On the second planet of the Wheel of Fire system, Nareth made a combat drop straight into the largest battlefield.
The moment he leapt out of the drop pod, he saw two Warbosses of the Death Skull clan fix their eyes on him.
The smaller one, about the size of a Primarch, carried a blue mechanical backpack and wielded a twin-linked dakka.
The larger Ork was a Mek Boss, a towering green brute with a hammer and wrench mounted in a cross on an upright iron pole jutting from his back, spinning like a windmill. He also carried pliers and other tools slung behind him.
In his hands he held a custom-built twin-linked mega-dakka, connected by cables and gauges to an ammo-box on his back, decorated with teeth trophies.
Behind the Mekboy Boss, about a hundred meters back, twenty-five walking machines stomped forward on piston-driven legs, Killa Kans.
Nareth recognized them instantly. Unlike Dreadnoughts, these weren't piloted by Orks, but by Grots.
These Grots had undergone crude and brutal surgeries, permanently fused into the machines. Unlike the reluctant interment of Astartes into sarcophagi, Grots, at the bottom of Ork society, fought, murdered, and schemed savagely for the "honor" of being crammed into these tin cans.
From the two Death Skull bosses' eyes, Nareth could see their greed. Their gaze clung to his black armor and the power fist sheathing his left hand.
"WAAAGH!"
Both roared and charged, firing their dakka in wild excitement.
The Mek Boss's twin-linked gun shook violently as it spat a storm of fire, sparks bursting everywhere.
The mobs of Orks behind him looked on in jealous awe.
The storm of bullets slammed into Nareth's black armor, only to ricochet off the iron-hued scale plates.
The Orks froze, dumbfounded. How could the black-armored runt's armor not be shredded?
Nareth strode forward, stooping to grab a metal plate from the ground. He crushed it easily.
The "Briber's" arm swung, hurling shards with superhuman force.
The fragments arced high over the bosses' heads before plunging down, stabbing into green flesh.
"Bribe-Charm"
A dozen Orks' eyes turned red. They raised their guns, and opened fire on their own kin.
The Death skull Orks fell into chaos, their scavenger instinct for wreckage ignited. They turned on each other with savage abandon.
Nareth thought to himself:
'The Bribe-Charm has a stronger effect on Death Skulls than on any other clan.'
Drawing his power sword, he barked orders to his Honor Guard:
"Priority, kill the Mekboyz!"
They understood instantly. They'd studied the dossiers Nareth had given them.
Death Skulls relied on vast numbers of scavenger Grots, all directed by Mekboyz. In Deathskull society, Mekboyz held high status. They scavenged wreckage, cobbled it into weapons, kept the ramshackle arsenal running. Eliminate them, and the whole warband's effectiveness plummeted.
The Honor Guard raised bolters and unleashed a brutal salvo.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
Mekboyz were torn apart in explosions of gore. Their deaths only sent the scavenger Grots into greater frenzy, attacking allies and enemies alike over scraps of wreckage.
Amid the chaos, Nareth dashed forward at speed, closing on the two bosses.
The Mekboy Boss turned and ran, shouting:
"Kanz!!"
Nineteen Killa Kans rushed in, their long-barreled shootas roaring.
DAKKA-DAKKA-DAKKA!
A storm of rounds engulfed the battlefield. Two Honor Guard were cut down, their visors shattered.
The smaller Warboss didn't run. Roaring, he leveled his twin-linked dakka:
"My gun'll punch through yer armor!!"
He heard the mad howls of Gork and Mork, green mist flooding his mind. The bullets he fired sparked against the black armor, this time, gouging chunks of the iron-scaled plating away.
Nareth's rage surged. The "War Mask" clamped down, channeling his fury into strength. His speed doubled, tripled. In a blink, he was upon the Warboss.
The Sword Vaul flared blue-white, cutting the Ork into pieces. Nareth's stride didn't falter, he charged the Kans.
He leapt, severing one in a single stroke. Landing, three more surrounded him, buzzing saws and clanking claws tearing in.
The Mekboy Boss paused mid-flight. Seeing the black-armored giant surrounded, he stopped fleeing and charged back.
Nareth twisted, his wrist snapping into an impossible angle. The Sword Vaul lashed out in a savage reverse cut, an "Otsber-Vaya" Ninth Form strike.
The blade sheared through all three Kans at once.
The Mekboy Boss froze, wide-eyed. That impossible swordplay, the shrimp had slaughtered them in an instant!
He turned to flee again, muttering to himself:
'All me best stuff got nicked by Soriano… But when I build bigger, better dakka and more WAAAGH, I'll kill ya, and take all your shinies for meself!'
He jumped into a trukk, kicking the driver out, and gunned it in panic.
But looking back, he saw every Kan had fallen.
The black-armored giant hefted a chunk of wreckage, and hurled it.
BOOM!
The trukk exploded, tumbling through the air.
The Mekboy Boss crawled free, only to find Nareth standing over him.
One thrust ended it.
The Primarch tore the glowing wrench, hammer, and pliers from the Mek Boss's back, alchemical materials shining with eldritch light.
The battle raged for thirteen solar days. Deathskulls died as much to infighting as to the Shadow of Order.
When the Eleventh Legion's servitors cleansed the surface with flamers, Nareth received a message from the Master of Vox.
The Ninth Chapter had arrived. The Third would follow in two days.
He ordered his Honor Guard and the two Chapters to continue the purge. Then he returned to the Throne of Shadow's Sovereignity
In his office, he received a report from Thomas. Nareth drummed his fingers on the chair.
"The Eleventh Legion has established the post of Librarian, but not a full organization."
"I will form a Librarius, to oversee all Legion psykers."
"I want you to relinquish your command of the Chapter, and become Chief Librarian. Do you accept?"
Thomas did not hesitate.
"Father, I accept."
He knew this was no mere position. The Librarius would become vital. Unlike a Chapter Master, the Chief Librarian would oversee the whole Legion's psykers, and stand closest to the Primarch.
Slipping seamlessly into the new role, Thomas asked:
"Father, how should the Librarius be structured?"
"Like the Techmarines and Apothecaries, they answer to you, but also support every Chapter."
Nareth recalled how future Chapters organized their Librarians. He outlined it:
"Three ranks beneath you. From lowest to highest: Lexicanum, Codicier, and Epistolary."
"Lexicanum, new psykers. They draft combat reports, submitting them for review."
"Codiciers evaluate these reports, finalize them, and provide strategic insight."
"Epistolaries serve as senior battlefield communicators, able to project thought through the Immaterium across shorter ranges, coordinating combat."
"They are distinct from the Legion's Astropaths, who handle interstellar messages. Epistolaries direct tactical war-psionic communication."
Thomas bowed. "Father, I will carry out your will."
"And beyond psykers, I will also assign select members of the Court who lack commands to serve within the Librarius."
The new Chief Librarian pondered the deeper meaning in his Father's words.
...
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