Chapter Twenty One: Gold, Silver, and Steel (Part VIII)
Location: An artificial cavern somewhere within Titan, Moon of Saturn.
Date: 814.M30
Malcador the Sigillite stood in the massive subterranean structure being burrowed into the cold rock of Titan. With more senses then he should possess, he watched the process of excavation and construction. At the Emperor's orders, a series of fortresses were being built within the moon. Shadowy repositories where the Silver Order would operate from. Unlike nearly all of the Solar System, Titan had been virtually untouched by human hands throughout the species' history. Disturbing rumors and tragic accidents had plagued Titan since the first Saturn colonies. Keeping all but the bravest and the most stupid of pioneers away. This pattern was not mere statistical anomaly, of course. The veil between certain and possible was razor thin here. In fact, the first Warp experiments conducted by mankind had taken place on this now deserted rock. Malcador himself was not certain which came first to Titan. The experiments or the reputation. That was even before his time.
In his wisdom, the Emperor had selected Titan to house the Silver Order and other additions to the Adeptus Umbrex. Construction had started almost the moment Talons of the Emperor landed and surveyed Titan during the Solar conquest. The creation of this new headquarters had fallen to a joint commision of Warsmiths and Occultits in Imperial employ. Filling it had fallen to Malcador, or at least partially. Using the already vast resources of the Adeptus Terra, Malcador had found hundreds of possible candidates. Each one of them a loyal citizen. Who had proven themselves worthy in some regard.
Through numerous trials and cullings, only a few dozen remained. The Silver Order would require the best of what humanity had to offer. Its founders and leaders need to be more than that. Five Executor and a handful of Agents would form this bedrock. Each had proven themselves worthy time and again. Most recently, in a ritual that would form the Orders heart.
At the Emperor's orders, a single drop of his cloned blood anointed each founders forehead. This diluted shadow of the Emperors essence burned a distinct mark into them. A ][ shaped scar on their forehead that offered protection from Chaotic taint. By being infused with the Anathema's power they became empowered and protected against the evil and unreality of the Great Enemy. In the presence of the Warp's taint, the scar would burn again, providing a harsh warning against the immediate danger of the Dark Gods' power. In the coming millennia, the agents of the Silver Order would all be marked in this way. Alongside this, each agent would be gifted a badge of inscribed silver, vesting in them the confidence of the Adeptus Terra. Through these twin sigils the Silver Order would be marked as servants of the Emperor.
These initial members were now hard at work building the organization they would lead. Countless arcane treasures and secrets were being ferried to the largest of the moon's fortresses. This Sanctorum Citadel as it was named would be the chief center of the Order. It was a massive thing of polished stone and inscribed metal, rising from Titan's fog like some colossus of old. At its very heart would be a blood cloner of immaculate making. Where a vial of the Emperors blood would be recreated over and over. Malcador could already see the day when the first tainted candidate would enter that hallowed hall. They would be certain in there trickery. Hoping to steal the Emperor's gift in the name of Chaos. The traitor would die screaming as the ichor burned through his skull like liquid fire. A similar fate would befall any agents who gave in to temptation and believed the Great Enemy.
The Silver Order, while important, was not the reason Malcador was here though. In fact, he was on the direct opposite side of Titan from the Sanctorum Citadel. His journey took him within an unfinished fortress that would match the citadel in every way but one. It was inverted, sticking into Titan's bedrock instead of out of it. This unnamed fortress would house another, far deadlier and more secretive tool for mankind's ascension: The Silver Knights. An order of psyker warrior-monks who would battle the forces of chaos. They would be the third member of the transhuman trinity that would protect humanity. The Golden Custodes, the Steel Astartes and the Silver Psi-Knights.
The creation of this new breed of warrior had been yet another of the many projects the Emperor had engaged himself in. Malcador stood beyond mankind in countless ways, but the Emperor's intellect and sheer ability sometimes startled him. Of all his countless plans and schemes, Malcador knew maybe the least about the Silver Knights. He was familiar with the basic concept though. They were designed to be a strike force of Anathema-blessed Space Marines who could quickly and efficiently handle Chaos incursion and Daemonic attacks. The details of their order or their methods he could only guess at. The twenty batches of enhanced Geneseed provided ample clues however.
Malcador now journeyed deeper into the fortress. The watchful eyes of Custodes following him with every step. The inversion within the citadels design went beyond simple reversal in polarity. Whereas the Sanctorum was built to shield from the Warp, this fortress channeled it. Its complex psychosensate architecture acted as a tuning fork, drawing up a stream of pure spiritual energy born of the Astronomicon's purification and god-forging. It was gathered and molded into Anathematic currents of power that filled the Fortress. Turning it into a sepulcher of golden power, untouchable by the Dark Gods.
In its center, directly opposite the Silver Orders anointing chamber, across the world, waited the Emperor. The concentrated warp-stuff was near blinding, even discounting the Master of Mankind's aura. With keen witch-sight, Malcador peered through the sacred fog and watched his Lord's work. All this energy and the ritual science at work served a clear purpose. The Emperor was attempting something unheard of for millions of years. Of course bastardized versions like what occured on Moloch happened, but this was a refined and attuned version of a feat the ancient Aeldari named God-Calling.
The Emperor had been forced to reclaim through force the first calling, ripping the power from thirsting gods and escaping the heart of Chaos. Now, he had power solely belonging to him: the souls of honored martyrs in the grimdark future. They would be perfect for birthing new legends and demigods into flesh.
Faint psychic feelers traced across Malcadors mind and he understood why he had been called. Malcador would be a witness and judge for what would come. An honor given to an old friend. Surrounding the Emperor were eight transhuman bodies. Each a custom grown hybrid of Custodes and Astartes bio-sorcery. They were modeled on various stories, Monster hunters, Daemon slayers, protectors of humanity. All eight were in a state of death, soulless with their chests splayed open. The Emperor had removed one of each of the twin hearts the bodies possessed. Why he had done so soon became apparent.
Floating in a halo of silver light around the Emperor were eight spheres of silver light. At the center of them were ancient gemstones. Carved from mother Terra, and blessed by countless faiths. Malcador quickly understood the silver light inhabiting the gems was all that remained of the Angel. Eight shards of the broken spirit, placed in eight ritual stones. Powerful ingredients, yet not the only ones in this process.
Using the power and resonance within the chamber, the Emperor pulled five thousand three hundred and twenty eight souls from within him. Each a celebrated Astartes, and all had died for there God-Emperor. One by one, the Emperor asked each soul a simple question: "For most, duty ends in death. Will yours?"
All five thousand and more souls responded. "Even beyond death and rebirth they would serve." The souls were split into eight portions. Six Hundred and Sixty Six added to each crystal, providing ages of wisdom and humanity to temper the Angel's power. Then the gems, carried along by the currents of anathema-energy, took the missing hearts' place.
Seeing that his work was progressing, the Emperor turned to Malcador. A galaxy of souls stared into the Sigillite's soul. In that moment Malcador felt what the Prophet Mos must have on Mt. Syhai. He stared into the face of God. It was great and terrible in magnificence. Here, away from prying eyes and consumed by his work, the Emperor had dropped the facade. He was the Human Anathema, godcaller, soulkeeper, Master of Mankind, ancient protector, dragonslayer, bastard of ancients, Lord of Sanity and Reality in all its glory. With words that could reduce worlds to blind awe, he asked Malcador: "Shall we take the next step upon the shining path together, my friend?"
Tears of gold poured down Malcadors face as he nodded his consent. The ancient psyker gripped his staff hard enough to crack his withered bones as he watched. The channeled power poured into each body. Tidal waves of warp-energy infused with the figures suspended in the air, bonding the crystal hearts to flesh and healing their surgical wounds. The power became one with the newly born demigods. Their very flesh and blood became infused with the Warp. Once simple meat, they were now living conduits to the Sea of Souls.
This miracle of warpcraft combined immaterial and material together. Creating eight Silver Paladins to serve the Emperor. Detecting Malcador's awe, the Emperor let out a small, understanding smile, and spoke to his friend in a rapturous voice. "While impressive it may be. This is but a pale shadow of the Primarchs' creation. I used a single saga to breathe life into these eight. So very much more went into each of the twenty. My sons are god's given flesh, these are but humble Archangels."
The first of these newborn Archangels took a breath, The Paladin sucked in the cold oxygen of the chamber and asked the light that created him: "who… who am I? Garro? Azkaellon? These memories, whose are they?"
The Light answered in calm thunder. "They were who you once were, now you are Mîkha'El: Paxiarch of Order. The First Lord Paladin of the Silver Knights. "
The answered calmed the incarnated angel. An identity to focus and meditate on. With each awakening, the other seven were named. "Kiddu, Hellzing, Sol-Vukong, O'Seimei, Persaeus, Jediah, and Dolzak. The Lord Paladins of the Silver Knights."
Each of them were armed and armored in blessed silver and adamantium. Knowledge infused by the Emperor and their past lives filled the Eight, giving them the wisdom to know how to properly use the tools that they were given. As one, they soon bowed to the Emperor and swore fealty to the Master of Mankind. With those formalities, the Silver Paladins left the two ancients to start there duties. They were each a shard of the Anathema, perpetuals bound to a gem of pure light. The ten thousand knights who would follow their footsteps would be born of hybridized geneseed. Twenty batches, one from each Legion would become ten thousand progenoids of this new breed of transhuman. Another brotherhood of heroes to match the Custodes.
Like the sun setting, the Emperor dimmed and returned to his human form. "The Great Enemy took a fallen champion of theirs and remade him into a threat". The Emperor said, looking every bit the avenging force of order and justice. "I shall return the favor eight-fold."
The Silver Order and Knights were born. Another tool to help protect humanity. When the Great Crusade left Sol, it would be armed and armored in Gold, Silver and Steel.