Chapter 47: False Imperial Edict
Olympia — Iron Within, Iron Breaking
"Dammekos has escaped."
Perturabo's eyelid twitched.
"…Explain."
Before the officer could finish—
Another report arrived.
"Calliphone… has also been taken."
Silence.
Then—
CRASH!
Machinery shattered under Perturabo's fist.
"Find them!" he roared. "Find them, you incompetent fools!"
The chamber trembled.
Servitors froze.
Officers dared not breathe.
The Cracks Beneath Iron
Slowly—
Perturabo calmed.
Breathing.
Controlled.
Measured.
He did not care for sentiment.
He did not.
But that did not mean—
He felt nothing.
Dammekos.
Calliphone.
His brothers.
Taken.
By someone.
Perturabo's jaw tightened.
"…I will find you."
"…And I will break you."
The Message
Just as he prepared to summon his fleet—
Another realization struck.
Angron.
Erebus.
They were here.
On Olympia.
He straightened his armor.
Composed himself.
Whatever this was—
He would face it.
The Reply
A request was sent.
A meeting.
Immediate.
The response came quickly.
[Respected Lord Perturabo, we are currently engaged in a family gathering and are unavailable. —Erebus]
Attached—
A pict-capture.
Perturabo stared at it.
Dammekos.
Andros.
Heracles.
Calliphone.
All together.
Smiling.
Happy.
Everyone—
Except him.
Something inside Perturabo cracked.
"EREBUS!!!"
The March
He moved instantly.
"Prepare a transport."
Dantioch arrived just in time.
"My lord, reports indicate—multiple Primarchs are present."
"…How many?"
"…Three. Possibly four."
Perturabo paused.
"…I should file a complaint with Terra."
Then he grabbed Dantioch.
Dragged him onto the transport.
"If you have the courage—shoot me down."
The vessel launched.
The Banquet
Inside the Conqueror—
A feast.
A real one.
Tables lined with food.
Warmth.
Laughter.
Something utterly alien to the Iron Warriors.
Erebus stood at the center.
Smiling.
Speaking.
"Lady Calliphone," he said warmly, "you are truly remarkable. A sister worthy of admiration."
Calliphone blinked, slightly embarrassed.
Dammekos watched.
Silent.
Emotional.
This—
This was what he had wanted.
A family.
Together.
Not—
Whatever Perturabo had become.
Recruitment
"And you, my lords," Erebus continued, turning to Andros and Heracles, "if you wish, I can arrange your induction into the Word Bearers."
Lorgar, beside him, raised a glass.
"…Yes."
The two brothers froze.
The Word Bearers?
That Legion?
They exchanged a glance.
"…You don't… purge your own ranks, do you?" one asked carefully.
Dammekos frowned.
He had heard things.
Faith
Erebus smiled.
"We serve the Emperor."
From his chest, he produced a small relic—
A miniature Golden Throne icon.
Upon it—
A carefully carved, skeletal Emperor.
A symbol worn only by the most devoted.
"We are His faithful."
Lorgar said nothing.
Magnus looked away.
Angron drank.
Arrival
BOOM!
The doors exploded inward.
Khârn reacted instantly—
Bolter raised.
Perturabo entered.
Dragging a World Eater.
He threw the Astartes aside.
Alive.
Barely.
"Erebus."
His voice was cold.
Lethal.
Focused.
The Confrontation
Erebus stood slowly.
Calm.
Unshaken.
"Perturabo."
A pause.
"I bring word from the Emperor."
Silence.
Perturabo's eyes narrowed.
He didn't trust it.
Didn't believe it.
But—
He hesitated.
Because—
What if it was real?
Behind Erebus—
Magnus, Lorgar, and Angron remained silent.
Watching.
Trusting.
Submission
"…Speak," Perturabo said.
Erebus tilted his head.
"Or perhaps you do not wish to hear it?"
He sat back down.
Casually.
And handed Calliphone a slice of cake.
CRACK.
The deck buckled.
Perturabo dropped to one knee.
Not in submission—
But control.
Barely.
"…Speak."
The False Edict
Erebus approached.
Slowly.
From his robes, he drew forth the golden icon once more.
"Every word I speak now is the Emperor's will."
A pause.
"I swear it."
Perturabo stared at him.
Analyzing.
Calculating.
Searching for deception.
Erebus smiled faintly.
And began.
"Perturabo… my son."
"I am proud of you."
"I have not shown you the attention you deserve."
"For that—I regret."
"But know this…"
"You have always been worthy."
A pause.
"You have always been my son."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unbearable.
"And one more thing," Erebus added softly.
"Take care of your family."
Impact
Perturabo didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't breathe.
Because—
This was everything.
Everything he had ever wanted to hear.
Every unspoken thought.
Every buried resentment.
Every silent hope.
…Given voice.
The Second Blow
"Also," Erebus said brightly—
"Happy birthday."
Everyone froze.
Erebus produced a cake.
Small.
Slightly damaged.
Atop it—
A crude attempt at a Terran structure.
"The Emperor mentioned you like architecture," Erebus continued. "He intended to include a replica of the Leaning Tower of Pisa… but it appears to have collapsed."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The galaxy itself seemed to pause.
The Candle
Erebus placed the cake before Perturabo.
"You haven't blown out the candles yet, Lord Perturabo."
Perturabo stared at it.
This absurd.
Impossible.
Ridiculous moment.
And yet—
His hand trembled.
Slightly.
"…Very well."
He leaned forward.
And blew.
Aftermath
For a brief moment—
Perturabo allowed himself to believe.
That it was real.
That the Emperor cared.
That he was seen.
That he mattered.
Even—
If it was a lie.
End of Chapter 47
Check out my Patreon for advance chapters
patreon.com/BIGBRAINJOSHUA