The next day.
After a night of rest, Emrys boarded a hovercar and headed toward the Spire of Siluria. He fought to suppress his racing heart as he prepared to keep his appointment with the Lord of Macragge, Chapter Master of the Ultramarines, the legendary master of the battlefield—Marneus Calgar.
Escape?
He had considered it. But upon seeing the hive city surrounded by the sea of blue-armored warriors bearing the "U" of the Ultramarines, he immediately abandoned the idea.
Flight was impossible. Besides, if he attended the meeting, he could still attempt to prevaricate or deflect Calgar's questions. There was at least a slim chance of survival. If he ran, he was a dead man.
As the hovercar hummed through the spires, Emrys organized his thoughts, checking for gaps in his story. The matter of the Holy Terra Auxiliary Army was manageable; he could dismiss them as "dynastic private security." Given Calgar's status, surely he wouldn't obsess over a few mortal soldiers.
What truly gave him a headache was the "Honor Guard" and the "Avengers Chapter."
The gene-seed of the Iron Warriors and Night Lords involved transactions with the Dark Mechanicum. On the surface, he had already had his family's Magos forge a legitimate lineage for these two Chapters. But whether he could hide the truth from a Chapter Master who inherited the Primarch's own political acumen was another matter entirely.
Most concerning of all was the Transformers Chapter. Those were genuine Abominable Intelligences—Iron Men.
In his original plan, Calgar should have been delayed by the warp or the ongoing conflict, arriving at Vigilus much later. That was why Emrys had felt confident enough to reveal his trump card. At most, he expected to face interrogation from Inquisitor Marshall, whom he could handle. Worst case, he would have finished his task and slipped away to the Dark Zones before the Ultramarines arrived.
Unfortunately, man proposes, and the Emperor disposes.
Calgar had arrived at the most inconvenient time possible, rendering Emrys' original excuses useless. The influence of a Rogue Trader Dynasty might suppress an Inquisitor, but it would never overrule the Regent's right-hand man.
Ten minutes later, the hovercar stopped.
Emrys' thoughts were cut short. Looking out the window at the long staircase draped in crimson, flanked by Ultramarines in gleaming power armor, he took a deep breath. He had to face it sooner or later.
He stepped out of the vehicle.
"I am Merlin Emrys, Imperial First Viscount, heir to the Emrys Rogue Trader Dynasty. I am here by invitation to meet His Excellency, Marneus Calgar, Lord of Macragge and Chapter Master of the Ultramarines."
"Identity confirmed."
The Ultramarine at the base of the stairs checked his helmet's auspex, then stepped aside. "Lord Calgar has been expecting you, Excellency Emrys."
Climbing the steps, Emrys soon arrived before a magnificent temple dedicated to the God-Emperor. The entrance was guarded by the Ultramarines' Victrix Guard. Their master-crafted power armor was a work of art, etched with patterns and medals that spoke of ten thousand years of history. The sheer value of their equipment was enough to buy the entire hive city, and Emrys found himself staring in spite of himself.
With a final breath to steady his nerves, he walked into the temple.
Banners fluttered in the vaulted ceiling. Stepping onto the soft carpet, Emrys saw him: Marneus Calgar. The Chapter Master stood silently beneath a towering statue of the Emperor, looking like a mountain of ceramite and muscle. Even with his back turned, the aura of authority and the weight of centuries of war exerted a crushing pressure on the room.
Calgar didn't turn. He remained facing the statue, silent. Emrys knew that with the enhanced senses of a Space Marine, the Lord of Macragge knew exactly where he was.
Is this a test? Emrys wondered. He resolved that no matter how Calgar threatened or enticed him, he would insist there was no "Iron Man Legion" at all. Without evidence, they couldn't simply execute a Rogue Trader of his standing... right? Besides, if things got truly desperate, he could always play his most dangerous card.
"Merlin Emrys, I presume?"
Calgar suddenly turned. His hair was silver-white, his face weathered by age and battle, but his eyes were sharp, filled with a piercing scrutiny.
"Yes, Chapter Master Calgar." Emrys bowed with the practiced elegance of the high nobility. "My thanks for your support of Siluria. Without your intervention, this hive would have surely fallen to the xenos."
"I merely serve the Imperium," Calgar replied. His tone shifted, becoming low and resonant. "However, there are matters I must confirm. You will answer me truthfully."
Here it comes, Emrys thought.
"Regarding the defense of the Spire," Calgar began, his eyes narrowing. "Reports state you assembled a massive force of legions. Where did these mortal auxiliary forces originate?"
"Dynastic private soldiers," Emrys replied smoothly. "As a Rogue Trader of the Emrys line, maintaining a private army is well within my rights, is it not?"
"Within your rights, perhaps," Calgar conceded. He moved to the second point. "And your 'Avengers' Chapter? Their gene-seed bears the marks of the Fourth and the Eighth Legions. Traitor stock."
"The gene-seed is pure, my Lord, and their origins are documented. They are mercenaries in my employ. This, too, complies with Imperial Law."
"And I suppose," Calgar said with a ghost of a grim smile, "you are going to tell me that the 'Iron Men' seen on the battlefield also have nothing to do with you?"
"Truly, Lord Calgar, your insight is legendary! I am amazed you found the truth so quickly!" Emrys replied with a shamelessly bright smile.
Calgar was momentarily silent, seemingly taken aback by the young man's sheer audacity. "Do you think such excuses will satisfy the Inquisition?" he asked meaningfully. "Whether I believe you is irrelevant. I did not call you here for that."
Emrys felt a wave of relief. Calgar wasn't here to execute him—he was warning him that his cover stories were too thin for the Inquisitors to ignore. "Thank you for the warning, my Lord. I will ensure the 'follow-up' is handled."
"Do you still carry that medal?" Calgar asked suddenly. "The one you used to prove your identity to the Iron Father?"
"I... yes." Emrys reached into his tunic and withdrew the medal he wore on a chain. "May I ask what this actually is? I have found no record of this design in any Imperial archive."
Calgar did not take the medal. He simply stared at it for a long time, a complex, almost mournful emotion in his eyes.
"I cannot tell you its full origin yet," Calgar sighed, stepping back with an expression of profound respect. "But I can tell you this: that medal has only been awarded once in the history of the Imperium."
He looked at Emrys with renewed intensity. "It belonged to a great man. It represents the last true spirit of human enterprise. I do not know how it came into your possession, but you must guard it with your life."
Emrys looked down at the small piece of metal in his palm. Just how high does this go? he wondered. Is this... His?