Calgar had originally been perplexed as to why a mere Rogue Trader could prompt the Primarch himself, the Lord Regent Roboute Guilliman, to issue a direct decree specifically for him.
But after seeing that medal, the reason became clear.
That relic should have been kept deep within the Sanctum Imperialis on Holy Terra, guarded by the Adeptus Custodes; it was impossible for it to be stolen, and even more impossible for it to appear here in the Segmentum Obscurus.
Yet, its presence here suggested the hand of the Emperor himself. If this young man could truly inherit the will of the legend who once wore that medal, then perhaps the Imperium might yet see a new era of greatness.
Was that age of heroes finally returning?
Calgar clenched his power-fists, a long-dormant fervor surging in his eyes. The warrior's spirit buried beneath centuries of administration and duty had been reignited.
"Lord Calgar," Emrys asked curiously as he tucked the medal back beneath his tunic, "you mentioned you didn't come for the matter of my reinforcements. May I ask what your true purpose is?"
"Emrys."
Calgar's gaze became solemn, his voice heavy with the authority of the Throneworld. "I have come at the behest of the returned Primarch, the Lord Regent of the Imperium, Roboute Guilliman."
Emrys felt as if his mind had suddenly short-circuited. He stared at the Chapter Master in stunned silence.
The Primarch. The Avenging Son. The Lord of the Five Hundred Worlds.
Shouldn't the recently awakened demigod be occupied with the Indomitus Crusade and reclaiming the Imperium Sanctus? How could he possibly have time to notice a Rogue Trader on the edge of the galaxy? It defied logic. Something was deeply wrong.
Emrys immediately became wary. To be noticed by a Primarch was to be pulled into a vortex of galactic-scale politics and war—a death sentence for the unprepared.
"I... I see," Emrys stammered cautiously. "What does the Lord Regent require of me?"
"A single message." Calgar paused, his voice echoing in the temple's silence. "Our genetic father commanded me to tell you: 'We will meet in the near future. But before then, fulfill the oath your ancestor made to the Emperor in the Great Hall of the Imperial Palace ten millennia ago.'"
The oath again.
Emrys was bewildered. He had no record of what pact the founding Rogue Traders of his line had made when the Emperor was first interred upon the Golden Throne. He didn't know the content, let alone how to fulfill it.
He imagined it 'Heyo Guilliman I am ready to fulfill the oath, whenever you tell me what the oath is...'
"Do you have questions?" Calgar asked, noticing the boy's pale complexion. "If there is a message you wish me to convey to the Regent, speak it now."
Perhaps because of the medal, Calgar's tone was noticeably more fatherly than it had been at the start of their meeting.
"No... no questions, my Lord." After a moment of frantic deliberation, Emrys decided against telling Calgar that his family had lost the records of the oath. Calgar would likely have him executed for such a shameful admission of negligence. If the Regent found out, he might bring the entire Macragge's Honour to Vigilus just to personally deliver a reprimand.
"Very well. My mission is complete," Calgar nodded. "I must depart for the Central Sector. The Despoiler's fleet draws near."
He looked down at Emrys one last time. "A final piece of advice: the conflict on Vigilus is no longer a place for you. It would be wise to depart as soon as possible."
This was also Guilliman's intent—to move the boy toward the Galactic North and keep him from the meat-grinder of Vigilus before he caused any further "accidents."
"I understand, Lord Calgar." Emrys was more than happy to comply. He wanted to escape this nightmare as quickly as possible.
As Emrys turned to leave, Calgar called out to him. "Wait. There is one more thing."
Another one? Emrys suppressed a sigh. Even a legendary Chapter Master seemed prone to "just one more thing" when a meeting was ending.
"Lord Calgar?"
"As a gesture of personal goodwill, and in recognition of your contributions to the defense of Siluria before my arrival," Calgar said meaningfully, "I have decided to provide you with a gift. I believe you will find it useful."
Without waiting for a response, the Chapter Master turned back to the statue of the Emperor, closing his eyes in silent contemplation.
Full of questions, Emrys left the temple in a daze. The meeting hadn't been the execution he feared, but the message from the Primarch was a weight of a different kind.
"That medal... it has to be the key," Emrys muttered, touching his chest as he boarded the grav-car. "A unique relic, only one ever awarded. Who was the original owner?"
The grav-car soon returned to his temporary estate. As he stepped out, he froze.
A contingent of Space Marines stood in the courtyard, nearly a hundred strong. Their armor was not the bright cobalt of the Ultramarines, but a somber, metallic silver. Their shoulder pads bore the mark of three crossed swords in gold, and their chest plates featured a gleaming golden Aquila. They stood in perfect, silent formation.
"What is this?" Emrys whispered.
The leading Astartes stepped forward, striking his breastplate in a crisp salute.
"Lord Merlin Emrys. I am Captain Bakar Munro of the Third Battle Company, Silver Templars Chapter—successors of the Ultramarines."
"By order of Chapter Master Marneus Calgar, the Third Company of the Silver Templars—one hundred and seven battle-brothers, along with ten Rhino transports, five Land Speeders, two Invictor Tactical Warsuits, and ten Impulsors—are hereby assigned to your command. We await your orders."
Emrys was stunned. The "gift" Calgar mentioned was an entire Strike Force.
These were the sons of Guilliman—experts in logistics, tactics, and the art of war. While the Ultramarines themselves were spread across the galaxy, their successor Chapters were numerous and legendary for their stability. With a hundred Primaris Space Marines at his back, Emrys had just become one of the most powerful individual actors in the sector.
The windfall was staggering. With these warriors, his "Rogue Trader" status was no longer just a title—it was backed by the finest blade the Imperium could offer.