On Kamino, a massive crowd had gathered in the main spaceport, a silence heavy with respect and anticipation hanging over the impeccable ranks. Thousands of clones, assigned to their new posts, stood at attention. Before them, the senior officers – Raynor, Horner, Nova, Swann, Mengsk, Tosh, and Valerius – watched the scene with unconcealed pride.
Then, Julius Braveheart appeared.
He wore a cloak of deep midnight blue, woven not from simple cloth, but from legendary beskar fibers. The cape didn't just flutter in the air; it seemed to absorb light, reflecting only subtle metallic highlights, moving with a majestic heaviness that spoke of its mythical resilience. Beneath this cloak, his customized Umoja armor had been augmented with elements reminiscent of beskar, creating a silhouette both elegant and terribly imposing.
His gaze, filled with a quiet authority, swept over the crowd. He saw more than soldiers. He saw the future of his empire.
"Soldiers of the Braveheart Legion!" His voice, amplified and carried by his Beta-level Psyker power, resonated in the heart and mind of every being present, clone or not. "You stand here today, not as mere warriors, but as the foundations upon which we will build a new order."
He paused, letting his words sink in.
"For months, we have forged our strength in the shadows. We have learned, we have adapted, we have become stronger. The time of shadows is ending. The moment has come for us to deploy, to take our place in this galaxy torn by war."
He turned to the officers.
"General Raynor, Admiral Horner. Your orders are simple: establish a presence. Find unclaimed systems, worlds rich in resources. Establish outposts and shipyards. Show the flag of the Legion."
His gaze then fell on Nova and the newcomer, Nomad, who stood apart, observing everything with a professional's eye.
"Director Terra, Lieutenant Dunn. Your units – Ghosts and Crisis – will be our eyes, our ears, and our dagger. Infiltrate, surveil, sabotage if necessary. Render the enemy blind and deaf before they even know we are here."
He scanned the assembly one last time.
"The Emperor's Great Crusade continues. His gaze is elsewhere. This is our window of opportunity. We do not defy Him today. We are simply building what He cannot or will not build: a sanctuary, a power independent of the Warp, a bastion of reason in a galaxy descending into madness."
He raised a fist clad in beskar.
"You depart today on separate missions, but you remain united under one banner. Mine. Do me honor. Do yourselves honor. For the Legion!"
A deafening roar answered him, rising from thousands of throats, a unanimous cry of loyalty and determination.
"FOR THE LEGION! FOR BRAVEHEART!"
As the first ships began to rise into the perpetually stormy sky of Kamino, Julius, motionless beneath his beskar cloak, watched them depart. The parting was not an end. It was the true beginning. His pieces were in motion. The game could finally begin.