Editing The Tales of the Emperasque: Part Fourteen (section)

==4-113-001-M42==
Vulkan tilted his head back, watching the molten rock of Mount Deathfire pour out of its maw, and let the memories flow back to him. He had been standing not far from there, hammers in his hands, when he first fought the Dustwraiths, driving their foul presence from Nocturne once and for all. He wasn’t far from where the shamans had ordered the Sanctuaries be built, and the foundations of true Nocturne civilization began.<br>
He’stan stood a few paces behind, allowing his Master his silent memory. Ir’Shal and Tu’Shan were onboard Prometheus Station, preparing it for Vulkan’s return, but the Pilgrim had felt the need to be with his Primarch on this occasion.<br>
Vulkan glanced over his shoulder, down the sides of the scarred walls of Hesiod, to where a massive throng of Nocturneans had gathered, eagerly assembling for a chance to witness their ruler-in-absentia, since Vulkan had never rescinded his title before leaving for the Eye.<br>
A few of the Chapter’s finest had already been in Hesiod, recruiting, when the Primarch had arrived. Though each and every one had wished to greet their Lord in person, he had requested the chance to reacquaint himself with his home as soon as he could. None had objected.

Vulkan slowly ran his hands over the rock at the top of the wall, frowning slightly. “Cracks. Everywhere.”<br>
“We were attacked, here on our home soil,” He’Stan said. “A traitor to the Chapter, a former Lexicanum turned to Chaos. He found a Seismic Cannon STC in the soul of a Rogue Trader he ‘met.’ He used it to bombard us from orbit.”<br>
“A Seismic gun…that explains why Deathfire seems to have gained a new vent since I saw it last,” Vulkan said, squinting at the ragged hole in the gargantuan volcano.<br>
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Sire, Master Vel’cona, our Chief Librarian, broke said traitor’s spine over an anvil in the Vault you carved into the mountain, where a book from the Tome was kept,” He’Stan said drily. “He was trying to steal it, you see. To use its lore to resurrect a Black Chaplain whom he revered.”<br>
“I didn’t put an anvil there,” Vulkan said, thinking back.<br>
“Well…when Vel’cona had looked again, it was gone.”<br>
Vulkan shook his head. “Not by my will. Perhaps the Emperor’s. I was far too busy dying for such an intervention. I’m no psyker, anyway…” he added under his breath.<br>
“In any case, the traitor’s massive fleet shattered against the might of our own, though at horrible cost. Fifty Fire Drakes lived through it.”<br>
“Out of 120…” Vulkan said heavily. “Well. I can see to tracking him down once we rebuild from the losses suffered in this Armageddon place.”

He’Stan was silent for another moment. “Well…my Lord, if I may, your public awaits,” he added, a touch of humor coloring his words. “The people wish to see their King.”<br>
“There’s a title I haven’t heard in a long, long time,” Vulkan said, smiling despite himself. “Very well.” He turned from the endless plains of ash to face the people in the courtyard below. The dull roar of conversation and whispered excitement swelled as the people saw his fiery gaze sweep over them, taking in every detail. He hadn’t been planning a speech, but under the circumstances…<br>
“People of Nocturne. I suppose, first and foremost, I should thank you for your patience,” he started, “ten thousand years is a hell of a coffee break.” While some of the people in the crowd looked baffled or even offended, most laughed, hesitant and confused. This was clearly not what they had been expecting. “I eschew the pointless formality of doctrine when interacting with the people amongst whom I lived and learned. I save such things for those alongside whom I enter the fires of war. You, my friends, are above that. It is for you, and all the people of the Imperium, for whom we, the Salamanders, eternally fight. In time I expect I will make my way to the Sanctuaries…all of them…and take the time to see you, see our home world, see what has changed and what hasn’t. For now, let me say this: it is a relief like you cannot imagine to be home again, and to be reminded firsthand of just what it is I fight for.” Several of the people in the crowd, wearing the green armbands of the civil militia, saluted, as the majority of the crowd roared their approval and anticipation. Vulkan let the sounds echo around him for a few seconds, before waving a massive gauntlet for silence.

He’Stan nodded his head in respect as Vulkan walked past him, into the crowd, helmet clipped to his belt, letting well-wishers and worshippers approach him and touch his armor, ask him questions, or simply let their emotions overwhelm them, welcoming him home with teary eyes. A soft ping sounded from He’Stan’s helmet vox, and he tapped the stud with his tongue. “He’Stan.”<br>
“Forgefather, the Astropath has just relayed a message from Segmentum Command to be relayed to Lord Vulkan immediately,” the serf on the other side said.<br>
He’Stan looked over the crowd, Vulkan towering over the tallest of the adoring humans by nearly a meter. “Give it a moment. He’s meeting family.”<br>
“Yes, sir,” the serf replied. After another few minutes of letting Vulkan greet the crowd (under the watchful eyes of several Seventh Company Scouts), He’Stan politely tapped his Primarch on the shoulder.<br>
“Sire?”<br>
“Right.” Vulkan gestured the crowd to part, and it did, as he and the Forgefather walked back up to the top of the wall, where the crowd could not be harmed by the teleporters’ harsh aftereffects. As soon as they were clear, he triggered his beacon, and both Astartes disappeared in a flash. They reappeared on the hangar deck of the Prometheus, where Tu’Shan was waiting.

The Chapter Regent saluted as Vulkan stepped off of the pad, looking about. All across the huge chamber, which he noted looked as if it had been repaired in stages – and quite recently – serfs and Battle-brothers snapped to, saluting or slamming their gauntlets across their pauldrons. Several of the Salamanders stepped forth, kneeling reverently, as Vulkan’s gaze passed them, bowing their heads in respect.<br>
Vulkan let them. He knew how badly the Chapter had missed him in his interminable confinement. After acknowledging their reverence, he gestured for them to rise, noting that the group looked rather harried. Several of the Chapter’s two hundred plus Thunderhawks were resting in repair cradles, too, surrounded by busily working repair serfs, and a few Techmarines.<br>
Several serfs looked quite different from the others, their stances hunched and skin white as paper. Vulkan noted their presence and resolved to ask about them later.

The Master of Apothecaries stood patiently at the end of the room, waiting for his Lords to approach. As they grew near, the white-armored healer slammed his gauntlet against his pauldron in respect, beaming under his helmet. “My Lord Vulkan, Regent Tu’Shan. I cannot overstate the honor which you bestow on your Chapter, today, Sire.”<br>
“Thank you, Apothecary.” Vulkan tilted his head at the expansive array of nartheciae on the Apothecary’s gauntlets and belts. “Expecting a fight?”<br>
“Indeed not, Lord. The Emperor himself has instructed that the Chapter be made ready for battle as soon as our losses at Armageddon are replenished,” the Apothecary explained. “In fact, the Lord of Fourth is even now preparing the Column of Fire for immediate sortie. Second Company’s numbers are replenished in full by a new batch of Scouts, and depart for Cyldrim at midnight. He was quite disappointed to learn he would miss your return,” the Apothecary added, shrugging.<br>
“I will make a visit to the vessel before they depart,” Vulkan said. “I do not recognize its designation.”<br>
“It is the Saturnine-pattern Battle Barge that holds the flag while the Flamewrought and the Hammer of Vulkan are in for repairs, Lord,” Tu’Shan added.<br>
“Just how many bloody ships did you name after me?” Vulkan asked with a chuckle. An awkward silence greeted his question. Vulkan slowly raised his eyebrows.<br>
“…Many, Lord,” the Apothecary supplied. “It is a gesture of respect from the Lord of the Burning Skies.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Vulkan said good-naturedly. “Well. My quarters. I assume you have some picked out for me?” he asked.
“Well, we thought we would give you a choice, Lord,” Tu’Shan said. “The Chalice has returned, and one of the Fire Drakes has also offered up his own room.”<br>
“I would prefer to rest on my ship, I think,” Vulkan decided. “I’ve missed that old tub.”<br>
“It was the first of the Artefacts to be recovered, Lord, shortly before the Mantle,” He’Stan said, from his silent position behind the others. “We’ve been crafting Terminator armor aboard ever since.”<br>
“I should hope so,” Vulkan said with approval. “Tell me, was my decision to limit the Companies ever overridden?”<br>
“Er, what do you mean?” Tu’Shan asked in confusion.<br>
“Their size. One hundred twenty brothers per company, plus a Company commander each, plus sixty scouts,” Vulkan said.<br>
“Oh, no, we left it as it was, as a reminder of the losses we suffered at Isstvan,” Tu’Shan said.<br>
“Fair enough.” Vulkan seemed to lose himself in memories. He’Stan asked the question he knew all of them had been burning to ask.<br>
“My Lord…how DID you escape Isstvan?”

“Bleeding out in Corax’s arms,” Vulkan said darkly. “Even as I rallied the Drakes for a push for the bunker, a group of Renegade Iron Warriors Assault Terminators opened fire on the squad that was with me. My Drakes forced them back with a set of Multimeltas we had brought with us, and the renegades hit us with long-range grenades. The shock from one nearly…” Vulkan looked down at his left arm and flexed his fingers. “…nearly took my arm off. Corax took a hit square on the plate, knocked him on his ass. A Raven Guard Apothecary…can’t remember him ever introducing himself…he hauled me up, propped Corax up on a chunk of a tank. I fell back down, and blacked out as Corax caught me. I woke up on a Loyalist Death Guard frigate burning hard for Terra.”<br>
“Death Guard?” He’Stan asked in surprise.<br>
“Of all the Traitor Legions save the World Eaters, they were the one with the most loyalists left in them,” Vulkan said, shaking the memory away. A loud *clang* echoed through the huge hanger as a pair of Thunderhawk Transporters settled down on their refueling cradles, and the servitors attending the cradles slid fuel hoses into place. Vulkan watched them for a moment, enjoying the distraction. “Of course, we had…maybe eight hundred men left alive in the entire Legion after that mess. Maybe fifty of which were actually battle-ready. We raced for Terra, and arrived just as Jaghatai’s flagship broke Fulgrim’s carrier group. If I recall correctly, that was what drove Horus to drop his shields…he knew he couldn’t fight us off and have the strength to face Leman, Lion, and Roboute when they arrived.” He shook his head again, remorse coloring his basso murmur. “We won because we bluffed our numbers.”

“Our history…varies somewhat, my Lord,” Tu’Shan said. “Some of our records insist that you created the Artefacts and disappeared immediately after the tumult of the Heresy. Other say you stayed for a thousand years first.”<br>
“Then they are both wrong.” Vulkan clasped his hands together in front of his armored torso, noting the spots where it had been breached by the Tau pulse guns and wondering if he would have time to fix them before he was dispatched back to the front. “I stayed for a hundred years. I saw Corax flee for the Eye…Jaghatai vanish. I saw Leman follow after Corax, and of course…Rogal. Poor son of a bitch. After the Harrowing ended, and the Imperium started to reconquer all the of the worlds we lost to Horus, or to rebellion, or to the Harrow Beasts, I had simply had enough. I left the Artefacts I had created behind, and flew straight here after I hid them. The Tome…I had created that with the aid of the Earth Shamans who founded the Seven Cities, you know. I’m not a psyker myself. The Shamans of my village were far too old to become Space Marine Librarians, but some of them lived still, and we created the Tome together. One of them even knew the Gates of Infinity ability, and used it to leave my mark on a hundred worlds I had never visited.”<br>
“Scoria,” Tu’Shan said with spite.<br>
“Never heard of it, but it’s possible its name has changed.” Vulkan turned to face the brilliant orange shimmer of energy around the void shield relays protecting the station, as the great doors into the vacuum of space ground shut behind the Thunderhawks. “After we were done, I built seven of the Artefacts. The other two…the Chalice and the Eye…them I stole.”

“What.” Tu’Shan’s voice was a flat note of absolute disbelief. He’Stan’s jaw nearly fell out of his head.<br>
“I stole them. Well. ‘Salvaged,’” Vulkan said, punctuating his last word with a shrug. “The Eye was a Space to Space Defensive Laser cannon from the Segmentum Tempestus I had retrieved on behalf of an Arch-Magos of the Mechanicum, who had, in the interim, joined with the Fabricator-General and sided with Horus. He had found records of an STC being used to create a great weapon and asked me to salvage it. By the time I had returned, Lorgar had already turned. I figure, hey, he doesn’t want to keep his giant space gun, I may as well keep it. The Chalice was a ship we actually shot down in the Crusade. It had belonged to a planet of humans who had refused to join the Imperium. I kept it after the battle, meaning to break it down and ship it piecemeal to Saturn for reverse-engineering. When Saturn’s shipyards were demolished by Abbadon in his retreat from Sol, I decided to rebuild it as a Forgeship and construct the Artefacts there.” He noted Tu’Shan’s naked shock with a smile. “What?”<br>
“You…I mean, we figured you had had help with some of the Artefacts, but…” Tu’Shan said.<br>
“Well, I DID go to the trouble of hiding them, and goodness knows they would have never worked again were it not for my repairs and upgrades,” Vulkan said. “So…after the Heresy ended and the Harrowing did too, and a hundred years passed, I flew here, had the Tome written, crafted or reappropriated the Artefacts, had them all hidden by Librarians sworn to silence, then took off for the Eye. The rest is history.”

“I see.” Tu’Shan allowed himself a moment to think of the rigors and fear to which his Primarch had been subjected as a plaything for daemons and shuddered. “Why Librarians?”<br>
“Because at the time, it was policy for all Salamander Librarians to learn the Old Words. The language spoken amongst the psykers native to Nocturne. Nearly a tenth of the Tome was written in that language, and some of the passages related to the locations of other books and relics are in the Old Words,” Vulkan said. He frowned suddenly. “Surely that has not changed?”<br>
“Well, Master Vel’cona, our Chief Librarian, does teach it to his designated successor,” Tu’Shan said. “And of course He’Stan and I are both fluent.”<br>
“That is good. Such an important part of our history should be preserved.” Vulkan paused as the hangar doors ground open again, this time allowing an interceptor to swoop in, settling down on the pad. The Apothecary shielded his optical sensors with one hand, as the brilliant glare of the engine faded. “You are keeping busy, brothers.”<br>
“Our ships returned from Armageddon in some disarray. The greenskins proved disgustingly resilient,” Tu’Shan said, pressing his finger against his helmet vox. The speaker buzzed in acknowledgement. “Lord, your shuttle has arrived to ferry you to the Chalice.”<br>
“Superb.” The Primarch turned to the Apothecary, nodding a farewell, as the ship slid into the hangar, steam wafting from the ice forming on its wings. “Brother, I will see you later. I should see to my armor.”<br>
“Of course, my Lord, do not allow me to delay you,” the Apothecary said. Vulkan walked aboard the shuttle’s ramp, and it lifted smoothly, turning to soar back into space, towards the distant forgeship.