It was a staggering windfall. Emrys now possessed a genuine company of Space Marines—not just any warriors, but a veteran Ultima Founding Chapter with an established operational doctrine and centuries of simulated and real-world combat experience.
The Silver Templars' Third Company was a force to be reckoned with. Under the tactical oversight of the Ultramarines, they had participated in numerous grueling campaigns. Every battle-brother was a seasoned veteran of the Indomitus Crusade.
To put it in perspective, according to Calgar's assessment, this company could dismantle Emrys' "Avengers" and his "Honor Guard" in a direct engagement without suffering a single casualty. Even if caught in an ambush, Calgar was confident the Templars would achieve a devastating kill-ratio before the enemy could even blink.
The Silver Templars were a unique breed among the sons of Guilliman. Known for their aggressive tactics and overwhelming offensive capabilities, they lived up to the "Templar" in their name with a cold, focused fanaticism.
Every member was a Primaris Space Marine, and each was a master artisan, maintaining a "Tactical Link" with their weapons—a bond that bordered on the supernatural, turning their bolters and blades into true extensions of their will.
Stylistically, they lacked the rigid adherence to the Codex Astartes found in other Ultramarine successors, but that didn't diminish Emrys' joy. He finally had a core of elite shock troops.
Emrys instructed Jackal to arrange temporary quarters for the Third Company within the hive spire. While he didn't need them for active duty immediately, they would serve a vital purpose: training the "Avengers" and the "Honor Guard." In the eyes of these battle-hardened veterans, Emrys' existing troops were little more than raw recruits. This was the perfect opportunity to forge them into a legitimate force.
Eventually, Emrys believed he could possess a true Chapter. Currently, the "Avengers" were mostly a facade—understrength, under-equipped, and lacking the specialized vehicles required for Adeptus Astartes operations. A true Chapter required ten full companies, support fleets for orbital insertion, and the logistical tail to support deep-strike decapitation missions. Fifty men were simply not enough.
But with the arrival of the Silver Templars, that was about to change. The Ultramarines' lineage was famously stable and disciplined. They were the masters of rebuilding; where others saw ruins, they saw a foundation for a new empire.
As the Silver Templars settled in, Jackal entered the room, his expression dark and his teeth gritted. "Young lord... that man is here. Should we grant him an audience?"
Seeing Jackal's agitation, Emrys knew exactly who it was: Iron Father Drayne.
"Bring him in. Why wouldn't I see him?"
Emrys was still simmering with frustration. If it hadn't been for Drayne's original request, Elsa wouldn't have been caught in the crossfire of the Siluria defense, and they wouldn't have been marked by the Architect of Fate, Tzeentch.
While he knew that Drayne wasn't the root cause of the Warp's interference, it didn't stop him from wanting to put the squeeze on the tech-priest.
Drayne entered the reception room, looking visibly shaken. Seeing Emrys sitting expressionlessly in his high-backed chair, the Iron Father's heart sank. However, he managed to force a warm, if nervous, smile.
"Praise the Omnissiah! Excellency Emrys, I am relieved to see you out of danger." Drayne's voice wavered. "I heard Lord Calgar summoned you personally. Was it... because of the incident?"
Emrys saw right through him. Drayne was terrified that the "Iron Men" discovery would lead back to him, resulting in a swift execution for tech-heresy.
"Do not worry, Excellency Drayne. It was nothing so dire." Emrys glanced at him with cold indifference. "It was merely that Chapter Master Calgar had messages to relay to me from the Lord Regent himself, Roboute Guilliman."
Drayne's bionic eyes flickered wildly, his internal processors whirring. "The... the Lord Regent? A Primarch?"
"Indeed. And he sent a gift as well." Emrys decided to drop another bombshell. "Lord Calgar has placed an elite company of the Silver Templars under my direct command. The Third Company, to be precise."
"That is... most fortunate," Drayne stammered, his mind reeling.
A Primarch. A son of the Emperor, a figure of myth, was taking a personal interest in Emrys. Drayne realized then that Emrys' connections were deeper and more dangerous than he had ever imagined.
But a selfish relief washed over him: if Emrys had the backing of a Primarch, surely Calgar wouldn't pursue the matter of the forbidden robotic legion?
They were, after all, "grasshoppers on the same vine"—if Emrys fell for tech-heresy, Drayne would burn with him. He had already begun to regret his greed in accepting those forbidden assets; he hadn't realized he was being pulled into such a lethal political vortex.
However, Emrys' tone suddenly shifted. He looked at the Iron Father with a mocking half-smile. "Excellency Drayne, you seem to be celebrating prematurely."
Drayne froze. "Excellency... what do you mean?"
"Lord Calgar has indeed decided not to pursue my involvement," Emrys said softly, his voice echoing with a cruel edge. "But the Inquisition still demands an explanation for the appearance of forbidden technology on the battlefield. Someone has to provide an answer."
Drayne's pupils constricted. He stared at Emrys in horror as the realization dawned on him. "You... you intend for me to take the blame? To silence the Holy Ordos?!"
"You cannot blame me, Drayne," Emrys said lightly. "The discovery was made by the Chapter Master himself. In such times, a sacrifice must be made to appease the Inquisition. Surely a man of your logic can understand the necessity of pushing someone forward to end the inquiry?"
"You're insane!" Drayne hissed, his logic-circuits bordering on a total shutdown.
The logic was staggering in its unfairness: the primary culprit was walking free with the blessing of a Primarch, while he, the mere accomplice, was being prepared for the pyre. Even with Calgar's backing, the sheer arrogance of the move left him breathless.