When the Primarch of the Eighteenth Legion entered the hexagonal conference room of the Unbending Truth, the spacious room, capable of accommodating dozens of Astartes warriors, seemed to shrink.
This conference room was a faithful replica of the oldest knight fortress on Caliban. When he was still a knight on that forest world, the Primarch of the First Legion had united most of the knights on his homeworld in that fortress, leading those brave and noble warriors to sweep away the millennia-old tide of giant beasts.
That fortress, built of brick and marble, thus embodied the Lion of Caliban's initial dream. And when he shifted his hunting ground from the empty forest to the never-ending peace of the galaxy, the Primarch naturally moved this fortress among the stars as well.
The towering figures of the Lion and Vulkan were projected onto the stone walls adorned with niches by constantly flickering candlelight, their magnificent forms shifting between solemn statues and giant beast skulls.
The iron cages confining these candelabras hung above their shadows, mercilessly illuminating this cold stone chamber and the antique implements made of stone, steel, and hardwood in the four corners of the room.
If not for the star map in the center of the room, continuously flashing light blue and crimson, no one would believe that such a room could exist in the very heart of a massive battleship spanning the star sea.
"How many men did you bring, Vulkan?"
The Lion walked to the star map. His gaze first meticulously checked if there had been any significant changes on the front line since his departure. After confirming that the most crucial nodes remained unchanged, the Lion refocused his eyes on his blood brother.
"Forty thousand."
Without hesitation, Vulkan's thick lips moved, softly uttering this weighty number.
"I need to leave some necessary garrison forces on Nocturne. Other than that, my entire Legion will follow your deployment in this war, Lion."
The Lion nodded, very satisfied with this number. He knew that this was indeed Vulkan's utmost effort, almost reaching his limit. It was likely that the Lord of Nocturne, like himself, had even brought new recruits from their homeworld.
Contrary to popular imagination, at their current point in time, around the seventieth Terran Standard Year since the start of the Great Crusade, the so-called Astartes Legions, in terms of numbers alone, were vastly different from what mortals might envision as a "Legion."
In the Imperium's standards, a "Legion" was an absolute symbol of power, an invincible emblem capable of instilling the most primal despair and fear in any opponent, a Hammer of the Emperor that could crush a kingdom or even a world with a mere swing. The fundamental reason for their terrifying nature was the overwhelming force brought by sheer numbers.
Without millions, tens of millions, or even greater military strength, one simply couldn't bear the name "Legion."
However, the Astartes Legions were a notable exception.
Across the entire galaxy, the total number of Astartes currently fighting for the Emperor, across all fronts, was probably no more than seven or eight hundred thousand, perhaps even fewer.
As the strongest Legion at this moment, the Dark Angels boasted a formidable force of one hundred and fifty thousand. And under the Lion's direct command, only the Luna Wolves, Ultramarines, and Imperial Fists could reach a strength of "one hundred thousand."
Below that, the Iron Warriors and Word Bearers, as powerful Legions with prosperous homeworlds and stable gene-seeds, had long surpassed fifty thousand in numbers. However, due to certain unique issues stemming from their Primarchs, such as obsession with religion or bloody tactics, their growth in military strength had always been slower than their most thriving brethren.
Surprisingly, the White Scars at this time also possessed military strength on par with the Iron Warriors and Word Bearers. This might be attributed to the Fifth Legion's long history: in the earliest stages of the Great Crusade, the Fifth Legion, then known as the Star Hunters, was already among the largest Legions, with at least fifty thousand warriors greeting the return of Jaghatai Khan. In the following years, this number expanded to eighty thousand.
Further down, Legions such as the Blood Angels, Space Wolves, and Death Guard struggled immensely to expand their ranks due to bloody wars and their stubborn focus on recruiting from specific worlds. This was the usual state for most Astartes Legions: not everyone was like that ambitious Ultramarine, holding vast numbers of worlds, ready to carve out their own domain at any time.
And the Legions in the worst situations, such as the Emperor's Children or the Thousand Sons, fluctuated around a few thousand strong. Given the intensity of the Great Crusade, such a force was not even suitable for undertaking a Crusade front independently: one must remember that the seemingly smooth Dulan Extermination Campaign alone inflicted at least two thousand casualties on the Dark Angels and Space Wolves, which would be fatal for Legions with thin military strength.
"Forty thousand men..."
The Lion murmured softly. This number was not far from his previous estimate. In the Lion of Caliban's prediction, he would receive approximately one hundred thousand reinforcements from the Salamanders and Space Wolves. Coupled with fragmented units from other Legions, and his own Legion, this would form an invincible military might of three hundred thousand Astartes.
With this force, even if the Randan (alien race) saw through his plan, he would still be able to crush any invading enemy with sheer brute force.
"Yes, forty thousand, my brother. Please tell me, what do we need to do in this war?"
Vulkan's question echoed through the stone chamber, like the low roar of a fire dragon lingering in a deep valley. The Lion quietly watched his brother, seemingly wanting to speak immediately but hesitating.
The Lion's gaze wandered for a moment, finally landing on his other silver-haired blood relative. At this moment, Morgan had just walked to a stone platform at the edge of the room and taken out wine and glasses from its empty storage. This made the Primarch frown involuntarily: he didn't recall his conference room having wine.
The Lion's gaze followed his Psyker Advisor from the edge of the room all the way back to his front, until Morgan placed the glasses before everyone and poured the wine.
"Regardless, Lord Vulkan and his Legion are our distinguished guests, and even more so, our battle brothers fighting alongside us."
The Lion of Caliban's face was solemn as he watched his blood relative push two glasses of wine, one to him and one to the Lord of Nocturne.
"And no matter when, leaving a guest's and brother's front empty is not polite, is it?"
With that, she turned and looked at the Lord of Nocturne.
"Please taste it, my lord. Perhaps it is not... perfect. After all, the war is urgent, and this is the best we can offer."
The Lion looked at the wine glass in front of him, watching the wine, like flowing red tears, swirl in the clear glass.
When did these things appear in his conference room?
The Lion's suspicious gaze landed on Morgan's face, but the Spider Lady merely spread her hands slightly in mid-air, unhesitatingly betraying a colleague who was personally guarding outside the room.
"Lord Corswain is an excellent steward; he is always thorough."
While the Lion's eyebrows were still twitching at this answer, the Lord of Nocturne had carefully picked up the somewhat miniature wine glass in front of him and drained it.
It was a little sour.
The wine in the glass was barely enough to wet the Primarch's throat. Vulkan blinked his crimson eyes, wanting to express some words of thanks, but aside from the fleeting sourness, he truly tasted nothing more from the wine.
During Vulkan's few seconds of silence, he heard Morgan's apologetic voice. The silver-haired mortal seemed to be carefully observing his face and had acutely caught that momentary stillness.
"I apologize, my lord, but in such haste, this is all I could produce."
The Lord of Nocturne saw only sincerity on the Spider Lady's face. Her azure pupils were obscured by long lashes, revealing only a glimmer of their lake-like shimmer.
Vulkan remained silent, his intricate thoughts, hidden beneath his rough exterior, churning because of Morgan's words and the meaning of this sour wine.
Almost immediately, Vulkan understood. At this moment, the Lion's gaze still lingered between the wine glass in front of him and his two blood relatives, this beast, unable to comprehend most emotions, seemed somewhat bewildered.
"Where did you get these things?"
"The grapes I cultivated myself, right in my own room. But because of the urgency of the war, I could only pick these unripe crops and brew this imperfect, sour wine."
"Many things in reality are always sudden, disrupting many plans, and then everything becomes an imperfect result, like this glass of wine."
"But we must drink it nonetheless."
The Primarch of the First Legion stared at the swirling wine in his blood relative's glass, guessing what she was implying with her words. On Morgan's other side, the Lord of Nocturne had already burst into laughter.
"Actually, you don't need to be so subtle, Lady Morgan."
"Although I have always tried hard to become a warrior, and always failed, I have learned some things in the process. I know that war will not compromise with anyone's thoughts. So, if I have to face a sour wine here, or even a purely bitter wine, I will drink it."
"This is why I am here. Someone must drink the bitter wine. Since the Emperor has given me great strength, I should bear more for those who have no strength."
"Tell me, what do you need me to do?"
The Lord of Nocturne looked at the Lion, who was still staring intently at him and Morgan, not yet fully comprehending. A smile, somewhat ferocious yet immensely reassuring, appeared on his dark face.
"Don't worry, Lion, I do not fear casualties, and none of my sons fear them. If forty thousand Salamander warriors can buy the peace and tranquility of countless worlds behind us, then I would be more than willing."
The Lion blinked. He nodded somewhat numbly, his final gaze lingering on his two blood relatives, futilely pondering what consensus these two had reached, and what information they had exchanged, in those last two sentences.
But in the end, he didn't dwell too long in this field he perhaps wasn't skilled in. The Primarch's finger tapped a few times, and the star map before them suddenly changed. Countless star systems and worlds were rapidly bypassed, and their own Tacus System was magnified infinitely, until a colossal world filled every corner of the star map.
"Tacus V, the only world in this system that barely meets colonization standards. Its volume is roughly similar to Saturn in the Solar System. Its surface consists only of deserts and dried oceans, with the only water concentrated in glaciers at the tops of a few high peaks."
"I have established the main battlefield for this war here. My warriors have already built sufficiently sturdy permanent fortress complexes on this world. I can guarantee their solidity and performance. Unless the Xenos use weapons capable of destroying an entire world, even the largest fleet broadside cannot fundamentally threaten this place."
As the Lion spoke, he zoomed in on the world on the star map, allowing Vulkan to clearly see the vast and boundless desert, the undulating hilly terrain, and the core fortress, surrounded by mountains and ravines, with only a few entrances remaining, on Tacus V.
Centered around this core, the vast network of fortresses and fortifications built by the Dark Angels had expanded to a continental scale. Thousands of Indestructible Citadels had been planned by the Lion's sons in the past few months. Most of them were protected by thick defensive barriers, and the giant engines supporting these barriers were safely placed within specially reinforced fortresses.
The Lion casually clicked on an individual unit within this formidable armed complex, meticulously detailing its data.
"This is the A-13 fortress complex. It is responsible for guarding the giant engines that maintain the defensive barriers of the six surrounding regions. It consists of three main fortresses, five joint fortresses, and more turret fortresses.
Its center is equipped with 600mm main cannons, with all surfaces covered by 500mm thick special alloy plates. Each fortress has at least three layers of permanent fortifications underground, with each layer of permanent concrete canopy being 4000mm thick. The fortresses are connected by countless underground passages and small railways, with even more pillboxes.
All fortress turrets are sunken and possess an absolute field of fire. As for the armory and giant engines, they are located at least fifty meters deep underground. Unless the entire garrison is wiped out, the Randan (alien race) cannot destroy them. And as long as the engines continue to operate, the Xenos fleet will need an extremely long time to truly damage the fortress itself."
"And this fortress complex is among the most ordinary of all the complexes, akin to a child's shirt compared to a knight's armor when set against the true core fortress."
Vulkan listened to his brother's lengthy discourse, his gaze fixed on everything displayed on the star map: the fortresses were majestic, the ramparts stood tall, and countless fortresses spread like a spiderweb across half the world, forming an unimaginable and excellent battlefield for crushing the Xenos army.
"Breathtaking, my brother."
"I originally thought that only the Iron Warriors or the Imperial Fists could accomplish such a feat."
The Lion smiled.
"I wouldn't dare claim all the credit, Vulkan. In fact, there are indeed warriors from both Legions currently in my fleet, and their contributions to these fortresses are greater than those of all my sons combined."
The Lion still remembered Morgan's idea of "putting the Iron Warriors and Imperial Fists together at the fortress construction site." Its effect was indeed good: it just consumed a lot of working hours and raw materials.
Vulkan carefully observed these magnificent war fortresses, admiring their grandeur and power as a blacksmith. But he didn't dwell for too long. Soon, his crimson-glowing eyes returned to the Lion.
"So, I suppose, this is the battlefield for my Legion?"
Facing this question, the Lion paused. He instinctively glanced aside, only to find that his other blood relative was absorbed in observing the fortress on the star map, ignoring his gaze.
The Lion cleared his throat.
"Yes, my brother, I need your Legion to be stationed here. I will also dispatch some of my sons, but not too many. Your warriors will need to fight alongside mortals."
"That sounds good. Solid fortresses and reliable comrades: I don't think I need anything more. So, what is our mission?"
"...Hold the line. Hold the line at all costs."
The Lion fell silent for a moment, eventually uttering that cold phrase.
"I will use my methods to conceal a large part of my naval power in the void until the Randan (alien race) fleets 'break through' all my defensive lines and arrive on this world. Your mission is to hold the line here, cooperate with other units, and inflict enough casualties on the Randan to force them to continuously send landing forces."
"The fleet I leave behind will constantly interfere with them, ensuring air superiority in certain areas and preventing them from inflicting true devastating blows on this world. Once the Randan have committed enough or sufficiently important forces to the surface of this world, I need your Legion to hold them at all costs. My Legion will appear and provide support with the fastest speed, annihilating the entrapped Randan main force on the surface and in low orbit of this world."
"Vulkan, I will not hide anything from you, my brother. This will be a very dangerous and brutal mission. Your Legion will need to resist the main Randan force for an extremely long time, inflicting sufficient casualties – I cannot determine what this number will be, but I will give you all the warriors in my Legion who can help in defense. I hope the Salamander's front line will be impregnable."
"The Randan fleet may be larger than we imagine, so I cannot truly determine how this war will end. But no matter what, my brother, if a fatal loophole or danger appears on the front line you are responsible for, please speak up in time. I will change the plan immediately. We do not need all the Randan Xenos to die here; we just need to make them bleed enough."
The Lion's words were a little muddled, and somewhat agitated. He stared intently at his blood brother, and meeting that gaze, Vulkan also nodded seriously.
"Leave it to me."
He simply replied.
The Lion looked at him and nodded.
"I'm leaving it to you."
Then, various trivial matters were continuously brought up in the Primarchs' conversation. Time passed minute by minute until Corswain arrived to announce that the Space Wolves fleet had appeared at the Mandeville Point. The Lord of Nocturne suddenly remembered another question.
"So, Lion, my brother."
"What role does our brother Leman Russ play in your plan?"
Faced with this question, the Lion did not hesitate. He did not speak, merely revealing an intriguing smile.
"I gave him a role, brother."
"A role that suits him very well."
"A role very suitable for... a wolf and his mad cubs."
Vulkan blinked. He looked at Morgan, hoping for a clearer answer.
Morgan's smile and a slow, soft whisper answered him. Clearly, Morgan had been informed of every step of the plan long ago.
"Wolves, huh..."
"Naturally, they're free to cause a ruckus."
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