Chapter 3 (Part 2)
The Warmaster
“You have no idea how important this is, we've been expecting you for a long time...I mean, before Eisenhorn sent us the communique declaring your imminent arrival. It was said that you would return with mighty warriors from times past!” Steele exclaimed, making no effort to conceal the excitement that gripped him. They were still inside the transport, gathering what they needed before they left. Steele and Icarus were being escorted to the dock by two Guardsmen, Rosenadel and the others were being escorted by their own guards.
“And why is that? How did you know what happened?” Icarus asked. He had already taken in the height and length of stride of Steele. He was tall, 6' 4'' by Icarus' reckoning, with a long stride to go with it, though not overly. He deemed Steele a confident, intelligent man, though he was not cautious, and for this Icarus felt some scorn. A leader of men, no doubt, but definitely not a strategist. He was probably a line officer, and may never become anything else.
“Me..? I did not know. Nobody knew what had happened until our leader examined the records,” Steele stated in a manner which reminded Icarus of the Imperium, the blind loyalty which had held it together. Perhaps his measure of Steele's confidence and intelligence had been wrong, now he seemed lacking the latter but with the former in abundance.
“And you believed this?” Icarus enquired.
“Of course I did, we all did,” Steele answered irritably.
“Was there any evidence to suggest this leader of yours was correct? I mean, before we arrived,” Icarus added when Steele raised an eyebrow.
“Well, no, but he seemed so sure...” Steele replied, unable to find a logical reason to believe his leader. “But anyway,” he continued, “It has turned out to be true!”
Before Icarus could reply, they were walking down the ramp into a docking bay full of frantic preparations. “What is happening?”
“It's a war exercise, Centurion,” a voice said from the side of the ramp. Icarus turned as he reached the deck. “I must ask you to come with me.”
“But the Inquisitor, he is not here yet,” Icarus pointed out.
“He was sent ahead with the Grey Knights you brought, Centurion.”
“Very well.” Icarus fell into step behind the man who had addressed. He wore the uniform of a General from Krieg. Stocky and well built, he radiated power, but had little in the way of swagger. He looked intelligent and capable, a good soldier. “Who are you, General?”
“I am Baron von Lexus, of the 501st Death Korps, Centurion,” the Baron replied in an almost dead, emotionless tone. Nothing about him gave anything away. Devious, Icarus thought, before remembering his most recent companion, the Inquisitor.
“Where are we going?”
“To the Strategium, where we shall have to discuss the implications of your arrival.” They turned through winding corridors, similar, if not identical, to those Icarus had been used to in the past.
“Implications?” the Custodian enquired. For once he was truly puzzled, how could their arrival have implications?
“You have come into contact with the Alliance, yes?” the Baron asked, still walking at a constant pace.
“Indeed, we were taken into the midst of one of their fleets.”
“Then they know of your existence, which is bad for us.”
“In what way, Baron?”
“You shall find out in the Strategium, but to fill you in, the Alliance controls all of Imperial space pre-M42. Every planet you have ever visited is under their control.” The Baron stopped, and turned in a perfect 180 degree half circle to face Icarus.
“Humanity?” Icarus asked, holding Baron von Lexus' gaze with an unnatural glare. It became apparent to the surrounding Guardsmen that the Baron had not turned, but that Icarus had spun him round in one deft, unnoticed movement.
“They survive. Terra is now the capital of the Alliance, Mankind co-rulers alongside the Eldar, Tau, Tyranids and others...” the Baron trailed off as Icarus' glare became hostile. He turned, and continued walking. They saw out the rest of the journey in a cold, uncomfortable silence.
Entering an anti-chamber of sorts, they came back into contact with Rosenadel and the Grey Knights. Almost immediately, and equerry came in through an opposing entrance, a pair of extremely ornate gates set in an arch.
“The Warmaster shall see you now,” he said simply, before leaving again, allowing the gates to shut. Icarus glanced sideways at Rosenadel, who did likewise to him. They were not surprised, though, as the title Warmaster was a common one during times of war, but it was said to be cursed, having once been bestowed upon the traitor Horus, shortly before his galaxy spanning Heresy.
“When you enter, do not bow to the Warmaster. He prefers to see himself as one of his men. Indeed, do not be surprised if he bows to you. He is treating your arrival as some sort of miracle,” said Baron von Lexus. Icarus thought he could hear a hint of envy enter the man's voice as he spoke, and Rosenadel nodded discreetly. He would have to watch him carefully.
The Baron stepped forward and pushed open the gates. He strode in, and the five Imperials followed, Rosenadel at their head. They found themselves in a massive hall, adorned with decoration. Paintings of famous Imperial victories adorned the walls, statues of the both famous and infamous participants in the Imperium's millennia long history stood in rows, infront of the space between paintings, creating an aisle. At the end of the aisle was a circular table, with a holographic projection, similar to the one Eisenhorn had shown Rosenadel, above it. Men sat round the table, with only one fully turned so his back was facing them.
He was very tall, and thick set. Adorning decorated robes and with a laurel wreath upon his head, this man had to be the leader that the Guard had been so eagerly telling Icarus about. The man who had made the prophecy of their return. He held the answers, and as they approached him, Icarus swore to himself that this man would reveal the secrets of this event to them.
The Warmaster turned to face them. “Hello, my friends! I am glad that you have arrived, precisely when I expected, as well! I am the Warmaster of the Imperium.”
Icarus raised his eyebrow and cocked his head as his eyes rested upon an eerily familiar face.