Arc 2: The Atlas Apostasy
Book 1: Grave Sins: the Apostasy Revealed
Now committed to open rebellion, the Warmaster plans to strike first with
a decisive and devastating blow to cripple the Loyalists and assure victory.
Preparations have been made, the killing fields of Chondax made ready, now
all that remains is for the trap to be sprung. Let the galaxy burn!
a decisive and devastating blow to cripple the Loyalists and assure victory.
Preparations have been made, the killing fields of Chondax made ready, now
all that remains is for the trap to be sprung. Let the galaxy burn!
The tent’s walls flapped in the wind, a dull gray-ish white caked with mud. It was unpatterned, unadorned with any form of sigil, but Ulysses knew the structure had been erected by Atarian. He expected most of the actual preparation had been overseen by the Iron Circle, as the particular skillset of the Pale Hunters would be required later.
One by one they arrived, the demi-gods and their adjutants. They did not chat, leaving a still and heavy silence in the air. There was no relishing their task ahead. All knew they would be branded as traitors, betrayers, and be damned for it unless they won. None knew that more than his own primarch, Atlas. The sombre weight of carrying this rebellion on his shoulders would be temporarily lifted in this meeting, when he could share the responsibility with others. But ultimately until its bloody conclusion, with the Emperor lying as a corpse upon his Golden Throne, with his dreams shattered, the weight would remain with Atlas.
Ulysses looked around the hololith table before they began. Atarian stood to Atlas’ right, with Erasmus Golg, Grand Captain of the Iron Circle, an ever-present shadow by his side. Across from him was Sceafa, his First Thegn Heorot stood by his side, shadowed by Thegn Ingwin, and next to him the towering figure of Oberon. Beside him was Victoria, and her second in command, Legatus Ryor, her legion’s first Captain. To Atlas’ left stood Cambyses, and his own First Captain, Callion Zaven, his hand resting on the table, followed by Merinda, her First Captain not present. Notably absent was Ravadania, though only in the physical sense.
“My thanks to you, my siblings, for meeting with me here. I have spoken to each of you individually, so we all know why we are here. The Emperor betrayed us from the beginning, so we shall betray him now, at this most critical of moments. Many of you are likely wondering why I have chosen this time, and this planet, for our first strike.” Atlas said, managing to radiate his signature charismatic warmth. Ulysses had heard this speech many times, but he found himself nodding along with a fresh vigour.
“I should have liked a half century more to prepare, or perhaps a century, to swell our legions and win over more of our brethren to the cause. But events on Terra move against us. My new allies have warned me that the Emperor will soon make his move to make any rebellion against him obsolete and impossible. After that I expect it would be the cull. I will not let that happen.” He said, his warmth fading as he pressed the severity of their situation. For once they would get glimpses at the real Atlas, a minute passings of the cold anger which toiled beneath the surface.
“The plan is simple. Oberon and Atarian will declare their rebellion. As the Warmaster I will be forced to react and assemble as many legions as possible. I have begun manoeuvring the Black Dogs, Amber Order, and Marauders so that they will be ready to answer the call. They will arrive first and engage the Iron Circle and Pale Hunters. Upon our arrival the Steel Men, Worlds Serpents, Marines Ascendant, and Shield Bearers will deploy as reinforcements. Upon my signal we will turn on the vanguard, destroying their forces and navy in one fell swoop.” He explained, the hololith updating to show a blood and brutal betrayal, displaying one of the thousands of scenarios Atlas had tested.
“As this is happening several other events will unfold concurrently. Ravadania will psychically attack the Imperial Palace, to disrupt the Astropaths and give us any insights as to the Emperor’s plan. I will send Ekkehart to “arrest” her, which will be a trap for the Storm Lords if Ravadania cannot convince her to our side. Erebus, and Victoria will spring a trap for Hesta on Cherno IX, and our new allies will influence the warp to our favour, effectively cutting the Imperium in half.” He said, looking grimly at the hololith now displaying a great tear through the galaxy.
“With the Loyalists in disarray, Terra in shock, and our flank secure, we will begin moving to Terra while securing key worlds.” The Hololith began zooming slowly into Terra. “This world is the key, whoever controls it controls the Imperium. Every action we take will be to prepare us for the siege. Until we have control of the Imperial Palace, any victory is hollow.” He said, now waiting for any questions or additions from his siblings.
It was a bold plan, Atarian mused. Fitting for Atlas. Too bold, perhaps, but he was not a planner. Not outwardly. Two attacks, nigh simultaneous. The loyalists would be crippled, five legions destroyed or at least devastated far beyond their full strengths, for little in the way of loss on their own side. Perhaps he could argue his way out of being the bait? No. It wouldn’t make sense for him to do so. It would be… Too far out of character.
He had been prepared to die on this metaphorical hill, a glorious last gasp of bloody violence before the Great Crusade concluded for good, one final tragic act. It had not come to that, and… Well. He was not quite sure what to make of that.
“You know I am not one for these councils, brother.” Atarian shook his head slightly. “Let them come. I have been ready for this day for… Quite some time.”
“Even with five legions destroyed, taking the Sol System will be a furnace to devour war materiel.” Cambyses noted, voice quiet. “We may have enough initially, but what of the Mechanicum? We will need forge-worlds, intact, or in the short term armoury worlds. Taking them by storm is… Not an option. We would destroy the very prizes we seek.”
“If at all possible, I believe myself and my Legion adequate to account for Hesta. I share a good relationship with the Host and that can be used in our favor, though not with two legions present I would think.” Victoria would say, regal in her manner of speaking. Her wings folded behind her back so as to not give issue to her siblings gathered there.
“It would also leave one of our legions free to pursue other matters…” She added on, letting that idea hang in the air.
Sceafa’s head turned, the rough fabric of his dark hood shifting gently with the motion “You would be foolish,” he said, his voice reserved yet resembling metal scraping metal. “The Host outnumbers your birds by a hundred thousand, no high opinion of your marines could match that when they recover from the shock of betrayal. We bear the might of seven legions to face three with the element of surprise, what hope could you have in the face of one?” his arms folded across his chest, covering the serpent’s head that decorated its centre “Our brother has made it clear that this cannot be held up to chance, do not let the Aquila on your breast cloud your judgement.”
“I need not a hundred thousand more legionnaires, not when I have a weapon that cannot be ignored.” Victoria said, smiling at her brother.
“Trust, Hesta trusts me, any move I make while within her guard would be devastatingly unexpected that it would be far too late for her and her legion.” Victoria said.
Sceafa shook his head, his face contorting with a frown. “Surprise alone will not win the day. When Hesta, or her sons should she perish, discovers our treachery then no self-assurity will spare you from her wrath. You would do well with numerical parity to stand even a chance.” He was telling the truth, partially. Beneath his hood, his eye narrowed at the so-called Favoured Daughter, whatever Atlas had said to sway her did not inspire confidence within him of her dedication to this task. Perhaps she wished to go alone so she might inform Hesta of the coming betrayal, granting the Tyrant an awareness that they could not allow. One who still bore the Tyrant’s mark so openly, knowing what they knew, did not seem an ally to him.
“Then send another legion.” Cambyses interrupted. “We have seven, we do not need all of them present at Chondax. We can spare another, surely. Or if not a whole, then part of one.”
“Erebus will take a third of my legion. With Victoria’s it will be enough to land a decisive first blow on Hesta. We will then organise a second wave to keep Hesta on the backfoot. If anybody wishes to contribute legionaries to the task they may do so of their own volition.” Atlas said.
Sceafa glanced at Erebus and would have laughed had it not come from Atlas’ mouth. The astartes had a perpetual smug look that infuriated him without words, he’d allowed Erebus to spread his incendious little Warrior Lodges in his legion and had grown to despise both them and their ritual. No, someone loyal should keep an eye on him and, should worst come to worst, on her to “I shall send four Fyrds of the World Serpents, their presence at Chondax would be superfluous”. Sceafa’s brow furrowed as its scarred mirror twitched with the motion
A small sound came from Victoria then, frustration, anger, acceptance, annoyance? One could not truly pin it down, however if any of her brethren were curious as to what she meant by it, they would not get an answer from her. “Very well, waste your numbers aiding me in a task I need no aid in completing.” She said,
The corner of his mouth, long since burned away and replaced by poorly healed flesh, twitched slightly as bemusement filled Sceafa. He had not known his sister to act so indignantly before, certainly a rare showing. Perhaps she was annoyed that there were prying eyes into her intentions. Regardless, he shrugged her comments aside, looking up from the hololith to Atlas “Cambyses is correct though, how do you intend to sway the Mechanicum to our side? Their allegiance is of far greater worth than any of ours here.”
“It is… Little, but after rebelling I intend to dispatch Golg and my legion’s fleet to secure Sarum. The Red Priests owe me and the Circle their loyalty and blood, what little of it they have left.” Atarian spoke up. “If luck is kind, then they will return to Chondax with the Legio Audax at their back and enough supplies to sustain my legion, as they have always done. And the Circle’s fleet being absent should make the loyalists attack in the apparent moment of weakness.”
“I have made contact with many influential Magoi who are disgruntled with the Emperor’s policies. Mars will be ours, the Fabricator-General replaced with one more… respectable and dignified. Mars will bring with it some worlds, but others we will have to besiege to deny the Tyrant’s forces. Others may be courted. Promises made need not be promises kept.” Atlas said.
Oberon let out a low growl, and the Elders beside him muttered in what passed for language amongst them. Oberon spoke with a slow, pitched tone. “I will go where the Hunt takes me, as will my Hunters. Those not with me will take the skulls of Loyalist dogs, and then hunt across our ‘Fathers’” He let out another growl “territories. Two clans will be seconded to you, Warmaster, to kill those you wish.” Oberon glanced at Atlas and grinned sharply.
Standing quiet and unassuming thus far was a suit of basic Astartes armour, lacking any adornment but two symbols. One, the Ouroboros of the Hierophants. The other a rune of sorts, one that hurt to look at directly for more than a brief moment. “If Metillius doesn’t take your head first, brother.” The voice of Ravadiana chuckled, augmented and distorted by the armour itself, and from the ritual involved in allowing this communication. “It would be wise to temper our ambitions, let us first ensure we deliver upon these plans of crippling blows before those of us who are ill disciplined go running off.” The helmet of the armour turned and took in the surrounding council, its eyes a blazing, hellish purple and pink. Its gaze fell on Erebus and did not stray.
“Our…allies in this endeavour, while mighty, can only do so much. The Hierophants and I will seek to expand upon their aid and…gifts. We will have to speak more privately on this at some point, Atlas. And Erebus.”
“Allies?” Sceafa asked, hiding the disgust building in his throat at this circumvention of nature. The warp granted its chosen remarkable gifts, but this was tantamount to an abomination, how their sister had not been censured earlier for such things was beyond him. “Have you sprouted an army unbeknownst to us?”
“No army, I am afraid. Our ally is an enemy of the Emperor, denizens of the warp he stole power from in order to create himself a God. They were, of course, as upset about that as we should be him deifying himself. They have agreed to help us.” Atlas said. He felt now not an opportune time to inform his siblings, at least those who did not know, about the Neverborn. Such a thing would take time to reconcile with.
The distorted voice of Ravadiana ‘tsk’ed at Sceafa. “Come brother, you sound like Cu.” She chuckled. “I’ve done many things unbeknownst to you all, except for Atlas, but then I’d need to explain those things to you as if I were speaking with a child with how narrow minded some of you are. Atlas knows, and that will have to suffice for the rest of you for now.” Of course not even Atlas knew about it all, unless Erebus knew and had told him, though Erebus served Them above Atlas, and not even Ravadiana could know Their intentions all the time.
“Let us just say that the unfortunate outcome of Nikea has allowed my Legion to continue its studies, and the results will aid us greatly.”
Sceafa scratched his chin, the ceramite finger doing little to relieve it but that was hardly the purpose. So, his allies had gathered secrets already, and while he was no stranger to such a habit, he felt little appreciation when the same was done to him. He frowned, though it was more akin to a slight twitch to those that could see. “I suppose a lack of openness was to be expected in a group preparing the rebelling against the Tyrant.” His arms folded in front of his breastplate once again. “So long as they do not become an annoyance.” Like your tone he had almost added but chose to hold his tongue.
“We have trusted Atlas this far, we have no reason not to extend it some more.” Cambyses said, looking briefly at Atlas. “What of the remaining loyalists? What fates are they to meet?”
“Traps are being prepared for some, others are too far to manoeuvre subtly, or like Moraille will join us later when the dust has settled and the lines have been drawn. I must stress we are to take our siblings alive where possible, and limit damage to them, their legions, and worlds where possible. It will not be possible in most cases, but the quicker we take Terra and depose the Tyrant, the less damage done to our Imperium.” Replied Atlas.
“There is no point in destroying the Imperium in the process of conquest.” Cambyses nodded. “I will have my captains draw up targets to follow up on in the aftermath. The path from Chondax to Terra is… Littered with fortified bastions. The faster we move, the closer we can get to our goal, and the less we will destroy.”
Oberon let out a rough chuckle at the words of Atlas, and idly rapped his taloned fingers across his spear.
“Take them alive, the weak and the preening and the herd-worshipping? They will have no use to us alive; Prey left maimed will heal, and will then know how to better best the predator which hunts it. Perhaps you want us to let the soft-palmed counters and ‘civilised folk’ live next, so that their weakness and pointless prattling can continue to weigh down our strength.” He finished his words with a snarl, staring at Atlas with an unblinking gaze.
“We fight this rebellion to liberate the people of the Imperium from the Tyranny of the Emperor, not to replace it with your primitive delusions.” Sceafa scoffed, his fists clenching in the crooks of his arm and not deigning to hide the disapproval in his words.
“Liberation is an artificial construction, a false law meant to go against the laws of nature; And even if it were something as real as soil and blood, we would be liberating the strong of Humanity from the slothful weakness of its herds, a weakness that the Emperor actively promotes. Do you wish to promote that same weakness, maimed one? For the only delusions I can see here are your own. Perhaps I can shed them for you, and remind you that man did not evolve to be ‘free’.” Oberon responded, moving from his seat to stand and stare at Sceafa.
“And yet man evolved into something greater than beasts.” Sceafa said through gritted teeth “But they seem to have left you behind.” his head turning slowly to face Oberon, a scowl clear to see. “I have paid the price of a free humanity and will continue to do so, but this bickering serves no purpose. We have gathered here to decide how to rid ourselves of the Emperor. Let us accomplish that task before the new order is decided.”
“You can start another war among siblings when we have won the first, brothers.” Atarian drawled. “Keep to the war before us first, as Sceafa says.”
“Our brethren must be shown the truth as well, killing them will make us no better than the emperor which we aim to dethrone. They will understand once they see the Imperium without the Emperor, so let’s do our best to not kill those not invited to this little gathering…” Victoria added, her arrogance returning as if she expected her word to be final in this regard.
“You expect the likes of Morgan to see reason? Melchior?” Atarian laughed, an uneven, unsteady hacking sound. “Cu? No. Some of us will die. Such is war.”
Victoria narrowed her eyes and spread her wings swiftly before visibly controlling herself and bringing them back behind her back. “We must disagree there brother, we are our most important resource, both loyal to the emperor and loyal to the Warmasters ideals. The death of even one Primarch is an inexcusable waste of a resource if we want to be pragmatic, nevermind a direct counter to why we are rebelling, or at least why I am.” She said.
“If we are rebelling against tyranny or to not be culled, that is… News to my ears.” Atarian smirked. “I was ready to rebel for one final, glorious chance at a last stand before the end of the Great Crusade and the boredom of peace. No more than that. I care not why the rest of you take up weapons, and if this means slaying a sibling? I have no qualms against such a deed..”
“You are a fool, brother,” Victoria said with conviction, meaning the words unlike her sarcastic sister. “But I forgive you for your foolishness, it can’t be helped after all. We rebel because the Emperor means to cull us as he did the Thunder Warriors. Doing his work for him is an idiotic idea on even one of your good days brother.” Victoria said, her voice cold now. “I think I shall take my leave before you taint me with your idiocy, I shall see most of you on Terra I expect.” She continued before flashing a genuine smile and leaving the room.
“If this is the best we’ve got, perhaps we deserve to be culled regardless.” Ravadiana chimed in, voice amused more than anything.
“If I might be so brazen to speak,” announced Thegn Heorot, stepping forwards, his voice obviously lacking when compared to the company of demigods he found himself amongst yet holding firm regardless “I would ask Lord Atlas how he intends to divide command between the battle on the surface and that in the void. Though the prodigious intellect of Primarchs is astounding, I do not think one could clearly lead these two battles simultaneously.”
“The intellects of some Primarchs are astounding perhaps, Astartes, but I would not paint us all with that brush. Regardless, this discussion is beyond my concern.” Ravadiana spoke. “Atlas, we shall speak again before this all begins, I am sure. Oberon, if you wish to actually have a chance of victory when you next face Metillius, you would do well to seek me as well. After all, we wouldn’t want our ‘apex-predator’ to be found wanting, would we?” Her tone was mocking and amused, but with a flash of the hurtful rune, the armoured suit began to dissolve into a fine dust, gone with the next gentle breeze. A background pressure on the minds of those assembled would vanish.
“And now the witch is gone, for some… Intelligent and frank conversation? With how many legions are involved, one commander seems… A poor idea.” Atarian leaned forwards. “One Primarch, one legion. As it has always been. We know our rank and file best, if we have a commander best suited for commanding whichever we do not focus… Personally on, then we can name them so. Things will be… Chaotic.”
“As much as I hate to say it, the man-eater is right.” Cambyses sighed. “The system is too widely spread for anything but decentralised tactics. The best we can likely do is mark who’s legion will deal with each of the loyalists, and let Atarian and Oberon fight from their prepared positions while we do so.”
“Of course, my lords.” Heorot said, bringing his fist to his breast “I ask solely because we face an equal foe, who are likely to be disorganised when the deception is revealed, so a unified command might present a harder foe for them to overcome.”
“There will be no static singular command, I expect each of you to organise your legions effectively and delegate efficiently. That said, a hierarchy must always exist in battle. As Warmaster my decisions will be final, even where you disagree. I am giving operational command in the Void to Merinda, and I will be exercising operational command personally on Kvasir. Atarian and Oberon have overall command on the planets their forces are stationed at, with a responsibility to transfer command where necessary to free up their attention. Events will move quickly, and this is only the first of many battles.” Said Atlas.
A small frown twitched on Sceafa’s face before quickly washing away at Atlas’ words. Merinda to oversee the void? While he could not ignore her noted capabilities, he would be foolish to not do the same in regards to her rumoured mental state and its deterioration. He was not so handsy to place the security of the operation in her hands, especially when he was more than capable to oversee the theatre himself. Few were his equal when it came to vehicular warfare, fewer still in the void.
Besides, was he not Atlas’ closest ally in this rebellion? Is this how the Warmaster intended to reward loyalty? By granting prestige to those less worthy? Quickly realising his words, he pushed the thoughts from his mind. No, Atlas certainly knew what he was doing, Sceafa reasoned, he would not risk the success of the opening moves on someone who could not perform. He suspected some undue influence of Ravadiana on his thoughts, the warp always seemed to agitate him in an unpleasant way.
“If the Warmaster commands it, then I will follow,” Sceafa said, bringing his fist to his chest. “I shall remain in the void with Merinda. Cu and Metillius will not be able to resist the call of putting down the traitors personally, the same cannot be said for Morgan. He is too tactical for such a thing, two primarchs should be more than a match against him in the void. Besides, I’ve a grudge I would like to see settled against him”. The understatement of his words did not hide his contempt and intentions against Morgan, but his face remained calm despite it.
Merinda had remained silent throughout the meeting, unwilling to give anything away to allow the others to draw conclusions about her motivations, known only by her and Atlas when they met. She lamented others had not thought to do as such, interjecting, badgering and arguing among themselves where it had not been needed. Without Atlas giving them the unity of purpose needed, they would surely be doomed to infighting and the rebellion would die before it would begin. Their silence showed that even they could agree that giving her operational command was prudent - her entire life had been defined by void combat, as had the Marines Ascendant’s existence.
“Thank you, Sceafa” she said, swallowing her pride as she gave a polite smile to the barbarian as she began her very focused ‘matter of fact’ contribution. “Rest assured, I will not stand in the way of you and Morgan. He is a quarry for you, and you alone. Atlas is fortunate to have the two legions most skilled in boarding actions behind him - our fleet will swell to be the mightiest the Imperium has seen. Those we do not capture will burn in a barrage of macrocannon shot and suffocate in the depths of the void”.
She met the eyes of the Primarchs who would be planetside in order to give them reassurance. “Take heed that in the heat of battle you will not be forgotten - I will iron out the protocol closer to the operation, but I’m sure we will have the capacity and numbers to conduct orbital bombardments even whilst we pursue our own objectives, as well as ferrying supplies and troop deployments”. If anything, it would be key to keep their light cruisers and escort ships out of the firing line and focused on strike actions, resupplies or escort duties - the sheer amount of battleships and grand cruisers that would be brought to bear on each other would be far too much for their more fragile vessels. It would be important to ensure that convoys were prepared with repair crews and salvage teams. Obviously the more seriously damaged vessels would require a visit to the shipyards, but if they could get the ships with superficial damage back in action as soon as possible the Imperium will be overwhelmed by the sheer speed of their advance.
She reflected upon the Primarchs and how none of them had changed one bit. Their worst flaws were still present. But there were two who had made some growth. The first was Victoria, who was slowly shedding away her naivety; she could not imagine one bit how she felt, standing against the Emperor that she so irrationally loved. The second was Sceafa, who seemed willing to follow her in the void, in spite of the fact that they had no real liking for one another.
“What of the survivors of the attack?” he asked after a moment had passed, hoping to move quickly from the brief burst of emotion and Merinda’s own words. He eyed her cautiously, uncertainty growing over whether this was a moment of clarity from her or proof that the rumours he’d been hearing were just gross exaggeration. If this were who he was to fight in the void with, he anticipated a crushingly quick victory. A faint smile grew on his lips at the thought.
“Kill them all.” Atarian shrugged. “Spare no one, unless they decide to throw down their arms and pledge loyalty to us. We fight this war without mercy.”
Sceafa scoffed, shaking his head lightly “Brother, survivors escape even your savage hunger. Even a brief look at the map already shows ideal ambush spots for fleeing vessels, I merely wish to know if some have already been selected or whether they are at our discretion”.
Oberon’s voice rumbled in response to Sceafa “They will all die, either now or later. When the herd breaks and they begin to flee, I have arrayed forces in the Outer System - They will board any ships that fail to evade them, and cull those within.”
“What Oberon said.” Atarian said. “Ambushing and stalking is his specialty, not mine. The Circle will take the brunt of the loyalists, a bait for the trap. It has never been our way to hide and wait for the enemy.”
“This prowling will allow us to keep more vessels at the main battle, then” Sceafa nodded slowly, slightly impressed at Oberon’s display of tactical thinking, albeit in his bizarre way of speaking “But ensure your Hunters are not lost in their bloodlust, Oberon. The later the Imperium discovers the scale of our rebellion, the better”
They dwelt on those words for a few seconds. For a Primarch each second could be extended almost indefinitely. Each remaining saw brief glimpses of the rebellion as they imagined it. For justice, redemption, pride, thrill, or sheer necessity. Each knew that once unleashed it would be a flame unquenchable, one that would burn every world.
As the words faded, each came to a conclusion.Win or lose, the Imperium would never be the same.
One by one they arrived, the demi-gods and their adjutants. They did not chat, leaving a still and heavy silence in the air. There was no relishing their task ahead. All knew they would be branded as traitors, betrayers, and be damned for it unless they won. None knew that more than his own primarch, Atlas. The sombre weight of carrying this rebellion on his shoulders would be temporarily lifted in this meeting, when he could share the responsibility with others. But ultimately until its bloody conclusion, with the Emperor lying as a corpse upon his Golden Throne, with his dreams shattered, the weight would remain with Atlas.
Ulysses looked around the hololith table before they began. Atarian stood to Atlas’ right, with Erasmus Golg, Grand Captain of the Iron Circle, an ever-present shadow by his side. Across from him was Sceafa, his First Thegn Heorot stood by his side, shadowed by Thegn Ingwin, and next to him the towering figure of Oberon. Beside him was Victoria, and her second in command, Legatus Ryor, her legion’s first Captain. To Atlas’ left stood Cambyses, and his own First Captain, Callion Zaven, his hand resting on the table, followed by Merinda, her First Captain not present. Notably absent was Ravadania, though only in the physical sense.
“My thanks to you, my siblings, for meeting with me here. I have spoken to each of you individually, so we all know why we are here. The Emperor betrayed us from the beginning, so we shall betray him now, at this most critical of moments. Many of you are likely wondering why I have chosen this time, and this planet, for our first strike.” Atlas said, managing to radiate his signature charismatic warmth. Ulysses had heard this speech many times, but he found himself nodding along with a fresh vigour.
“I should have liked a half century more to prepare, or perhaps a century, to swell our legions and win over more of our brethren to the cause. But events on Terra move against us. My new allies have warned me that the Emperor will soon make his move to make any rebellion against him obsolete and impossible. After that I expect it would be the cull. I will not let that happen.” He said, his warmth fading as he pressed the severity of their situation. For once they would get glimpses at the real Atlas, a minute passings of the cold anger which toiled beneath the surface.
“The plan is simple. Oberon and Atarian will declare their rebellion. As the Warmaster I will be forced to react and assemble as many legions as possible. I have begun manoeuvring the Black Dogs, Amber Order, and Marauders so that they will be ready to answer the call. They will arrive first and engage the Iron Circle and Pale Hunters. Upon our arrival the Steel Men, Worlds Serpents, Marines Ascendant, and Shield Bearers will deploy as reinforcements. Upon my signal we will turn on the vanguard, destroying their forces and navy in one fell swoop.” He explained, the hololith updating to show a blood and brutal betrayal, displaying one of the thousands of scenarios Atlas had tested.
“As this is happening several other events will unfold concurrently. Ravadania will psychically attack the Imperial Palace, to disrupt the Astropaths and give us any insights as to the Emperor’s plan. I will send Ekkehart to “arrest” her, which will be a trap for the Storm Lords if Ravadania cannot convince her to our side. Erebus, and Victoria will spring a trap for Hesta on Cherno IX, and our new allies will influence the warp to our favour, effectively cutting the Imperium in half.” He said, looking grimly at the hololith now displaying a great tear through the galaxy.
“With the Loyalists in disarray, Terra in shock, and our flank secure, we will begin moving to Terra while securing key worlds.” The Hololith began zooming slowly into Terra. “This world is the key, whoever controls it controls the Imperium. Every action we take will be to prepare us for the siege. Until we have control of the Imperial Palace, any victory is hollow.” He said, now waiting for any questions or additions from his siblings.
It was a bold plan, Atarian mused. Fitting for Atlas. Too bold, perhaps, but he was not a planner. Not outwardly. Two attacks, nigh simultaneous. The loyalists would be crippled, five legions destroyed or at least devastated far beyond their full strengths, for little in the way of loss on their own side. Perhaps he could argue his way out of being the bait? No. It wouldn’t make sense for him to do so. It would be… Too far out of character.
He had been prepared to die on this metaphorical hill, a glorious last gasp of bloody violence before the Great Crusade concluded for good, one final tragic act. It had not come to that, and… Well. He was not quite sure what to make of that.
“You know I am not one for these councils, brother.” Atarian shook his head slightly. “Let them come. I have been ready for this day for… Quite some time.”
“Even with five legions destroyed, taking the Sol System will be a furnace to devour war materiel.” Cambyses noted, voice quiet. “We may have enough initially, but what of the Mechanicum? We will need forge-worlds, intact, or in the short term armoury worlds. Taking them by storm is… Not an option. We would destroy the very prizes we seek.”
“If at all possible, I believe myself and my Legion adequate to account for Hesta. I share a good relationship with the Host and that can be used in our favor, though not with two legions present I would think.” Victoria would say, regal in her manner of speaking. Her wings folded behind her back so as to not give issue to her siblings gathered there.
“It would also leave one of our legions free to pursue other matters…” She added on, letting that idea hang in the air.
Sceafa’s head turned, the rough fabric of his dark hood shifting gently with the motion “You would be foolish,” he said, his voice reserved yet resembling metal scraping metal. “The Host outnumbers your birds by a hundred thousand, no high opinion of your marines could match that when they recover from the shock of betrayal. We bear the might of seven legions to face three with the element of surprise, what hope could you have in the face of one?” his arms folded across his chest, covering the serpent’s head that decorated its centre “Our brother has made it clear that this cannot be held up to chance, do not let the Aquila on your breast cloud your judgement.”
“I need not a hundred thousand more legionnaires, not when I have a weapon that cannot be ignored.” Victoria said, smiling at her brother.
“Trust, Hesta trusts me, any move I make while within her guard would be devastatingly unexpected that it would be far too late for her and her legion.” Victoria said.
Sceafa shook his head, his face contorting with a frown. “Surprise alone will not win the day. When Hesta, or her sons should she perish, discovers our treachery then no self-assurity will spare you from her wrath. You would do well with numerical parity to stand even a chance.” He was telling the truth, partially. Beneath his hood, his eye narrowed at the so-called Favoured Daughter, whatever Atlas had said to sway her did not inspire confidence within him of her dedication to this task. Perhaps she wished to go alone so she might inform Hesta of the coming betrayal, granting the Tyrant an awareness that they could not allow. One who still bore the Tyrant’s mark so openly, knowing what they knew, did not seem an ally to him.
“Then send another legion.” Cambyses interrupted. “We have seven, we do not need all of them present at Chondax. We can spare another, surely. Or if not a whole, then part of one.”
“Erebus will take a third of my legion. With Victoria’s it will be enough to land a decisive first blow on Hesta. We will then organise a second wave to keep Hesta on the backfoot. If anybody wishes to contribute legionaries to the task they may do so of their own volition.” Atlas said.
Sceafa glanced at Erebus and would have laughed had it not come from Atlas’ mouth. The astartes had a perpetual smug look that infuriated him without words, he’d allowed Erebus to spread his incendious little Warrior Lodges in his legion and had grown to despise both them and their ritual. No, someone loyal should keep an eye on him and, should worst come to worst, on her to “I shall send four Fyrds of the World Serpents, their presence at Chondax would be superfluous”. Sceafa’s brow furrowed as its scarred mirror twitched with the motion
A small sound came from Victoria then, frustration, anger, acceptance, annoyance? One could not truly pin it down, however if any of her brethren were curious as to what she meant by it, they would not get an answer from her. “Very well, waste your numbers aiding me in a task I need no aid in completing.” She said,
The corner of his mouth, long since burned away and replaced by poorly healed flesh, twitched slightly as bemusement filled Sceafa. He had not known his sister to act so indignantly before, certainly a rare showing. Perhaps she was annoyed that there were prying eyes into her intentions. Regardless, he shrugged her comments aside, looking up from the hololith to Atlas “Cambyses is correct though, how do you intend to sway the Mechanicum to our side? Their allegiance is of far greater worth than any of ours here.”
“It is… Little, but after rebelling I intend to dispatch Golg and my legion’s fleet to secure Sarum. The Red Priests owe me and the Circle their loyalty and blood, what little of it they have left.” Atarian spoke up. “If luck is kind, then they will return to Chondax with the Legio Audax at their back and enough supplies to sustain my legion, as they have always done. And the Circle’s fleet being absent should make the loyalists attack in the apparent moment of weakness.”
“I have made contact with many influential Magoi who are disgruntled with the Emperor’s policies. Mars will be ours, the Fabricator-General replaced with one more… respectable and dignified. Mars will bring with it some worlds, but others we will have to besiege to deny the Tyrant’s forces. Others may be courted. Promises made need not be promises kept.” Atlas said.
Oberon let out a low growl, and the Elders beside him muttered in what passed for language amongst them. Oberon spoke with a slow, pitched tone. “I will go where the Hunt takes me, as will my Hunters. Those not with me will take the skulls of Loyalist dogs, and then hunt across our ‘Fathers’” He let out another growl “territories. Two clans will be seconded to you, Warmaster, to kill those you wish.” Oberon glanced at Atlas and grinned sharply.
Standing quiet and unassuming thus far was a suit of basic Astartes armour, lacking any adornment but two symbols. One, the Ouroboros of the Hierophants. The other a rune of sorts, one that hurt to look at directly for more than a brief moment. “If Metillius doesn’t take your head first, brother.” The voice of Ravadiana chuckled, augmented and distorted by the armour itself, and from the ritual involved in allowing this communication. “It would be wise to temper our ambitions, let us first ensure we deliver upon these plans of crippling blows before those of us who are ill disciplined go running off.” The helmet of the armour turned and took in the surrounding council, its eyes a blazing, hellish purple and pink. Its gaze fell on Erebus and did not stray.
“Our…allies in this endeavour, while mighty, can only do so much. The Hierophants and I will seek to expand upon their aid and…gifts. We will have to speak more privately on this at some point, Atlas. And Erebus.”
“Allies?” Sceafa asked, hiding the disgust building in his throat at this circumvention of nature. The warp granted its chosen remarkable gifts, but this was tantamount to an abomination, how their sister had not been censured earlier for such things was beyond him. “Have you sprouted an army unbeknownst to us?”
“No army, I am afraid. Our ally is an enemy of the Emperor, denizens of the warp he stole power from in order to create himself a God. They were, of course, as upset about that as we should be him deifying himself. They have agreed to help us.” Atlas said. He felt now not an opportune time to inform his siblings, at least those who did not know, about the Neverborn. Such a thing would take time to reconcile with.
The distorted voice of Ravadiana ‘tsk’ed at Sceafa. “Come brother, you sound like Cu.” She chuckled. “I’ve done many things unbeknownst to you all, except for Atlas, but then I’d need to explain those things to you as if I were speaking with a child with how narrow minded some of you are. Atlas knows, and that will have to suffice for the rest of you for now.” Of course not even Atlas knew about it all, unless Erebus knew and had told him, though Erebus served Them above Atlas, and not even Ravadiana could know Their intentions all the time.
“Let us just say that the unfortunate outcome of Nikea has allowed my Legion to continue its studies, and the results will aid us greatly.”
Sceafa scratched his chin, the ceramite finger doing little to relieve it but that was hardly the purpose. So, his allies had gathered secrets already, and while he was no stranger to such a habit, he felt little appreciation when the same was done to him. He frowned, though it was more akin to a slight twitch to those that could see. “I suppose a lack of openness was to be expected in a group preparing the rebelling against the Tyrant.” His arms folded in front of his breastplate once again. “So long as they do not become an annoyance.” Like your tone he had almost added but chose to hold his tongue.
“We have trusted Atlas this far, we have no reason not to extend it some more.” Cambyses said, looking briefly at Atlas. “What of the remaining loyalists? What fates are they to meet?”
“Traps are being prepared for some, others are too far to manoeuvre subtly, or like Moraille will join us later when the dust has settled and the lines have been drawn. I must stress we are to take our siblings alive where possible, and limit damage to them, their legions, and worlds where possible. It will not be possible in most cases, but the quicker we take Terra and depose the Tyrant, the less damage done to our Imperium.” Replied Atlas.
“There is no point in destroying the Imperium in the process of conquest.” Cambyses nodded. “I will have my captains draw up targets to follow up on in the aftermath. The path from Chondax to Terra is… Littered with fortified bastions. The faster we move, the closer we can get to our goal, and the less we will destroy.”
Oberon let out a rough chuckle at the words of Atlas, and idly rapped his taloned fingers across his spear.
“Take them alive, the weak and the preening and the herd-worshipping? They will have no use to us alive; Prey left maimed will heal, and will then know how to better best the predator which hunts it. Perhaps you want us to let the soft-palmed counters and ‘civilised folk’ live next, so that their weakness and pointless prattling can continue to weigh down our strength.” He finished his words with a snarl, staring at Atlas with an unblinking gaze.
“We fight this rebellion to liberate the people of the Imperium from the Tyranny of the Emperor, not to replace it with your primitive delusions.” Sceafa scoffed, his fists clenching in the crooks of his arm and not deigning to hide the disapproval in his words.
“Liberation is an artificial construction, a false law meant to go against the laws of nature; And even if it were something as real as soil and blood, we would be liberating the strong of Humanity from the slothful weakness of its herds, a weakness that the Emperor actively promotes. Do you wish to promote that same weakness, maimed one? For the only delusions I can see here are your own. Perhaps I can shed them for you, and remind you that man did not evolve to be ‘free’.” Oberon responded, moving from his seat to stand and stare at Sceafa.
“And yet man evolved into something greater than beasts.” Sceafa said through gritted teeth “But they seem to have left you behind.” his head turning slowly to face Oberon, a scowl clear to see. “I have paid the price of a free humanity and will continue to do so, but this bickering serves no purpose. We have gathered here to decide how to rid ourselves of the Emperor. Let us accomplish that task before the new order is decided.”
“You can start another war among siblings when we have won the first, brothers.” Atarian drawled. “Keep to the war before us first, as Sceafa says.”
“Our brethren must be shown the truth as well, killing them will make us no better than the emperor which we aim to dethrone. They will understand once they see the Imperium without the Emperor, so let’s do our best to not kill those not invited to this little gathering…” Victoria added, her arrogance returning as if she expected her word to be final in this regard.
“You expect the likes of Morgan to see reason? Melchior?” Atarian laughed, an uneven, unsteady hacking sound. “Cu? No. Some of us will die. Such is war.”
Victoria narrowed her eyes and spread her wings swiftly before visibly controlling herself and bringing them back behind her back. “We must disagree there brother, we are our most important resource, both loyal to the emperor and loyal to the Warmasters ideals. The death of even one Primarch is an inexcusable waste of a resource if we want to be pragmatic, nevermind a direct counter to why we are rebelling, or at least why I am.” She said.
“If we are rebelling against tyranny or to not be culled, that is… News to my ears.” Atarian smirked. “I was ready to rebel for one final, glorious chance at a last stand before the end of the Great Crusade and the boredom of peace. No more than that. I care not why the rest of you take up weapons, and if this means slaying a sibling? I have no qualms against such a deed..”
“You are a fool, brother,” Victoria said with conviction, meaning the words unlike her sarcastic sister. “But I forgive you for your foolishness, it can’t be helped after all. We rebel because the Emperor means to cull us as he did the Thunder Warriors. Doing his work for him is an idiotic idea on even one of your good days brother.” Victoria said, her voice cold now. “I think I shall take my leave before you taint me with your idiocy, I shall see most of you on Terra I expect.” She continued before flashing a genuine smile and leaving the room.
“If this is the best we’ve got, perhaps we deserve to be culled regardless.” Ravadiana chimed in, voice amused more than anything.
“If I might be so brazen to speak,” announced Thegn Heorot, stepping forwards, his voice obviously lacking when compared to the company of demigods he found himself amongst yet holding firm regardless “I would ask Lord Atlas how he intends to divide command between the battle on the surface and that in the void. Though the prodigious intellect of Primarchs is astounding, I do not think one could clearly lead these two battles simultaneously.”
“The intellects of some Primarchs are astounding perhaps, Astartes, but I would not paint us all with that brush. Regardless, this discussion is beyond my concern.” Ravadiana spoke. “Atlas, we shall speak again before this all begins, I am sure. Oberon, if you wish to actually have a chance of victory when you next face Metillius, you would do well to seek me as well. After all, we wouldn’t want our ‘apex-predator’ to be found wanting, would we?” Her tone was mocking and amused, but with a flash of the hurtful rune, the armoured suit began to dissolve into a fine dust, gone with the next gentle breeze. A background pressure on the minds of those assembled would vanish.
“And now the witch is gone, for some… Intelligent and frank conversation? With how many legions are involved, one commander seems… A poor idea.” Atarian leaned forwards. “One Primarch, one legion. As it has always been. We know our rank and file best, if we have a commander best suited for commanding whichever we do not focus… Personally on, then we can name them so. Things will be… Chaotic.”
“As much as I hate to say it, the man-eater is right.” Cambyses sighed. “The system is too widely spread for anything but decentralised tactics. The best we can likely do is mark who’s legion will deal with each of the loyalists, and let Atarian and Oberon fight from their prepared positions while we do so.”
“Of course, my lords.” Heorot said, bringing his fist to his breast “I ask solely because we face an equal foe, who are likely to be disorganised when the deception is revealed, so a unified command might present a harder foe for them to overcome.”
“There will be no static singular command, I expect each of you to organise your legions effectively and delegate efficiently. That said, a hierarchy must always exist in battle. As Warmaster my decisions will be final, even where you disagree. I am giving operational command in the Void to Merinda, and I will be exercising operational command personally on Kvasir. Atarian and Oberon have overall command on the planets their forces are stationed at, with a responsibility to transfer command where necessary to free up their attention. Events will move quickly, and this is only the first of many battles.” Said Atlas.
A small frown twitched on Sceafa’s face before quickly washing away at Atlas’ words. Merinda to oversee the void? While he could not ignore her noted capabilities, he would be foolish to not do the same in regards to her rumoured mental state and its deterioration. He was not so handsy to place the security of the operation in her hands, especially when he was more than capable to oversee the theatre himself. Few were his equal when it came to vehicular warfare, fewer still in the void.
Besides, was he not Atlas’ closest ally in this rebellion? Is this how the Warmaster intended to reward loyalty? By granting prestige to those less worthy? Quickly realising his words, he pushed the thoughts from his mind. No, Atlas certainly knew what he was doing, Sceafa reasoned, he would not risk the success of the opening moves on someone who could not perform. He suspected some undue influence of Ravadiana on his thoughts, the warp always seemed to agitate him in an unpleasant way.
“If the Warmaster commands it, then I will follow,” Sceafa said, bringing his fist to his chest. “I shall remain in the void with Merinda. Cu and Metillius will not be able to resist the call of putting down the traitors personally, the same cannot be said for Morgan. He is too tactical for such a thing, two primarchs should be more than a match against him in the void. Besides, I’ve a grudge I would like to see settled against him”. The understatement of his words did not hide his contempt and intentions against Morgan, but his face remained calm despite it.
Merinda had remained silent throughout the meeting, unwilling to give anything away to allow the others to draw conclusions about her motivations, known only by her and Atlas when they met. She lamented others had not thought to do as such, interjecting, badgering and arguing among themselves where it had not been needed. Without Atlas giving them the unity of purpose needed, they would surely be doomed to infighting and the rebellion would die before it would begin. Their silence showed that even they could agree that giving her operational command was prudent - her entire life had been defined by void combat, as had the Marines Ascendant’s existence.
“Thank you, Sceafa” she said, swallowing her pride as she gave a polite smile to the barbarian as she began her very focused ‘matter of fact’ contribution. “Rest assured, I will not stand in the way of you and Morgan. He is a quarry for you, and you alone. Atlas is fortunate to have the two legions most skilled in boarding actions behind him - our fleet will swell to be the mightiest the Imperium has seen. Those we do not capture will burn in a barrage of macrocannon shot and suffocate in the depths of the void”.
She met the eyes of the Primarchs who would be planetside in order to give them reassurance. “Take heed that in the heat of battle you will not be forgotten - I will iron out the protocol closer to the operation, but I’m sure we will have the capacity and numbers to conduct orbital bombardments even whilst we pursue our own objectives, as well as ferrying supplies and troop deployments”. If anything, it would be key to keep their light cruisers and escort ships out of the firing line and focused on strike actions, resupplies or escort duties - the sheer amount of battleships and grand cruisers that would be brought to bear on each other would be far too much for their more fragile vessels. It would be important to ensure that convoys were prepared with repair crews and salvage teams. Obviously the more seriously damaged vessels would require a visit to the shipyards, but if they could get the ships with superficial damage back in action as soon as possible the Imperium will be overwhelmed by the sheer speed of their advance.
She reflected upon the Primarchs and how none of them had changed one bit. Their worst flaws were still present. But there were two who had made some growth. The first was Victoria, who was slowly shedding away her naivety; she could not imagine one bit how she felt, standing against the Emperor that she so irrationally loved. The second was Sceafa, who seemed willing to follow her in the void, in spite of the fact that they had no real liking for one another.
“What of the survivors of the attack?” he asked after a moment had passed, hoping to move quickly from the brief burst of emotion and Merinda’s own words. He eyed her cautiously, uncertainty growing over whether this was a moment of clarity from her or proof that the rumours he’d been hearing were just gross exaggeration. If this were who he was to fight in the void with, he anticipated a crushingly quick victory. A faint smile grew on his lips at the thought.
“Kill them all.” Atarian shrugged. “Spare no one, unless they decide to throw down their arms and pledge loyalty to us. We fight this war without mercy.”
Sceafa scoffed, shaking his head lightly “Brother, survivors escape even your savage hunger. Even a brief look at the map already shows ideal ambush spots for fleeing vessels, I merely wish to know if some have already been selected or whether they are at our discretion”.
Oberon’s voice rumbled in response to Sceafa “They will all die, either now or later. When the herd breaks and they begin to flee, I have arrayed forces in the Outer System - They will board any ships that fail to evade them, and cull those within.”
“What Oberon said.” Atarian said. “Ambushing and stalking is his specialty, not mine. The Circle will take the brunt of the loyalists, a bait for the trap. It has never been our way to hide and wait for the enemy.”
“This prowling will allow us to keep more vessels at the main battle, then” Sceafa nodded slowly, slightly impressed at Oberon’s display of tactical thinking, albeit in his bizarre way of speaking “But ensure your Hunters are not lost in their bloodlust, Oberon. The later the Imperium discovers the scale of our rebellion, the better”
They dwelt on those words for a few seconds. For a Primarch each second could be extended almost indefinitely. Each remaining saw brief glimpses of the rebellion as they imagined it. For justice, redemption, pride, thrill, or sheer necessity. Each knew that once unleashed it would be a flame unquenchable, one that would burn every world.
As the words faded, each came to a conclusion.Win or lose, the Imperium would never be the same.
Joint post by Krugmar, Lunas, Segmentia, Audunia, Revlona, Cilicia-Antioch, and Prusslandia
It had been three months since the meeting on Kvasir. Campaigns had been fought and finished. Armaments shipped in daily, the best commandeered for those loyal to Atlas. Only the Pale Hunters and Iron Circle received a diminished amount. Atlas had little reason to suspect any would piece together his involvement before the trap was sprung, given the Imperium’s endless bureaucracy. But he was loathe to take even the smallest of chances. Chondax was the hinge upon which his entire plan depended upon. A stunning and decisive victory meant an open door to Terra. Too many mistakes and the chance to save humanity would be shut forever.
He had played the role of the Emperor’s Warmaster well. His own campaigning had stopped. It had been easy to cite an increased workload. In fact it was not a lie, co-ordinating the Great Crusade alone took up a vast amount of his time. Planning a rebellion on top of that had begun pushing him to his limit. Every move had to be calculated, every risk assessed, all planets considered, and plans debated.
But no more. He had manoeuvred numerous Primarchs into position. Those he could not convince before he had placed out of the way. They would be cut off, forced to submit or wait out the war. Others would find themselves thrown at the mercy of his new allies, where they would find a new faith in him and his cause, or perish. Hesta had been ordered to mobilise her forces for a grand campaign. Erebus would take a large portion of the Steel Men to rendezvous with her, and block all communication using the new ways. By the time Hesta began to suspect, Victoria and the Imperial Eagles would arrive, and the trap would be sprung.
Ekkehart had been positioned near Ravadania. Erebus had been clear in his warning, their new allies desired that she be fully committed to the cause. Ravadania would expect the fight, but the speed by which the Storm Lords would arrive, and in greater force than expected, would bloody both legions. This would allow Erebus to concoct some form of sorcery which would tear the galaxy in two, trapping many Loyalists on the wrong side.
Then there was Chondax. Here the Marauders, Black Dogs, and Amber Order would meet their doom. Seven legions would descend upon the two rebels, though the Loyalists would find themselves betrayed and utterly destroyed.
Any moment now he would hear two pieces of news: An act of defiance, and an act of rebellion.
He had played the role of the Emperor’s Warmaster well. His own campaigning had stopped. It had been easy to cite an increased workload. In fact it was not a lie, co-ordinating the Great Crusade alone took up a vast amount of his time. Planning a rebellion on top of that had begun pushing him to his limit. Every move had to be calculated, every risk assessed, all planets considered, and plans debated.
But no more. He had manoeuvred numerous Primarchs into position. Those he could not convince before he had placed out of the way. They would be cut off, forced to submit or wait out the war. Others would find themselves thrown at the mercy of his new allies, where they would find a new faith in him and his cause, or perish. Hesta had been ordered to mobilise her forces for a grand campaign. Erebus would take a large portion of the Steel Men to rendezvous with her, and block all communication using the new ways. By the time Hesta began to suspect, Victoria and the Imperial Eagles would arrive, and the trap would be sprung.
Ekkehart had been positioned near Ravadania. Erebus had been clear in his warning, their new allies desired that she be fully committed to the cause. Ravadania would expect the fight, but the speed by which the Storm Lords would arrive, and in greater force than expected, would bloody both legions. This would allow Erebus to concoct some form of sorcery which would tear the galaxy in two, trapping many Loyalists on the wrong side.
Then there was Chondax. Here the Marauders, Black Dogs, and Amber Order would meet their doom. Seven legions would descend upon the two rebels, though the Loyalists would find themselves betrayed and utterly destroyed.
Any moment now he would hear two pieces of news: An act of defiance, and an act of rebellion.
