Mobilization

The great hall of Castle Thorndike, hewn from ancient stone and adorned with tapestries depicting heroic deeds of Knights long past, served as the backdrop for a meeting that would shape the future of an entire world. At one end of a massive oak table sat King Robert Thorndike, his weathered face a map of the countless battles he had fought to keep his world safe from the horrors that lurked beyond the veil of reality. Opposite him, the towering figure of Franklin Valorian, Primarch of the Liberty Eagles, seemed almost comically large in comparison to the ornate, yet modest furnishings of the feudal court.

"I am King Robert Thorndike of Austrea, ruler of the Great House of Thorndike," the monarch began, his voice carrying the weight of generations of noble lineage. "We welcome you to our world, Lord Valorian."

Franklin nodded, his easy smile belying the gravity of the situation. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty. I hope you don't mind if I skip the whole 'kissing the ring' bit. My lips are chapped something fierce from all this warp travel."

The joke, delivered with perfect timing and a wink, caught King Robert off guard. A chuckle escaped his lips before he could stifle it, and he felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. This giant of a man, for all his power and presence, had a disarming charm that put the king at ease.

As they took their seats at the table, Franklin's demeanor shifted subtly. While his eyes still twinkled with good humor, there was a newfound formality to his posture and tone. "Your Majesty, I'm here to officially welcome your world back into the fold of the Imperium of Man. We've got a lot to catch up on, so let me give you the CliffNotes version of what's been happening while you've been fighting off Chaos beasties."

For the next hour, Franklin painted a picture of the nascent Imperium – its triumphs, its struggles, and its potential. King Robert listened intently, his mind racing with the possibilities. The honor of serving an empire in its infancy, the potential rewards for early compliance... it was almost too good to be true.

And that's precisely what made King Robert pause. "Lord Valorian," he said, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing slightly, "I appreciate your candor. But in my experience, offers this generous often come with strings attached. What, pray tell, is the catch?"

Franklin's grin widened, appreciating the king's shrewdness. "Straight to the point, eh? I like that. The 'catch,' as you put it, is pretty straightforward. We ask for your compliance, the standard Imperial tithes, and access to whatever technology you've got squirreled away for inspection. In return, you get the full protection of the Imperium and access to our Point System."

"Point System?" King Robert's brow furrowed.

"Ah, yes. It's a little something we cooked up in the Independence Sector," Franklin explained, his tone casual but his eyes sharp, gauging the king's reaction. "Basically, you earn points for your contributions to the Imperium. These points can be redeemed for advanced technology, additional support, that sort of thing. It's on top of the general aid you'll receive as a compliant world."

King Robert sat back, his mind working furiously. This Point System... it was clever, he had to admit. But it also created a clear dependency on this Independence Sector. "And who, might I ask, are the rivals to your Independence Sector?" he inquired, his tone carefully neutral.

Franklin's expression turned serious, almost grim. "Well, there's the Mechanicum of Mars, for one. They're... let's just say they have a different approach to technology. Very dogmatic, very belief-based. The exact opposite of what we're trying to do in the Independence Sector."

As Franklin spoke, painting the Mechanicum in less than flattering terms, King Robert couldn't help but feel there was more to the story. The waters of Imperial politics, it seemed, ran deep and murky.

"I see," King Robert said slowly, weighing his options. On one hand, aligning with the Independence Sector could bring tremendous benefits to his world. On the other, he'd be taking sides in a conflict he didn't fully understand. But then again, as a Knight World, wasn't taking sides what they did best?

Franklin, sensing the king's internal struggle, leaned forward. "Your Majesty, I know it's a lot to take in. But let me be clear – we're here to help. We've got the resources, the technology, and the manpower to save your world from whatever Warp-based plague is infecting his populace. All we ask in return is your allegiance."

King Robert met Franklin's gaze, seeing the sincerity behind the humor. He thought of his people, struggling against the endless tide of Chaos corruption. He thought of the ancient oaths of fealty that had bound Knight Houses to greater powers for millennia. And he made his decision.

"Lord Valorian," he said, his voice firm and resolute, "if you can save my world from the rot that plagues it, then House Thorndike and all the Knights of Austrea will gladly swear allegiance to your Independence Sector and the Imperium it serves."

Franklin's face split into a wide grin, but there was respect in his eyes as he extended a massive hand across the table. "Then let's shake on it, Your Majesty. Welcome to the Imperium of Man."

------------------------

The great hall of Castle Thorndike, which moments ago had been the stage for delicate negotiations, now hummed with an almost palpable energy. The air seemed to thicken with anticipation as Franklin Valorian, Primarch of the Liberty Eagles, rose to his full, imposing height.

"King Robert Thorndike of Austrea," Franklin's voice boomed, filling every corner of the ancient stone chamber. Gone was the jovial tone of their earlier conversation, replaced by a gravity that befitted this momentous occasion. "You have pledged your allegiance to the Imperium of Man and to the Emperor, my father. But the oaths we have exchanged are more than mere words. They are a covenant, sealed in loyalty and tempered by the fires of duty."

King Robert stood tall, his weathered face a mask of solemn determination. He had ruled this world for decades, facing down horrors that would break lesser men. But in this moment, he felt the weight of a far greater destiny settling upon his shoulders.

Franklin's hand moved to the ornate scabbard at his waist, drawing forth a blade that seemed to drink in the light around it. The Deathsword, a weapon of legend even among the rarefied ranks of Aeldari weaponry, gleamed with an inner fire and the rage of a God.

"Kneel, Robert Thorndike," Franklin intoned, his voice resonating with an almost supernatural authority.

Without hesitation, King Robert lowered himself to one knee, bowing his head before the Primarch. The stone floor was cold and unyielding beneath him, a reminder of the hardships that lay ahead. But in that discomfort, he found resolve.

Franklin raised the Deathsword, its blade catching the light streaming through the stained-glass windows. The weapon moved with a fluidity that belied its massive size, hovering just above King Robert's right shoulder.

"By the authority vested in me as the 11th son of the Emperor of Mankind," Franklin began, his words carrying the weight of Imperial decree, "and as Primarch of the Liberty Eagles, I, Franklin Valorian, do hereby bestow upon you a new title and a new purpose."

The Deathsword moved, touching lightly upon King Robert's right shoulder. Despite its fearsome reputation, the blade's touch was gentle, almost warm.

"With this sword, I name you protector of this realm," Franklin continued, moving the blade to King Robert's left shoulder. "Defender of humanity's frontier against the encroaching darkness."

The sword returned to Robert's right shoulder. "By your valor, you shall inspire. By your wisdom, you shall guide. By your strength, you shall safeguard the future of mankind in this sector."

A hush fell over the hall as Franklin paused, the Deathsword hovering once more above King Robert's bowed head. When the Primarch spoke again, his voice carried a hint of something ancient and powerful, as if the very spirit of humanity spoke through him.

"Rise, High-King Austeria Extremis, lord of this world and steadfast ally of the Imperium of Man."

As King Robert – now High-King Austeria Extremis – rose to his feet, a change seemed to come over him. He stood taller, his bearing more regal, as if the weight of his new title had not burdened him, but lifted him up.

Franklin sheathed the Deathsword, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "The title of High-King Austeria Extremis is more than just a lofty name, Your Majesty. It signifies your elevated status within the Imperium and the trust we place in you and your world."

High-King Austeria nodded solemnly. "I understand, Lord Valorian. And I swear, by the sacred oaths of my ancestors and the honor of my House, that I shall live up to this trust."

"I don't doubt it for a second," Franklin replied, his tone warming. "You're going to need that resolve in the days to come"

As the echoes of the dubbing ceremony faded, Franklin Valorian gestured for the newly-minted High-King Austeria Extremis to walk with him. The Primarch's easy stride belied the weight of the information he was about to impart.

"Your world, Your Majesty," Franklin began, his tone a mixture of seriousness and barely contained excitement, "sits at a crossroads of fate. You're near the Cadian Gate, a lynchpin in humanity's defense against the horrors of the Warp. As High-King, you're now oath-bound to defend not just your world, but the nearby sectors as well."

King Robert nodded, his mind racing to grasp the full implications of his new role. "A heavy responsibility, Lord Valorian. But one we shall bear with honor."

Franklin's eyes twinkled. "And you won't bear it alone. The Independence Sector stands with you. Speaking of which, how do you feel about a little galactic road trip?"

The High-King's brow furrowed in confusion. "I'm not sure I follow, Lord Valorian."

"The Great Crusade," Franklin explained, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Humanity's grand adventure to reclaim the stars. If you're up for it, you can assign some of your Knights to join my Crusade fleet. Think of it as an exchange program, but with more explosions and heroic last stands."

Before King Robert could fully process this offer, Franklin's attention shifted to the sky. With a grin that promised wonders and terrors in equal measure, he activated his vox-link. "Sovereign, it's showtime. Drop the Liberty Spires."

The AI's response was immediate and chilling in its efficiency. "Acknowledged, Primarch. Commencing deployment of Liberty Spires."

The heavens split asunder as massive pillars of pure black descended from the clouds. The earth quaked, the very foundations of Austeria Extremis trembling as the colossal structures of Blackstone impacted the surface in a carefully calculated pattern.

King Robert staggered, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and terror. "By the Ancestors, what manner of—"

His words were cut short as a palpable change swept over the world. The oppressive weight of the Warp storms, a constant presence that had plagued Austeria Extremis for generations, began to recede. The Liberty Spires hummed with otherworldly power, creating a barrier against the malevolent forces that sought to consume the planet.

Franklin nodded in satisfaction. "Blackstone Liberty Spires. Not the cheap, disposable Adamantium versions we usually use. Only the best for our new allies."

Before King Robert could gather his wits to respond, Franklin was already barking new orders into his vox. "Armstrong! Arm the peasantry, shore up those defensive lines, and for the Emperor's sake, get me Eagles in the sky yesterday!"

"Roger That Father" Steven's voice replied.

The response was as immediate as it was awe-inspiring. The heavens, barely recovered from the descent of the Liberty Spires, now teemed with voidcraft. Carriers descended into the stratosphere, disgorging swarms of aircraft that blotted out the sun.

King Robert's jaw dropped, his royal composure momentarily forgotten in the face of such overwhelming might. "How... how is this possible? The speed, the coordination..."

Franklin chuckled, clapping the stunned monarch on the shoulder. "Welcome to the big leagues, Your Majesty. When the Liberty Eagles move, we move fast."

As if to underscore his point, a knight came rushing towards them, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. "Your Majesty! The strangers—the ones who came with Lord Valorian—they're reclaiming the lands! Wherever they walk, the warp-tainted beasts... they just... they turn to dust!"

Franklin's grin widened. "Ah, good. The clean-up crew's making progress. Now, Your Majesty, what do you say we take a look at those Knight Walkers of yours? I've got some ideas for upgrades that'll make your ancestors' jaws drop—metaphorically speaking, of course."

Still reeling from the rapid-fire series of miraculous events, King Robert could only nod and lead the way to the ancient hangar beneath the castle. As they descended into the bowels of the mountain, the true scale of Austeria Extremis' martial pride became apparent.

The hangar was a cathedral to war, vast enough to house titans, filled with the towering forms of Knight Walkers. Some bore the scars of recent battles, while others gleamed with the polish of eager anticipation.

No sooner had they entered than Franklin's team materialized, as if summoned by thought alone. Chief Engineer Amelia Cortez, flanked by her cadre of engineers and a group of robed figures that could only be the mysterious Techno-seers, approached with purpose.

"Right on time," Franklin nodded approvingly. "Let's see what we're working with here."

What followed was a display of technological prowess that left King Robert questioning everything he thought he knew about the Knight Walkers that had been his world's protectors for millennia.

The Techno-seers moved among the Knights, arcs of living lightning dancing from their fingertips as they communed with the machines' spirits. Meanwhile, Amelia Cortez began her explanation, her words painting a picture of the Knight Walkers that was at once familiar and utterly alien.

"The Throne Mechanicum," she began, her voice carrying the weight of arcane knowledge, "or as we in the Cluster call them, the Knight Thrones, are marvels of ancient technology. They don't just control the Knight; they reshape the pilot, forging them into true protectors of their assigned worlds."

King Robert leaned forward, fascination overcoming his initial shock. "Reshape? In what way?"

Amelia's eyes gleamed with the joy of sharing knowledge. "The Thrones are programmable, Your Majesty. They instill in the pilot a deep, unshakeable loyalty to their world. It's a fail-safe, ensuring that the immense power of a Knight Walker is never turned against its own people."

Franklin nodded approvingly. "Clever. A bit manipulative, maybe, but clever."

"But that's not all," Amelia continued, warming to her subject. "The truly fascinating aspect is what we call the Ancestral Ghosts. You see, when a pilot dies, their mind—their memories, experiences, skills—are downloaded into the Throne."

King Robert's eyes widened. "You mean... our ancestors... they're still with us? In the machines?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Amelia confirmed. "Think of them as very opinionated backseat drivers. They offer advice, share their experiences, guide the current pilot. It's why piloting an ancient Knight Walker is so challenging—and potentially so deadly. The weight of all those generations of experience can be overwhelming."

The High-King of Austeria Extremis staggered back, his mind reeling. Everything he thought he knew about the proud tradition of the Knight Scions, the revered positions that only the most worthy could aspire to, was being rewritten before his eyes.

The cavernous hangar beneath Castle Thorndike hummed with activity as Chief Engineer Amelia Cortez and her team swarmed over the assembled Knight Walkers. Her eyes gleamed with the light of discovery as she took in the impressive array before her.

"Let's see what we've got here," Amelia murmured, her floating drones whirred about as they scanned the massive war machines. "150 Questoris Patterns, 200 Armigers, 20 Cerastus Patterns, 30 Dominus, and... well, hello there, big guy."

Her gaze settled on the lone Acastus Pattern Knight, its towering form dwarfing even its impressive brethren. A low whistle escaped her lips. "I'm betting my best socket wrench that's the High-King's personal ride."

As Amelia began her detailed assessment, the Techno-seers of the FBI (Federal Bureau of Incantations) moved among the Knights, arcs of living lightning dancing from their fingertips. Their task was as delicate as it was crucial: downloading the Ancestral Ghosts from the Thrones.

"Careful with those downloads," Amelia called out to the nearest Techno-seer. "We're not just transferring data; we're transferring centuries of experience and personality. This process is what's helping new pilots survive the Ritual of becoming—what we'll simply call the Maiden Ride."

The robed figure nodded solemnly. "Fear not, Chief Engineer. We treat these spirits with the utmost respect. They will be preserved on quantum data crystals, ready for the pilots to access at will."

Amelia grinned. "Perfect. Give the pilots options. They can plug in for a full backseat driver experience or just access the combat data. Flexibility is key in the heat of battle."

As the assessment and data transfer continued, Amelia compiled her findings into a dataslate. With a few quick strides, she approached Franklin Valorian, who stood observing the proceedings with keen interest.

"Here's the rundown, Lord Valorian," Amelia reported, handing over the dataslate. "We've got a solid foundation to work with, but these Knights could use some serious upgrades. I'm talking about improved power distribution, enhanced targeting systems, and maybe even some experimental void shield tech we've been tinkering with back in the Cluster."

Franklin's eyes skimmed the report, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Excellent work, Amelia. Now, let's see about getting some reinforcements."

The Primarch activated his vox-link. "Sovereign, I need a sitrep. Where's the nearest Independence Forge World?"

The AI's response was instantaneous. "Analyzing, Primarch. Austeria Extremis is part of a solar system consisting of four worlds, strategically located between the Agrippina and Cadian Gate. The nearest sector with significant industrial capacity is the Gothic Sector, specifically the Gethsemane Sub-sector. The Other being The Independence Sector itself is located in the Halo Stars."

Franklin nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities. "What about our Knight Walker reserves? Do we have any in storage that are ready for immediate deployment?"

"One moment, Primarch," Sovereign replied. "I'm consulting with Aegis for the most up-to-date information."

The pause lasted mere seconds before Sovereign continued. "Aegis confirms that we have a substantial number of Knight Walkers in storage, fully operational and ready for immediate deployment."

A predatory grin spread across Franklin's face. "Perfect. Sovereign, I want 1,500 Knight Walkers and their associated maintenance equipment shipped to Austeria Extremis. Send the coordinates and make it happen."

"Understood, Primarch. Coordinates received and orders transmitted. The Knight Walkers and equipment will be en route shortly."

As Franklin turned back to Amelia, his expression was one of grim satisfaction. "We're about to give this world some serious teeth, Chief Engineer. I want your team ready to integrate these new Knights into the existing force structure. We're not just replenishing their numbers; we're creating a fighting force that'll make the Chaos Gods think twice about messing with this sector."

Amelia's eyes lit up with excitement. "You've got it, Lord Valorian. We'll have these Knights singing in harmony like a well-oiled choir of destruction."

----------------------------

While the technological marvels of war were being prepared in the depths of Castle Thorndike, a different kind of battle was being waged on the surface of Austeria Extremis.

Vladimir Mendelev stood over the prone form of an unconscious peasant, his face a mask of concentration. The man before him was a grotesque tapestry of plague, his body marred by suppurating pustules and pulsing growths that seemed to breathe with a life of their own. As Vladimir's mind reached out with psychic force, beads of sweat began forming on his brow. He probed the metaphysical nature of the infection, sensing the sinister tendrils of corruption that wrapped themselves deep within the victim's soul. Beside him, his personal AI, Koschei, projected a holographic interface filled with rapidly scrolling data.

"Chief Librarian," Koschei's synthetic voice buzzed with an undercurrent of frustration, a rare occurrence for the otherwise efficient AI. "I have purged my data banks five times already against corruption. This Nurglite plague is remarkably... stubborn. My analysis suggests a 78.3% probability that a Greater Daemon could manifest if we fail to contain and cure this infection."

Vladimir's jaw tightened, his mind racing. "Проклятие!"(Damn!) he cursed in his native Russian, his voice a low growl. "This plague is not just stubborn, it is infuriating. But if daemon comes, he will find himself most unwelcome guest. With Gene-father Franklin on planet, daemon will meet quick end—likely before it even finishes saying 'hello'."

Koschei's sensors hummed. "A valid point, Chief Librarian. The Primarch's presence does indeed shift tactical probabilities in our favor."

Vladimir's grim mood lightened for a moment, a chuckle escaping his lips, but his focus returned swiftly. His Augur Staff, which now glowed with living lightning that danced along its length like flickering binary code—01000100 01101001 01110011 01101001 01101110 01100110 01100101 01100011 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01100111 01110010 01100101 01110011 01110011—pulsed with the intensity of his psychic exertion. The currents of energy hummed with eerie life, echoing the sounds of data streams and arcane mathematics, merging technology and the Warp into a single flow.

"Чертовы демоны и их чертовы болезни!" (Damn demons and their damned diseases!) Vladimir spat, his frustration boiling over. "Koschei, run another analysis. We are missing something. There is always weakness, some crack in the foundation of plague's structure."

As Koschei initiated a fresh series of complex calculations, Vladimir surveyed the makeshift medical tent. All around him, Techno-Seers of the FBI worked tirelessly, their own glowing Augur Staves crackling with the same living lightning, filling the air with the strange digital hum of encoded energy. Alongside them, small, insect-like drones flitted through the air, their purpose critical: they projected an anti-Warp field, damping the malign influence of the Warp wherever they flew. The more Techno-Seers present, the more the Warp was pushed back, the atmosphere growing clearer with each passing minute.

Despite their combined might, the Nurglite plague continued to fight back, as if it had a mind of its own. It mutated, adapted, and spread like wildfire, leaving the Techno-Seers battling to contain it. Vladimir's eyes scanned the tent, filled with victims of the pestilence, each a grotesque monument to the insidious touch of Nurgle. His spine chilled at the sheer malignancy of the enemy they faced.

Suddenly, Koschei's voice cut through his thoughts. "Chief Librarian, I have completed the analysis. There is... a pattern in the plague's metaphysical structure, but it is unusual."

Vladimir arched an eyebrow. "Define 'unusual,' Koschei."

"The plague operates on multiple dimensional frequencies," the AI explained. "It exists simultaneously in our reality and the Warp, making it exceptionally difficult to eradicate. It is like trying to catch a shadow that lives in two worlds."

Vladimir's grim smile returned. "Ah, so Nurgle has been getting creative, да? But if plague can exist in two places, so can we fight it in two places."

Without hesitation, Vladimir planted his staff on the peasant's forehead, channeling his psychic might through the Augur Staff. The living lightning intensified, the digital hum growing louder, echoing in the small tent like a choir of ghosts whispering in binary. He reached out with his mind, pushing beyond the material realm, following the plague into the Warp itself.

"Koschei," he grunted through gritted teeth, his psychic efforts straining him. "Modulate the Augur Staff's output. Match it to the dimensional frequencies of this... filth. We are going to hit this thing from every angle, leave no dimension untouched."

Koschei responded instantly, adjusting the staff's frequencies to align with the Warp-plague's multi-dimensional structure. The living lightning of the staff shifted in color and intensity, its glow bathing the tent in an eerie, flickering light as the code-like buzzing grew deafening. The very air around Vladimir crackled with energy as his psychic power expanded into the Warp.

Slowly, the corruption on the peasant's skin began to retreat. The pustules shrank, the grotesque growths pulsed more slowly, and finally, they started to recede. Vladimir's eyes widened as he felt the tide of battle turning in his favor.

"It's working..." he breathed, barely daring to believe it. "Koschei, log these frequencies. We may have just found key to beating this plague."

The peasant's body stilled as the last of the corruption disappeared, his skin returning to a more human, albeit still scarred, appearance. Vladimir took a deep breath. But as he looked around at the rows of patients still awaiting treatment, he knew this was far from over. The plague had struck deep, and somewhere out there, its source still festered, feeding on the misery it had created.

With a weary sigh, Vladimir stood tall, his Augur Staff crackling softly by his side. "One down," he murmured, his gaze already moving to the next patient. "A planet to go. But by Emperor and Gene-father Franklin, we will prevail. We always prevail."

As he turned to continue the battle, the flickering drones swarmed overhead, their anti-Warp fields dampening the chaotic forces nearby, making the air feel lighter, cleaner.

-------------------------

The room, adorned with tapestries depicting great battles and heroic deeds, bore the scars of Nurgle's corruption. Patches of mold crept up the walls, and a faint, sickly sweet odor permeated the air.

Vladimir Mendelev, the First Chief Librarian of the Liberty Eagles, approached Franklin. His psi-reactive armor hummed with energy, and his neural-link visor glowed with a soft blue light. When he spoke, his thick Russian accent cut through the tense atmosphere.

"Comrade Primarch," Vladimir began, his voice gruff but tinged with excitement, "I have good news, da? We have successfully cured the plague on one of the peasants."

Franklin's eyebrow raised slightly, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Go on, Vova. I'm sure there's more to it than that."

Vladimir nodded vigorously. "Indeed, there is much more, my friend. With the data we have gathered, I believe we can cure this plague entirely." He paused, his expression growing more serious. "However, we face a choice. A dilemma, if you will."

King Robert, the ruler of this beleaguered Knight World, leaned forward on his throne, his weathered face etched with both hope and concern. "Speak plainly, Librarian. What are our options?"

Vladimir turned to the King, bowing slightly before continuing. "Your Majesty, we have two paths before us. The first is swift but risky. We could channel the Liberty Spires at a specific frequency to isolate the plague from the Materium."

"And the risk?" Franklin asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

"The vibrations from the Spires might cause instabilities in the material plane before the cure takes effect," Vladimir replied, his voice grim. "It could be... how you say... a bumpy ride."

King Robert's knuckles whitened as he gripped the arms of his throne. "And the alternative?"

Vladimir's expression softened slightly. "The second path is slower but safer. We cure the plague gradually, but it would take at least two years to complete."

A heavy silence fell over the hall. Franklin's eyes twinkled with amusement as he watched the King wrestle with the decision. After a moment, the Primarch spoke, his voice carrying easily through the vast chamber.

"Your Majesty," Franklin said, a hint of a chuckle in his voice, "it seems we have quite the undertaking ahead of us. But before we decide, there's something you must do."

King Robert looked up, meeting Franklin's gaze. "Anything, Lord Valorian. What do you require?"

Franklin's expression turned serious, though a ghost of a smile still played on his lips. "Gather all your Knights, Your Majesty. We're going to need every one of them for the battle ahead."

The King nodded, a spark of determination igniting in his eyes. "It shall be done, my Lord. But... our numbers have been sorely depleted by Nurgle's corruption."

"Fear not," Franklin replied, his confidence infectious. "I've already arranged for a shipment of new Knight Walkers from my Cluster. They'll be here soon, ready to join your forces."

A murmur of excitement rippled through the gathered nobles. King Robert stood, his bearing more regal despite the visible toll the plague had taken on him. "You honor us, Lord Valorian. We shall prepare for their arrival."

--------------------------

The acrid smell of promethium and the metallic tang of blood filled the air as Franklin Valorian and Vladimir Mendelev strode across the battlements of the Knight World's primary fortress. Below them, a scene of organized chaos unfolded – evidence to the Liberty Eagles' efficiency and the Knight World's resilience.

Franklin, his imposing 15-foot frame casting a long shadow in the dim, polluted light, leaned against a parapet. His brown eyes, usually twinkling with mirth, now held a steely determination as they scanned the horizon. Vladimir stood beside him, his psi-reactive armor humming softly, neural-link visor pulsing with data streams.

"Quite a sight, eh Vova?" Franklin remarked, his voice carrying easily over the distant rumble of explosions and the whine of aircraft engines.

Vladimir nodded, his thick accent flavoring his words. "Da, Comrade Primarch. It is... how you say... a symphony of destruction?"

Franklin chuckled, the sound incongruous with the grim tableau before them. "I couldn't have put it better myself."

Below, Liberty Guardsmen in their advanced exo-suits moved with precision, setting up defensive positions and laying down suppressing fire...disintegration fire. Astartes of the Liberty Eagles could be seen everywhere, their transhuman forms easily distinguishable as they coordinated defense lines and led counter-attacks against the surging tide of Nurgle's corrupted beasts.

The sky was a canvas of war. Aircraft of all sizes darted through the murky clouds, occasionally diving to strafe the feral beasts below. Bombers flew in formation, their holds opening to rain promethium on the endless hordes threatening to overwhelm a defensive line to the east.

Franklin's eyes locked onto a familiar silhouette among the bombers. "Well, I'll be damned," he mused, a grin spreading across his face. "Look at that, Vova. The old girl's still kicking."

Vladimir followed Franklin's gaze, his visor zooming in on the aircraft in question. "Ah, you refer to the B-52-X10 Freedom Bringer, yes? It does bear striking resemblance to ancient designs."

"That it does," Franklin nodded. "Even 30,000 years into the future, and the B-52 still serves. Different designation, sure, but the old warhorse keeps on trucking. There's something poetic about that, don't you think?"

Vladimir's brow furrowed. "I am not sure I see the poetry in it, Comrade Primarch. But I trust your judgment in these matters."

Franklin laughed, clapping a hand on Vladimir's shoulder. The Librarian barely moved, despite the Primarch's immense strength.

"Ah, Vova. Never change." Franklin's expression sobered slightly as he turned back to the battlefield. "Speaking of change, though. We need to discuss the aftermath of all this."

Vladimir straightened, instantly alert. "What do you mean, Comrade Primarch?

Franklin's eyes narrowed as he watched a Knight Walker tear through a mass of corrupted flesh-beasts, its chainsword leaving a wake of ichor and tainted meat. "These men, Vova. They're fighting bravely, facing horrors most Imperial citizens never see. But you know as well as I do the danger that knowledge brings."

Understanding dawned in Vladimir's eyes. "Ah, I see. You speak of the risk of corruption, of giving strength to the Ruinous Powers through memory and belief."

"Exactly," Franklin nodded. "So, tell me straight, Vova. Once this is all over, can you and your boys in the FBI wipe the minds of everyone on this planet? They need to know what they're fighting now, but afterward... well, ignorance really is bliss when it comes to Chaos."

Vladimir was quiet for a moment, his mind racing through calculations and possibilities. When he spoke, his voice was confident. "It can be done, Comrade Primarch. The Federal Bureau of Incantations stands ready. We will ensure that the horrors of this day fade from memory, leaving only the glory of victory for the Imperium."

"Good man, Vlad. I knew I could count on you." Franklin's expression was of relief.

Franklin Valorian, the 11th Primarch, had always been known for his audacious and straightforward approach. Yet, when it came to the Ruinous Powers, even he had to acknowledge the wisdom of his father's secrecy.

The grim reality of facing these entities was a lesson in itself. Franklin realized that ignorance was not merely a form of protection—it was a powerful shield. The more one knew about the Ruinous Powers, the greater the risk of falling under their corrupting influence. His father's secretive stance wasn't just a strategic choice; it was a survival instinct.

"Sometimes, it's better to be blissfully unaware than to be drawn into the abyss of their schemes," Franklin mused. "I get why he kept so much hidden. Knowledge can be a weapon, but with the Ruinous Powers, it's a double-edged sword. Better to focus on what we can fight and protect, rather than risk becoming a pawn in their cosmic games."

A/N: Thoughts on the 'The Tithes'?