Forge World Xana II. At every Forge-Temple, at exactly twelve hours, twelve minutes, and twelve seconds, the great bells of the Omnissiah rang out in unison.
The reverberating chimes proclaimed their emergence from the shame of desecration by the xenos.
At Forge-Temple Prime, Nareth walked towards the Archmagos Intendant, flanked by Magi who carried incense on either side.
Behind him followed the Primarch's Aide, six Chapter Masters, and Anacharis Scoria, along with Arkhas Fal, Librarian Balsar Kurthuri, and Captain Nerat Kirine.
Though still only a Tech-Priest, Anacharis Scoria was vastly different from before.
His damaged cybernetic eye had been replaced with a meticulously crafted black crystal.
The eight mechandrites behind him swayed. His level of sanctification surpassed that of most Magi, even Archmagi, drawing the attention of many.
Anacharis's cybernetic eye swept across the assembled Magi. Through the surging code in his noosphere, he felt the earth-shaking changes within himself.
He knew everything he had gained was bestowed by Lord Nareth.
Each of the mechandrites behind him, each weapon, required vast resources to acquire.
Anacharis looked towards the Chief Magos of the Legio Cybernetica. He possessed only four limbs. Anacharis had twice that number, and each of his weapons was no less powerful.
Photon cannon, gravity cannons...
According to his original plan, only after inheriting Archmagos Edi's assets could he have commanded the resources he now possessed. But Lord Nareth had granted them to him directly.
Anacharis's logic engines, once again, unexpectedly generated a word, Luck.
This term, once foreign to him, existed in his vocabulary but had always been rejected, was becoming increasingly familiar.
Anacharis also knew that had he not been valued by the Primarch, even with his level of sanctification far exceeding others, he would not have qualified to participate in today's ceremony.
Participating in the ritual at Forge-Temple Prime required prestige and a commensurate status.
'Prestige, status, resources...'
'In truth, I have already begun to possess them. Two Tech-Priests, fifty-two promising acolytes, three forge complexes...'
Anacharis gazed up at the black-armored giant before him. With Primarch's favor, he would soon possess everything.
As Anacharis pondered, the melodious bells subsided.
The Omnissiah's scepter in the hands of Xana's Archmagos Intendant blazed with sacred lightning. The code in the noosphere calmed in an instant.
"Lord Nareth, Liberator of Xana, Primarch of the Shadows of Order, Monarch of Vostroya, Conqueror of Xenos..."
"You have purified the defiling xenos and returned Xana to the embrace of the Omnissiah."
"With the sacred authority granted to me by the Ominissiah," the Archmagos Intendant raised the scepter, "I offer you our sincere gratitude."
"My honor," Nareth smiled in return. "I will fulfill my pledge and deliver punishment upon the xenos."
"The Machine God watches over you. May the Omnissiah's holy light ever shield you," the Archmagos Intendant gripped the scepter tightly.
"Every Forge-Temple of Xana, every forge complex, every follower of the Omnissiah, will dedicate everything to the holy war of vengeance."
"Every defiling xenos shall feel the wrathful flames of the Machine God."
Xana's noosphere heard the Archmagos Intendant's declaration.
The Forge-Temples once again rang the great bells of the Omnissiah. The reopened forges thundered back to life.
After Xana's ceremonial celebration, Nareth immediately returned to the Shadow's Sovereignty.
Back in the Primarch's office, he quickly went to the Kingdom of Disorder and ordered the space simian to concoct the "Sailor" potion. He had chosen the "Tyrant" path for Arkhas.
Considering that the future Carcharodons, in non-combat situations in the void, would literally soak in water tanks, the Tyrant Pathway suited their habits well. Its furious, ferocious nature also matched the Carcharodon's method of attack.
Moments later, Arkhas arrived alone at the office.
"Lord Nareth."
"Drink this."
The corroded Arkhas took the potion, blue as seawater, from the Primarch's hand and downed it in one gulp.
He immediately felt the gurgling flow of water coursing through his body.
Nareth instructed the Arkhas, imparting the basic knowledge.
Given that Horus Lupercal commanded the Nineteenth Legion, and that when Arkhas was exiled by Corvus Corax, the Emperor had entrusted him with the relic Shrieking Void for safekeeping, Nareth also revealed the rituals of prayer directed at the Black Emperor to him.
Unlike the Dionysian Spear, forged personally by the Emperor and infused with his power, the Shrieking Void was not crafted by him and clearly lacked his power.
Two minutes later, Arkhas had reined in the overflowing power of the potion.
"Thank You, My Lord, for Your gift."
He paused, then asked hesitantly,
"My Lord, are Balsar and Nerat also subjects of Your assessment?"
"I mean, keeping them by Your side must be a way of observing them."
"Correct." Nareth nodded slightly, looking at Arkhas, waiting for him to explain.
"Balsar spoke with me yesterday. He wishes to remain by your side."
"Oh..." Nareth had not yet successfully corrupted the future first Grand Master of the Grey Knights. He had thought he would need another opportunity. He hadn't expected Balsar to have such a desire to stay.
"Why does he have this idea?"
"Balsar witnessed the immense psychic power You displayed, slaying the Titan-killing Osseivores. Among the Primarchs, only Lord Magnus can compare with You. He wishes to attend You and learn."
Nareth nodded. He would naturally not refuse Balsar's request.
"Good. Let him stay. I will personally instruct him in the use of psychic power."
A flicker of envy crossed Arkhas's eyes. "I will tell Balsar. This is his honor."
The 19th Legion's fleet then departed. Only Librarian Balsar Kurthuri remained aboard the Shadow's Sovereignty.
Nareth ordered preparations for Perturabo's arrival.
Two solar days later, the twenty-kilometer-long, iron-grey painted Gloriana-class battleship, Iron Blood, emerged from the Mandeville point.
Unlike most Gloriana-class battleships built in the shipyards of Terra, Mars, or Jupiter, the Iron Blood was constructed on Olympia and designed under Perturabo's direction.
Its most distinctive feature was the complete absence of viewports. Even the bridge lacked the long, floor-to-ceiling windows found on other Glorianas.
Perturabo believed visual contact with the enemy served no tactical purpose. Battle required only auspex scans and tactical projections for command.
The Strategium was one of the few places on the Iron Blood with windows, and these were merely narrow, lancet-shaped slits set between arched iron beams.
Perturabo's dreadlocks disengaged from the cogitator. His ice-blue eyes grew even colder.
He crushed the data-slate in his hand and casually tossed the pieces to a waiting servitor.
"Shipmaster, how long until we reach the orbital anchorage at Xana II?"
"I want an exact time."
The trident of officers exchanged glances. Before arriving at Xana, their Lord of Iron had spoken to them calmly, seemingly in a good mood.
Now he had crushed the Xana battle plan he had personally prepared. This could only mean one thing:
The Primarch was unhappy!
.....
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