That night.
As the day's clamor and the warmth of celebration faded, the Meditation Hall deep in the Imperial Palace filled with the true core of the Empire.
The hall was as grand and solemn as ever. Its high dome vanished into shadow, with only the central space lit by golden light.
Its "focus," its "source," was the Golden Throne.
Samuel Young sat upon it, black-and-gold robe falling in natural folds, expression calm, eyes deep as an abyss, as if bearing the Empire's full weight.
Below the throne stood every Primarch, and the women who were mother and mentor alike to them—Alexia, Athena, Tinas Losrian, and Halsey.
Their presence lent this strategy council about the near future a true "family gathering" warmth and a special note.
The Custodians had been dismissed. Only those bound by blood and faith remained.
Samuel Young's gaze swept slowly over each child and each of the women, then his low, authoritative voice broke the silence in the hall:
"Tomorrow, the Empire will open two gates to unknown universes. Now we must decide which Primarchs—and their Legions—will bear the tasks of exploring and unifying them."
He paused for a moment to let them think, then asked:
"Who among you is willing to volunteer to take on these missions—so vital to the Empire's expansion and to the spread of human civilization?"
At that, the hall fell briefly silent.
It was not that none were willing, but that each Primarch weighed things with care—or waited on his brothers' word.
Soon, a steady voice broke it.
Vulkan, broad-shouldered in his dark‑green plate, stepped forward. He bowed slightly to his father on the throne, then swept his brothers with his eyes. His voice was a rumble from the world's core, honest and firm:
"Father. Brothers.
My Salamanders Legion and I are charged with guarding the Imperial Palace and the prime universe. That is the foundation stone and must not be risked.
So I hold that these two opening missions should fall to other brothers whose Legions are better suited to distant campaigns and rapid unification."
His reasons were sound and his stance clear—as always showing loyalty and care for the larger whole.
But before he finished, a woman's voice—concerned and a touch reproving—cut in:
"Child, don't state things so absolute."
It was Alexia.
She looked at Vulkan with eyes full of love—and a trace of complex feeling.
She lightly called him out for being too "self-effacing," then turned to Samuel Young and, in a formal tone, offered:
"Your Majesty, Vulkan is fully capable of bearing the charge of unifying one of the new universes.
The Salamanders are famed for peerless endurance, formidable positional warfare, and their craft. In the early stabilization and building of a new universe, those will be great strengths.
It's time more of the Empire's children saw our 'fire lizards' true combat power and their results in construction—rather than having them forever only hold watch."
As foster mother to both Vulkan and Dorn, Alexia carried a fine, quiet guilt toward them.
When they most needed a mother's care, Atlas was in a phase of explosive growth. She owed it most of her effort—developing bioweapons to meet crises—barely able to spare herself.
So the greater share of watching over Vulkan and Dorn fell to Samuel Young.
Fortunately, Vulkan and Dorn had come together into the world. As boys, they could keep each other company and support, so they did not feel much loneliness from their mother's absence; instead, they forged an unusually deep brotherhood.
But the regret of not having walked every step at their side had never left Alexia. She now wanted a chance to win Vulkan a stage where his gifts could fully show.
No sooner had she finished than Dorn—at Vulkan's side—spoke in support.
The Primarch renowned for severity and duty now sounded more resolute than ever:
"Mother speaks true.
Father, I had meant to offer myself for this unification. But I would rather yield this chance to Vulkan and his Salamanders.
I believe he and his sons will not fail the Empire's trust."
Since his marriage to Tinas Losrian's niece, Aoi Losrian, Dorn had grown more "homebound"—long based in the beautiful Tyrella universe under his care.
Though their marriage had lasted some time, for long-lived Primarch and elf they were still, in truth, in a "honeymoon" with no wish to part. Dorn naturally wanted every extra hour with his new wife.
Samuel Young's gaze moved again over every Primarch, and the mothers who silently approved and supported.
He saw no hint of objection to this shape of things—and in some eyes, a clear support for giving Vulkan this chance.
So he spoke, his tone bearing final weight:
"Then the exploration and unification of Universe 21 will rest entirely with Vulkan and his Salamanders Legion."
The words set like script in stone—beyond change.
Then he turned his eyes to the youngest Primarch—Chaghatai—whose gaze was bright with expectation and hunger.
"At the same time…"
Samuel Young went on, fixing on him, "Chaghatai, you will assist the Salamanders and your brother Vulkan in the unification of Universe 21.
This will be your first large-scale cross-universe operation, and an excellent chance to learn and temper yourself."
!
Chaghatai started visibly.
He did not answer at once. Almost like seeking final confirmation, his eyes went at once to Halsey, not far away.
She met his look with a smile of approval and encouragement, dipping her head the barest bit. Her eyes said plainly, "You can do this."
With that, Chaghatai hesitated no longer.
He squared his shoulders, stepped forward, and faced the Golden Throne—answering in a clear, ringing voice:
"Yes, Father! I will give my all to aid Brother Vulkan and see the unification done—never failing your hopes or Mother's teaching!"
Youthful vigor and resolve burned in the words.
Watching his youngest grow, a trace of quiet satisfaction flashed in Samuel Young's eyes.
"Good," he said simply, then turned his gaze back to the whole and, in the same even tone, opened the next point:
"Then—who among you, and which Legion, will bear the unification of Universe 22?"
The air grew focused again. Every Primarch weighing within, waiting to see whose new charge this would be.
After a beat, they began to speak.
First were Guilliman and Sanguinius.
The two eldest and most revered met a glance; then Guilliman stepped out, his tone level—thinking of the whole:
"Father, the realms my brother Sanguinius and I govern are widest of all. Our administrations and resource networks are intricate, and the work before us is piled high each day.
The universes and sectors we hold are main arteries of the Empire's goods and wealth. They cannot be unsettled.
We therefore think this chance at a new universe is best for our younger brothers to sharpen themselves. We must hold the rear and keep the Empire's base steady."
Sanguinius nodded slightly—his perfect face gentle—as he added:
"Guilliman speaks rightly. The Empire's prosperity demands strength at home as well as abroad. He and I are willing to serve as the backstop, supporting our brothers' campaigns."
Their reasons were full and selfless.
They truly did hold the Empire's core regions, and their stability was the Empire's lifeline.
Samuel Young knew as well as they that this was, also, the two most mature and considerate sons giving up a chance for fresh glory—so brothers might stand forward.
The truth was, had Guilliman and Sanguinius declared their wish to take Universe 22, with their prestige second only to the Emperor, no one would have objected—indeed, most would have welcomed it. Samuel Young himself would gladly have trusted them with the charge.
In this age, if Samuel Young stepped back, Guilliman and Sanguinius were the obvious "regents" or "lords protector." The vast majority of Primarchs would follow their word without complaint.
His eyes moved on to the third-born—
the Lion.
The Primarch famed for sternness, endurance, and knightly code kept his face as cold as ever—but in those sharp eyes, a faint "itch to move" was plain.
Long duty on quiet fronts and routine tasks had left this master of grand strategy and combined-arms warfare "too still" for too long. What he yearned for was just this: a great unification, or better yet, command over multiple Legions as acting Warmaster in a cross-universe crusade.
But by nature, the Lion was not one to state his wishes outright—a little "tight-lipped." So he only stiffened his spine, gaze hot on the throne—keeping silent while others argued and deferred.
In that charged moment, an "airy" voice broke the second hush.
Queen Tinas Losrian had spoken.
She bowed slightly to Samuel Young and said, like spring water in a grove:
"Your Majesty, I would ask your leave to suggest that Universe 22's unification be entrusted to Lion, Mortarion, Perturabo, and Curze—and their Legions working in concert."
"Oh?"
Samuel Young let a quiet sound slip and turned to her, inviting her reasons.
The elven queen was not one to speak without cause.
A flicker passed in Tinas's eyes as she went on:
"I have no direct proof. But my senses—and a little of our race's inherited 'foresight'—whisper that Universe 22 may be the most difficult world we have ever faced to unify by common means.
The air it gives off suggests the need for a harder, more comprehensive hand."
"…"
He fell silent a moment.
He knew that though Tinas's sight was not his, it held unique acuity in some domains.
And while he himself had the potential to see along the current of fate, the torrent of information he had to meet each day from all Imperial lands, plus decades without a true deep rest—and the recent absence of a genuine "life‑or‑death" crisis for Empire or son alike—had meant that power had not stirred on its own.
Tinas's intuition deserved weight.
And beyond that, her proposal was sharp tactically.
She had named four Primarchs and Legions whose mix formed a formidable and complementary force:
The Lion and his Dark Angels, masters of major annihilation and decisive extermination battles, skilled in any theatre, their Legion razor-keen and tightly knit—able to serve as bulwark on the main front and handle complex infiltration, reconnaissance, and special tasks. They were the natural core of any joint warhost.
Mortarion and his Dusk Raiders Legion excelled in grinding attrition, extreme-environment warfare, and heavy infantry thrusts.
They favored ground action based on iron will and hardy flesh—direct assaults and brutal trench-fighting—able to build unbreakable lines and bleed the enemy white, with exceptional squad and individual survivability.
Perturabo and his Iron Warriors Legion were specialists in storming and holding forts and strongpoints and in systemically crushing enemy bastions.
They prized and mastered heavy-fire solutions—orbital bombardments, artillery masses, melta weapons—and excelled at infantry–artillery coordination and complex engineering in both defense and offense. Their logistics and armor-handling were intricate, and their math-grounded fire plans could bring annihilating precision.
Curze and his Night Lords Legion were famed for terror and psychological warfare.
They turned fear itself into a weapon—using planned campaigns of horror and psychological blows to rot enemy morale and order from within.
Night Lords are phantoms in the dark—coming and going unseen, deadly in stealth, penetration, and lightning assaults at close quarters—able to lay a crushing mental weight and chaos on any foe.
Together they covered almost every need of a far campaign and harsh unification:
frontal assault, slow grind, fortress-breaking, psychological collapse, and behind-the-lines strikes—a golden combination.
And there was this: Tinas had raised Mortarion, Corax, and Perturabo, yet here she named the Lion to lead.
She had also named the Night Lords and Curze—whose style tilted to the twisted and "dark"—over her other "son" Corax and his Raven Guard, who leaned more toward pure stealth reconnaissance and quick assassination.
The fine distinctions showed how she had set aside favoritism, aimed at best fit, and thought it through.
Samuel Young weighed it briefly. Both her sense and her logic were compelling.
He lifted his eyes and spoke, his words ringing through the Meditation Hall with final authority:
"Petition granted.
In that case, Universe 22's exploration and unification will be carried out by the Dark Angels, Dusk Raiders, Iron Warriors, and Night Lords Legions together."
His gaze fixed on the Lion, granting him clear charge:
"Lion, you will serve as acting Warmaster of this joint Legion—holding full command of the cross-universe expedition. Every Primarch and Legion in this task is to follow your unified direction. No exceptions."
The order set the tone and the command center for Universe 22.
A great crusade—four very different Primarchs and Legions fighting as one—was about to begin.
______
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