‘Justice happened.’
Xaphen released a breath that wasn’t quite a sigh. Sar Fareth had been one of his own: trained by his hand to wield a crozius in Lorgar’s name.
Argel Tal crossed his arms over his armoured chest. ‘Will the Iron Warriors join us?’
The Chaplain’s smile returned. ‘Will they? Perturabo’s Legion has already abandoned the Great Crusade. I was with them on Olympia.’
That couldn’t be. ‘Olympia?’ Argel Tal managed to speak. ‘So soon?’
‘All of the primarch’s plans are coming to fruition. That, in truth, is why I returned. Olympia was in open rebellion against the Imperium, and the Iron Warriors declared war against their own people in desperation to pacify their home world. Brother, you cannot imagine the sight. The skies were black with Perturabo’s gunships and landers, while the ground shook from dawn to dusk under the wrath of half a million war machines.’
Argel Tal took a slow breath, forcing an unwilling imagination to picture Xaphen’s words. ‘A primarch has lost control of his own home world.’
‘You speak as if you never believed this day would come.’
Argel Tal said nothing, motioning for the Chaplain to continue.
‘All of it was orchestrated to the very finest degree. The Iron Warriors’ wrath was a sight to behold. They have instigated genocide against their own people. What choice do they have now? The call will come soon: Horus is already gathering his forces, cleansing them of unworthy elements. The Emperor’s Children, the Death Guard and the World Eaters are with him. The bulk of each Legion gathers in the Isstvan system, while Perturabo has betrayed the Imperium in his need for vengeance. He will stand with us when Lorgar throws off the False Emperor’s shackles.’
The fervency in his voice wasn’t new to Argel Tal, but without the presence of a Chaplain for almost a year, Xaphen’s eager passion had faded from his memory. He found his brother’s enthusiasm more unnerving than anything else.
‘When do we travel to the primarch?’
‘Soon.’ The Chaplain met his brother’s eyes. ‘I told you, I returned because the time has come. Soon, the call will come from Terra.’
Xaphen activated the wall-screen, cycling through visuals of stellar cartography. He added layer upon layer of superimposed fleet markers. Argel Tal watched the display taking shape, so beautifully complex in its completion.
‘Tell me what you see,’ Xaphen said with a smile.
Argel Tal glanced at him. ‘I see the death of my patience. I see my anger rising at how you hold all these answers purely by virtue of your position in the Chaplain brotherhood. I see me walking from this room without a straight answer given immediately.’
‘Such vim,’ the Chaplain chuckled. ‘Very well. Here is the Isstvan system. Here, far across the western spiral arm, is Terra. Take note of the compliances being carried out in the subsectors closest to Isstvan. Now, humour me. What do you see?’
Argel Tal recognised symbolising runes from four Legions – and no others. It formed a curious pattern, notable for the lack of Imperial Army or Mechanicum battlefleets, as well as the total absence of many notable Legions.
‘I see the hand of the Warmaster at work,’ said Argel Tal. ‘He has positioned certain fleets closest to him at Isstvan. These fleets could reach the system within a matter of days. Those on the outer arc will take longer, but... This is an immense gathering of force.’ Argel Tal looked at Xaphen, reluctantly drawing his eyes from the twinkling stellar ballet. ‘Now tell me why.’
‘Forgive me, brother. Little did I realise the frustration of isolation you’ve suffered in a fleet burdened by Custodes presence. Your duty was to maintain the lie, and you’ve done so to perfection. But you are owed enlightenment.’
Xaphen cancelled the cartographic imagery and continued. ‘Horus and Lorgar are already moving against the Emperor. The Warmaster has sworn devotion to the Hidden Gods, and now walks in their light. For now, the warp is pregnant with unrest, leaving much of the Imperium blind. Many of the established warp-paths are severed from each other by aetheric storms. The tumult will only grow worse, giving us enough time to enact the primarch’s will without fear of Imperial retribution. Such is the influence of the true gods. The warp itself is their canvas, and they paint to please us.’
The Master of the Serrated Sun let his scowl speak for him. He took offence to the way Xaphen insinuated they were no longer Imperial, purely for contemplating regicide. We are overthrowing a stagnant and ignorant ruling order. We are bringing enlightenment to our people, not ending the empire.
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘A call will reach us soon – a panicked plea that every astropath in the fleet will hear at once. A call from Terra. The Emperor will soon learn of Horus’s rebellion, and what choice does he have? He must order the closest Legions to destroy the Warmaster’s traitorous forces.’
Argel Tal pictured the Legion signifiers flashing closest to the sun named Isstvan.
‘Horus will be destroyed.’
The Chaplain laughed, relishing the moment. ‘He will be entrenched on an impregnable world, commanding four Legions. What could destroy him?’
‘The seven Legions tasked with doing so. Even with the Iron Warriors at our side, the other five Legions remain under the Emperor’s aegis. Six against five. Our losses will be catastrophic. How can we illuminate Terra when the Legions sworn to Lorgar and Horus are bloodied and broken?’
Xaphen didn’t answer immediately. His brother recognised something in his face – some creeping disquiet, close to the bladed edge of mistrust.
‘Do you have such little trust in your own Legion’s Chaplains, that our work has failed to turn the Night Lords, or the Alpha Legion? Lorgar has worked for half a century to spread the truth to those ears worthy of hearing it. Every Legion we need will be at our side. The loyalists will find nothing but extinction waiting for them on the surface of Isstvan V. They will never leave their dropsites alive, Argel Tal. I promise you that.’
‘This conspiracy,’ said Argel Tal, ‘disgusts me.’
‘It is the primarch’s plan, brought into being by Horus himself.’
Argel Tal shook his head. ‘No. This is not Aurelian’s work. This is Erebus and Kor Phaeron’s doing. Their treacherous stink comes off this vision in waves. Lorgar is a golden soul, a being of light. This shadowplay comes from the dreams of much smaller, darker men. The primarch, blessings upon him, loves that foul wretch. He embraces a viper to his breast and names it father.’
‘You should not speak this way of the Master of the Faith.’
‘Master of the...’ Argel Tal laughed. ‘Kor Phaeron? “Master of the Faith”? He coats himself in titles the way a killer’s knife is laced with poison. Truly, I have been isolated from the Legion too long, if Kor Phaeron is now beloved of the masses. You of all people, Xaphen – you loathed him. An impure soul. A false Astartes. Your own words, brother.’
Xaphen looked away at last, unwilling or unable to hold the gaze any longer. Nothing broke eye contact like shame. ‘Times change,’ the Chaplain said.
‘So it seems.’ Argel Tal closed his hands into fists to ease the pain in his bones. It didn’t work. His knuckles went on throbbing. ‘Just get on with it. I have a world to bring to compliance.’
‘If you please, I have questions of my own.’
‘Ask,’ said Argel Tal, ‘and I will answer.’
‘Cyrene,’ Xaphen began. ‘She has undergone more rejuvenation treatment.’
‘Do not look at me, nor should you accuse her of vanity. An astropathic order came from the primarch himself some time ago. He still holds her in high regard, and expressed his desire that she go through another cycle of treatments.’
Xaphen nodded. ‘And Aquillon?’