" True greatness is not shown when you win a glorious battle in broad daylight, surrounded by brave comrades, but when you fight bravely alone in pitch darkness, without hope of reinforcements, knowing that you will sink nameless into oblivion, and still spit contemptuously right into the eye of the night. "
— Lion El'Jonson, Primarch of the Dark Angels
*
What began on Zervan-4 after the arrival of the Primarch was strictly classified. For the chroniclers and the entire Zervan system as a whole remained a secret, shrouded in the darkness of grave silence. The chroniclers could not help but notice that a quarter fewer soldiers returned to the planet than left there. And yet the answer was always the same:
— Nothing happened on Zervan-4.
No one dared to talk about what had happened, but it was impossible to hide the whole truth. After all, contingents of other legions were present on Zervan IV. They reported everything to their primarchs, just as the Imperial Army may not have said anything to the chroniclers, but they also reported to Terra. The common people were in the dark, but the powers of the world shuddered at the impudence of Moiran, who seemed not to understand what he was doing and was completely confident that he was doing the right thing.
I was wounded and could not participate in the final capture of the planet's heart, but even in the hospital I heard the echo of the explosion of psychic energy. The cursed sword clearly contained something very dangerous, which Moiran did not hesitate to use. And due to the awareness of the consequences, even my spine went cold. The consequences could be terrible and since I was here, Tzeentch was watching everything closely, which only darkened the possible future.
"Bastard!" I barked when the surgeon not very carefully removed another piece of crystal.
— The painkillers are already at maximum. Be patient.
How ironic, I myself was discussing the dangers of using the gifts of the warp, but in battle I also turned to the power of Tzeentch. Again. It seemed "different" to me, that unlike Moiran I would succeed. He, like any radical, probably thought the same. Only the primarch could rightfully think so, and I... I was just being a little disingenuous and hypocritical, deceiving myself first and foremost.
"Remember how you played regicide with Tyche?" asked me the surgeon, who also visited the lodge.
— Yes.
— What was the name of the debut of your second game?
"It seems… Bitch!" I cursed again, then clenched my teeth and howled.
The surgeon wanted to distract me so he could get a new piece of crystal. He did everything very carefully, but sometimes it was impossible to get the crystal without touching a nerve. In addition, he did not allow me to lose consciousness, demanding that I mobilize my resources with the help of psychic energy. The operation was actually very difficult and life-threatening. I survived only thanks to the crystal, which, although it ultimately saved me, shattered into thousands of fragments like dynamic armor.
As a result, the cumulative jet did not kill me. The Knight did get it, but they will fix him too, because the insides of most of them remained intact. Besides, the Primarch had already won a victory and right now the forces were rising back to the surface with trophies. We managed to capture warehouses, production workshops, and also adamantium. We will need to take it back and strengthen our Knight. And put bolter cannons, a couple of them, on the head.
- DAMN IT!!! - I screamed again, carried away by my thoughts and almost breaking my own shoulder when I tried to get up.
The strong belts prevented me from getting up, but I could easily hurt myself trying to break free. But one way or another, the operation continued and I was patched up very quickly. In addition, the warp forces really did increase my regeneration. And my hair was now bombastic thanks to the rainbow-colored shine. I had to dye it, though, so as not to embarrass the crew members.
I decided not to stay in the hospital and went straight to the lodge. After the appearance of the Primarch, many had much to discuss, so the meeting was called earlier than scheduled. There I found wounded comrades, as well as those who had already returned from combat missions and wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. There were fewer Space Marines now than usual, they were all near the Primarch at the moment of the final assault, but there was Tyche, whose face was now covered by a mask.
"You look better than usual," I chuckled, sitting down next to her.
"I have a mask," Tyukhe didn't get the joke right away, because like all legionnaires, including primarchs, his social skills were as poorly developed as the military were well developed.
- I didn't even notice.
"Oh, sarcasm, how could I not have understood it right away," Tyukhe replied and winked, letting me know that he wasn't offended: he didn't care about his appearance.
- Well, go ahead, comment on what happened. Rate your father's madness from zero to ten.
- Easy, young man, don't forget yourself. We may be in a lodge, we can speak frankly and openly, but respect is obligatory. You don't know Moiran as much as we do. He has done much for both the Imperium and the Legions.
— Legions?
- Yes, not only for us, but for our other brothers as well. So don't talk about him in that tone.
- Okay, it won't happen again. But still... he didn't destroy that damned sword, didn't hand it over to the right place, but kept it for himself, and also clearly used some kind of magic to melt it down into a smaller weapon. And I dare say that the metal from that blade would have been enough for many more swords.
- And where was Moiran supposed to hand him over? Take him personally to Terra?
- Oh, so you are also familiar with sarcasm and irony.
- I learn quickly from mortals and I hope that you will learn from us as well. Primarchs are on a completely different level. Moiran is capable of commanding all companies at once, giving them the most precise orders and coordinating the entire battle. He knows what he is doing and we are not able to argue with him, because we cannot see as far into the future as he can.
- And in what future can the use of cursed swords lead to anything good?
— The same one where you weren't burned for magic in Camelot, Mordred. The world is in chaos and that can't be changed. And what we can't defeat, we must lead.
- Chumba, what are you talking about? Can you hear yourself? Are you planning a mutiny? - I hissed, switching to a conspiratorial whisper, unusual for lodges.
- May your throne fall on your head, what rebellion, Mordred? Nature is the temple and workshop of humanity in equal measure. The Warp will not disappear, we must learn to live with it and make it our own tool. We must conquer it!
- What nature, Tyukhe? Are you drunk?
- What do you think warp is? It's the same natural phenomenon.
- Nature is trees, flowers...
— It is because of such narrow thinking that there is a gap between us called "misunderstanding."
- Racism, I smelled racism.
"We are of the same race, Mordred," Tyche sighed, then leaned his chin wearily on his outstretched fist. "It's all complicated. You are right in some ways, of course, but I believe that Moiran knows what he is doing. He is not mad and is extremely strong. He has more willpower than any of the other primarchs.
"Maybe so," I said conciliatorily, realizing that our argument had only escalated to raised voices thanks to Tyukhe's calm and composure. "Ultimately, it's not for me to talk about this."
- Another game of regicide? You're getting better and better.
- I also memorized twenty-three openings, which will save us time at the beginning of the game. It must have been incredibly boring for you to wait for me to come up with the right move myself.
— To see development is one of the delights of mortal life.
Tyche was an amazing Space Marine and truly very different from all the others. And sometimes it really seemed to me that this was not a mistake at all. After all, by creating the Primarchs, the Emperor created tools for himself. Each had to play their part and solve their task, while doing it perfectly. So maybe Moiran and his sons were supposed to serve as an example of humanity?
The Astartes were not the next step of evolution, they were created to fight for the good of Mankind. However, with such power, it was easy to forget about this, turning into simple killers for whom violence and war must continue forever. I liked my theory, although I myself saw some inconsistencies in it.
However, as soon as we had set up our pieces on the board, the roar of the landing shuttles' engines eclipsed everything. As if in a furious attack, the ships were rushing towards the ground, and then the Dark Angels forces began to land.
- What's going on? - Tyukhe immediately tried to jump up, but was unable to do so because of his still unhealed wounds. - The cleanup of this area is complete, as well as the main forces in general should be withdrawn.
But there was no need to look for the answers, for they were menacingly approaching us on their own. Towering above the other warriors of the First Legion, Lion El'Jonson, Son of the Forest and Angel of Death of Caliban, walked in front. As soon as he took his first step in life, the Lion was already forced to fight and struggle, from birth fate mercilessly threw him into the fire of trials, but time after time the primarch survived, like a primeval predator, gnawing out his right to exist.
Caliban, his homeland, was a death world, covered in forests full of dangerous predators that tormented people stuck in the feudal era. Was it any wonder that Leo grew up uncompromising and merciless? He was used to the fact that mistakes had to be paid for with blood and life, which meant that mistakes were not allowed.
He had no need for glory, no desire for approval, and certainly no question of his own fate. The Lion had never been a talkative man, but anyone who thought him ignorant and had nothing to say was a fool. In his brooding silence, he heard everything, watching every action of his subordinates and enemies alike like a predator. Anyone who was close to him, even behind him, knew that they were being watched, that the Primarch was already making a plan, and that even for his most loyal brother, a scenario of extermination had been thought out.
Extermination, perhaps if the Emperor created each Primarch with a specific purpose, then it was Lion El'Jonson who was supposed to exterminate. Without regret, like an alpha predator, to destroy everyone who even looked askance at Humanity. This made him one of the most effective Primarchs and it is not surprising that the entire war against Rangda rested on the shoulders of the Lion, who did incomparably more than all the others, completely devoting himself to the cause and sparing neither enemies nor his own sons.
And what was the Lion's anger when news of what had happened on Zervan IV reached him. His own brother, the one on whom the Emperor had placed his hopes and who was supposed to serve Mankind, had taken the cursed weapon into his own hands, and even incited his own sons to do the same. Even Magnus was not so self-confident and stupid, although at times it seemed that the Crimson King was close to his final mistake.
The Lion almost gave the order hastily, for the Eleventh Legion had been troublesome before. But Moiran was still his brother and a servant of the Emperor, who would also learn of what had happened. But today the Lion had come in person to demand an explanation and, if the worst came to the worst, to bring Moiran to justice by force. The Emperor had made it clear to all that the warp was dangerous, but even without that, what kind of fool would one have to be to think oneself capable of going against such a powerful force?!
Against the background of this meeting, the lodges, like all other rumors, faded into obscurity.
"Where is Moiran?!" Leo roared, bursting straight into the field camp where the wounded were resting and the lodge meeting was taking place, his hand already on his sword.
All the Dark Angels were also already ready for battle, menacingly looking through their visors at those who were suspected of violating the Emperor's decrees. It is also worth noting that the war with Rangda had seriously affected everyone. Endless and extremely brutal battles with huge losses forced everyone to be in constant tension. Even the Space Marines were tired of the constant meat grinders, and many could not see the light in the darkness. Everything was only getting worse and worse, and such disturbing news came from the Eleventh Legion.
Many were actually willing to believe that there were traitors among the Astartes. After all, it had happened to the Imperial Army and other people, and Moiran's Legion had always been different. Through stupidity or a simple mistake... it didn't matter, they could screw up and put everyone at risk.
And what was his surprise when at the meeting he saw not just people and space marines communicating in a brotherly manner, but unsanctioned psykers, within whom the presence of destructive forces could also be felt.
"Someone else is going somewhere, and I'm going to get…" I was about to get up to retreat, but I was immediately stopped by the unbearably heavy hand of the Dark Angel, who was also holding Tyukhe at gunpoint with his bolter.
Immediately after this, the Lion received a message on the vox-transmitter and immediately put on his helmet, after which he turned. His fighters quickly took up positions, and the sounds of engines were heard in the air. The Lion came not only with a landing force, but also took with him all sorts of equipment, also raising the Imperial Army with him, and isolated the doubters from the forces of the Eleventh Legion.
There were not many Fatemasters themselves, and after such a difficult battle, many joined the list of the wounded and dead. So, without much difficulty, the Lion imposed his rules and was already preparing to meet Moiran, who was walking straight towards him.
"My brother!" came Moiran's voice, accompanied by barely two hundred Space Marines, some of whom needed both ammunition and the help of the Apothecaries. "What is happening?! Why are my brothers and daughters in your captivity?!"
Moiran called even mere mortals brothers and sisters, it did not hurt his pride, rather the opposite, it was an honor for him to fight side by side with those who, without genetic modifications, steadfastly endured all the horrors of the darkness of war. And even the fact that Lev acted so aggressively did not cause offense or complaint to appear in Moiran's voice. He wanted to understand what had happened and did not add fuel to the fire of the already enraged Lev.
- You have crossed all conceivable and inconceivable boundaries, Moiran! This is too much even for you! - Lev's voice sounded from the helmet's speakers. - Look at what you have taken in your hands! What have you signed those whom you call sons, brothers and sisters to!
"A serious accusation, brother. Especially for someone who does not show his eyes," Moiran retorted, stopping ten meters from the Lion, sensing that the Dark Angels' Terminators were already ready to open fire. "I have nothing to hide, order your sons to lower their weapons, let the wounded rest. We can talk in private."
- Alone?! You contradict yourself, Moiran! If you have nothing to hide, then we can settle everything here! Throw down your weapon, surrender, and we will hold a trial.
- A trial? Do you really think you have the right to judge me, brother? We are all equal, only the Emperor has such a will. Do you really act according to his will? Where is Constantin Valdor then, or am I blind and do not see the brave Custodes, the messengers of His Will?
- Don't play these games with me, Moiran! You know perfectly well why I do this! Surrender, if you still have any common sense left!
Moiran slowly threw his cursed sword over his shoulder and put on his helmet with his left hand, after which he said:
"With this weapon I have saved the lives of millions of soldiers today. With this power my sons have crushed the enemy and were able to capture the enemy's war industry without damaging it. I have acted for the good of the Great Crusade and I demand that the wounded receive medical care and those who have distinguished themselves receive rewards. Withdraw the men, Leo, you are doing wrong."
Many were surprised at this moment by Moiran's decisiveness, who often preferred to avoid conflict with the allies. However, in fairness it should also be said that the allies had never pointed weapons at him and his sons. Moiran could turn a blind eye to many things, but not to a direct threat to his legacy.
Although even after all this there was still a chance to resolve everything peacefully, to reach a compromise. However, the Lion seemed not to want a compromise. He knew that the Eleventh Legion and Moiran would have submitted after the wounded were treated. And Moiran would not have opposed even the delivery to Terra, however... like all primarchs, the Lion had his downsides, and his incredible, truly leonine pride was one of them.
He did not want a peaceful outcome, he wanted to put his brother in his place publicly, so that it would be a lesson to everyone else. No one dared to break the Emperor's covenants, no one. However, Leo did not want to attack first, understanding that this was still wrong. After all, the Emperor himself made everyone equal. So there was only one thing left, a provocation, a blow to the most painful spot of the legion and Moiran.
- You and your legion are one big mistake. Just like that mutated bitch. The shame of the Imperium, people like you were killed on my world out of mercy for their parents. And I can only admire the mercy of our Father.
That moment before the storm was incredibly calm, and for a full second it seemed as if the words had broken against Moiran's willpower armor. But it was only an illusion, which in an instant was replaced by a furious fight between two primarchs.
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