301.M36
PK-78
In orbit above the embattled world, a fleet of warships held formation, their hulls gleaming in the dim light of the local star. The silence of space was broken only by vox chatter and the distant flare of macrocannon fire still echoing from the last engagements.
Atharion had arrived.
His warfleet, spearheaded by three Battle Barges and six Strike Cruisers, was reinforced by twelve Gladius-class Frigates and six Nova-class escorts. Each vessel bore the crimson and obsidian colors of the Dark Knights Chapter, their hulls marked with purity seals, kill tallies, and the half-skull and cog sigil of their lineage. But the Chapter did not come alone.
Flanking Atharion's fleet was a detachment from the Black Templars, led by Marshal Galren. The zealous warriors had answered the call to battle with grim enthusiasm, bringing with them one Battle Barge, two Strike Cruisers, and three hundred of their finest warriors.
In formation just beyond them sailed another unexpected ally—the Lamenters. Founded during the same time as the Fire Hawks, the Lamenters had found themselves unusually at ease within this Crusade. Amongst the ranks of the Dark Knights and their allies, they encountered no suspicion, no cold glances. Atharion treated them as he did any other brother-Chapter, with respect, purpose, and trust.
That distinction mattered now more than ever.
The 21st Founding, recently declared by both Terra and the Inquisition as a Cursed Founding, had become a stain upon the records of Imperial history. Across the Imperium, whispers turned to condemnation. Many Chapters born of that Founding had already been purged, or had outright turned traitor—some after less than two centuries of existence.
According to the intelligence provided by the Twelve Members, the true scale of this crisis was staggering. Obfuscated by redacted files and destroyed archives, the exact numbers were uncertain. Yet their estimates were grim, at least 37 Chapters from the 21st Founding had already been lost. And that number, the council feared, was still climbing.
This is not the same as Atharion remember. According to what he remember, this only happen in early M37, as debates and edicts questioning the right of the 21st Founding to exist began to circulate more broadly.
The Chapters of Cursed Founding had fought tirelessly to prove their loyalty. Yet fate had other plans. Mutations—some minor, others catastrophic—began to manifest. Entire Chapters were lost to the Warp, purged by the Inquisition, or turned traitor for reasons never fully understood.
And now, it was all happening too soon.
Though Atharion could not say with certainty what had changed, one truth lingered in his mind with grim clarity,
They had begun their moves, or the very least, one of them.
But still, even with what Atharion have in his disposal, he can't really do anything to save them and he's not planning in helping a Chapter that he don't know for sure will stay loyal.
Lamenters, however, is a confirm loyal Chapter, so Atharion plan to help them as much as possible and try to save them from their cruel fate. At the very least, avoid their involvement in the Badab War.
"Vice Admiral Malacai, what is the status of your fleet?" Atharion asked, his gaze fixed on the battered remnants of Battlefleet Pranagar drifting across the void.
"Lord Atharion," Malacai responded, bowing his bloodstained head slightly, fatigue etched into every word. "My fleet succeeded in destroying the Ork reinforcement flotilla... but not before they landed additional forces on the surface."
He hesitated.
"And—" his voice dropped lower, more somber, "—I must request permission to return to port for repairs. One of our Despoilers is crippled, and another has suffered catastrophic hull breaches. We cannot hold orbit for long in our current state."
The Despoiler-class battleship, though officially designated as a battleship, lacked the raw firepower typically associated with true capital ships. Much of its internal structure had been reconfigured to accommodate an expansive hangar bay, prioritizing the deployment of attack craft over direct ship-to-ship combat. As a result, it mounted only two lance turrets and two weapons batteries, giving it a significantly weaker broadside compared to other vessels of its tonnage.
While invaluable as a fleet carrier and support platform, its limited armament rendered it vulnerable in prolonged engagements—particularly when unsupported.
This deficiency was the primary reason why the Gareox Prerogative eventually fell out of favor. Production of the Despoiler-class battleships was halted, and existing vessels were reassigned to less demanding roles, most often long-range patrol or rear-line command duties—far from the crucible of frontline warfare.
"Understood," Atharion said with a firm nod. "You may dock at Port 87th and begin immediate repairs, Vice Admiral. Ensure your crews receive proper refit rotations. The next engagement may not afford us the same margin."
Malacai bowed his head again, weariness clear in the lines of his face. "Thank you, Lord Atharion."
With his damaged ships limping away under escort, Battlefleet Pranagar began its slow withdrawal from the system, heading for the repair yards of Port 87th. As their silhouettes faded into the void, Atharion's fleet moved with disciplined precision to fill the vacuum they left behind.
The blockade was reestablished in full, Battle Barges and a wall of Strike Cruisers, Frigates, and escort craft forming a silent ring of steel around the embattled world below. Vox channels were cleared, orbital bombardment coordinates were reviewed, and dropship staging began in earnest.
In orbit, the might of the Dark Knights and their allies gathered like a clenched fist.
The assault was about to begin.
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Eternal Vigilance
Inside the strategium chamber of the Eternal Vigilance, the atmosphere was taut with purpose. Tactical hololiths flickered over the central display table, casting pale blue light across the gathered commanders. The sigils of allied Chapters and Imperial regiments glowed beside topographical scans of the Ork-infested world below.
Atharion stood at the head of the table, clad in his black and dark grey warplate, helm off, his gaze sweep over the hololith of the gathering leaders and officers.
"Marshal Galren will be landing first at Landing Zone Alpha," He began. "with the 34th and 76th Regiments providing supporting fire and entrenchment."
He looks at Galren. "You must secure the Landing Zone in three hours. There are multiple Mobz near the Zone, and if you fail to secure it in time, you might get overrun and the invasion will fail before it even begin."
"Not to worry, Lord Atharion." Galren said while slammed his fist to his chest. "We will not fail you."
Atharion nodded, then turned toward the Chapter Master of the Lamenters, Cormarion.
"Next," he said, voice steady, "the Lamenters will deploy alongside the 43rd, 77th, 78th, and 80th Regiments to reinforce the landing zone. Once Marshal Galren secures the perimeter, your forces will move in and establish a deeper defensive line."
Cormarion gave a solemn nod. "We will make it hold, Lord Atharion. The Orks will break upon our shield."
"Good," Atharion replied. "Your duty is to keep the line firm until the main force arrives."
"Lastly," Atharion continued. "Me and my Chapter will deploy alongside the remaining regiments once the second wave is entrenched."
He then turned his gaze toward the towering figure near the end of the chamber—the armored presence of High Princeps Valtrix, commander of Battlegroup Silver Knight from Legio Argentum Fulgur.
"Princeps Valtrix," Atharion said, meeting his glowing optics. "your battlegroup will deploy with us. You may choose which of your Titans sets foot on the battlefield first."
A moment of silence passed before Valtrix responded, his voice like iron grinding against thunder, distorted and magnified by ancient vox-speakers embedded in his helm. "Then let it be Invictus Ferrum. The Orks shall see the shadow of the Machine God's wrath before they hear it."
Invictus Ferrum, one of the Warlord Titan that serve as the command Titan for previous Legio Ignatum. It's arm with Sunfury-Pattern Plasma Destructor on both it's arm, and it's carapace equip with two Triple-barrel Laser Blasters. One of the oldest and most battle harden Titan of the newly form Legio.
The battle group that join Atharion is composed of three Warlord Titan, six Reaver Titan and two Warhound Titan.
The battlegroup was organized into three maniples, each with one Warlord and two Reavers. The two Warhounds, known for their speed and scouting capabilities, had been specifically assigned to the maniple commanded by Invictus Ferrum, creating a versatile blend of power, mobility, and precision.
"By your's and Omnissiah will." The Princeps bow a little, submit to Atharion order.
Atharion gave a nod.
He straightened, stepping back from the hololith table as the briefing neared its end. "We are the hammer. The storm. The retribution of the Emperor made manifest. This planet will burn, and the Warboss with it."
Atharion slam his fist into his armor.
"For the Emperor!"
The Astartes present followed suit, fists striking ceramite in perfect unity.
The mortal officers and generals bowed their heads and formed the Aquila across their chests.
"For the Emperor!"
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Outside the window of Atharion's chamber, he watched in silence as drop pods and Thunderhawks of the Black Templars streaked through the void. Trails of fire danced behind them as they plunged into the atmosphere, each one bearing the Emperor's eternal crusaders toward the surface.
Beside them flew hundreds of Valkyries, ferrying the first wave of Guardsmen from the 34th and 76th Regiments. Sleek and disciplined, they descended in formation, while behind them, four massive Devourer-class dropships followed—each one a titan of transport, bearing the rest of the regiments, their vehicles, artillery, and supplies.
Then, a voice—warm, thoughtful—broke the silence.
"Of the two Chapters, I chose the smaller one to spearhead the invasion. Are I not concerned they'll fall if the Lamenters don't arrive in time?"
Another voice answered—colder, more matter-of-fact. "They wanted it, didn't they? Since their arrival, that Marshal Galren has been pestering me to let them take the vanguard in every operation."
A third voice followed—empty, distant, devoid of emotion. "This is a world where everything has a price. They made their request, and I delivered. I even gave them twenty of those relics they revere and cling to so desperately."
Then, a fourth voice entered—sharp, aggressive, brimming with scorn. "If they fail after all this… then they bring shame to Dorn and Sigismund alike."
"If you would humor me, Lord Atharion," a measured voice spoke from behind, smooth with diplomatic sharpness, "might you tell me why you allowed the Black Templars to serve as the spearhead—and not the Lamenters? After all, the Templars are more… vital to the Imperium than those born of the Cursed Founding."
Atharion turned his head slowly, his gaze falling upon the speaker—a man in a long, rune-scribed coat bearing the rosette of the Inquisition.
Alecius Eisenhorn, Inquisitor of Ordo Xenos, is send here as one of the two Inquisitor that will established the Conclave here, and he come with a large retinue by his side.
The Deathwatch—the Chamber Militant of the Ordo Xenos—had arrived in force. A total of 300 Astartes formed three full Watch Companies with him being their Watch Commander, supported by two Librarians, three Apothecaries, two Chaplains, and four Techmarines.
A nearby death world had been assigned to them as their new Watch Fortress. From there, Deathwatch Kill Teams were already deep behind enemy lines, infiltrating Ork-held territory to eliminate high-value targets and gather intelligence on the situation of the Orks.
Other than this, he have requisitioned three Tempestus Scion Regiments, 22nd Thetoid Gryphonnes, 101st Betic Dragons and 73rd Epsilic Eagles.
Alongside the Scions were a series of Astra Militarum regiments, also requisitioned under Eisenhorn's authority. Three Cadian Trooper Regiments, one Cadian Armoured Regiment, one Mordian Trooper Regiment, one Vostroyan Infantry Regiment and one Tallarn Armoured Regiment.
With the exception of the Scions, all these Guard regiments had been recently raised from their respective homeworlds. While their rank-and-file were fresh out of training, their officers and command staff were experienced veterans, reassigned from battle-hardened units.
These regiments were not deployed in the current campaign against the Orks. Instead, they had been assigned to garrison and secure critical reconquered worlds within Atharion's expanding domain. With colonist fleets beginning to arrive, these regiments would safeguard the settlers and instill the traditions of their homeworlds into the foundations of the newly claimed realms. In this way, the martial and cultural legacies of Cadians, Mordians, Vostroyans, and Tallarns would persist within Atharion's realm.
The Tempestus Scions, however, had a different assignment. 22nd Thetoid Gryphonnes, 101st Betic Dragons, and 73rd Epsilic Eagles was to train and support the newly raised Grenadier Regiments—specialized shock troopers who would serve as the vanguard of Atharion's mortal forces in future conflicts.
"I chose them because they asked for the honor, Inquisitor," Atharion said evenly, meeting Eisenhorn's gaze without hesitation. "Are you questioning my decision?"
"Of course not," Eisenhorn replied with the same calm tone. "I sought only an answer and—" He let the word hang in the air for a heartbeat. "you have given me one."