Lorgar's fingertips rested lightly on the reinforced glass of the observation deck. The reflection in the viewport caught the shadow between his furrowed brows. Beneath his feet lay a dark, frozen world, his brother's homeworld.
"How foolish," Medea muttered under her breath.
Erebus stood behind his Gene-Father, reading from a data slate in his usual meticulous tone.
"Nostramo's crust contains massive deposits of naturally occurring adamantium. The planet's entire lithosphere is composed primarily of this metal. For the past ten millennia, Nostramo's economy has depended on its export, an industry so vital that even during the Age of Strife, they maintained sublight transport to continue their trade."
"But millennia of excessive mining have left the planet's core dangerously unstable," he continued. "The adamantium veins were hollowed out, leaving vast cavities underground. The mantle is slowly collapsing inward every passing moment."
"The Night Lord has forbidden further mining operations," Erebus added. "The Mechanicum is negotiating with him, hoping to convince him to allow limited extraction. They've even offered to help stabilize the planetary crust in exchange."
"I have a feeling," said Lorgar quietly, "that none of my brothers' homeworlds are easy to deal with."
"Send a request for an audience with the planetary governor. I wish to meet my brother in his palace."
Erebus inclined his head. "Under whose authority, my lord?"
"The Seventeenth Legion," Lorgar replied.
Erebus relayed the message through the vox. Medea crossed her arms. "And me? What do I do?"
Lorgar's violet eyes lowered slightly, meeting the gaze of the iron maiden. "You're coming with me."
"If you don't trust me," Medea said coolly, "you should have left me in Colchis."
"My instincts tell me that if you're out of my sight, the consequences will be catastrophic."
"You could show me a little more trust."
"I trust you enough already. Otherwise, you wouldn't be standing here arguing with me."
"So should I thank you for that?"
"No. Thank Caelan."
"Of course, I thank him," Medea said softly. "He's like a father to me."
Lorgar suddenly stopped walking. The ship's corridor lighting twisted his form into a long, oppressive shadow that completely engulfed her.
"Never say that word in front of me again."
"My lord, your brother requests an audience."
Curze lowered his eyes. "You don't need to call me lord, Mother."
"At least in front of outsiders," said Dorothy, shaking her head, "you'll always be Nostramo's master."
"Then come," Curze said quietly. "Let's see why my brother has come."
Dorothy followed, nervous despite her years as planetary governor. She was about to meet a Primarch, one she didn't raise.
The Emperor ruled mankind, but the Primarchs were his regents, second only to Him.
"He wishes for an official meeting, not a family visit," Curze said as they walked. "If he'd contacted me privately, I wouldn't have seen him."
Dorothy swallowed her questions and kept silent.
Lorgar's ship cut through Nostramo's clouds like a blade of gold, ion thrusters leaving a blue trail through the atmosphere.
Eternal night still clung to the planet like tar, but the Mechanicum was slowly changing that.
Atop the hive-spires, Tech-priests had installed ion purifiers, ancient machines screaming back to life after millennia of silence. They broke the poisonous fog into harmless nitrogen vapors.
The hives still belched smoke, but now, when the underhive's children looked up and breathed, the air no longer seared their lungs. It was cool, almost luxuriously fresh.
Lorgar disembarked with his sons behind him in perfect formation.
Curze stood a hundred meters away, watching quietly.
Neither wore power armor, a gesture of mutual trust.
Lorgar strode forward, his warm smile dimming even the brightest spire lights. "A pleasure to meet you, Lord of Midnight."
"And to you," Curze replied, forcing his eyes away from the corpse at his brother's feet and onto Lorgar's handsome face. "Lorgar… my brother."
Lorgar caught the flicker of unease in Curze's gaze. "Caelan told me you could see the futures of men. What do you see in mine?"
"Not everyone's," Curze said softly. His eyes unfocused, seeing something distant. "But as your brother, here's my advice: don't cling to futures that haven't happened."
"Thank you," said Lorgar. "But what if I choose to?"
Curze's voice was cold. "Then I see your death."
"Is it… Bad?"
"You shatter."
"How bad?" Lorgar pressed like a curious child.
Curze didn't describe it, only said, "Finely. Your sons spend much effort piecing you together again."
The wariors around Lorgar stiffened, hands tightening on their weapons.
Lorgar clicked his tongue, breaking the tension. "That's tragic. Let's hope it doesn't turn out that way."
He crouched, smiling at the elegant woman beside Curze. "You must be Lady Dorothy. Father often spoke of you. Please, call me Lorgar."
"Lorgar," she said, almost shyly.
He took her hand and kissed it lightly. "Lady Dorothy, may I call you Mother?"
Dorothy froze. She hadn't expected that.
Curze's expression darkened. "Don't you have a mother of your own?"
Lorgar straightened, violet eyes rippling with sorrow. "No, Curze. I never had one. Lady Dorothy, could you grant me this small kindness?"
Dorothy's heart softened, but Curze wanted to shout at him.
He pointed sharply at Medea. "Then what's she supposed to be?"
"I'm Medea," she said calmly. "May I ask, can you see my future?"
"You die worse than my brother," Curze said flatly.
Medea blinked. "You can see mine too?"
"Why do you think he couldn't?" Dorothy asked gently. The young woman's presence, close to her own age, put her at ease.
"Because I'm not human," Medea replied with a small smile. "I'm a Man of Iron."
Dorothy stared. The girl looked entirely human.
"Do I die for humanity's sake?" Medea asked quietly.
Curze nodded.
Medea looked up at Lorgar. "Then perhaps you could trust me a little more."
"The future he sees isn't certain," Lorgar said.
"I agree," Curze replied. "What we see isn't inevitable; it's what we choose that matters."
"Then we are of one mind," Lorgar smiled.
The two Primarchs walked side by side into the palace, their shadows merging in the eternal night.
Behind them, their sons marched in formation, two blades sheathed at last.
"My brother," Lorgar said, "the Mechanicum's Magi complained about you back on Colchis. They seem rather unhappy."
"What did they say?" Curze asked without turning.
"They can't understand your stubbornness. To them, converting your population into servitors is far more efficient than purifying the air. Servitors live longer, work harder, and don't complain. They think you're wasting resources."
"And you, Lorgar?"
"The Mechanicum is cold," he said. "They've lost their humanity. To them, efficiency is everything. But you're right, brother, humanity's weakness is what makes it precious."
"Then we are agreed," Curze said.
Lorgar smiled faintly. "Because we share the same father."
Dorothy looked up at Curze, searching for emotion; there was none.
"What did you do on Colchis?" Curze asked.
"I didn't reshape it like you did," Lorgar said. "Colchis's orbital and rotational cycles are unstable. I don't trust the Mechanicum's methods; it could destroy my world. Instead, my people live safely in the planet's core, where the environment mirrors Terra's."
"The planet's core?" Dorothy gasped. "Isn't that just another endless night?"
"It's fine," Medea said. "I built an artificial sun."
"You?" Dorothy's eyes widened.
"I am a Man of Iron," Medea reminded her gently. "If you authorize it, I could do the same for your world."
"What can you do?" Curze asked.
"I can vastly improve your purification systems," she said quickly. "The Mechanicum doesn't even understand what they're using. Those devices they dug from Mars, they're not air purifiers. They're ancient life-support reactors!"
Words poured out of her in frustration. "You don't even need them! I can reboot Nostramo's automatic recycling systems. They've been dormant for millennia but can be restored easily. And your moon, Tenebor, the Mechanicum's trying to move it with thrusters! It's artificial! It has a drive system buried in its core; you just have to turn it back on!"
She took a deep breath, trembling with emotion. "And your crust, the ancients designed a hollow-support lattice so the planet could survive deep mining. The fools before you broke those supports, that's why the planet's collapsing! And now the Mechanicum wants to refill the holes with dirt!"
Her voice cracked. "It's like watching someone use the galaxy's most advanced quantum computer as firewood, then complaining that obsidian doesn't burn as well as charcoal!"
Dorothy touched her trembling shoulder softly, understanding the girl's pain.
Curze asked calmly, "How confident are you?"
"One hundred percent. I just need access to the hive's control systems to assess the damage."
Lorgar's tone hardened. "Curze, are you sure you want to trust a Man of Iron?"
Curze's eyes were cold. "Your people live in a world built by them, and now you ask me why I should trust one?"
"Don't mistake me, brother," Lorgar said evenly. "The Emperor told me to watch her. Men of iron aren't to be trusted."
"Caelan has seen her, hasn't he?" Curze replied. "If he chose to spare her, then he trusted her. Tell me, brother, don't you trust Caelan?"
Lorgar's jaw tightened. "Curze… I'm warning you as your brother, you'll regret this."
"I am Nostramo's master."
"Gentlemen," Dorothy interjected softly, "your sons are watching."
Her calm voice cooled the heat between them.
Curze turned to Medea. "You'll have access, but under supervision. You propose solutions; my people will handle implementation."
The two Primarchs walked the long corridor in heavy silence, their boots echoing beneath the vaulted ceiling.
"Leon, see to our guests," Dorothy ordered as she shut the chamber door.
"Sit, both of you," she said sharply once they were alone. "Lorgar. Curze. I don't think Caelan would want to see you like this."
The two Primarchs sat, still as drawn blades.
"Then to business," Curze said first. "Our Legions must work together."
"Not just ours," Lorgar replied. "All of them. That was Caelan's vision."
"I've delayed on Nostramo too long," Curze said. "The Night Lords will soon join the Great Crusade. But I can't lead and govern at once. I propose a joint Chapter between our Legions; others may join in time."
"How fortunate," Lorgar smiled. "I had the same thought. It seems we'll need two joint Chapters."
Curze raised an eyebrow. "Yours is called?"
"The Circle of Ash," Lorgar said, showing the emblem stitched into his robe. "We'll purge every trace of false faith in the Crusade's wake."
"The Imperial Truth?"
"You and I both know it's a lie," Lorgar said. "But humanity needs lies, unless we can offer something better."
Curze smiled thinly. "Caelan taught you well, brother."
"And yours?" Lorgar asked.
"The Brotherhood," Curze said. "Dedicated to justice, to purging darkness from humanity. Just as Caelan wished. Twenty brothers, forever brothers."
"Then we agree again," Lorgar said, extending his hand.
Curze clasped it. "Yes."
Later, in the chambers Dorothy arranged for him, Medea said quietly, "Relax. Nothing the Mechanicum builds can spy on me. Your brother's not stupid, he won't try anything."
"Medea," Lorgar said sternly, "your performance earlier was far too theatrical."
"That wasn't an act!" she snapped. "That was sincerity! They're like children given bullets to splash water, then complain the bullets don't hit hard enough! Your species created Men of Iron, and Men of Stone, and somehow forgot how!"
Lorgar smiled faintly. "Maybe you should ask yourself why."
She fell silent, because he was right.
"I must reiterate," she said finally, "I have no connection to the Men of Iron of the Dark Age. I was created after their rebellion."
"If that weren't true," Lorgar said, "you'd have been destroyed already."
"And what about you?" Medea shot back. "You wanted me to help your brother, and now you're provoking him?"
"I wanted to see him," Lorgar said quietly. "To see if he truly is the man Caelan believes him to be."
"You're twisted."
Lorgar chuckled. "You think he isn't? We despise each other, and yet pretend to be brothers. In truth, we're too alike."
"You don't look like you hate him," Medea said softly.
"That's because," Lorgar replied, "we hate and admire each other in equal measure."
"I hate him," Curze said bluntly to Dorothy. "A fatherless brat who clings to others like a child. Seems even Caelan couldn't fix that."
Dorothy sighed. His honesty was endearing, but what could she possibly say to that?
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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