Warhammer The Iron Empire (Warhammer 40k)

UNBROKEN SONS

True to his nature Richter was the first to voice his opinion when he felt something was wrong, and so as he sat in the Apothecary office of Ossus he found himself wondering why they were painting. Ossus had taken him under his wing years ago to train him to one day become an Apothecary of the Iron Warriors, having noted some potential Richter himself did not particularly understand but far was he from questioning given that it meant he would learn some of the most valuable skills an Astarte could gain access to.

This being the case, the fact he was holding a brush instead of a scalpel this particular day left him perplexed and disgruntled. Such an activity was for Tristan and those scale replicas of Basilisks he meticulously crafted.

"What does artistry have to do with the work of an Apothecary?" Richter spoke with barely restrained irritation, feeling as if his time could be better spent actually engaging in the duties of an Apothecary.

Despite Richter's typically negative attitude Ossus never responded in kind, knowing that Richter had good intentions behind each statement or question he would levy. Richter had served the Iron Warriors for years by this point and he always sought to improve not only himself but also those around him, so learning to accept that and instead help further inform his critical thinking capabilities made him an effective member of their ranks. Richter could only be expected to properly critique and help improve what he properly understood after all, and so Ossus took it upon himself to teach him not only in how to properly carry out medical procedures but also in the way a mentor ought to.

"I could speak platitudes as to the finer details of surgery and medical work, though in truth it is much simpler than that," was Ossus' initial response as he finished his current series of brushstrokes that were beginning to make his piece resemble their 'model' of the day, Arien, who appeared to be unaware of this fact and was simply content looking up at the lustrous objects adorning Ossus' wall.

With his hands now free Ossus gestured to that very wall where trophies, baubles, relics, and other things of significance and/or beauty lay gathered unlike the rest of their vessel with its sparse decorations. Over the years bit by bit the art of Ossus had begun to spill out elsewhere within the Iron Legion's fleet, it not being his primary focus or concern but still something he dabbled in when time permitted. As Richter focused on depictions or trophies from past victories and conflicts Ossus spoke again, his voice that of a worldly veteran who had gained the experience to speak on such subjects through innumerable battles and the resulting wisdom they granted.

"The Iron Warriors as led by our Primarch Perturabo lost their way when our ideals and dreams of crafting a greater future were crushed beneath the harsh realities of war. While his possession of greater resources is undeniable it remains true that Roboute Guilliman of the Ultramarines did what we sought to, first conquering or otherwise subjugating worlds before rebuilding them to match his ideals, but what of the worlds we were tasked with?"

Ossus showed his Apothecary tools strapped to his forearm in all their threatening visage, as capable of treating the injured as they were of inflicting death.

"Our Legion would tackle the assignments our peers were unwilling to, the grueling sieges and unforgiving conflicts that would see both our forces and those against us ground to dust before we would then be ordered to do so again on another world, and then another, and so on and so forth without ever accounting for the effects it had on us."

His statements gave Richter pause, as it reminded him much of their present-day situation: they did not have the ability to 'waste' time rebuilding the worlds they visited and extracted resources from, as there always appeared to be another foe to face, another Imperial armada to avoid, and so staying still after an operation would invite disaster.

The only time Richter could remember anything resembling rebuilding what they destroyed was Forescien where he was first officially deployed as a rookie Iron Warrior alongside other members of Alpha Squad. After defeating both the defense forces of the Mechanicus and the Chaos infiltrators who struck their fleet the Warsmith had set aside some time and effort in preparing the world they just conquered for any future attacks by the forces of Chaos, much to the confusion of the forces they just trampled upon with endless artillery.

It was an easy event to remember, as in his first deployment Levente had the honor of securing the mission objectives by breaking through the enemy's warriors one after another and had been promoted to Sergeant by Khyr of the Triarch afterwards. While the Mechanicus had tried to push back when many of the Iron Warriors returned to the fleet to face the Word Bearers the servants of the Omnissiah had found themselves surprised by their own push being countered by a rapid strike that saw Levente break through their lines and go on a rampage they could not properly redeploy to confront.

On that very same occasion Tristan had been admonished for disobeying orders, though his defeat of numerous Daemon-possessed Astartes alongside members of Urkamus Squad had seen to it that he only received a warning for doing so. Notably Urkamus was not the one who took issue with it, but rather Constantine who reported the issue to their Grand Battalion leader Archimedes. Even though Tristan's aid would have proven unnecessary in the battle and he saved a fellow Astarte's life by remaining where he was Constantine saw it as egregious and balked that a student of the Warsmith himself would be so disloyal.

If Richter had any guess though it was likely that Tristan's first encounter with Daemons since his childhood had simply blanked the giant's mind, as Tristan typically did as told to a fault while possessing no real ambitions of his own. Even in their encounter with Beastmen he only stood against Levente because of overriding orders from the Warsmith, such was his personality. Typically Tristan thought too much and it slowed him down in battle, something Richter knew as the one who would have to tend to his wounds afterwards, so the mission report submitted showing that Tristan had quickly and efficiently gunned down Possessed after Possessed showed that he simply was not thinking straight.

Ossus lowered his arm and took his brush into his palm softly, his hand capable of such extreme dexterity despite wearing Power Armor thanks to his Black Carapace, "It is little wonder then that we did not rebuild what we destroyed, even if we envisioned such a bright future. We would destroy, bring untold ruination to our foes with callous indifference, and then continue onward without once looking back. For a Legion which sought utopia was it any wonder that we would eventually break under such circumstances, never possessing the proper time or energy to actually build when the dust had settled? Our warfare may be industrialized and like a well-oiled machine, but beneath the armor and augmentation we are Humans like any other."

By pretending that they were unbreakable machines that did not relent the Iron Warriors had condemned themselves to a slow death of their spirits, trying hard to continue forward even when their Humanity dictated that they need rest, and that very determination and drive that made them so enduring in battle also meant that they would refuse to recognize the growing cracks in their proverbial armor until they were too deep to repair. This insight gave Richter a better understanding not only of the history of his Legion but also of why Ossus seemed to possess such an interest in 'trivial' matters, for by pursuing them he was engaging in the very behaviors that his peers had shed across centuries of warfare.

When Ossus spoke next his tone was hiding amusement, for during the lecture he was giving to his student their painting model had wandered away, Arien still completely oblivious to why Ossus had told him to stand there and so not thinking at all about just leaving now that he was done looking at shiny jewels and war trophies.

"While my art possesses little in the way of practical purpose it helps remind me and those who experience it that there is more to our cause than just conquest and numbers. That when we reach our goals we will be able to engage in such rejuvenating personal pursuits, and that while we work towards our shared future we may still nourish our souls along the path so that we do not lose sight of what is important. What might appear to be a waste of resources or irrelevant to our vision instead is an investment to stave off the worst "

With that Ossus returned to his painting, able to recall enough about the Ixolotl to finish his piece while leaving Richter to try and do the same. The greater understanding Richter now possessed on the subject saw him remain quiet and not criticize his mentor's chosen activity of the day further, instead dedicating his thoughts internally to further contemplate the subject as he continued his work. It was certainly calming and restrained compared to the life-saving surgeries and medical procedures they carried out in their everyday duties.

Now, if only their chosen subject had not wandered off...the Eisernen would be docking with the Iron Citadel soon and there would be plenty actual work to do then, so it was going to prove difficult to finish this without Arien.
Formerly known as the Black Citadel, the reclaimed and replicated shipyards known now as the Iron Citadel was first obtained from the Black Judges and now served as the only 'base' for the Iron Legion's operations in its hidden sector of space. A veritable fortress in its own right it could protect itself to a fair degree but its primary purpose was to facilitate the creation of Battleships. If they were to protect their interests in the future they would need a fleet, and so the Iron Citadel was a vital component to their future operations and success. While their present fleet was formidable it was only formidable when compared to smaller entities such as the ships possessed individual planets, as if faced with the might of the Imperial Navy in full it would be annihilated without question.

Archimedes was the one placed in control over the Iron Citadel itself as the leader of their Kheledakos, being the master of their fleet on paper even if it was presently unified such that Jarn was always the one actually giving the orders. For the construction-minded Archimedes being tasked with the creation of new vessels to support their endeavors was an honor, and the resources possessed by the Iron Citadel upon its rediscovery allowed him to begin setting their plans into motion even if it was not enough to completely develop a new Battleship.

The sturdiness of Imperial vessels meant that even if they were rendered to inoperable hulks that their 'skeleton' would often remain intact, allowing them to be refitted and fixed for combat again if not reformed completely into a new ship. This gave the Warsmith's forces some flexibility when it came to acquiring the necessary materials for their future fleet, as a defeated Imperial ship or one left adrift could be put to use easily enough.

There was great risk when it came to engaging Imperial ships in combat however as if they were to escape they would reveal the existence of the Iron Legion to the greater Imperium which would result in untold hordes of Astartes and Astra Militarum forces being deployed to eliminate them, so rather than plan to hunt down Imperial ships the Iron Legion instead only took what they could at any given opportunity rather than invite total annihilation.

While not originally meant for the task the Iron Citadel's status as the only recurring location other than the fleet for the Iron Warriors serving Jarn meant that it became a temporary home for them, housing those soldiers not currently deployed or who were recovering from injuries too severe to be properly fielded in battle. In this way the Iron Citadel became a counterpart to the Imperial Fist's Phalanx in a sense, though it existed for a separate purpose and was in no way capable of standing against it. One was a production facility turned makeshift base, the other a veritable fortress that stood as a bulwark against Humanity's foes who might try to conquer Holy Terra.

This status however did make the Iron Citadel possess the closest thing the Iron Legion had to a proper dining hall, as those aboard their Battleships were designed to be efficient places to consume necessary nutrients before returning to duty with little comfort to be found in their brutal confines. Those aboard the Iron Citadel were replicated from the initial dockyards taken from the Black Judges however whose affluence saw them fit even their shipyards with some degree of frivolity and pomp, something lessened by the stern Iron Warriors who replicated it in a time of constant warfare but not wholly abandoned.

Tables were grand like a feasting hall, seats and benches meant for Astartes constructed to best see to their comfort. While they did not possess a great wealth of dishes and meals beyond the basics necessary for their nutritional needs the ability to lay out all their food in a less cramped manner than on the Battleships saw those resting Astartes able to better enjoy their time spent there without brushing against one another.

It was under these conditions that the members of training squad Alpha would often gather when the fleet was docked at the Iron Citadel, their years of training alongside one another forming a lasting camaraderie between many of them even after they were assigned to different squads to best make usage of their talents. They were the most talented Neophytes back then and had since gone on to become valued members of the Iron Legion, each of them possessing a wealth of accomplishments thanks to their mixture of skills and physical capabilities. The dining hall was a way for them to share stories with one another of their individual exploits and accomplishments as well as deepen their bonds as a group, something encouraged by Levente who had grown up in such a warrior culture on his homeworld.

"Bertrand appears not to be joining us once again," Urban spoke quietly after the other members of Alpha Squad had all taken a seat, his statement one of observing the obvious so that it would be out of the way.

Truth be told Tristan had only ever come to a few such meetings, considering them a waste of his time when he could just eat at his workshop and continue working instead. His absence was not particularly cared about by any except Urban and Quidel on most occasions, and it was just the status quo that their largest member was almost always busy tinkering elsewhere rather than socializing with his peers.

Levente scoffed at the mention of his rival, being able to count the amount of times Tristan had bothered to join them over the years on his hands, "Leave him be: he knows nothing of camaraderie, nor of valor. Leave him to his trinkets, for we shall be the ones to secure our future with our might and will!"

Bringing an arm around the taciturn Urban, Levente tried to rouse the spirits of his cohorts with an exuberant grin with boasting to match.

"After all, who was it who brought a Champion of Chaos to his knees single-handedly? Who beat the savage fool so bloody that the Xenos thinking themselves to be gods stripped him of his power and reduced him to a writhing mass of mutation?"

Aldred nodded over to Levente proudly, intent on appealing to his ego while not overselling it, "You as usual, boss."

In a single bound Levente was standing atop their table, his arms twisting to recreate the motion they made when he quelled the Chaos Champion. Right after he brought a hand down to gesture to one of the Astartes he now stood above, his typically small stature appearing less so with the table's added height.

"What of when Dominicus broke through the barricades and locks of those dreaded Tyranid slaves to decapitate their uprising which threatened our operations? Who was it who stood beside him upon the breach, ready to slay all who stood in our way no matter how many of their disgusting hybrids set upon us?"

"We did, somehow..." Faustus replied, gingerly touching at his food as he recalled his harrowing scouting mission into the Genestealer den.

"Genestealer Cults are only matched by Cadians and Kimarans when it comes to reproduction. There were innumerable of them," Richter commented dryly, having assisted Ossus in enough mortal births upon the Eisernen from its Kimaran descendants to comment on the similarity to Genestealer Cultists. Fortunately it was a cultural thing, not a result of actual Genestealer infestation, but it still stood out to him given how it increased his workload at times.

Levente continued to re-enact some of his strikes and slashes of his weapons, eagerly reliving the thrill of battle while effortlessly stepping around the plates adorning the table so as to not ruin their meals. With both hands outstretched down towards his kin Levente turned around to get a look at all of them and also gesture to each one of them individually, his face beaming with a warrior's pride.

"And yet we survived through it all, drowning their filth in their own putrid blood! When we were tasked with infiltrating a Necron Tomb for the valuable resources they possessed, was it not Gunnar who stood at my side as we purged their metal hides such that they could not reconstruct themselves? Gunnar, who cut down one of their mighty Lychguard as I handled their dreaded Lord? Why, that Lich's spindly form reminded me of Bertrand himself!"

That brought about chuckles from most of the table, for it was not at all difficult to compare Tristan's frame to that of a lean Necron just as Levente's was more like that of an Ork Warboss. Richter remained silent however, instead finding that despite coming here for nourishment before he got back to his duties that he had lost his appetite. Gunnar was presently in the medical bay recovering from injuries sustained from following Levente into battle, and while Levente had a perfect success rate for his assignments it was others who often paid the price.

That was why, after all, with Tristan and Gunnar missing there were only seven at the table, not eight as there ought to be.

Levente continued to feed off the growing excitement and energy of the others present, with even the meek Faustus growing more jovial throughout. To Levente such performative aspects of rallying others came naturally, and so he spoke boldly and proudly to them all.

"From Iron cometh Strength! From Strength cometh Will! From Will Cometh Faith, both in our cause and in one another! It is together that we are strong, one unified force of Iron Warriors the likes of which has not been witnessed since the Great Crusade! Under the Warsmith's rule we shall carve our way through the cosmos, bringing all to heel who deny our rule!"

"If we survive long enough to establish it."

Levente was brought pause as he looked over down towards Richter, who had spoken with his typical lack of self-censorship. Only when he looked to Richter their eyes did not meet, for Richter was instead focused on the empty seat of Kastor.

"Do you doubt our victory, Richter?" Aldred commented as if in disbelief following all of their personal and collective successes, prompting Richter to shake his head no and explain himself further.

"Just stating a basic observation as the one who has to piece you all back together when a battle comes to its conclusion, lest we forget that there used to be ten of us at this table."

Of the ten of them Kastor had been the lowest performing, but he had still been well above the typical Neophyte recruit and held a promising future given his penchant for increasing team cohesion through discussion and understanding. Having fallen under Levente's command after Levente was made a Sergeant however meant that Kastor had been right alongside the far more melee-adept Gunnar and Levente in dangerous battles, and it had ultimately cost him his life in a skirmish against the Word Bearers warband they had been avoiding for years now.

Rather than shed a tear over the loss of Kastor it was better in Levente's mind to continue forward and continue fighting, with this remembrance appearing to inspire him further as he spoke with both warmth and vigor, "There are sacrifices in war, and Kastor would no doubt be at peace knowing that his ensured our victory over those damnable Chaos dogs nipping at our heels. What greater end can one ask for than to fall in the glory of combat, crushing all who stand in your way until your last breath escapes you? Rather than mourn we should celebrate him now as we did then, for to fall in battle is the fate of every one of us one day!"

Besides Richter both Urban and Quidel were quiet as well in response, the others all seemingly more swayed by Levente's proclamations. This did not stop Levente from leveraging his talent for rallying though, instead helping the other members of Alpha Squad move past their loss with fiery rhetoric.

"In Kastor's memory I swear to cut down a thousand of those vile servants of Chaos at fault, the last of which shall be their Daemon Prince who dares inflict insult and injury upon our cause! With one strike of my tools I shall obliterate everything above their necks, denying their forsaken benefactor of his beloved skulls!" "Will you join me in this just cause of vengeance and help eradicate their blight in the name of Kastor? Who will join me in paving the way forward to our inevitable future with the bodies of the cretins who oppose us?"

The chorus of cheers which followed was not only from Alpha Squad, but from other Astartes nearby them as well. Levente's reputation was growing with every battle, and his willingness to show off his vibrant successes had won him increasing respect from the veterans of Khyr's company. If there was anything that could unite the common soldier in their Legion it was the prospect of making the forces of Chaos bleed for their damnation, and so while the crowd began to grow more and more enthused with Levente it was a perfect opportunity for Richter to slip out of it all and go about his business.


Aboard the Iron Citadel Tristan's personal quarters were as one might expect of an Iron Warrior, being sparsely furnished and lacking entirely in the way of decoration. What he did possess within it were practical necessities such as a bed designed to allow his abnormally large body to rest, a workstation for his mechanical tinkering and smaller projects, textual resources, datapads, diagrams and schematics to study, a structure for DOTS to receive nutrients and rest upon, and to-scale models of Basilisks and Predator tanks to observe.

Some might question the importance of such models, but Tristan felt it important for his creative process. He felt he could think more clearly on how to improve upon their designs as well as others while in the presence of the scaled replicas and his 'pet' that did not bother him the way some other creatures might. When he was unable to use the Dodekatheon's larger workshops it was here that he privately tinkered with things and engaged in the work he could get done without access to industrial tools.

Almost all of Tristan's time not deployed in the field was however spent in the Dodekatheon, either within the Eisernen or aboard its place within the orbital docks of the Iron Citadel. So long as he could continue his work the location mattered little and it was not uncommon for Tristan to use the capability of an Astarte to function for weeks without complete rest to continue working on a project that was nearing completion. When his unconscious form would be found later he would not be reprimanded for such behavior however, as he might possess little reputation or glory on the battlefield compared to his peers but he was a growing star in the Dodekatheon who respected his drive and the results his experimentation brought to their pursuits of knowledge.

While some might possess the inherent genius to theorize and discover new concepts to better understand the universe around them Tristan's specialty came from intuitively understanding how various things worked, thus allowing him to replicate and gain a deeper understanding of them. He might be copying existing designs when he engaged in his work, but he was improving upon them by working in his understanding of other technologies he had dissected and recreated as well, thus gradually improving them all bit by bit rather than making sporadic and giant leaps.

Some of these improvements were to his own body, though they differed greatly from what could be considered the bionics or other such modifications done by various Astartes and Humans. It was common practice for members of the Adeptus Mechanicus and their followers to replace pieces of their physical form replaced with mechanical counterparts, a practice which Tristan personally was not drawn towards given that he did not wish to cede his body born of his ancestors and of his Iron Warriors Gene-Seed unless he had to medically. He did not detest such cybernetic changes to the Human form as he did the horrific mutations of Chaos, and so he found it acceptable to augment and reinforce his body mechanically instead of replacing his flesh.

With Tristan's method of combat being to suffer through an enemy's firepower and return it until he won it was natural that he would incur injuries, some particularly nasty and lingering ranging from broken bones to dislodged joints. True to his stoic nature Tristan did not complain about these injuries, for instead once Ossus or Richter was done patching him up and telling him to stop catching bullets he would go to his workstation and begin drafting methods of reinforcing the part of his body that had proven vulnerable. Be it subdermal implants or reinforcements to joints, if a weakness was discovered it was to be diminished or removed by adding to his body rather than subtracting from it.

Such augmentation was not uncommon within the Iron Warriors, with even their Chaos-serving kin replacing corrupted pieces of their bodies with mechanical counterparts, and it was this general practice that helped contribute to the enduring nature of their Legion. "Iron Within, Iron Without" was both figurative and literal with how they would alter their forms and so despite handling it in a separate manner Tristan was living up to the traditions of his Iron brethren.

Battle by battle, wound by wound, year by year, Tristan would continue his constant reinforcement of his body until the point that his inherent durability was enhanced enough that he could be rest assured that he would not bend and break beneath whatever armor he might create. Even with how well his armor had served him until then he was aware of how even blows that did not penetrate could batter an Astarte within, but now with his enhanced physical constitution he could help mitigate such effects even if he could not completely remove them.

Much like the Imperial Fist who would go on to become the founding leader of the Crimson Fists and the so-called hero of Phall, Alexis Polux, Tristan possessed a particularly uncommon height for a member of the Adeptus Astartes which would have to be factored into his creations and armor. In the case of Polux he was observed as being around the height of the Primarch Roboute Guilliman himself and with the physique of a bear like Jarn it left him capable of crushing the skulls of Astartes in his palms. For Tristan his height was beyond that of Polux or Jarn but his form was notably lacking in the same breadth and bulk that afforded them such raw strength even while possessing similar levels of overall mass thanks to how tall he had grown to be.

Whereas Jarn was a man who would have grown to be incredibly tall, broad, and capable of immense physical labor as a mortal Human like his father before him, Tristan was someone who would have likely exceeded the average height of an Astartes and likely excelled at sporting events which relied on such height while lacking other types of physique. This overwhelming size had cost Tristan the speed he once possessed as an even younger man, but at the same time it helped spread out damage incurred since there simply was more of him necessary to harm. It made him incur more damage and be struck more often than an average Astartes might be, but it meant that if he began moving he was a nigh unstoppable force for most to contend with.

An Astartes beating down a mortal Human would break their bones and crush them already, but for Tristan who towered over them the same way that they did over such mortals it meant that a swing of his leg (as his arms were often well above them) would break a man and send him hurling back into his comrades who now had a colossal creature looming before them. Should Tristan instead choose to remain still his very same attributes would make him difficult to shift, whatever armor he was wearing at the time helping anchor him down thanks to its scaled-up size and resulting mass.

Even with such notable traits to his name, Tristan just was not particularly talented at charging across a battlefield the way Levente might. Tristan could not keep pace with his fellow Astartes on the charge and so he was naturally poor at the shock tactics common to Astartes operations. This said it did not particularly trouble Tristan that this often saw him relegated to guard duty and such tasks where his enemy had to come to him. He already possessed a natural tolerance for pain demonstrated by his survival on his homeworld where he staved off starvation for weeks just to prepare for the moment he might retaliate against the Beasts of Chaos, and so when matched with his fully grown form and augmentations it left him as a shield to Levente's proverbial sword.

Among the first of Tristan's experiments was creating his own set of Mechatendrils by using blueprints provided to him by Jarn and the Dodekatheon, beginning with this endeavor to best utilize his time moving forward. Additional arms would mean he could carry out tasks faster and handle multiple matters at once, so it was only logical to begin his career of craftsmanship with such a tool. While servo-arms tended towards being large and unwieldly with blocky segments to them Tristan instead opted for a sturdy series of linked pieces to possess greater range of movement and so the moniker of 'tendril' was quite well suited to the limbs he built.

To utilize them he created a harness to fit to his abdomen and interact with his Black Carapace as well as Power Armor when it was worn, for which he would need to make his own modified suit but that was for later. Through the harness Tristan could control the Mechatendrils attached directly and use them like another set of limbs once he trained with them, occasionally modifying the Mechatendrils as necessary to better improve them in future iterations. As a part of the process Tristan experimented with a horde of Mechatendrils attached to his harness to see just how many he could reliably control, eventually learning to control many of their number but finding that his preferred set was four that he could control with greater precision alongside his own two hands.

For tasks involving heavier loads he would modify the harness to also house two servo-arms meant solely for crafting and not for combat, resulting in him possessing the appearance of a ten-limbed creature that saw some natives of Kimara liken him to their infamous Krakens. This would then inspire Tristan's naming for his creation with the 'inspired' title of 'Iron Kraken', even if typically it lacked the two servo arms that would make it a full ten limbs.

The testing procedure for the Iron Kraken included a variety of metrics Tristan made sure to precisely record to the most minute detail, initially beginning with the raw control over the limbs so that all other tests might be done more conclusively. Tristan would come to train himself so well with them that he could pick up objects the size of a hair with their grasping maniples, as well as properly lift and carry other objects like he would his actual limbs. To do this Tristan had bound his arms to his body and only worked with the mechatendrils until he could use them without thinking, making them like true extensions to himself. Once they reacted promptly, accurately, and their foundation was set he moved onto testing other aspects of them to better enhance them.

To carry out the work necessary for a member of the Dodekatheon one required tools that could at times withstand great heat or not break under intense pressure or weight. For this Tristan made certain to reinforce the outer linked pieces to the mechatendrils as much as he could without detracting from their function, granting them both resistance to extreme temperatures as well as protection from both stress and external threats. The 'skeleton' of each limb was now covered in thick plating to protect them from damage, and they could carry weight comparable to what an Astartes might while the servo-arms he included at times could far exceed that.

Tristan was only satisfied with their durability however after testing them in live-fire exercises where he subjected them to bolter rounds, plasma shots, chemical fires, blunt force, precision weaponry, armor piercing rounds, collected Xenos weapons, and even artillery. When they broke he would remake them and use the data collected to lessen their vulnerability to whatever cracked through their thick hides, and then the testing would be repeated again, and again, until there no longer existed such vulnerabilities.

Following the creation, testing, and many iterations of Mechatendrils necessary to streamline future work Tristan moved right onto experimenting with Power Armor to properly implement the Iron Kraken as well as provide a sufficient degree of protection. It was not lost upon Tristan that his continued existence could be explained by the Mark III Power Armor gifted to him by Jarn being of artificer quality and far above that worn by their enemies, and since living was his preferred state of being he invested himself deeply in the pursuit of how to best ensure his sustained being.

What's more, if Tristan ever hoped to defeat the Daemon who laid his world asunder he would need armor capable of enduring such a threat, and so he worked tirelessly to ensure that when the day came that they met that Tristan would not be immediately torn through.

If there was a simple way to improve Power Armor to some optimal state for Astartes it would have been done eons before, and so Tristan's experimentation largely saw him optimizing smaller details of Mark III armor while also seeking to incorporate external methods of protection into it. Inspired by the Karceri Battle Shield of the Iron Circle machines of Perturabo, Tristan sought to include numerous power fields in one suit of armor to overlap fields of protection though this proved difficult given the power drain it imposed along with the logistics of making them work together rather than conflict and cause issues for their bearer.

With the Karceri shield project shelved until he could work out solutions to it Tristan went back to the drawing board regarding upgrading his Mark III. Testing it against every form of ammunition and weapon possible in their armory let him optimize its minute details and reshape it such that the Power Armor's physical limits were reached with the materials on hand. While expensive to do so it was something Jarn was willing to set aside the resources necessary to do so as not only did the work assist Tristan's knowledge in expanding it also could result in breakthroughs that would better keep their fellow Astartes alive.

This rigorous testing saw Tristan begin to add ablative armor to it to reduce the incoming damage at only the cost of easily replaced external plating. Pleased by the results of this, Tristan expanded his research to include not only salvaged Centurion armor but also information provided by Jarn for the Logos and the Warsmith's own iteration of it.

Taking whatever worked best of each of them allowed Tristan to further his experiments like how the Primarch Guilliman once had been inspired by the work of Mars, Perturabo, and Vulkan to create the Armor of Reason. Knowing that it could be done by being aware of history and Jarn's own work on the Logos emboldened Tristan's efforts, and while he knew he did not possess the raw capability of a Primarch he still believed that repeated tests like those done by Guilliman would allow him to create something befitting of his own needs.

Included in this experimentation was research on the armor used by various Xenos races in addition to those used by Humanity, Tristan's interests particularly drawn to the restorative nature of Necron Living Metal as well as that utilized by Tau Battlesuits given their effective yet lightweight nature. A lack of test subjects in the case of the latter did deter some of his studies, but the Iron Legion's defeat of Necrons from decades past did see the confiscation of some of their wargear which Tristan was content with going over. Jarn's own incorporation of a Phylactery into his iteration of the Logos was at the top of Tristan's interest regarding the subject matter, and so when granted permission he poured over all of the Warsmith's schematics and collected data concerning its functionality.

While wholly unlikely to mass produce self-repairing armor it still was something Tristan naturally wanted to possess for his own suit of it, as if he could create a suit with proper external shielding and force fields, ablative plating, resilient Power Armor beneath, and have the Power Armor reconstruct damaged pieces then the act of dying would prove most difficult barring the usage of foul sorcery. Tristan did not possess a way to mathematically handle that particular threat however, and so he was content preparing for every danger he could mitigate by building as many redundancies into his suit as possible.

Tristan's typically rearline and artillery duties saw him rarely be on the frontline where he could obtain further Xenos specimens to study, but to his fortune there was a source for such materials within the Iron Legion: the so-called Mithril Dragoons of Kimara.

Far be they from a uniform taskforce the Mithril Dragoons possessed a myriad of technologies not utilized by other members of the Iron Legion, a particular quirk which helped set them apart from the more standardized members of the Kimaran Krakens. Sniper rifles, shotguns, bolters, flamers, and even outright Xenos technology such as Drukhari Dark Lances were just a handful of the multitude of weapons they would bring to bear against their foes. The origins for where they even were obtaining such arms was unclear, but with their demonstrated loyalty and unquestioning servitude towards the Warsmith few cared to ask.

After all, the Warsmith was known to take under his wing those who would pledge themselves to the Iron Legion's vision of utopia so long as they denounced Chaos and the Imperium, so what was one more force of renegades within a sea of such souls? The Mithril Dragoons as an organization reportedly possessed history with and ties to the Jarn dynasty on Kimara, but if this was true or just another fabrication was another part of their mystery.

Their history was mostly irrelevant to Tristan for what mattered to him was the wide array of technology they appeared to have access to: most common amongst the gear they would bring with them were the personal energy fields of the Van Saar on Necromunda, devices which could be attached to one's wrist and activated at will to provide the user with night instantaneous protection from incoming fire. Not only that, but they excelled at negating strikes in melee where they functioned just like shields of ages past to keep an enemy at bay.

The shield was small, it was effective, and it worked consistently at diminishing incoming fire and even deter melee weapons. In this way it was an automatic inclusion to Tristan's designs for a suit of armor to wear, for if he could just call forth a shield as he willed it would improve his chances of surviving a battle while costing him almost nothing. To this end he traded resources from his allotment in the Dodekatheon with a member of the Mithril Dragoons to obtain a set of the rare wargear, only mildly wondering why the Dragoons might need equipment necessary for mining. Perhaps it would prove vital to some future mission of theirs?

After obtaining the Van Saar energy shields the difficult part was studying the technology and replicating it as he did not have access to the STCs of the technocratic noble family, though due to the radiation emitted by those very STCs that was perhaps a blessing in disguise. Recreating something by hand took much longer than if he had all the information before him, but through dedicated study and testing Tristan was able to replicate the defensive tool. It may take years to get it just right, and many existing shields may be broken in the meantime, but if it meant progress towards his goal it was worth it to Tristan. Intuitive understanding tempered by hard work was how he had recreated an autocannon once upon a time and it was the exact method he applied to all of his work even years later.

The one who assisted most often in Tristan's testing was none other than Brechung, who appeared to have gained respect for Tristan following the younger Astarte saving his life. Tristan, lacking a particularly social nature, did not seek out such a bond himself but still regularly engaged in ways which built trust between him and his fellow member of Urkamus Squad.

Being the reliable sort, Tristan would always do what he said he would and followed directions to the letter, shown by his methodical sticking to procedure during the Forescien invasion until extenuating circumstances saw him unable to comply. When he was not capable of something Tristan would note it and instead offer solutions based on what skills he did possess, always working to assist his allies where possible without overselling himself. On the battlefield knowing that the man next to you would do their job relieved burdens on you, and in this way Tristan stoically carrying out orders without question made him a well-known factor in the constant chaos and variability of a battlefield.

When the occasion came that Tristan made an error in his actions he was the first to recognize it as well, being very self-critical and prone to overthinking but also being capable of growth because of this very nature. Whereas friction in other squads may form over the mistakes of one Astarte or another that they collectively did not own up to, in Urkamus Squad blame was assigned squarely with whomever was at fault, no obfuscation or hurt feelings permitted. Given that Tristan was methodically testing tactics, firing patterns, and such the amount of apologies he had to make were quite grand, but with every battle the number was diminishing more and more as he came to better realize his skills.

Perhaps most important to Brechung and why Brechung chose to be around Tristan was the fact that Tristan respected his boundaries and did not press the typically quiet Astarte to talk. If anything Brechung was the more talkative of the two when together, as Tristan would often be lost in some schematic or in the middle of construction which limited his focus on 'trivial' matters such as socialization.

Brechung did not often say much about himself and that was just fine for Tristan, who in turn trusted him and saw Brechung as flawed but more capable than Levente in that they possessed seemingly similar talents for melee combat while Brechung could also engage in thought-provoking discussion thanks to his years of experience. Rather than the mutual enmity with Levente it felt like Tristan could benefit from Brechung and that Brechung in turn would benefit from Tristan's presence on the team, and so ironically became the two closest members of the team in part by being the two least disposed towards social endeavors.

Whereas Levente was once the one responsible for nearly all injuries suffered by Tristan outside of warzones that honor now belonged to Brechung, who after handily beating Tristan down in training or testing would only give a terse statement after.

"Again."

That phrase would be used until it was clear that no further combat could take place, and each time Tristan found himself on the losing end thanks to the chasm of experience between him and Brechung. Even so he continued to spar with the taciturn Astarte because few others could match Tristan's endurance and be so willing to assist for hours if not days in testing every permutation possible of how something performed in battle.

After one particularly grueling combat session Tristan lay on his back, too battered to rise under his own power and his mechanical limbs laying beside him in various states of disarray from where they had been carved apart by a Power Lance. In his head Tristan was already going over ways to better protect them from various Power weapons since his efforts thus far had not immunized them, but his calculations were put on hold when he noticed Brechung sit down beside him upon the workshop's floor.

"Survival is important, but something tells me you have more than it on your mind," Brechung noted the continued testing of armor done by Tristan without judgment but rather curiosity.

Tristan was exhausted but able to speak, and so he continued to lay where he was as he envisioned the ghastly form of a Daemon Prince, "There is a man I must kill."

"Levente likely shares such a sentiment."

Brechung surprisingly possessed a fair sense of humor, and so Tristan merely rolled his eyes beneath his newest iteration of helmet. By adding material between his shoulder and neck Tristan's neck no longer was as vulnerable to enemy attacks, preventing possibly lethal hits that could take him out immediately despite his general durability. It restricted his head movement somewhat that his head morphed into the shoulders of his Power Armor, but Tristan could barely turn his head in his armor to look as it was so it did little to alter the situation.

"If I told you I knew how it felt would you believe me?"

That caught Tristan's attention, and so the younger Astarte turned his head to Brechung to show his interest. With his newfound confidante now listening Brechung continued on, able to tell even without seeing Tristan's face beyond his helm that the young Astarte would be listening.

"Do you know what saw us through the Great Crusade?" it was more of a rhetorical question than a genuine one, as Brechung followed up almost immediately afterward, "Brotherhood. Loyalty...for together we were able to overcome seemingly impossible foes and were capable of bringing the known galaxy to heel under one banner. We each had our place, and while not all could obtain the glory of the likes of Kharn or Abaddon we could rest assured that our sacrifices and the turmoil we faced were for a greater cause. That through it all our brothers were at our side, and that even if you should fall they would carry on fighting for your behalf."

Brechung paused so he could let out a soft breath, pausing as he mulled over his own history.

"Then Horus enacted his folly. Brother against brother, Astarte against Astarte, and so there are few of us from then without some degree of personal tragedy," he stated in his typical flat, soft-spoken tone that hid his emotions well, "I was betrayed, lost everything I thought I knew, and despite every wish in my being I know I can never recover what was taken because of one man."

Tristan said nothing, not wishing to disrupt his fellow Astarte while he was still speaking and gathering his thoughts both, instead waiting until Brechung would be finished.
"Time does not heal all wounds, but it can give one perspective," Brechung eventually continued with a wry, bittersweet voice born of remembering an ancient grudge, "I hated that viper for taking something so irreplaceable from me, for helping dim the future we had all sought to realize, and for replacing the Emperor's ambitions and will with narrow-sighted arrogance."

Finally he turned back to Tristan, his voice growing flat once again as he dialed back his emotions.

"I could spend every moment left of my existence repaying their injuries and slights tenfold, seek to destroy all that they had built, but that will not change what has happened. Those pursuits alone will not accomplish what needs to be done. There are countless battles to be won, innumerable foes to cut down, on the path to what we seek. The path to reclaim all that has been taken from us can ill afford such personal pursuits and vendettas if we are to achieve true victory."

Despite how reserved Brechung was at the moment despite his inner-turmoil it was the most emotive that Tristan had ever seen him, and that vulnerability was an unfamiliar experience to him. His years of eschewing most forms of social contact meant that he did not particularly know how to respond, resulting in his continuing silence. Eventually Brechung mustered the words he meant to speak again and did so, his voice that of a tired soldier who still knew what they were talking about.

"But righteous hatred can play its role like many others, and so I wait for when the time comes that I may serve our cause and repay those who betrayed our Emperor in a single stroke," he gave a nod to Tristan, "I have never once seen you lose your composure in the years I have known you, not outside of when you are faced with the horrors of Chaos. You should nurse that hatred for them, but do not let it control you."

Brechung regained a bit of his humorous wry tone again, as if to mock himself as he spoke, "In spite of everything I believe in the value of loyalty. To oneself, to one's brothers, and to one's cause, even after witnessing a turbulent era of betrayal layered upon betrayal. Perhaps I am a fool for placing my trust in others even now, but I do truly believe in our Warsmith."

Tristan finally found an avenue to talk through and so nodded, "The Warsmith is a good man."

Brechung nodded back softly, "In this uncertain age there are precious few who are what they seem, and the Warsmith is one of those few. An honest man with a steadfast and tested devotion to what we once all sought in the Great Crusade. To steer Humanity back upon the course it was meant to take. So long as he survives he will work towards that end even if it means he must face personal hardship or loss, and he has the talents necessary in a man to enact great change: intelligence, strength, and the charisma to command the loyalty of other such men."

There was little argument to be found in Tristan given his own experiences and his firsthand knowledge of the Warsmith's nobility, but before he could properly respond the voice of the Warsmith himself rang out over the base's speakers and his visage appeared on various terminals as Jarn occasionally did to send out a message to all of his men at once.

Quieting down alongside Brechung, Tristan wondered just what the announcement was this time as he stared at a nearby screen at his workstation he used for such occasions.



The Warsmith stood with an Imperial Battleship at his back, the golden cathedral of a vessel having been captured in a recent albeit unintended conflict, and his face was not covered at all as his rigid face spoke with the directness one could expect of a Kimaran.

"I address all members of the Iron Legion as your Warsmith, Trahaearn Jarn. Today begins the official construction of our fleet, and the beginning of our future empire. In the years since the Great Crusade and what is now known as the Horus Heresy it is no exaggeration to say that Humanity has fallen, now standing on the very precipice of complete annihilation. The Imperium of Mankind has had its title appropriated by a splinter faction that is comprised of ignorant traitors to the very ideals the Emperor once held."

Jarn shifted to gesture towards the camera as if to signal each and every man watching the broadcast, his figure imposing yet not threatening as he did so. If anything his voice possessed within it a righteous fury that his men could channel as well, Jarn speaking as if the sole voice of reason in the raving asylum of the galactic stage.

"We, the unbroken sons of Perturabo, have not lost sight of the Great Crusade's purpose and objective. Unlike others of our kin we have not fallen to become slaves of the Ruinous Powers, nor begged for forgiveness and rejoined the bastardized Imperium that once used us. For centuries I have never forgotten those who have sacrificed for our cause, for not only the prosperity and survival of Humanity, but for our vision of Utopia. So many with their hearts pouring all that they can into the outcome that we know is just, a future which they might not see but which they would build a bridge towards for others to possess."

With indignance the Warsmith threw a hand back at the ship visible in the dockyard behind him, its frivolous heraldry and religious overtones an affront to someone who had fought for the enlightenment of Humanity as envisioned by the Emperor himself.

"In direct defiance of the Emperor of Mankind's desire this false Imperium has turned our noble leader into the very thing he once decried, a figure of devout worship and religious fervor. None can be faulted for venerating him as the apex of Humanity, a symbol of its potential, but the God Emperor of Mankind he is not. We may pledge our eternal souls to him to be free of the grips of Chaos upon death, but it is by his very wish and desire that we do not feed the Ruinous Powers of Chaos through false worship, even of him."

It was obvious to all witnessing him speak across the station and within their fleet that their Warsmith's outrage was genuine, not blind hatred but rather a reasoned disgust that called them to action. While dour as a culture the Iron Warriors were not without the ability to be inspired, and it was by a similarly cold man rallying them that they could properly have their spirits lifted. Just as a soldier needed time off to recover between battles so too did they need reminders of why they fought, of the righteousness of their cause and the error of one's foes, and so it was that Jarn stood confidently before them to give their spirits the boost they needed after years of fighting small engagements to build towards those that they truly sought after.

"The Imperium would trample all beneath their heel who recognize this contradiction in their society's foundation, and we know this to be true, for rather than punish those who cross the line as the Emperor once did his son Lorgar the Imperium exists as the antithesis: they slay any and all who dare question their dogma, driving many of their citizens right into the arms of Chaos. They both fight and feed the beast, dragging the civil war we once fought within out across millennia, and the proof of their hypocrisy lays behind me."

"It is obvious that this vessel of their Ecclesiarchy was created in direct defiance to the wishes of the man it claims to honor and worship. It serves not as an efficient combat vessel, but rather a blinding beacon of faith and opulence. What more do you need to know of their vile intentions than to witness where they would allocate their resources even as billions fall in endless war to Xenos, Chaos, or even decadent infighting like we once experienced? They would appeal to virtue while possessing none!"

Calming himself even as the energy of his forces in their various stations, rooms, and halls rose to deafening levels thanks to a surge of rallying cries, Jarn continued.

"The journey ahead of us is long, and for years we have waited, but we are not the reckless sons of Jaghatai Khan who act with unrestrained haste. No, we are the Iron Warriors, and we act with slow purpose to achieve our ends without fail. We stand united, for not one of our cause who will turn from their duty, as it is together that we shall find victory. The day we declare war against all who would turn their backs on the Emperor's vision is approaching, and on that day we shall do whatever is in our power to bring our dreams into reality!"

Jarn clenched one of his fists before raising it and his tone along with it.

"We may bide our time for now, but each day our cause grows stronger thanks to it, and when we have reclaimed the unconquerable world of Kimara never again shall we fall. This vessel shall be stripped of all its treasonous visage and one day be remade as the flagship of our fleet using our accrued Standard Template Constructs and the ingenuity of our Dodekatheon. We shall ignore the whispers of false prophets and their gods, and instead stand true to the cause we have fought for all this time. For the Emperor! For Utopia!"

By all approximations it would take them decades to accrue the necessary tools for the retaking of Kimara, but after waiting so long it was naught but a small frame of time for one as unmoved by time as Jarn. For his men they had heard what they needed to hear and their spirits would be high for quite some time to come, and by the time they needed further inspiration they would hopefully have more victories under their belts.

Concluding his transmission, Jarn sent out a second and more selective message, this one going out only to certain members of the Mithril Dragoons.

TENSIONS OF WAR

Production facilities were an important piece to any military operation, something which held true even on Kimara where no official conflict was taking place. Kimara's civilian population had been harshly depleted by the Imperial tithe paid by their present planetary governor and was set to total decline thanks to the lack of men to procreate, but even then the native Kimarans numbered in the millions. It meant that they could not properly protect each and every Fortress City, and so a consolidation had taken place in the proceeding decades over certain more financially viable cities to the planet where the Fortress Cities unable to maintain a proper garrison and defend themselves had their City left nigh abandoned by decree of the Governor. As many of Kimara's fortresses were solely in existence for military purpose it was considered natural that these 'outpost' cities be left unattended while moving their workforce to a more beneficial section of the planet rather than continue to upkeep allegedly unnecessary facilities.

This did not however completely solve the issues faced by the population collapse, as while Kimaran women were able to take up many of the roles of their husbands, brothers, and fathers they were unable to be in two places at once and carry out their own original tasks as well as those of fully trained soldiers. For this role the Planetary Governor had begun to import greater and greater numbers of soldiers from the nearby planet of Wostyn, with whom he had served in the Imperial Guard and achieved military honors with such that many of them were granted honorable discharges from their service. By utilizing trained soldiers to fill in for the lack of men it on paper solved the problems faced, and given the poverty of Wostyn after its complete ruination by the Iron Warriors and Kimarans in ages past hiring them came cheaply to Governor Conomor.

At first it was just some thousands recruited from those men originally serving under his command, then tens of thousands, and more recently their numbers had swelled to reach the millions as recruitment expanded to include untrained men barely older than children, pirates who saw greater opportunity for wealth within the law than outside of it, and convicted criminals who could serve their sentence under the watchful eye of penal officers. Wostyn had little to offer but its people themselves given the present day status of its world, and since they had so little before they grew fanatically loyal to the kind governor who solved their economic woes and Kimara's population decline in one fell swoop. That they were tasked with violently upholding his rule came as little issue as they had no love for the Kimarans, who showed none in kind to their ancient rivals.

Despite his allowance for the brutality required to demoralize the population into subservience the Planetary Governor did keep the mercenaries hired on a leash, for until he had complete and total control over the world an uprising born of shared mistreatment would be a brutal affair for all involved. Each Fortress City could fire upon numerous others with their Earthshaker cannons, their variants, and other forms of artillery and so while individual crimes could be overlooked the mercenaries were kept from pushing the envelope too far. Those who did tended to be from the ranks of the lesser trained or criminal aspects of the mercenary force, granting the Governor some public goodwill when he would see to their punishment for public and egregious crimes, but ultimately it was him who set loose soldiers and criminals with generations of anger at Kimara's population.

With the presence of the Wostyn military a civilian uprising would be nigh impossible as things stood, for while Kimaran women were not averse or untrained to deal with the dangers of their Death World many of them lacked experience in such matters. Before they had been primarily involved in homemaking and civilian endeavors such as agriculture, and to send mothers and farmers out to battle against veteran soldiers would be to invite disaster. The lack of a newer generation also meant that they as a population were aging and less capable naturally of combat as the ravages of time took their toll, further weakening any possible uprising's chances of success. Right after the Conomor coup against the Jarns the world was looked after by the watchful eyes of the Imperium and so the chance to overturn things in their youth had been squandered by the threat of full Imperial invasion, and so now they were forced to suffer through their undignified situation all the while possessing natures too stubborn and prideful to admit to it.

That they were loyal to what they believed to be the legitimate ruler of their world was of course the most restricting factor of why an uprising was unlikely, especially since the governor spent a great deal of resources building up his image with the public as a war hero from his time in the Imperial Guard. The lack of military training was another, but perhaps most inhibiting was the lack of tools to wage armed conflict in any way other than artillery. A civilian uprising could hypothetically arm itself with the few weapons they could salvage from any defeated soldiers and would have access to their city's own artillery, but unless they sought to kill their fellow Kimarans they could not rely on artillery alone to free themselves. It was in this manner that modern Kimara was well guarded against external foes, but lacked a proper defense mechanism to deal with ones allowed through the front door by their leaders.

For a proper set of weapons to wage war they would need to have them produced, and to have them produced in such a way that would not draw attention. That Kimara had a great deal of mining done across its frigid landscape meant that the industrial mining tools sometimes utilized by Genestealer Cultists could prove useful, but to have them produced for nonexistent mining operations would require allies within the local Mechanicus that the Commandant did not yet possess. If enough production capabilities could be set aside for their needs then they could be ready for open conflict if things came to that, and in time they more than likely would as the Governor and his cronies grew ever bolder in their depraved actions.

To try and kill him would just result in some other Conomor stepping forward to fill the vacuum, and in the time that took his soldiers would have their leashes cut off and the pain and suffering they inflicted until now would be made paltry compared to what they might do then. In this way conventional warfare was the option left on the table to them, and while it would no doubt cost many lives the Kimarans held the homefield advantage by knowing their planet far better than their adversaries. Wostyn soldiers were skilled at hit and run tactics rather than defending static stations, while Kimarans were not the most suited to shock tactics and rapid assaults while proficient at sieges, so neither side was in a position to play to their strengths.

Tension was rising, and while the idea of rebelling against an Imperial-backed force once again was far from the mind of the average Kimaran the necessary sparks leading to such an event were rising with each passing day. An uprising now would mean the death of Kimara as a world and culture, its remaining population receiving the final blow necessary to finish their proud people's legacy of suffering and the world free to be repopulated by the Imperium as it once did Cadia. Even those longing for their freedom from the Conomor regime knew better than to openly oppose it, and those hidden from its ever watchful surveillance would prepare quietly until either the day came that revolution was at hand or that the Planetary Governor and his men came cracking down their doors.

With the bloodshed spilled in wonton acts of cruelty over the years it was only too easy to find and target those with growing anti-government sentiments as those who mourned their loved ones or who survived the brutality harbored their resentment with eyes open to the propaganda surrounding them. For their justified beliefs they were routinely purged under the veil of protecting the peace and security of Kimara, when in truth it was the lack of peace that was being covered up.

Perhaps sensing the growing animosity towards his regime, Governor Conomor had begun to raise his public profile gradually to appear as present and forthright a leader as those of ages past on Kimara. With soft blonde hair lighter than his tanned skin he was a natural spectacle to witness upon Kimara, his family's history dating back to its founding when the population's typical appearance was not yet established and so always having stood apart from them. Their ties to other worlds that the Conomors would travel to meant that he was not so starved of natural daylight as those on Kimara as to appear ghastly like them, and despite having retired from active service he remained fit and thin even after years of hedonism enjoyed behind closed doors.

While being around a century in age the Governor appeared like a much younger man, extensive work having been done to retain a vibrant and youthful appearance. Dressed in tailored military garb that exuded regality with a flowing fuchsia cape and brilliant golden trim across it his already unique appearance was made all the more eye-catching, something which made his public marches through the streets surrounded by a sea of personal guards an even greater spectacle. On occasion a mournful survivor would try and fire upon his pristine visage, but never would a bullet find its mark: not only did he proudly use a personal energy field taken from the Jarns' own vaults that could deflect a great deal of incoming fire, so too did he possess a seeming unnatural speed and grace that made him all the more exotic to witness in the flesh.

Whatever he might not be able to protect from an assassin would be blocked by his guard retinue who were possessed by a deep Imperium-driven religious loyalty to the Governor, for he was the chosen leader of this world by the God Emperor of Mankind's own servants. Not only that almost all of the men under his direct command were former comrades of his on the battlefield, and he warmly showed them his favor and benevolence which further drove their dedication. That the Governor was widely hailed by their homeworld as the savior, a Kimaran who had finally apologized for the actions of his people's ancestors (while also bringing attention to the fact that his own family, the Conomors, were 'victims' of the Jarn dynasty as well and not complicit) and provided aid and effort to the financially unstable world of Wostyn to help alleviate their suffering. Their families could prosper under the relief provided to them by his policies, and for all of these reasons those directly surrounding the Governor were unquestioning in their loyalties.

So when told to crack open the door of a suspected family of rebels they did so with righteous purpose, the governor marching with his comrades proudly through the streets of whatever Fortress City was being swept of alleged terrorists. With their raid's commencement their overwhelming retinue would burst into the homes of these traitors to Imperial rule and gun down whatever armed resistance they might face, ruthlessly cutting down the Jarn dynasty revolutionaries who dared to oppose the Conomor and thus Imperial rule. These renegades would dare to hold themselves above their Imperial kin, and in striking them without mercy they were forced to face the consequences of their actions. The Governor himself would be present at most of these sweeping operations, making certain that no dissidents remained and that all in connection to the criminals were eliminated for their heresy.

The young, the elderly, the infirm, and the healthy, it did not matter what they were, if they were believed to harbor unsanctioned beliefs they were to be dealt with the same. The Conomors had been brought to power under the will of the people or so they claimed, and so those that opposed them opposed Kimara as a whole. To question that was to invite such a visit to your own home, and so silence reigned. Those who were without a doubt guilty might be then paraded before Kimara's population as extremists before being executed after an alleged trial that was wholly a political practice rather than a judicial one dedicated to justice.

On such occasions Governor Conomor would speak to all across Kimara in broadcasts of the execution, using his uncanny charisma and sway over others to make those who might question the events believe in the narrative his regime was putting forth.

"Oh how it pains me to do this, for these are our kin we have toiled beside in protecting our dear world, and yet they have turned their backs upon us. My dear comrades and I are merciful to our very core, but the law is the law and as abiding members of the Imperium we must see to it that those who question His majesty and threaten our security meet swift justice," he would say as if with a heavy heart for the consequences of his own actions that would go wholly unaddressed as firing squads formed behind him and took aim at the political prisoners.

"This is for the good of our people, and let it be known that I will not tolerate any such heretics who would seek to impose the tyrannical jingoist ways of the Jarn family upon us again! Through their expulsion from our society we may yet save ourselves from falling to the folly of our past, and so while we as the children and worshippers of the one true Emperor may mourn their straying from our path we should feel no regret for their divine punishment!"

Such proclamations would then be followed by the executions of those rounded up, and so another day upon Kimara would pass 'peacefully' and 'without incident'. After all, if you questioned the circumstances of any of this you might be perceived to be a heretic and renegade, so it was best to keep your head down and accept that those obviously guilty insurgents brought their fates upon themselves.

That very loyalty and trust in authority practiced by the Kimaran people safely for millennia beforehand had become the very chains by which they now were enslaved to an uncaring and brutal regime.



There were numerous Mechanicus facilities upon Kimara spread throughout its various Fortress Cities to prevent any one region from becoming a priority target for invasion, for capturing or otherwise incapacitating the world's production of war materials would mean crippling it in the long run and leaving it vulnerable to a siege. It was for this purpose that even the primary Mechanicus stronghold, known as Fakultat colloquially despite possessing a more technical designation like other Fortress Cities, was not surrounded by other such Mechanicus facilities but rather by particularly reinforced civilian cities. From them it drew its workforce in addition to its own population, and by keeping the Mechanicus separate across the world it helped restrain their influence and power since while a natural consequence of defending them from all directions so too were they threatened on all sides.

Fakultat might possess deeper meaning and purpose to the Mechanicus and the world's military production but it held little value to the Conomors due to its lack of export and financial gain. It was the oldest and most advanced of the Mechanicus' holdings on Kimara, but with its focus entirely on keeping the world's defenses replenished from wildlife, pirate, and Xenos incursions along with the personal pursuits of their Magos Biologis (known also as Genetors) it meant their forges provided no excess goods or services to trade with the greater Imperium. They had developed many of Kimara's unique variants of their wargear ranging from Basilisk cannons to Tauros all terrain vehicles meant for extreme cold, but their most notable contribution to Kimaran society was overseeing its thousands upon thousands of years of gene-crafting in pursuit of improving upon Humanity through biological albeit technologically manipulated means.

This tendency to push the limits of their technology and Humanity itself saw the local Mechanicus as outcasts and barely tolerated within the ranks of the greater Mechanicum, only staying within their graces due to the slow and cautious approach to their developments the Kimaran Mechanicus undertook rather than engaging in completely revolutionary experimentation. This gradual improvement and methodology was both a result of their Kimaran temperaments as well as a necessity given that to try anything greater could result in censure, thus eliminating any purpose and gains of the research done. It was better to gradually improve upon the Human form by removing things such as genetic flaws bit by bit than to try hopelessly to match the genius of the God Emperor's own genetic machinations where in short order he advanced Humanity's understanding of such technology by leaps and bounds.

If Kimara was to ever see the end of the Conomor regime its loyal sons and daughters would need access to not only civilian factories but the mighty forges of the Mechanicum, and for that reason Isolde had been sent by her father to visit Fakultat under the official purpose of overseeing and reviewing its defenses given recent migratory patterns of Yormungaros in the region. Due to the Conomors lack of favor the surrounding Fortress Cities in its grid had been left undermanned thus leaving the members of Fakultat more vulnerable to attacks from a variety of sources, and while the Mechanicus was adept at protecting itself that did not mean they could withstand a horde of Kimara's dangerous beasts setting upon them without sustaining major casualties. For this purpose sending a Commissar to oversee things was nothing out of the ordinary, with Isolde's presence merely being on paper to facilitate the restructuring of local forces to best prepare for the Yormungaros while maintaining cohesion and order.

Beyond that was of course Isolde's true motivation, her visitation being to facilitate connections with scouted influential and sympathetic personnel within the Adeptus Mechanicus. Their members upon Kimara were primarily drawn from the ranks of the planet and so shared in its burdens, with there being a deep rift growing between them and the regime in recent years due to the growing political strife on the planet. By being separate in leadership from the Planetary Governor and his forces the Kimaran Mechanicus had grown to house those with ill-will towards the direction their planet was heading, though this did not fully comprise their members. Those who had held grievances for whatever reason with the Jarn family or its regime had been granted enough support by the Conomors to rise above their peers, and in this way the main figurehead for the Mechanicus presence on Kimara was a direct crony of the Planetary Governor by the name of Shetth.

While not the top ranking member or the one with the greatest seniority Shetth possessed a great deal of influence and so in effect was their leading member, capable of making others bend to his will through authority rather than any form of charisma or loyalty. His arrogance was second to few throughout the Imperium, believing himself to possess greater intellect and insight than even the ruling lords and Archmagos of Mars, all the while possessing little talent that only was able to facilitate his rise through outside intervention born of his loyalty to certain influential elites upon Kimara such as the Conomors.

Much akin to Governor Conomor it was a rare sight to see Shetth out among his people, and while the ruling Conomor was making efforts to combat his seemingly out-of-touch persona Shetth was wholly unaware of such opinions held towards himself. On the occasion he might make a public appearance Shetth would likely spout some random trivial mechanical nonsense at length akin to a grandparent speaking of how things were in their day before departing without a response, as if he had been monologuing to himself. This repeated behavior had many members question if his systems were fully operational as he would often repeat the same topics in these rants, and snap violently if questioned at all while possessing no seeming capability for the logic the Mechanicus was known for.

If not for his connections it was unlikely such an individual would have ever risen to any position of power, but with his volatile personality and lack of deep thought it made him a useful tool for those who would benefit from seeing the Mechanicus' presence diminished and eventually brought entirely to heel. The Magos officially was both a member of the regime and the Mechanicus, and that was noteworthy as it made him allegedly twice as important and possess a greater deal of political protection, when in reality it just drew him ire from both groups since his actions permeated through both sections of Kimaran life.

That Shetth desired to spend his time with his fellow upper-crust socialites suited Isolde just fine, for it made coming across him less likely and it was well known that he held no respect or love for her father or any member of Kimara's Schola. Instead she went about her duties without seeking the attention of those who would impede her, carrying out routine inspections and meeting with the local defense forces to prepare them in case the Yormungaros did stray onto their territory. With a skeleton crew manning each of the nearby Fortress Cities the Yormungaros could appear at a moment's notice completely untouched by gunfire, for while a fully manned set of defenses would eradicate them at range there were holes in what they could cover at the present time.

From Isolde's initial inspection of the defensive capabilities present there was a heavy emphasis placed on civilian and Skitarii forces, for while there were members of the Wostyn garrison they were assigned to protect the innermost sections of the Fortress City and protect Shetth himself rather than the surrounding area. This meant that on paper enough support had been lent to the city to defend it, but in actuality they were capable of utilizing half their artillery at best while the rest was left to untrained or otherwise rookie militia members who were being drafted upon Isolde's suggestion after reviewing the local database for any individuals non-essential to the operation of the city that could still assist militarily.

With her authority as a Commissar Isolde was able to force even those who would typically grant orders to obey her will, and the hegemonic power structure on Kimara saw those local Mechanicus and militia forces submit without further question given her identifying characteristics. Upon her initial arrival Isolde had been asked about her business within the holy halls of the Omnissiah, at which point she was granted immediate entry when she showed them not only her documents identifying her as an official Commissar now but also a ring given to her by her father that had belonged to him as a personal mark. The Commissar had dealt with the Mechanicus in the past and so the iron and sapphire ring immediately identified her as a part of his circle with her armband and identification aiding the connection.

The only difficulty with the local Mechanicus came with Isolde attempting to bring Bo with her inside their facilities as she inspected them and arranged for their defense, as there was a longstanding ban of Ixolotls entering the Mechanicus except to undergo scientific study. This was done in ages past due to the absent-minded nature of the creatures leaving them vulnerable to causing accidents in their factories and forges, causing injury to not only the creatures but also staff and whatever it was they were creating. It was not done out of spite like more recent laws meant to cater to the distaste held for the salamander-like creatures by those from Wostyn, but rather for the safety of all.

Isolde had brought Bo with her due to her desire to have him learn from the various locales they visited, as while simple creatures Ixolotls could learn a great deal even if they did not properly understand what they were doing or why. If Bo was to be a helpful companion in her future he would need experience, and Isolde had no intention of leaving that to later, so he rode beside her on her modified Dirtcycle in a sidecar variant meant for Ixolotls widely distributed throughout Kimara to facilitate their transportation. Bo enjoyed sitting backwards on it for reasons known only to him, but he was perfectly content riding for however long was necessary to reach their next destination so long as he was with his owner.

To get around this ban, and certain that she could keep Bo from doing anything particularly unwise, Isolde stated her intention to have him subjected to a scientific study. This saw Bo through the entrance into the Mechanicus buildings she visited, the juvenile Ixolotl just happy to follow along even if he was not doing anything else at the time. Isolde made certain he was present when the Basilisks were being loaded, for while his arms had not developed enough yet to properly help rearm the artillery Bo still would begin forming the connection between the actions involved.

While Ixolotls were barred from entry into Mechanicus facilities on Kimara they did possess a counterpart in the form of Gudrus, a species of slug-like creatures that had adapted to live off of the industrial waste produced by the local Mechanicus. Their somewhat amorphous shape allowed them to thrive in otherwise difficult to reach spaces and their consumption of otherwise toxic or harmful substances made them quite at home wherever a factorum could be located. While young they would often find their home in smaller devices which led to the Mechanicus providing them specific objects to inhabit, and given their flexible bodies they would eventually be provided mechanized suits akin to those of Necromunda's Ambots to serve as assistants as the Gudrus grew large enough to inhabit them. Taming the creatures was simple enough given their fascination with certain types of technology that the tech-priests had ready access to, the creatures sharing a natural curiosity that was shared by their eventual masters that saw them drawn to recreational equipment such as skis and snowboards for reasons unknown but hypothesized to be a result of their amorphous and near liquid forms naturally being poor at travel over Kimara's frozen tundra.

Bo was particularly fascinated by the sluglike beings that only thrived within the factories and forges of Kimara, never having seen them before and so drawn to their metal golems they inhabited. It was a sign of the particularly biological bent to the research done on Kimara that their Mechanicus was able to create such contraptions, and while not particularly large they possessed the prerequisite strength to handle the roles often left to Servitors with servo-arms. Unlike other Imperial planets Kimara was almost wholly lacking in the usage of Servitors, their culture's nature being such that they were considered cruel abominations of flesh and steel that had no place among their ranks. Kimarans were expected to have the self-sufficiency to handle the more menial tasks of Servitors were tasked with rather than rely on a Servitor to take their notes for them or open doors or other such trivial matters.

It is almost certain that the longstanding bond between Kimarans and Ixolotls factored into their usage of Gudrus in the factories where Ixolotls were not permitted, as while an Ixolotl might get in the way without knowing Gudrus were so malleable in structure that they were unlikely to suffer harm should they get caught in a machine's inner workings. If not for the attachment between Kimarans and another semi-intelligent creature throughout the years it was likely these servants of the Omnissiah would have simply exterminated the slimy creatures feeding off their industrial waste as other members of the Imperium might. Instead they cultivated the creatures in such a way that they would mitigate the environmental effects of their work while also contributing to the required manual labor to streamline production, thus proving superior to the Servitors they had replaced albeit requiring the presence of a factory to thrive and thus limited in their presence across the world.

Bo's interest in the Gudrus would help facilitate Isolde's meeting with one of the scouted Mechanicus members who could become a potential ally within their organization by the name of Mahla, a young member who had survived battles against the Yormungaros in recent months after being deployed on the frontlines to fend them off due to the lack of defense personnel. Witnessing their destruction firsthand and the slaughter the beasts carried out among her peers also forced to engage them directly had left a mark on Mahla, knowing that lives could have been saved had the self-named 'Sons of the Emperor' from Wostyn been deployed to assist them.

Not only had she been granted reason to become jaded with the status quo, Mahla was also among the ranks of those tech-priests on Kimara dedicated to scientific discovery and progress rather than the stagnation the Imperium was now defined by. With a desire for knowledge and capable talent in her fields Mahla was exactly the type of individual that could be better served by a more supportive political structure. Her youth did not prevent her from finding success in her technological pursuits, even possessing her own hand-crafted augments that assisted her in her work. The tech-priests of Kimara were less likely than their counterparts elsewhere to replace parts of their bodies such was their pride in their physical form, but that did not prevent them from adding to their bodies mechatendrils and similar devices that could assist them in their work.

In a turn of fortune Isolde's interest in recruiting Mahla to their cause was matched by Mahla's curiosity with Isolde herself, for while Mahla possessed the well-sculpted physique one could expect of a Kimaran woman Isolde was a complete anomaly in form which thus drew the curiosity of a member of the Magos Biologis. Isolde was a puzzle to be inspected and solved, and it was not difficult to see why.

That Isolde drew the attention of a particularly curious member of the Mechanicus was not surprising to her, as turning heads was something Isolde had grown quite used to while she grew into a young adult. At just under seven feet in height Isolde possessed a striking figure now that she was fully grown, towering over even many of her male compatriots at the Schola in particular those who came from off-world and lacked more typical Kimaran features. That around half of her height went to her athletically sculpted legs only made her appear more striking, balancing lithe muscles with a distinctly female curvature that made her height not simply give her the appearance of a flagpole.

Perhaps most grabbing in terms of Isolde's figure was that while retaining her thin figure it was proportional to her size and not seemingly anorexic, best exemplified with her distinctly gene-crafted hourglass features that saw her waist narrow, her hips wide with thighs to complement, and possessing breasts that each were larger than her head in seeming tandem with her overall height. At nearly the height of an Astarte it was only natural that Isolde's features would be so far beyond the norm, appearing more like a particularly tall woman rather than a spindly one whose height was not matched by other physical traits she possessed.

Whatever methods have been utilized to gene-craft her had left Isolde as a wholly imposing figure wherever she would go, drawing not only attention but the natural awe Humanity was hardwired to associate with particularly tall individuals. Her paleness matched with her flowing mane of jet black hair and icy blue eyes instantly labeled her as distinctly Kimaran, and the mixture of height, beauty, and general appearance was evocative of female Kimaran rulers from ages past. Perhaps that was the intention of whomever created her to be the way she was, but such matters were not discussed with Isolde herself and were beyond her focus: to the Commandant's daughter there was always more work to be done, training to be repeated or expanded upon, and so such idle thoughts were to be left to those who bore witness to her near mythical and eerily crafted beauty.

After exchanging greetings at the tech-priest's personal laboratory Isolde offered Mahla a bag she had brought with her, the contents of which were revealed to be raw currency once Mahla opened it. This surprised the tech-priest, who despite wearing a mask which concealed her face still managed to convey her confusion through a small tilt of the head.

"Statement: explanation required," was Mahla's response, her voice even and robotic and demonstrating a particular quirk that differentiated her from the other tech-priests Isolde had encountered so far.

Isolde nodded back to reaffirm Mahla that this was not just some gift or some form of payment, but rather a donation, "The Commandant is sympathetic to the losses your people have suffered without recompense. Civilian, Imperial servant, or otherwise we all are daughters of Kimara and if we do not look after one another then who will?"

Her words seemed to have the intended effect upon Mahla, who looked down to the small fortune just handed over to her as Isolde continued in a solemn yet reassuring tone.

"It will not bring back those you have lost, but the missing incomes of families can doom their prospects or even survival. Please pass this along to them so that they may get through these difficult times."

Mahla furthered her line of questioning to ascertain the remaining issue she held with accepting a large sum of their world's currency, that being the origins it possessed and whether it would have ramifications should she take it.

"Addendum: purpose understood, source of fund appropriation left unknown and within question."

Isolde grinned, finding the thought to be well-meaning even if it was implying there might be something dark hidden about the donation, as it was a smart thing to inquire about if only to claim later that it was accepted under the express statement that it was clean money, "The funds are not stolen if that is what you are concerned over. Every credit comes from the Commandant's own personal account."

This finished Mahla's curiosity about the subject, finally accepting the funds in full and placing them away where they would be safe until she could grant it to those in need of it, "Statement: explanation acceptable. Compensation for losses shall be distributed."

With the matter handled Isolde found herself asked to have her 'perplexing physical form' studied with some basic scans and tests, to which Isolde acceded to help ingratiate herself to Mahla. If the Genetor desired to learn about her body then Isolde had little objection so long as the tests were not particularly invasive, and it could always help Isolde understand her own body better. All of her medical tests in the past had been handled by a specialist arranged by her father, so this would be her first time having her body inspected in a scientific manner outside of that.

As Mahla put Isolde through a battery of tests she spoke, proving to be quite talkative when given the opportunity even if no-one in particular asked about the subject at hand. In one such instance she explained what set Kimarans apart from other types of Humans in regards to their musculature, explaining that, "Statement: Typical Kimaran constitution range greatly exceeds homo-sapien average, only falling short of Astartes range and distinct Abhuman strains. Type one muscle fibers standard quantity vastly outnumber type two counterparts, resulting in immense natural endurance at the expense of bursts of force and agility."

Her explanations and statements could largely be boiled down to the fact that while a Kimaran would not be winning footrace competitions with the fastest members of other worlds they would outlast physically almost any not-Abhuman peer in raw endurance. While not particularly fast runners they still possessed the necessary components in their bodies to react rapidly which was most noticeable in their marksmanship, but possessing such hand-eye coordination to properly hit a target at range did not enable them to perform particularly well in closer engagements where the sudden twist of a knife would matter more than how well you could angle and finesse that knife to stab. They possessed precision above initiative in such matters and that was a strength they played to in their defenses where properly aimed artillery would matter more than rapid-fire instruments.

Isolde did not mind that it took over half an hour to properly survey her body with all of Mahla's various scanning technologies for right now the Yormungaros were estimated to be hours from appearing and the Fortress City's defenses were currently rearranging themselves as per her instructions. It would take time for them to accede to her demands and so Isolde would have to wait for them anyways, so spending this time gaining a possible ally was a worthwhile endeavor in her mind.

Upon Mahla's completion she gave a long list of basic information about Isolde ranging from her height to her eye color, largely covering things Isolde was obviously well aware of until she began to speak about Isolde's internal composition. First was a comment about her suspected reproductive health to which Isolde did not comment, but did listen intently to given that she had always wished for a family that she never could have given the social circumstances on Kimara.

"Conjecture: projected fertility of subject highly divergent. Optimal gynecoid pelvis and musculature for parturition and carriage beyond baseline Kimaran structure."

To hear that she was equipped for motherhood yet knowing she would be unable to attain it due to the lack of suitable partners struck Isolde in a way she had not expected, it dealing a blow to her typically prideful nature via her personal softness regarding family.

While rattling off other information gathered Mahla mentioned another anomaly and irregularity she observed in Isolde's body, quickly drawing Isolde's attention away from her woes to instead focus on the somewhat worrying details being raised.

"Observation: a myriad of abnormal organs of unknown origin located within abdominal region. Integration comprehensive and natural given excess organs possessing Human genetic strain. Subject should not possess averse side-effects, pending further research."

In less complex terms Isolde possessed supplemental organs in her body atypical to the Human form, but not only were they seemingly natural parts of her they were distinctly Human in their genetic formation. This seeming contradiction drew Isolde's attention and caused her to press Mahla further on the issue.
"I would appreciate if you would explain further."

"Addendum: preliminary inspection reveals organs to be inherent to body without sign of tampering or implantation. Genetic inheritance or gene-crafting likely explanation. Replication in offspring possible."

Whatever these unknown organs were they not implants placed into her, rather they were genetically formed within her by all indications and might pass down to her own hypothetical children. Further information on their purpose was unknown, though the proximity of one to her chest and the seeming link between it and her well endowed bosom seemed to inspire Mahla to further test the subject.
"Assessment: results incomplete. Biopsy required, full amputation for functionality recommended."

Isolde brushed Mahla's instruments away while casting a bemused glance, sensing that Mahla was stating that Isolde's chest was impeding her and was unnecessary and so should be sacrificed for scientific study. Whether there truly was a link between one of the organs and Isolde's enhanced form was certainly an interesting scientific question, but Isolde was unwilling to be someone else's test subject in such a way. She was proud of her body and had worked hard to maintain it at the peak of fitness, and so to dare subject it to mutilation would betray her efforts in maintaining it. Mahla might be correct that having a pair of breasts so large that they would be an encumbrance to a typical woman was a drawback, but they posed no burden to Isolde and she did not suffer from any of the typical health issues associated with such a physical feature. That itself might be a result of her different physical structure perhaps influenced by these organs, but Isolde was not going to begin having others poke around her and prod her like some lab rat.

"I am as I am meant to be. I would threaten to remove tenfold anything you take from me, but such an arrangement may be considered optimal to a member of the Mechanicus."

Mahla nodded, accepting this even if she was still curious about the subject given that this was her first experience with such a unique circumstance, "Supplication: biopsy option available in perpetuity for scientific inquiry."

"While your scientific endeavors and progress possess my support, I am afraid I must firmly decline any personal experimentation. If you must hack away at a body I notice you possess similar attributes to first test," Isolde replied with a nod over at Mahla's own curvaceous body that was the baseline for their planet.

Without missing a beat Mahla responded back while gesturing to her mechanical harness on her body, "Answer: encumbrance negligible. Augments supplement physical form sufficiently to counterbalance possible complications inherent to standard Kimaran female form."

Before the subject could continue further it was interrupted by the noise of something crashing onto the floor, drawing both women's attention over to where Bo was climbing atop a workbench. He was inspecting various tools while Mahla's personal Gudru attempted to stop him, only managing to make matters worse in the process by knocking over other objects with its less than precise servo-arms built into its suit. Bo's tail wagging back and forth and thumping up and down was hitting things he was unaware about, and so the reason for Ixolotls being banned was demonstrated all in one short display.

"Upa."

Mahla repressed a sigh as she watched the young Ixolotl begin running around without seeming purpose on top of her station, "Observation: signage concerning beryl toned salamanders is visible upon entry."

Isolde was used to Bo's antics by now and so just left him be, able to see that there was nothing he could actually damage where he was and thus the only thing that could come to harm was Bo himself.

"Consider it a learning experience for him."

Mahla did not share this lax attitude on the matter, "Cautionary: Mechanicus facility possesses various hazards."

Bo managed to trip off of the workstation and tumbled onto the floor, shocked for a moment about his sudden tumble but ultimately unharmed and thus unperturbed about it. Instead he found himself fascinated by the scanner he fell onto, it being one meant to study brain activity in Humans and animals to help facilitate the Genetor's research.

Perhaps unsurprisingly when it automatically scanned Bo little brain activity was to be found.

"Then it is all that more important of a learning experience," Isolde stated as she too repressed a sigh, looking forward to the day that Bo's youthful energy was expended and that he would be as reserved as his father Olym.

Despite Mahla's reservations about Bo's presence in her laboratory she would moments later find herself looking after him, for in the distance the rumblings of an oncoming horde of Yormungaros made itself known. Isolde reacted swiftly and grabbed her gear, rushing outside to confront the beasts head-on with the forces she had spent the past hours organizing.

The Yormungaros were approaching faster than anticipated and in greater number if their noises were any indication, and so there was not a moment to lose.



Verita had a part to play in the machinations of the Commandant just like Isolde and Dairine did, though hers were in an entirely different arena. Where Isolde was rallying others to their cause and Dairine was eliminating those in their way, Verita was the one gathering information and learning the truth about various subjects that would prove beneficial to them. Becoming the acolyte of Inquisitor Kravin had brought additional duties to her, but they were things she likely would have undertaken even without his instruction due to their importance.

The Inquisitor had tasked Verita with investigating specific irregularities in the Conomor regime which saw her interacting with and ciphering through their mountains of bureaucracy, for despite any other failings it was a strength of the Conomor regime to make all their paperwork, laws, regulations, and related material all look exactly as it ought to be under Imperial rule. This made it an arduous task that would bring most to their heels but to Verita it was something she could sort through as if placing pieces of a puzzle together bit by bit, and that was why she had been chosen by the Inquisitor in the first place. She possessed a straightforward clarity that allowed her to cut straight through to the heart of things and understand them, and that was an invaluable trait when dealing with a nest of corruption, lies, and falsification.

How Verita decided to go about her investigation was largely left up to her by the Inquisitor perhaps as a test, for so long as she achieved results and brought him more pertinent information on the Conomor regime it was enough to satiate him. His own work kept him busy as he met with officials, traveled to see to Imperial documents held off-world related to Kimara, and otherwise approached the subject from all angles to ensure that a once traitor world was indeed still loyal. This left him with little time to meet with Isolde in person, and she instead often was passing along her reports to the local Deathwatch forces that served as his personal enforcers in this matter.

Due to her parents' possession of it the enigmatic box Verita had acquire some time ago remained a focal part of her investigations, for not only did their historical studies seem to involve it somehow the box had led Verita to numerous places of importance upon Kimara. If all of its destinations were so significant then continuing to follow it might shed greater light on their situation, and so Verita followed its lead when it revealed itself occasionally upon the full blue moon of Kimara. First had been the site of the Iron Warriors' arrival to Kimara, and second had been an abandoned outpost used by a pair of young political refugees whose family had been persecuted by the Conomor regime.

There Verita had found a diary kept by the younger sister up until her passing, having died of starvation waiting for her elder sister to return with food and supplies while unaware that her sister had been caught and been disappeared by the Sons of the Emperor. Only by fully going through the log detailing the horrors endured by the two had the box shown the next letter in its seeming code, as if the only way it found the bearer worthy of possessing its information was by possessing the empathy to fully listen to the tragic story told.

-O----E-

While this could have been overlooked as a simple method of siphoning out those who would take the effort to inspect the abandoned facility and demonstrate personal care for those who suffered, it also told Verita something else: the box was relatively new, for it had been made in the time between the arrival of the Wostyn garrison around two decades ago and her own family's deaths when she was quite young. Whomever made it had put it together for a purpose in the present day of Kimara, and what that meant was unknown as of yet to her but it did at least help her understand its context better.

Outside the base Verita had noticed that someone had buried the deceased sisters, something that would require no small amount of effort given that it meant retrieving the body of the elder while also digging into the hard ground of Kimara frozen solid a thousand times over. Whomever had found them was likely also whomever made the box, and they displayed an altruistic side in doing so by seeing the two victims of the regime laid to rest despite whatever difficulties lay in accomplishing it. While not entirely conclusive it did make Verita believe that perhaps whomever made the box had similarly positive and well meaning reasons for doing so, further strengthening her resolve to discover what secrets lay within it.

This quest for knowledge brought Verita to the next location indicated by its coordinates, that being the current capital city of Kimara as ruled by the Conomors. In years past the city had been named after the Conomors in honor of their memory as a part of Kimaran history, making the aptly titled 'Conomor City' a natural location for the Conomors to reaffirm their claim to rulership over the planet. The Fortress City had been reinforced as had those around it to mirror how the Jarn's own palace and its city had been deeply fortified, for while the Conomors might despise the Jarns there was still plenty the former rulers had done that would be foolish to not mimic. To take the city would be nigh impossible, especially given that the most accomplished and veteran soldiers from Wostyn served directly there to protect their benefactor while the more expendable trash were left to deal with more peripheral cities where casualties were inevitable no matter your training or discipline given the sudden onslaughts Yormungaros could wage.

It was thus here that the Conomors dictated the course of Kimaran society as well as its discourse, for Kimara's many defenses included those against external subversion. The Imperium had worried that the Iron Warriors might return one day to lay claim to the world with all of its resources, and so they had set the world's communications in such a way that no unwanted messages would pass through to the population. The rulers of Kimara and its Imperial oversight were the ones to determine what could be broadcast, and this had helped over the years shift Kimara to being a loyal member of the Imperium despite never forgetting its grudges and history. Through the Jarn family the populace had grown to respect the Emperor and his ideals even while holding disdain for their personal treatment by his servants, and so Kimara had refrained from rebellion for thousands of years.

Under the Conomors this focus had shifted instead to venerating the Imperium as a whole and also the Conomors themselves, for while the Jarns did their part to instill a cult of personality among their people they were humble by nature despite it all with it being a trait passed down through the generations seemingly by choice given their gene-crafting. The Conomors however took it to another level, utilizing outright propaganda, lying or omitting facts about situations broadcast to taint the views of their citizens in a particular way, poisoning the well of their ideological opponents, and outright ignoring pressing issues that ought be reported because it would detract from their image. This practice of misinformation was disgusting to Verita who valued the truth above all else, and so upon seeing the capital city she readied herself for whatever she was going to witness within it.

Getting through its security was a simple matter for Verita given her ties to the Schola and an Inquisitor, the latter of which was nigh unquestionable and so even those who might deny her entry were forced to allow her in. The coordinates given to Verita by the box were specific enough that she knew she had to visit the Conomors' personal palace and so she wasted no time in making her way to it, passing through numerous checkpoints on the way and being waved through each of them. The city was beautiful from a glance, though a closer look revealed the signs that not all was as fine as it would appear to be: podiums to carry out executions, slums, and other such signs of societal degradation were evident throughout despite the beauty of its buildings and even military fortifications.

Upon her arrival at the palace there was a single word in Verita's mind to describe it and all she had seen thus far, and that was 'excessive'. Atypical was the architecture on Kimara that was complex and not designed for function and military purpose, and the Conomor palace was one such location. Possessing architecture on its outside best described as sinuous and organic, its colorful curvature and asymmetrical design possessed a unique flair at every given point that set it far apart from the simplistic designs to be found in other Fortress Cities. Gates were not simple slabs of reinforced metal but rather spiraling designs with bright heraldry and openings as if to grant the viewer a glimpse at what lay beyond without truly revealing it in full.

Compared to the spartan living style of the Schola it was extravagant just to behold, and the near organic appearance to everything was uncanny with archways possessing details evocative of ribcages. Elsewhere one could witness stained glass like one would find in a cathedral lining the walls in complex patterns while walls being made of sculpted stone rather than hard metal to show off innumerable forms of artistry in each fine detail. All throughout one could view Imperial eagles either as statues embedded within the architecture, edges and towers emblazoned with golden wings or beaks, and entire sections of the palace shaped to evoke the very same imagery when looked at from afar.

Such wealth and opulence being visibly displayed was fairly new even to the Conomor family itself, as historically their members while affluent still possessed a degree of the financial humility shared by others of their world. Such considerations were apparently lost on the current Planetary Governor, but with armed guards posted in excess throughout the palace and its exterior it was just as likely that he was aware and simply did not care as to the opinions of those outside.

Even if the palace itself was not built specifically to withstand a military attack the city around it was, as each Fortress City upon Kimara was designed with the same philosophy which saw them segmented and reinforced such that even if part of the city's structure fell others could reinforce and be closed off. This was important given the constant threat of Yormungaros upon the world since if they dealt damage to one section of a city the rest would not be condemned to the harsh elements of Kimara, and if a military invasion were to take place one block of the city falling would then be partitioned off from the others by the very same rapidly deploying walls and structures to prevent further incursion. This then would leave the invading force vulnerable to artillery fire from other nearby Fortress Cities that could bombard the specific segment of the city and eliminate the attackers without causing further harm to the city's other areas.

With each Fortress City possessing similar designs and architecture as envisioned by Trahaearn Jarn himself it made repairing and reconstructing fallen sections far easier than a more organic city might. Nearly every part of a city had its blueprints well documented and replicated all throughout the planet with only specific Fortress Cities possessing more unique designs, while most only possessed unique flairs in their innermost cores where their most civilian endeavors took place. The Conomor palace was itself a complete aversion to this and its sprawling nature saw it unlike any other building throughout the world, perhaps throughout the Imperium, and so it stood structurally more vulnerable than the militaristic and brutalist structures found elsewhere.

As a display of their alleged openness the Conomors had allowed public tours to take place within the halls of their palace to better appear as if they were leaders of the people, when in reality witnessing their personal abode only made native-born Kimarans uncomfortable with how extravagant it all was. The ones who truly enjoyed such displays were the tourists that the Conomors would invite from off-world, typically from Wostyn but sometimes from other more distant worlds as well, to draw them in and show them their vision of Kimara's future rather than having them witness the more native culture of the world as practiced by its people for the past ten thousand years.

Due to this skewed target demographic Verita found herself as the only native-Kimaran on the tour she was able to freely sign up to join, being surrounded instead by a small fleet of mothers and their children from Wostyn. Very few of their number had come over to Kimara as of yet since almost all members of Wostyn on Kimara were those hired for military service, which Wostyn did not permit its women to join, but more recently the Conomors had made overtures towards inviting civilian members of Wostyn over as well to be with their families. Despite official proclamation by the regime that they were not engaging in the age-old Imperial practice of replacing less trustworthy populations with devout loyalist ones to run a world more securely it certainly felt like this was the beginning stages of such a move, setting the stage for the eventual migration of Wostyn's long aggrieved population to a world with greater potential while phasing out the bitter and cold Kimarans who would never truly possess complete loyalty to the Imperium given their eternal grudges they held.

The guide of the tour, an offworlder turned Kimaran man by the name of Psittac Iformes according to his nametag, however proudly proclaimed that the Governor proudly welcomed these prospective members of Kimara and that such loyal members of the Imperium would be accepted with arms open. After all, anyone who did not want loyalist members of the Imperium upon their world must not properly pledge allegiance to the God Emperor of Mankind, and that such thoughts were heretical and worthy of censure. He seemed unaware that within the crowd he had an actual Kimaran despite Verita standing taller than all of those around her, the tour guide's focus instead being on the first row of the crowd since he was shorter than them and could not see up over them at where Verita's own head was well above the others.

Perhaps unsurprisingly the tour was uninspired in terms of content, being a basic historical overview of Kimara, the Conomors, and the palace itself which were basic information for a Kimaran but fascinating to those from offworld. The historical tale told was one of years of tyranny ending with the liberation from the Jarns, something that even from the most objective of standpoints was egregiously inaccurate, and so while the tour guide rattled off facts and information Verita used it as an opportunity to think about the subject herself from all of the myriad of sources she had studied until now. The tour would take awhile since it was moving at a glacial pace, the natures of Kimarans and Wostyns opposed once again with the need for efficiency causing Kimarans to move along at a brisk pace to go from one task to another while the lack of almost anything on Wostyn left its populace free to take their time engaging in travel. This relaxed attitude towards punctuality and efficiency made planning around Wostyn patrols difficult at times, but in this instance it left Verita time to think over the subjects at hand.

The Conomor coup took place with the promise of reformation, of changing the current social paradigm and freeing the planet from thousands of years of dictators. By removing the current nobility common citizens could be lifted up, their rights could be expanded, and their overall wealth and prosperity improved. Under their rule all would be equal, all would prosper through the reformation of the state, and the eradication of the social classes of old. According to all the records these claims had proven accurate, though what was laid upon paper did not always convey the full truth.

The Conomor family had instituted public elections for their offices, but any verification of the results was obfuscated or outright refused by the political entity. Thus while the people had more power invested in them it was stolen away as the cronies of the Conomors continuously found themselves brought into power as if they were appointed rather than elected. Restrictions on public behavior had been lifted after millennia of strictly enforced laws had kept order, but such expanded freedoms were largely enjoyed by the wealthy elite while they ultimately had little impact on the day to day lives of the average Kimaran. With the Conomors opening trade with Wostyn and other Imperial planets far beyond what Kimara had ever done previously it had resulted in massive growth for their planetary economy, but the spoils of this growth almost exclusively rested in the hands of those running such enterprises while local businesses suffered from the competition thrust upon them all at once.

Life was not perfect under the Jarn family's rule, but their leadership had proven consistent and reliable throughout the ages in a way atypical for dynasties. This longevity could perhaps be explained by the planet's almost homogeneous personality and set of values which they themselves shared, and with the same sets of genetics from one generation to the next thanks to specific gene-crafting each successive Jarn leader was similar to the last or even a superior iteration.

The last reigning sovereign had been named Trahaearn as had all of the firstborn sons before him, and while lacking the Astartes physique of their predecessor he still greatly resembled how Trahaearn the First might have looked if not for his transformation into an Angel of Death. At over seven feet of height, possessing a broad musculature, and with jet black hair upon a rugged face he stood as a model for all other Kimaran men physically while his mind was shrewd and quite capable of the expectations placed upon him. His execution had been carried out the same night as the coup took place, for so long as he and his kin lived then so did the hope of restoring his dynasty. What's more, it was fully expected that a public execution would have caused even more of an uproar than what was faced in the immediate aftermath, making his death for allegedly undermining the Imperium all the more important to carry out far from the public eye.

What truth may lie in the accusations levied against the second to last Trahaearn was well shrouded almost a century after his passing, and so discovering the truths of that turbulent era was all the more important for one dedicated to deciphering reality from fiction. Even the records of what happened specifically with Trahaearn's son of the same name were vague and at times conflicting, all of them ending with the boy's unfortunate yet almost certain death given how his body was found, but details concerning it were where they differed. There were still those alive who had witnessed his corpse which lent credence to the outcome, though a full investigation would need to be done to properly determine which story was true. Other stories yet told of numerous sons that official records had removed from documents to cover either their existence and their execution, and such was the myriad of tales caused by a century of disinformation and conflicting narratives forced upon the population.

During the tour Verita noticed an opportunity to slip into the palace's personal library, and so she did so when no-one was any the wiser. To enhance the leisurely feelings of those within guards were only posted to prevent entry to the upper sections of the palace as well as at the entrances and exits, with no seeming care given to a library of all places. Listening to the propaganda spewed by the guide had left quite the bad taste in her mouth, and given her authority granted through Inquisitor Kravin she had a right to inspect whatever documents lay within the library. Her location was known and recorded in a multitude of methods, and so should anything happen the Inquisitor would be aware and be able to take retaliatory action which left her with a degree of security here within the Conomor's own halls.

Verita would ironically possess less attention away from their government buildings, for out in the wastes of Kimara accidents could happen that could not be tied back to any particular party while here in this public section of the building there were enough watchful eyes that they could not act with impunity towards someone as untouchable as an Inquisitor's acolyte and proxy.

Most of the books and documents within the library were entirely for show, being there to make the Conomors appear well-read and knowledgeable about a wide variety of subjects but it was evident that many of the books present were too well maintained to have ever been properly read through. They were properly dusted and kept from appearing untouched, but a lack of any personal touches to the texts that would come of accidentally bending one page, staining a cover, or otherwise warping them was quite noticeable as was the crisp sensation of touching their pages that had never been cracked open before.

It was obvious that this was not the personal study of the Conomor family and just was here for appearances, though that did not preclude it from having anything worth paying attention to: in their hubris front and center among various displays within the library was a historical text concerning the Conomors, and so Verita decided to take a look after she went through a few of the other books present. After all while the Conomors were prone to being generous with their own motivations and history seeing how their history was told in a book by an external party that they favored enough to feature would prove illuminating, as it might shed light into their mindsets at the least that this text was chosen over however many others existed on the subject.

So nominally used was the library in favor of the Conomor's personal study that some hours passed by without interruption as Verita deciphered what valuable information lay within the texts she had chosen. While not particularly groundbreaking she did come across one piece of information that caught her attention, that being that there was a member of the Conomor family from the time of the Great Crusade who was conspicuously absent in most books concerning the family. All of the ones she had referenced thus far had made no mention of him, but in this one book as if by oversight or by discovery on the hand of the author the name 'Phrixus Conomor' was mentioned.

Unlike other members whose lives had paragraphs or pages dedicated to them his took up little space besides how he was the son of the onetime ruling member of the Conomors and a mistress, as any records referenced in this text regarding him only reached up to around the age of ten. After that Phrixus was completely unmentioned as if he had disappeared or perished, and given the downfall of the Conomor family in the time period it was possible that these events were related. There were copious statements and theories about how the Jarns had eliminated the other Conomors with poisons and such underhanded means to usurp their power, but no such explanation was provided in this instance.

Instead it appeared as if Phrixus was some source of shame that had been mostly hidden away from history until now, and so Verita took note of the cited texts so she could look more deeply into them moving forward. While a child disappearing ten-thousand years ago was not likely important on its own it could shed further light into the survival of the Conomors and their inter-family politics in the present day if any of those alive now were his descendants or from a rival branch.

Timing it so that she joined a subsequent tour through the palace, Verita slipped out of the library without anyone seemingly being the wiser.



After departing the palace and going through numerous security checks again Verita was left free to roam the capital, and she still had plenty to do while there. The obsidian box had not reacted to the palace the way it had other landmarks she traveled to, instead granting her a second set of coordinates to travel to as if in addition to where she had just been. These new ones would require travel, but first she had a contact she had made before within the Wostyn government that she had arranged to meet with.

It would have been simple enough to arrange the meeting with the informant through a vox communicator but Verita instead chose a more complicated method that would accomplish the same goal albeit with additional steps. A vox communication could and almost certainly would be intercepted by the regime's intelligence agencies, but a roaming Ixolotl would be overlooked as one in a sea of such creatures. Their actions were typically meandering and slow with Ixolotls often able to be found staring at a reflective surface, collecting or inspecting metal objects, or just standing around content with life rather than engaging in any meaningful activity.

For this reason even if one knew to inspect them for hidden messages or such materials the amount of manpower invested in such an endeavor would be largely wasted, as there were more Ixolotls than Kimarans in the cities after the mass exodus of their masters and any one of them could hypothetically be a secret courier of information. It was common for Ixolotls owned by someone to possess accessories or clothing to assist the creatures in their everyday lives or see to their comfort, so it would not even be as simple as narrowing it down to those wearing backpacks or other such methods of transporting goods. To ascertain what they were carrying within their various accessories would be a constant matter given their predilection of picking things up and keeping them in the various bags and pouches granted to them by their owners, and despite the tens of thousands of Wostyn soldiers recruited over the years to police Kimara's fortress cities the Ixolotl population outnumbered them.

Juvenile Ixolotls such as Seta went about their business with even less notice than their mature counterparts, as their smaller size meant that they were literally beneath the notice of certain cameras and guards who might otherwise see them. Despite their typically absent-minded nature Ixolotls were quite capable of being trained, it just was a relatively slow process even if it did mean they could engage in somewhat complex tasks other animals could not be expected to. In this way Seta had been trained to not only act as a courier for Verita, but the young Ixolotl had also learned to go about their business by backtracking and constantly changing directions so that on no two days were its movements the same. This kept patterns from being recognized in Seta's routes to deliver things as well as helped shake off any who might track her by continually joining and leaving other groups of Ixolotls standing around in the various cities they visited.

There was only so long a surveillance agent could watch Ixolotls standing still or moving around in seeming circles or other random patterns for hours before such an endeavor was to be called into question, and few Humans possessed the patience to match that of a simple-minded creature that was wholly unaware that it was being observed and would not care even if it did. Sending messages in secret through such means did take time, but given the reliability of Ixolotls to carry out their given tasks it was one Verita used without reservation.

Perhaps such methods were excessive and complex, but their success spoke for itself and never once had Verita's correspondence with various external parties been discovered. Her straightforward nature meant that she preferred keeping things simple, but that also meant that if the pathway to success involved complexity then she would engage in it without reservation.

The end result of this endeavor was a meeting with her informant in a back alley bar within the capital city's slums where displaced Kimarans had ended up for one reason or another over the years. Despite how seedy and dangerous it felt to be within the area there was little actual danger from the population as Kimarans were too proud typically to resort to things such as crime to make a living, leaving any danger posed in the area to patrolling Sons of the Emperor who would regularly harass and abuse those inhabiting the area as if they were prey ensnared in a trap waiting to be feasted upon.

It was not lost on Verita that the only consideration that her informant had was his personal wealth and financial well-being, and that if he had not crossed the wrong man higher on the totem pole than him he would have remained a part of the grisly regime now in place. He wanted a payout so he could get off-world, and he would get what he was looking for...so long as his information proved truthful and reliable. Verita was not above paying for information when necessary, and in fact had been granted a generous budget by the Inquisitor for such instances, so she would send her informant his dues when she verified whatever he had to say.

From their meeting Verita learned that the overtures of the Planetary Governor were in the process of being made real: that the regime's distaste for the native population was so severe that they would rather recolonize it with a population forever indebted to them, and that they were trying to rise tensions enough that they could speed up the time table regarding replacing the Kimarans. If the Kimarans were to engage in a large enough revolt that they had to be put down with the military then they could use it as justification to 'pacify' the remainder and sweep them out. They could not take direct action to see to this however as the risk involved was great, and so they were slowly grating on the Kimaran population to make them too broken and fragmented to wage a unified rebellion when things came to that. Once they were dealt with the planet's resources would remain, fit to be mined by a new population far more dedicated to the Emperor and without past loyalties to a traitor Legion like the Iron Warriors.

It was a shifting and amorphous plan centered around evolving dynamics and situations, but it was hard to say it was not on track to completion: Kimara's collective spirit had been battered down in the past two decades, and with the majority of their fighting forces drafted into the Imperial Guard it would be difficult to properly rebel against an unjust regime's actions. According to her informant Verita learned that this plan was seemingly hatched in the Governor's many years fighting alongside the Wostyn soldiers in the Imperial Guard, having learned how deeply loyal they could be to their cause no matter what came between them and it, something he allegedly did not feel from the Kimarans he served alongside as well. He saw Kimarans as horribly flawed while the people of Wostyn as near perfect, and for that he brought them into his inner circle.

As a part of the tensions they were rising the regime had also seen fit to begin focusing on whatever grievances might arise between their civilians towards the Wostyn soldiers, igniting further resentment from the soldiers towards those they were meant to protect. A riot had been set to occur in the Schola's very own Fortress City until the armaments and supplies that had been funneled to help facilitate such an uprising mysteriously disappeared, though the propaganda to raise those tensions remained and so it would only take a small match to cause a much larger catastrophe. The lack of proper weapons in the immediate area would not stop the Sons of the Emperor from rioting against believed heretics to their beloved Emperor, and if the Kimaran civilians responded with their own force it would grant their government the excuse they need to step in officially. Everyone was being used by those in charge for their own benefits and goals, and the ones who would suffer would be all those caught up in the flames of a manufactured riot.

Following their conversation Verita obtained from the former official various plans and documents to confirm his statements, agreeing to his payment once she verified it all before departing to see to the box's second location: the former palace of the Jarn family, now long since abandoned.

By the time she reached a security checkpoint to depart her informant was laying in a pool of his own blood and that of the other bar patrons, the incident to later be broadcasted as a drive-by shooting done by disgruntled Kimarans.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Within his office in the capital the hefty man known as Wost sat up in his seat to reach over and take the incoming call pestering his ears, his attention having been focused on the feed of information being sent to him to filter through and determine what would be allowed to be known by the public and what would be censored. Elevating one story over another and downplaying other events impossible to cover up was just the everyday task of the regime's Public Intelligence and Information Bureau, and so it was an endless endeavor that he took pleasure in despite the long hours he worked. It was through him that power was held and expanded, and it was through him that men rose or fell in the public eye.

"What is it?" he grumbled into his personal communicator his beard now was intertwined with.

"The target has been eliminated, but I noticed that rat is scurrying around still. Would you like me to take care of her as well?"

Wost grimaced as he thought of that growing pain in his side Inquisitor Kravin had forced upon him, the propagandist irritated that she dared to continually question him or what his agencies stated. Such behavior had already been outlawed thanks to his work, but the Inquisitor's presence meant that to take direct action against her would result in severe consequences. He could always blame his agents or others, but the risk still remained that it could backfire on him and so he reluctantly allowed her safe passage...for now at least.

"Leave her be for now. Keep me updated on her whereabouts and what she is doing, and make certain you handle the traitor's body with caution. One man disappearing means little on a Death World, so do what you must to take care of the matter. And if the rat crosses any lines...well, she can join her dear informant for one final meeting in the snow. If it comes to that I want her here first, so we may learn what they know."

"Understood."

The line went silent, and Wost reclined in his seat with a puff of his cigar blowing from his mouth. For him there was no such thing as ethics, or truth, only power, for it was through power that you could dictate what the truth was even if it was directly contrary to the facts. Power was all that mattered, and those who believed otherwise were simply fooling themselves.

It was not yet time to fully bring Kimara to the truth they so denied, but that day was drawing ever closer, and if they refused to partake...well then they had their chance, just as he once did. It would be a shame if that annoying yet beautiful acolyte was among those to be sacrificed for the future, but if that was the cost then it would be paid, just as it had in the blood of thousands of other so-called innocents.

They were the chosen, the sons of the Emperor himself, and they would bring death to his foes.

THE DIGNITY OF LORDS

From the first view of it one could tell that the Jarn family palace known as Krakengard was wholly different than the more modern Conomor facility with close to nothing was shared between them despite both at one time being the capital building of their world. Raw and unadulterated symmetry was to be found in every aspect Krakengard, with meticulous detail and craftsmanship employed to ensure that the building possessed no blemish or flaw inherent to its exterior. Rather than artistry it was architectural and engineering precision that was prioritized in the behemoth structure that possessed bold and sharp edges in contrast with the Conomor's rounded ones. Wherein one you could find beauty and wonder, in the other you would find naught but awe and intimidation through sheer size.

It was indicative of the Iron Warriors who had once contributed to its construction that the structure had survived throughout the ages with minimal need for upkeep and repair, having been built to last like the Astartes themselves as they expanded upon and refined the designs of the Kimarans. This could largely be attributed to its lack of complexity and decor, as all that the structure possessed was what was necessary for its function and that function was to house the ruling family, allow for their governance to be carried out, and to provide military refuge in the case of a siege from which the entire city's defenses could be coordinated as well as all of those of the Fortress City grid it found itself within. Designs existed to allow the structure to be expanded to possess additional segments such as gardens and other such amenities, but these ideas had been shelved and left unexplored since the fall of Kimara to the Imperial Fists millennia ago.

To possess such displays of opulence on a barren and frigid world was considered by the remaining Jarns to be disrespectful of other Kimarans who knew no such comforts, and so those very grounds had instead been dedicated to government facilities that would see to the prosperity of their people. Rather than wholly selfless this was done out of a mixture of pragmatism and their direct nature, as directness was a Kimaran trait and even more so one possessed by Jarn's descendants. They were placed in power by their people to rule their world fairly and see to its survival and success, and so even under the Imperium's bootheel they would see to those very tasks to the exclusion of all else. Personal agendas did not factor into rulership, and so in this way despite the rebellion of their kin the Imperium came to accept the Jarn family as overseers of Kimara throughout the ages. They did as they were told and met their quotas while also remaining in the high graces of their taciturn population who sought determination and willpower in their leadership rather than raw charisma.

As a natural consequence of making a stalwart palace that could withstand enemy fire Krakengard possessed reinforced windows that were one way, only allowing those inside to view outwards rather than those without to view those within. Their reinforcement was akin to that of many Battleships in that materials one could view through were typically more fragile than those they may be surrounded by, yet to defy this they were crafted and embedded in such a way that they would not break until the structure surrounding them would. It was difficult work solidifying the necessary view outwards from strategic locations of the palace, but so seamless was the craftsmanship that if not for their differing color to the palace's walls the windows would be nigh indistinguishable. Just as the bridge of a Battleship might endure weapons that could lay waste to a planet, so too could Krakengard both from the ground and from orbit. It was this stalwart nature of the palace that saw it withstand the test of time as well as the coup, appearing no different after a violent revolution took place within it than it had beforehand.

The only complexity to be found in Krakengard was its military considerations with sloped segments, reinforced walls, and a series of sectioned parts to the palace that each could hold back countless more assailants. It was fitting perhaps then that the downfall of the Jarn family came from a sudden coup that saw their building infiltrated, as a more conventional army would have stood little chance of quickly decapitating the royal family before being surrounded by reinforcements or being bombarded into nothingness. The palace itself could withstand the very same artillery bombardments Kimarans were known for, with the defenses of Krakengard externally being based on those that could be found throughout the strongest edifices in the Imperium such as the Imperial Palace itself.

How the Jarn family came into possession of such detailed blueprints to enhance their defenses was unknown especially since many of the Imperial Palace's structural reinforcements came in the time leading up to and during the Horus Heresy, but it was assumed that the service of the Astartes on Kimara had in some way resulted in this, or that mortal defenders and veterans of the invasion of Terra later would influence its construction after the conflict. The truth could be simple or it could be complex, but the initial designs penned by Jarn himself were no doubt at some point further developed during his absence and few would complain about a Fortress City properly living up to its moniker, especially when few who would even travel to Kimara knew the Imperial Palace so well as to compare them.

Regardless it left a fingerprint, a trace of suspicion, on the mind of Verita whose very purpose now was to observe such irregularities and take note of them. Just as she had long since noted the gene-crafted nature of her fellow Schola students Isolde and Dairine well before the other girls at the Schola had, so too did she now notice an oddity that could not help but make her wonder if there was more to this seemingly unimportant detail. The Iron Warriors involved in the Siege of Terra had been those belonging to Perturabo and his Chaos corrupted kin, not the company kept by the first Trahaearn Jarn fighting their own way through the stars. The Imperial Fists who came to Kimara would no doubt never reveal such details, so then who else would have had access and supplied it willingly to Kimara?

There was no way to truly know at the present time so many thousands of years later, especially not after the Conomors did their best to obscure documents from what came before them to better control the minds and will of their people. It was an effective means to do so, of that there was no doubt, but it was still deplorable and held Verita's deepest scorn. Deception and truth were two sides of the same coin, for sometimes to reveal the truth you might have to deceive some to obtain it. Verita had to play on the trust and words of both her informants and her enemies, for it was by penetrating the weakness of individuals that cracks could be formed in a grander narrative shrouding the truth. If she had to lie to a few about her intentions or beliefs and betray those who had already betrayed the entire planet then that was a burden she would carry to enlighten the rest of the world as to whatever secrets they had kept or falsehoods they perpetuated in the name of their own power and benefit.

Perhaps it made her a hypocrite to lie to deceivers and unscrupulous foes when she sought truth, but the only alternative was to inform them of her true intentions and draw no information from their well. Then countless more would be lied to by those very enemies of truth itself, and so Verita cloaked her loyalties to the Schola, Commandant, and her adoptive 'sisters' in the veil of service to the Imperium. The Imperium would benefit from her actions as far as Verita was concerned, and so that was not even a lie on its own: it was just that it was a vehicle by which to see to her more personal motivations. Of discovering the truth of her family's circumstances, of helping her people both in escaping propaganda and in surviving their ordeals, and in ensuring that senseless bloodshed could be avoided and that victims like Umida could be prevented moving forward.

It was through this line of thinking that Verita had no issue misleading the Sons of the Emperor stationed at the Fortress City housing the now derelict palace of the Jarns that she was one of their peers by dressing in their clothing and using her height to pass off as a man. She had left most of her personal belongings in a similarly abandoned outpost nearby that she had reassigned the security codes to ones only she and her fellow Schola members knew, ensuring that any possible interlopers would not be able to readily access them. It was a gut feeling she had that she had been followed after departing the Governor's own city and so Verita had taken further measures to lose any possible trackers in the snowstorms raging across their world as she traveled to the relatively close location the box had led her.

The Fortress City itself had been among those evacuated over the years to move Kimara's population to certain more 'productive' locations, a questionable decision if one were to believe their stated reasons given the city's ideal placement within Kimara's defensive grid and access to resources. Rather than for efficiency, a core tenant of Kimaran life, it was almost certainly to prevent Kimarans from having an everyday reminder of their former leaders in the form of their palace. It had not been destroyed for historical preservation and was of peculiar interest to the Conomors, but as ever their personal motivations were shrouded behind rhetoric and platitudes meant to placate the masses they held under their yoke.

Verita had set aside various caches of useful items in the forgotten outposts spread throughout Kimara's wastelands, allowing her to easily locate this one in particular even as a blizzard swept around it. Obtaining a spare uniform was easy given Dairine's activities, with Verita having no false illusions about what her adoptive sister did whenever she disappeared for days or weeks at a time. All Verita had done was ask that some unbloodied and fitting uniforms be acquired, and one day she returned to her room to find a pile of them tossed over it haphazardly. That Dairine's ability to properly fold clothes or engage in other more domestic pursuits would be an issue to most Kimarans, but Verita instead accepted that everyone had their weak points. Dairine's was seemingly laundry (or more seriously her martial pride), just as Isolde's was her inability to forgive or compromise with those against her, and Verita's own weakness was her stubborn and relentless pursuit of the truth.

Some might call that a strength, but Verita knew that she was playing a dangerous game and that without the Inquisitor's backing she would have been 'disappeared' by now for turning over as many stones as she had. Even so she could not help but do so, it being her driving purpose since her earliest memories, always having been more curious than her peers and trying to figure out whatever puzzles were presented to her. When she was young this had led her to be fascinated by picture puzzles, such as the one Isolde had once interrupted her doing by accident as their first 'meeting', and as a young adult now she was drawn to more theoretical ones. It was near an obsession for her, and that was what had her chasing after such a mysterious artifact as the obsidian cube left behind upon her biological family's passing. So long as there was truth and knowledge to be found she would continue looking, and for those that controlled those secrets and would deny others information that made her a liability to be dealt with at their earliest convenience.

If not for Kimara's frigid temperatures it would be more difficult to pass off as one of the guards, but the soldiers from Wostyn were far from immune to the cold and so they had to bundle up even more than the Kimarans themselves. Kimarans would face similar issues on Wostyn given its intense heat but fortunately only Dairine had to suffer through such conditions so far, as Verita would find it unbearable. By wearing a uniform that concealed her figure and padding it out with equipment she brought with her to further hide her form Verita was almost indistinguishable from her 'fellow' Sons of the Emperor members even under a fair degree of scrutiny. If she was forced to speak with them she would have issues, but by feigning a hangover she avoided such a need.

It was regrettable that she could not just walk into the old palace without drawing unnecessary attention to her true motivations, as it would be difficult to explain why she would have to visit Krakengard while serving as a representative for the Inquisitor. If she did obtain permission it would be under the watchful eyes of the regime, limiting what she could do without possibly revealing secrets or information about the box to them. She had stolen it from them to begin with even if she saw it as reclaiming her family's property, and to use it in their presence could make matters complicated.

Even with all of this in mind she still found herself experiencing the natural awe that Krakengard instilled upon those standing before it as if they were insignificant specks, intimidating those beholding it rather than pleasing them. It was a remnant of an age long since past, as for all its magnificence it was nothing but an abandoned building at this point without a single soul inhabiting its walls. Security systems had been put in place to warn the local garrison of trespassers, but feeding them archived footage was a simple task for Verita who regularly had to go through recordings in her line of work. Disabling the alarms was another thing she had been forced to learn as a child to slip past guards and fortunately nothing fancy had been done with those placed at Krakengard after its fall since they were just there to dissuade Kimarans from touching this piece of their heritage.

Too much equipment would have made Verita appear suspicious for a member of this local garrison and so she had only brought a few tools, some of which she wore within her permanently borrowed uniform strapped around her stomach to balance its size out compared to her chest. The obsidian box was unable to fit and had to be carried in a satchel, with Verita utilizing one from Wostyn to match her outward appearance. The second most important item she carried with her was a handheld scanner meant to pick up on details not visible to the Human eye, allowing her to see fingerprints, stains, minor imperfections, and other such data that allowed her to possess increased understanding of surveyed locations. A flashlight was brought for visibility while for access to locked or otherwise inaccessible rooms Verita had the tools she utilized to fiddle with the video feeds and alarms earlier. A lasgun and helmet completed her ensemble, and while the lasgun would hopefully not be called for it could if necessary be utilized for defense or to shoot through something.

Actually entering Krakengard was simple as the gates had been left ajar since its fall, with vandalism, arson, and theft all prevented by an external energy shield that ran off the power grid of the Fortress City. Normally such a defense for the palace would be done internally, but as its own generators were offline it required external support. Getting through the guards protecting the power generators would be difficult and require direct interaction that would give away Verita's disguise, but tinkering with some wires that traveled to the palace to create a hole in the shield was simple since the Fortress City was so large that not every piece of it could be covered by the guard retinue present.

Drawing closer to the palace was an effort in and of itself given the long entrance to it that was consistent in its construction being designed to evoke the feeling of being puny compared to the looming structure beyond, Krakengard appearing even larger as Verita quietly made her way over. Just because she had taken precautions to mitigate the chance anyone would see her here did not mean something unexpected could not throw her into danger at the drop of a hat, and so she crept silently towards the palace steps. All along she checked the status of the black box to see if there was any reaction, but it gave no indication of unlocking its next piece yet and so she continued on toward whatever it meant her to see.

What lurked just beyond Krakengard's entrance was a surprise even though Verita was well aware of the building's history. Typically an urban battlefield would be somewhat cleaned up afterwards by the victors who sought to conquer a location, but Krakengard's innards remained instead as a monument to the slaughter that had been carried out there. While the bodies had been removed nothing else had been, and from the very first step inside Verita could tell she was standing atop blood-soaked tile. It was dark, but enough light crept into the palace that Verita did not require her flashlight to see yet, though it was inevitable that it would be needed the further she delved into its forgotten halls. The historical significance of the location drew her natural curiosity forward, desiring to uncover whatever secrets lay here whether the box meant for her to or not. To do that she would have to begin exploring, and so Verita ventured forward.

Pillars lined across the palace's primary atrium led to a single point, their repetition and height making their corridor appear to stretch on well beyond its actual length. At the end one would find the relatively narrow entrance to the throne room where the Jarn family once held court, the design of the opening one which would funnel any approaching force and make forced entry difficult beyond the deterrence posed by guards and the reinforced gate that could be deployed to completely seal the throne room off. At the present it remained open, appearing as if a dark void at a distance as one peered down the series of pillars. The foreboding sensation it instilled even now spoke to the success of its architects, further making any who approached feel small and insignificant before their destination.

If not for the fact the mithril gateway that led to the throne room was already open entering it would prove nigh impossible, but it remained as it had been the day of the dynasty's fall and so was untouched both by mortal hands and time itself. The construction throughout the palace spoke to the enduring mindset of its crafters, as here it stood a century after its complete abandonment without malfunction or decay. That it was open rather than destroyed spoke to the underhanded nature of the coup, as with every facet functioning properly it meant that someone had allowed the conspirators through to the throne room without the loyalists having the opportunity to rectify the issue.

The throne room itself was a grand hall that placed a great distance between its entrance and the steps of the mithril throne Kimara's rulers had led from for much of its history, the distance itself lending further to the feeling of one's own diminutive form. The throne itself possessed the natural hue of silver-blue mithril was known for and was crafted to seat not only the king but his queen and other select members of the Jarn family and its supporters as necessary, even accommodating the presence of advisers to lend their thoughts to their lord without outsiders hearing them speak across the court. While possessing a massive width and height both the throne lacked much in regards to decoration, instead possessing the same simple design and flat angular nature as the rest of the palace.

Stylistically the only flourish rather than functional form was the trident-like visage at its top, the throne's mithril having been shaped to come together before then rising from that single point in the shape of a three-pronged trident. Given the history of the Iron Warriors and their Trident and its Triarch members this was perhaps a deliberate design choice, though appeared little more than a source of intimidation for outsiders gazing upon it. Other design choices were purely for their value as a throne, such as heraldry and coats of arms belonging to the Jarns being on prominent display to feed into the cult of personality cultivated over the millennia towards them.

That the Jarns were known for their massive size meant that the thrones were built in such a way that they could be adjusted to the needs of those seated, be it a young man or be it someone who could tower over the average Astarte. While comfort itself was of little consideration soft materials lined the actual seats to prevent those atop them for long periods of time from unnecessary injury from the metal they rested upon, for while the mithril throne having been crafted as a symbol of power and Kimara's near unique material rather than for luxury that did not mean those upon it had to suffer.

Room also was present for Ixolotls to be seated by their masters, something that while soft to an off-worlder would command greater respect from the intended Kimaran audiences who would appreciate the sight of Ixolotls wearing a degree of regalia befitting of their status. While the Jarns might be disinclined towards displays of their wealth on their own person except as necessary, they were fine granting their pets shiny baubles to wear and be contented by and so various gem-encrusted crowns had been constructed over the years for royal Ixolotls. Kimarans did not tend to care about the opinions of those outside their culture and so remained the practice that might cause foreign audiences to balk without a single Kimaran raising a brow at such a display.

That places had been set aside for them to sit was perhaps why it was unsurprising for Verita to find some of the creatures lounging in the spots catering to their comfort, these wild Ixolotls having come to inhabit the palace during its abandonment and that of the Fortress City. Their low dietary needs were met by what they could find within the confines of the palace, and it appeared that many of the alarms set in place had been disabled in this location where they seemed drawn lest it always be set off by their wandering. Had they been domesticated Ixolotls perhaps they could prove useful for guiding Verita, but while no doubt amenable to interacting with her they would have little idea about anything she was saying. The palace was one giant shiny object to them with a shining throne and so they came here when no-one else was there to claim it, and so they sat contently despite not doing much of anything.

Verita decided to leave the wild creatures to their rest, instead focusing on deciphering how things played out in the throne room's conflict. An official story existed, but there were so many mysteries and rumors surrounding the subject that the investigative part of her could not resist the opportunity presented. To this end Verita retrieved the scanner from her equipment and began to use it upon the floor that was so discolored that it was obvious there was a major battle here. To begin she returned to the hallway leading to the throne room, approaching it like the assailants must have done to better get into the event she sought to recreate in her mind.

The faded stains and such remnants of the blood spilled drowned the floor, walls, and ceiling of the corridor leading to the throne room such that if not for minor specks untouched one would think that to be its natural color. Such was the concentration of the bloodshed that it was nigh impossible to make out any one splatter, instead it was as if a river of blood had flowed through with how brutally bodies had been cut down one after another. For the blood to have reached as much of the ceiling as it had meant that the dead had stacked up quite high, and with such a narrow width to the entrance they had no way forward but over or through the dead.

To hold back whatever hundreds of foes perished in that long hallway meant that the palace's defenders had stood their ground within that very zone and the immediate space after, as a ranged conflict would have spilled blood beyond the entrance of it as well rather than specifically within. The infiltrators had been able to open the mithril gateway to the throne, but blood against the gate's structure and the surrounding area made it appear that they had been pushed back to it after first breaching it. The royal guard of the Jarn family had reacted to the sudden intrusion swiftly, but they could not seemingly predict that there would be a betrayal that night that saw them besieged by a small army within the palace.

From that point the sea of blood began, Verita seeing through her scanner the relative patterns in which it was spilled and thus fairly certain that almost all of those who perished here had been the invaders. That meant that the blood within the throne room at least in part belonged to the royal guards, as Verita did not believe they would have surrendered under such circumstances. The loyalists were being butchered anyways and they had been betrayed, so of course they would fight to the end to secure not only their lives but that of their monarch.

At the mouth of the throne room the traces of blood were even more concentrated, with it appearing that a defensive semi-circle of defenders had held their ground against the oncoming tide of enemy forces. It was difficult to tell a century after the fact, but by the data given to her by scanning the location Verita felt it was safe to say that the defenders had been outnumbered by at least four to one. Holding a defensive position and possessing likely superior armaments meant that they would trade favorably perhaps well exceeding her conservative estimate, but so little direct evidence remained that it was impossible to be certain. She could approximate who stood where based on the patterns of the splattered blood and occasional partial outlines which formed around the fallen, but time had worn away most of what evidence had remained after the conflict.

With the same calculations in her piecing together of the series of events Verita found herself proud of the defenders, as where the blood splattered back into the throne room it was evident that not a single member of the guard had given an inch, dying on their feet and not retreating as that would grant the enemy the advantage of their greater numbers. It was the intelligent, honorable, and loyal move all at once without ceding any of these qualities she would expect of her planet's finest. They stood and fought until the end right where they had stationed at the entrance, their bodies forming distinctive traces that the assailants were unlikely to have left. The royal guard of the Jarns were known for bearing mithril armor and blades, spears to be precise, and so by thrusting, slashing, and beating back the invaders they would have fallen back, not forward more than not, so the bodies fallen laying towards the throne were almost certainly the defenders instead.

There was a brief gap in the bloodshed until where more Conomor servants had fallen, and given the messy spread that trailed into the rest of the throne room Verita hypothesized that this was where their Sovereign had personally engaged those coming for his head. That the blood stains touched the walls well above the average Human's height told a story of its own: someone particularly large had been beating them aside with such brute force that their bodies had cracked against the walls as they struggled throughout a tide of foes. As massive a man as Jarns were bred to be, there was ample evidence that the final Jarn to rule Kimara had beaten his attackers to death with his bare hands in addition to weapons.

Verita was not someone who enjoyed violence the way Dairine did, finding it a sadly necessary thing rather than a thrilling activity, but even still she could not help but smirk at the thought that the pinnacle of Kimaran society had quite literally struck and thrown his foes so hard that they were no better than ragdolls. That they cracked against the wall enough to splatter blood against it through their armor made the massive bio-engineered and gene-crafted size of the Jarn family was not for show, for while they were not Astartes having a physique reminiscent of them was nothing to sneer at. A normal man would be snapped like a twig by such a behemoth, and Verita would almost feel bad for them if not for their being assassins sent on behalf of eventual tyrants.

Some of the bodies that hit the walls were by the entrance, showing that the king had fought alongside his men and only was driven back when he was the last one standing and thus no longer could maintain the formation to stem the tide. Instead he had fought a retreating battle that continued across the entirety of the throne room, blood spilled all around in sporadic bursts as wounds were inflicted and bodies hit the floor. Every body would have been an insurgent, but the random, smaller splatters of blood were more difficult to discern the owners of which muddied the mental sketch she was drawing of the conflict. With mithril armor and powerful personal shielding the last of the Jarn dynasty had the defenses to survive perhaps a hundred men in close combat, something perhaps the splashes of blood would support even if they did not confirm after all this time with a bare minimum being twenty distinguishable body locations, but inevitably the desperate battle for survival would find its conclusion.

What was evident was that the Sovereign had met his end before the throne itself, his massive form and the weight of the mithril armor he wore having actually left an impact on the floor in addition to the blood that spilled around it. From what Verita could tell he had not gone gently, as four other bodies had fallen around him in ways that made it seem that he had killed them while knocked on his back. Those closing in around him had met the same ends as their peers before them, though a deep hole in the floor showed where a blade had impaled Jarn and ended his reign. That it drove so deep into the reinforced floor meant that it penetrated the thick torso of the Sovereign and his armor and then continued further, indicating a sword by its shape well beyond the normal height of a Human.

Either another Kimaran had dealt the final blow, an Ogryn had done so, or most likely an Astarte called to assist in the assignment dealt that final strike. Given that the Imperium granted them the manpower to launch the invasion the presence of an Astarte was unsurprising, but it did call into question if there was any connection to the local Deathwatch forces. Had he been fighting only unaugmented Humans it was likely the Sovereign could have lasted much longer, but the moment an Astarte entered the field of battle the already worn and wounded Jarn had no chance of victory. That he was able to resist long enough to still kill four more of his attackers was impressive to Verita, and she found herself respecting the last legitimate ruler of her home. He had fought to the end like his men before him, and to perish in battle to an Astarte was nothing to be ashamed by.

With her inspection of the throne room completed and no reaction from the cube Verita decided to search elsewhere, continuing her canvass of the palace, though not before noticing that the wild Ixolotls had taken notice of her finally. They did not do anything, instead choosing to remain in their comfortable seats, but their perpetually 'smiling' faces all looking at her lifted Verita's mood all the same after her somber investigation. The creatures might not care about her existence at all, but the sight was a welcome one after inspecting the stains left behind by blood for the better part of an hour.



Curiosity about the other Jarns who perished in the attack led Verita to the portion of the palace dedicated to their living quarters, a section which comprised a large portion of the palace given the propensity of Kimarans and especially the Jarns to possess large families. Further traces of battle were evident as she explored the palace to locate the royal family's quarters, guards throughout the palace having died for their duty nobly albeit pointlessly given the eventual outcome. Their sacrifice was carried out to preserve those that now were wiped out in seeming totality, and that weighed heavily on Verita's conscience as she passed by what seemed to be where a guard had been impaled into a wall.

Upon finding their former residence Verita braced herself, for outside were more traces of battle which indicated that the other Jarns had been in their rooms when the raid struck during the night. Unlike the Sovereign who was a warrior to the end, this would be his Queen and children who were not in the throne room handling some official business but rather resting in their beds.

After steeling her resolve Verita stepped in and was met by the sight of more stained floors, this time having the blood's remaining traces splattered and coated over furniture, rugs, and more while everything around her was in shambles. Whereas the throne room had been bloodied it had mostly remained intact, but this location instead had drawers scattered from the dressers they belonged to, chairs overturned, tables flipped, and so on the chaos ensued. Rather than pristine and orderly like Krakengard's exterior this area had been rummaged through after the battle no doubt, as nothing remained untouched or unopened, but whatever they had been looking for was not easily found it they had been so thorough as this.

Sections of the palace Verita had passed by held similar appearances to this, but the living quarters were far more unkempt than any of the others she had seen thus far. It made reading the situation more difficult, but by working her way inward Verita tried to create a working hypothesis of how events played out. At first the guards held back the infiltrators, the assailants having invested most of their manpower into slaying the Sovereign and his forces swiftly to prevent his escape as a rallying figure. They dedicated a fair portion of their strength to this location as well but it was nowhere comparable, likely perceiving a Queen and her children too low a physical threat to warrant more focus than necessary to break through their guards.

Once they did force their way through the guards posted they were met by a sole defender, as the trails of blood all were too narrow and concentrated to be from numerous combatants on both sides. Small pieces of ripped cloth could be found throughout the wreckage with bloodstains marring them with their beginning forming at around where the rooms set aside for children lay, the master chambers of the King and Queen at the far end of the hallway opposite the entrance to the palace's subsection. If Verita had to guess the Queen had taken up arms to protect her children before falling as well, noting at least the presence of four assailants through the hall before coming to what likely was the Queen's own death.

From how she fell and where the blood flowed Verita had the feeling that she had been impaled in the upper abdomen, slain instantly more than likely given the evidence present. She fell forward onto a piece of furniture later overturned which Verita brought back into place, the Queen's blood having not primarily spilled outward like a stab upward would have caused but rather downward exclusively like a blade piercing down into her would. Whomever slew her was tall enough to stand well above the Queen, a feat given that according to historical records she was incredibly tall herself. Perhaps not as tall as Isolde, but possessing a height that proportionally matched her husband's by most accounts given the average heights of men and women.

Verita paused and mulled over the fact that both monarchs had been slain by someone of considerable height, wondering if by chance it was coincidence or if they shared a common killer. If it was an Astarte then impaling her from the back would be quite underhanded for their kind, but perhaps it had not been an intentional stab through the back? If she had turned to face another foe she could have caught whatever blade struck her in an unfortunate moment of misfortune, thus explaining the seeming break from typical Astarte combat behavior that saw them obsessed with their personal honor.

Ultimately the killer was secondary to the overall events, but it did still stand out to her and make Verita uneasy about the exact circumstances surrounding the Queen's death. More unnerving was the fact that Verita knew she would have to check each of the rooms around her to try and see just what it was that was so viciously sought after that saw the halls and rooms tossed like a criminal's hideout might be, and in visiting the rooms she would no doubt witness the remains of whatever happened to the younger Jarns.

Being uncomfortable did not outweigh her curiosity however and desire to find out for herself just what happened here, not what the censors and propagandists would have everyone believe. With this determination she pressed forward and stepped into the chambers of the King and Queen first, saving their children's rooms for after she first saw their own.

To say that the room had been eviscerated would be an understatement, the only things remaining untouched being what hung from the walls, and even those showed signs of having been shifted and replaced to check behind them. Anything of note had been destroyed in whatever mad search had taken place or had been removed thereafter, the Jarns' personal belongings confiscated for reasons unknown. Any attempt at a forensic analysis like elsewhere would be nigh pointless, as anything sought after could have been within the items removed from the room's discord.

The only thing that gave Verita pause was when she turned during her search and found herself face-to-face with a portrait of the Sovereign, a man whose face was as stern as any Kimaran's yet possessed the icy calm that had seen the Jarns rule remain strong throughout the ages. He resembled some accounts of what the original Trahaearn was said to look like, but a direct comparison was impossible after the disappearance of the original and the Conomors' removal of depictions of their family. As she expected the Sovereign had almost certainly been gene-crafted, something common on Kimara compared to elsewhere in the Imperium thanks to their Mechanicus and the personal beliefs of the planet's population, but given their power they likely had far greater access to technology of superior quality. What had become of it was anyone's guess at this point, but that investment in ensuring their leaders were mentally stable, intelligent, and physically imposing had allowed them to reign as unquestioned monarchs far longer than most dynasties lasted.

Still, to suddenly come face to face with the powerful stare of her world's last true leader made the typically headstrong Verita meek, bowing both her head and body before his piercing blue eyes.

"My apologies for intruding, my Lord..."

Once she recovered enough from the temporary moment of embarrassment for trespassing upon his personal quarters Verita noticed that beside his portrait was one of him, his wife, and the crown prince from when the latter could not have been more than three or four years old. The boy had the same icy blue eyes as his parents and shared their raven hair, but he seemed perhaps a bit smaller than one would expect a Jarn at his age to be, something that likely would have sorted itself out in time had he been able to have such a thing. Sitting upon his mother's lap, he held the innocence of youth even as he mirrored his parents' stoicism, giving him a precocious appearance that was endearing in a way.

His mother was visibly pregnant, showing that the rumors of there only being one heir to be false, though given what Verita had passed by it was unlikely that such a thing mattered now. The Queen was a beauty befitting of her role, no doubt having benefitted from similar gene-crafting as her husband had, and she possessed an appearance that demonstrated all of the typical Kimaran traits one would expect to see from how her cheeks were set to the shape of her nose. In that way she reminded Verita of Isolde, who had likely been engineered to possess those exact Kimaran features.

Beside that family portrait was where another ought to be hanging given the wall's fixture, but whatever had been there was missing. If it had been removed, destroyed, or was simply never filled in was unknown, though Verita felt that there was a present absence in that spot. Maybe a Jarn before them had used it and they had not yet been able to, perhaps it was something else mundane, but Verita noticed it all the same.

After the torn bedroom came those of the children, the closest belonging to the crown prince and resembling his parents' the most out of them all. Almost all personal touches and traces had been destroyed or removed, though Verita did find a damaged set of books and materials concerning the raising of Ixolotls. Given that his approximate age when he passed away was eight it was likely he had received one on Ixolotl Day and was like a child eagerly interested in their first pet. To support this was the presence of a small, albeit now destroyed, pool a juvenile Ixolotl could rest within.

Despite how many rumors surrounded the crown prince little remained to shed light on him, something Verita was disgruntled by but accepted begrudgingly as she could not wind back the hands of time to restore the room to its visual prime. With his room inspected she looked into those other rooms set aside for their family, finding two of them furnished as if for young children around the ages of 4-6, and another which was a nursery which possessed three beds in it that had been used. Verita could tell they had been used as their royal cribs had been stabbed through by something incredibly sharp and the blood of the infants which once rested on them having stained the surrounding spaces, just as the beds in the second and third royal children's rooms had been.

Verita fought the nausea that struck her immediately after witnessing the grisly sights, having expected as much but still shocked to witness it firsthand. That one detail and the fact each room had been searched through were the only details in common concerning the incident, and by staying focused it allowed her to piece together the next step in the series of events.

After the death of the Queen there had been no-one capable of fighting back against the assassins, and so they executed the children where they had laid in bed. One of the older children had tried hiding to no avail, and the others had been too young to understand what was happening or protect themselves in any way. Each of them had died in bed...but for one.
The crown prince.

Verita could not locate any traces of blood in his own room, nor could she find more than what one would expect of infants and young children in the others. The state of the hallway made it difficult to be certain, but it was likely that the blood there had belonged to the Queen and her opponents only as where it stained it did so in greater quantity than one would think an eight year old boy capable of. He could have been taken and slain elsewhere, or run and been cut down in the process, but from the faint evidence Verita possessed it seemed that the crown prince had not perished alongside his family. That would explain the area being torn apart, with the assassins desperately searching for him, but there were still many unknowns.

Where was he if not in bed? If he had been present at the time he would have died almost certainly with the alleged presence of an Astarte and however many other assassins remained in the area. He might be expected to be studying at his age, but would he not have been doing that in his room?

It struck Verita as she returned to his room and laid eyes on the discarded books and pool just where he would have been: going to play with his new pet and then bring it back with him to bed. He was not present because he was a young boy who loved the sweet and innocent creature that had just been given to him. Those searching for him overlooked the Ixolotl equipment and materials because they likely did not share the personal bond with the creatures Kimarans did and thus underestimated the mutual love shared between pet and owner.

While it made sense, it was a theory that hinged on there being a place for the crown prince to play with his Ixolotl while remaining within the palace, as Verita doubted he would have been allowed outside at such a late hour in the night. The Queen would not have likely disallowed her son from picking up his newborn Ixolotl however, and so inadvertently spared her son the same immediate fate as the others...but Verita still had to locate somewhere that could have been his destination if she was to determine any possibility of him surviving as rumors had whispered ever since.

For the first time in a century there might be conclusive proof located that the crown prince of the Jarn family was alive, and while it was still a longshot it redoubled Verita's efforts even after the disheartening scenes she had just witnessed.

If only she knew she would end up here today, Verita would have brought a schematic of the palace. Instead she would have to check the massive structure's many rooms on her own, and so she began her new search for further evidence of the palace coup's events room by room.


It took hours to traverse the entire structure and locate what she sought, but eventually Verita came across a room dedicated entirely to Ixolotls that mirrored the cave beneath the Schola. It was self-sustaining to a degree and so still had certain simple systems running thanks to the engineering put into them such as water filters and hygiene devices for Ixolotls, the lack of complexity likely due to the fascination the creatures had with peculiar objects that they could take. This helped explain how the wild Ixolotls were able to thrive in the abandoned structure, as they had as much water as they needed and given the signs of their recent usage were intelligent enough to use these systems that made them feel 'clean'.

The room possessed a playground-like quality to it for children and their Ixolotls to interact with while elsewhere were 'igloos' for Ixolotls not belonging to any one particular person to reside within. It was a very simple and relaxed environment but it fulfilled its purpose, though that did not immediately solve Verita's search. She could be wrong in her theory after all and she had no actual evidence, only her gut feeling based on what details stuck out to her in their personal quarters, and so she needed to find something more concrete if she was to substantiate this hypothesis.

Unfortunately for her there did not seem to be any cameras present in the room to access old footage from, nor were there signs of the same conflict as elsewhere, as in this environment some things being knocked over was to be expected given the absentminded nature of the animals residing within. A tail knocking over a chair or other object would go completely unnoticed by an Ixolotl, but it could also be due to another search for the prince, and so Verita wracked her brain for how to read the room like she had the others thus far.

With her other point of reference being the cave at the Schola where Ixolotls gathered and had their 'school', Verita tried to think of any similarities that could benefit her. Going through the features of them bit by bit took some time, but eventually she came to a simple idea: Ixolotl Cam. The love Kimarans had for their pets meant that even when separated from them they enjoyed being able to check on them, and so cameras had been put in place in the Ixolotl school to allow owners to witness their pets throughout the day without having to travel to do so. The video feed was projected openly for anyone on Kimara to witness, and careful attention was paid to camera placement that it would not reveal their actual subversive activities within the Schola.

To do this the cameras had to be hidden, as Ixolotls still learning might not possess the same appreciation for property that older Ixolotls possessed and notice markings on them. Having an Ixolotl disconnect a camera and run away with it happily would cause unnecessary problems, so a set fixture was put in place in the walls to view the classes and allow for them to be unnoticed by the animals present.

How likely was it that a palace engineered by Kimarans that went out of its way to have a large room set aside for such creatures would possess something similar? The security cameras elsewhere in the palace had been since removed along with their footage, but such a hidden camera could have been ignored without anyone knowing.

It took a fair amount of searching, but Verita eventually came to locate a tile on the wall that was slightly different from the others to account for the fact that it was masking a camera's lens as a part of it. Verita sighed a breath of relief as her idea paid off, not knowing what else she would have done if not for this as the room was so sparse that there was little to work with. Whether the camera would have what she wanted revealed on it, if it functioned, if its footage could be properly played, all of these things were unknown still but she began working on unearthing the camera from its fixture while taking care to not damage anything but the wall itself.

Her knack for noticing important details was paying off, and soon Verita held the camera in hand along with its related equipment. Checking it all for recordings took some moments more, but certainly enough it held a native database of recordings similar to those they used elsewhere for security cameras on Kimara. A surveillance tool used to look after simple-minded pets was perhaps odd, but it made sense for them and so Verita continued forward.

The camera itself was dead, but by locating equipment from abandoned rooms in the palace Verita was able to splice together a working monitor to connect the database to. To power it required another search for electronic devices with energy stores that were still held, though the technologically favoring Jarns had plenty of devices throughout the palace for Verita to pilfer. What the objects she was grabbing she did not quite know, but they were cannibalized for parts she did recognize and so eventually she was able to fit an external battery to the system she made as well.

Fiddling here and there was necessary to ignore all the many, many, many days of recorded Ixolotl material that was not relevant but fortunately the appropriated security camera had a timestamp on its footage which allowed Verita to match the footage she was viewing to the date of the coup. At first events seemed normal with nominal sightings of Humans in the room throughout the day, most notably the King and Queen visiting to see their son's Ixolotl when they had a free moment, and then finally the prince himself late at night came to stay for some time as his pet mimicked just about everything he did even if it did not quite understand what it was doing.

There was an easy to read moment of when exactly the coup broke out, as both the prince and the Ixolotls present reacted to something elsewhere within the palace. The prince appeared concerned while his Ixolotl appeared concerned that he stopped patting its head, prompting it to push its forehead into his palm as the prince remained frozen where he was in apt attention. He seemed to be listening to whatever was going on to try and make out what it was, but his fears were confirmed when the conflict's noise began to reach deeper and deeper into the palace's structure.

True to their nature the Ixolotls present in the room did not properly understand the conflict waging elsewhere within the palace, but the sounds of gunfire and cries of pain clued them in that it was time to hide and wait out the storm. The prince did the same, following them into their igloos since he did not know what was happening but likely trusted that he would be safe if he just waited it out while remaining out of sight.

Only a minute later some of the noises died down and so the prince silently crawled over to the edge of the igloo he was within to see if everything was okay now, his face showing the pride one would expect of his people. He likely thought some terrorists had attacked and been taken out by their guards in that moment, only to see and hear a gunfight break out further down the hall. That it was so close scared him as one would expect, though he remained where he was as he noticed a shimmer before him that was difficult to notice on the camera but became obvious a moment after.

Appearing as if from thin air was a new figure, this one standing at what seemed to be twice the prince's height and many times his overall size. That they were an Astarte was obvious by their Power Armor and form, though it remained unadorned with any discernable markings and their face was covered by an old mark of armor likely from the Great Crusade. Attached to their armor was a cameleoline cloak that had allowed for his sudden appearance, and still mostly covered by it was a Power Lance that had blood splattered across the visible portion of its shaft. With the weapon and the Astartes' height it seemed unlikely that it was the one who slew the other Jarns, and so as she watched Verita felt confident that this newcomer was not a threat to the last remaining Jarn.

From the prince's reaction to seeing the figure it was obvious that this was not their first meeting, as rather than recoil he accepted their aid in being lifted up and held. Showing familiarity perhaps with the native culture, the Astarte bent down to also retrieve the prince's own Ixolotl from where it sat on the ground happily thumping its tail up and down. The Prince held his pet while the Astarte in turn held him, and a moment thereafter they disappeared from sight as the cameleoline cloak was brought back into place covering them entirely. There were a few moments where it was possible words were being passed between them throughout the encounter, but the positioning of the camera made it difficult to tell.

From there the camera's recording would continue until its personal power supply would run out some days after the coup, showing in the process the soldiers of the Conomors searching for the prince within and failing to find anything despite overturning everything in their way. The Ixolotls present avoided the soldiers during their hours long search, and it would only be some days after when the room was visited again by what presumably were local Jarn loyalists by their uniforms who would then escort the Ixolotls out and to safety now that the palace had been abandoned. Perhaps they or their offspring had been the ones to return to this place, but Verita pushed that trivia aside to focus on the matter at hand.

Who the Astarte was, what he was doing there, or how the prince knew him were all unknown to Verita, but this discovery was important all the same for it reaffirmed the trail she was on. The absence of bloodshed within the first prince's room could have been considered a coincidence, the boy having been slain in some other place, but this recording proved that he was not with his kin at the time of the attack. A boy's affection and fascination with his new pet had inadvertently spared him the immediate fate of his mother, father, and siblings by pure circumstance.

It did not confirm that the prince escaped, or that his recorded fate did not happen at some later point in the turbulent series of events surrounding the palace coup, but it did mean that Verita's suspicion was confirmed. Prince Trahaearn was evacuated from this location by an unknown Astarte, and given that they would have almost certainly been discovered through the main entrance which saw a flood of conspirators rush inward there would have had to have been another route for them to try and avoid discovery. It was all a theory on Verita's part, but through further observation she felt she could perhaps find the truth hidden in plain sight.

"Ihh."

Verita looked down to see that one of the feral Ixolotls had approached her, it being a juvenile only up to about her thigh. From what she could tell by its gesturing was that it wanted the shiny camera she held, and so without a second thought she handed it over while pocketing the data for herself. This pleased the creature as it sat down and began to use its developing arms to hold its shiny object before it, giving Verita no mind as she once again began to search for a needle in an avalanche...but she had an idea of where to go.



One room that stood out to Verita in her search for the Ixolotl center was a room for prayer, it seemingly being meant for the royal family to pray to the Emperor within given the great mithril monument dedicated to him and the artwork showing his once handsome appearance and flowing black hair as he stood triumphantly in golden armor.

The Jarns were not known to be particularly large adherents to the Emperor's cult, for while they worshipped him they did so in an almost secular manner most records showed. Perhaps the room was just for appearances, but in her hours of searching this was the one room which Verita felt had barely been used. Sure the Jarns would pray to the Emperor, but that was because of his proven power over the Immaterium, not because they thought he was a god that he so vehemently denied he was. So why a typical Imperial styled prayer chamber when something more spartan would fit their sensibilities better? The Imperium accepted many forms of worship for the Emperor since to force a strict interpretation on every world would be difficult, so why the scriptures and dogma?

To a typical Imperial this room would be normal, like any other, but to Verita who was more like the Jarns in her worship of the Emperor it stuck out like a sore thumb. Clausura would have knelt down and immediately begun praying had she been here and not training directly with the Sisters of Battle these days, not that Verita felt her fellow Schola student would side against the Imperial regime on Kimara.

It would be heresy to any Imperial servant who witnessed it, but Verita began fiddling around with the statue of the Emperor that was so conspicuous in the room. It seemed that her suspicion of this out-of-place room was unfounded as she failed to locate anything of note, frustrating her as she tried in vain to find anything to explain this object made to scale of the Emperor.

Then Isolde noticed that the creator, whomever he or she was, had granted the statue a very Kimaran touch: an Ixolotl stood beside the Emperor in as dignified a manner as the creature could muster.

An Ixolotl, the creature some members of the Imperium wished to purge due to the belief that they were despicable Xenos, was placed next to the Emperor of Mankind in all his glory.

Verita reached out to touch the Ixolotl, running her soft hand over its dusty form until she finished fishing out her scanner to better observe it. As one might expect it was most worn on its head where the facsimile of the creature received gentle pats from visitors, but the most recent evidence of being touched was on its tail in a specific spot. From its placement one would have to go out of their way to reach and touch the tail making it not an obvious thing to do, but Verita reached over and did so with her lanky arm.

Sliding her hand around the tail, Verita soon came to find a small button beneath it which when touched caused the entire statue to shift its place to reveal a set of stairs leading down to some unknown location. After observing the process Verita traded her scanner for the black box from where it sat in the satchel at her side, and as expected it was finally reacting unlike everywhere else she had checked within Krakengard.

-OR---E-

The message remained cryptic, but another piece was unveiled and that was what mattered to Verita.

First it brought Verita to the location of a statue dedicated to Trahaearn Jarn and the other Kimarans who became Iron Warriors at the site of their first contact with the Astartes, then it brought her to a location showing the victims of the Conomor regime in grisly detail, and now today it had Verita traverse both the Conomor and Jarn palaces until she came to find this.

The first prince of Kimara, son of the final Jarn to rule the world, might just have survived the purge of his family.