopped dead and turned to look at Loken.
"By the way, Loken. That Iron Hands squad that went ahead to meet Horus — have they reached the conference chamber yet?"
➤ Next: Assassins of the Iron Hands
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