Emperor's Bane

Chapter 846 Victim

Numaion found the Primarch Vulkan beside his favorite anvil.

"grown ups."

Although it was not wartime, the Captain of the Salamanders was still fully armed, hiding his dark face behind the removable helmet of the Mark IV Power Armor: like most of his battle brothers, Numeon did not have a face that would make him famous in the Empire.

This seems to be the common fate of every son of Vulkan: despite being a diligent participant in the Great Crusade, and despite having achieved countless exploits and victories, the Salamanders were never considered a force that could change the overall situation.

Most Imperials and even the Astartes knew of them only as a Primarch called Vulkan and a Legion called the Salamanders: that was all.

While the names of Abaddon, Koswain, Sigismung, Akudona, Sevatar and Bayar shine brightly in the legends of the Great Crusade, there has never been a single figure in the Eighteenth Legion who was famous enough to fill the entire Empire.

This is no joke: Noumea has experienced it many times himself.

As the Captain of the First Company of the Salamanders and the leader of the Flame Guard, Numeon is like his father and brother, keen to help every Imperial in need, and will go through fire and water for them without seeking any reward.

(In case you haven't heard: the Flame Guard are Vulkan's Primarch's guard.)
But many times, or even most of the time, when they encountered Imperial ships in distress during their voyage, they fought alongside them without hesitation until the invading forces were completely repelled: when those grateful mortals wanted to thank them, they could not even mention their names.

These mortals were not fools. They could recognize Numeon's identity from his honorary badges and epaulettes and knew that he was the second-in-command of the 18th Legion. However, they had never remembered what the name of the second-in-command of the 18th Legion was.
Over time, Numeion even became accustomed to this development of events.

He would still enthusiastically help any Imperial he saw: if the other party did not fall into awkward silence when thanking him, but spoke his name fluently, the captain would even feel flattered.

Of course, this doesn't mean that Numeion would like this situation. In fact, this is one of the few negative effects that the Captain of the Salamanders has on the Great Crusade.

It is for this reason that at least the Captain himself is positive about the Great Crusade gradually coming to an end and the Legion being able to remain stationed on Nocturne for a long time.

And his idea was not unpopular in the XVIII Legion, the Salamanders certainly would not shy away from fighting for the Empire, but they did so more out of a sense of duty than honor, and since the galaxy no longer needed war, the descendants of Vulkan would not regret not being able to kill.

In fact, as a rare legion among the eighteen Astartes Legions with a very rich lifestyle and personal touch, the Salamanders can lead a very colorful life in peacetime: even more exciting than in wartime.

They don't need common forms of entertainment such as the arena. As long as they return to the land of Nocturne, the salamanders will have plenty of ways to spend their long years.

Noumeain has a deep understanding of this.

Although he is not a Nocturne but a Terran, hundreds of years of integration have made his values ​​​​no different from those of ordinary Nocturne warriors: walking in the Holy City of Sanctuary is like walking in his hometown.

He started from his own private residence: Yes, as the most people-friendly of all the Astartes Legions, the Salamanders lived with mortals, and except for new recruits who needed training and some commanders, most Salamanders had their own houses on Nocturne.

They live together with mortals and do not set aside a special area. Many fire lizards even still live with their families before they became Astartes, leading a life no different from mortals when there is no war.

After removing their power armor, they are leaders in their neighborhoods and communities, responsible for guiding mortal life and mediating conflicts. They are also avid forging enthusiasts: although the descendants of Vulkan have never had many desires, there is a dream hidden in the heart of every fire lizard.

They all dreamed of creating something that could rival the craftsmanship of their primarch.

When they don't need to care for mortals and don't want to pursue their dreams for the time being, salamanders are still excellent hunters and excellent gourmets.

They are the few warriors who can freely shuttle and move in the nightmarish land of Nocturne: when the reptiles hiding in millions of volcanoes are ready to move, hunting them is not only to protect the safety of the villages behind them, but also to prove that peace has not worn away their will.

Next to the corpses of wild beasts, Vulkan's descendants can often find the most suitable side dishes: the most popular one is a kind of pepper unique to Nocturne. If the powder made from it is poured into wine or dishes, it is enough to make the wildest Space Wolves flee the banquet in a panic just by smelling the scent.

In other words, this pepper was one of the backup torture methods used by Konrad and Alpharius against the Astartes. Even Guilliman did not dare to add it to coffee, but the Salamanders could swallow it without batting an eyelid and regard it as a delicacy.

And if all of the above is not enough to wear down your motivation, then Nocturne has its own unique test: every fifteen Terra standard years, Nocturne's super-giant satellite Prometheus will move to an orbit point very close to the parent star.

At this time, the powerful gravity will cause the two worlds to collapse: earthquakes will tear the entire continent apart, thunderclouds will surge in the sky, lightning as dense as a forest and thousands of volcanoes will indiscriminately slaughter all unfortunate people. This is what the fire lizards call the time of trial.

The Salamanders will defend their people in the Cities of Refuge, one of only seven stable structures capable of withstanding such a catastrophe: it is this high frequency of testing that keeps the Sons of Vulcan motivated and connected to the people of their home planet.

But on the other hand, such unstable astronomical conditions and geographical structure make Nocturne unsuitable to be the capital: but from the Primarch to the warriors, no one has ever thought of moving the Salamanders to another place.

Although many people know that this may not be a rational choice.

"But rationality is good, but it is not everything in life, Numaion."

The Primarch of the Eighteenth Legion wore a sleeveless scale armor and sat in front of the first anvil he had made with his own hands, like an ordinary man. There were neither flattering attendants nor soldiers guarding him. If his body shape was not so terrifying, no one would have thought that the person in front of them was a Primarch.

"As we all know, forging weapons requires a calm mind and precise calculations. But if you only have these two treasures, you will always be just an excellent blacksmith, not a true master."

While he was speaking, Vulkan did not stop the work at hand. His hammer was hitting the blue-glowing metal with a very beautiful rhythm: the Primarch's deep voice and the sound of metal collision mixed together, like a piece of music that was not soft but enough to make people intoxicated.

Numeon stood nearby, mesmerized by the power and skill displayed by the Primarch, and looked at Fulvkan and his unfinished work with awe: although the true outline was still far from being visible, one thing was certain, his respected Gene Father had surpassed his limits this time.

This will be a treasure that shakes the galaxy.

Just as he was thinking this, he discovered that the Primarch was laughing: the white smile was so conspicuous on that dark face.

"Do you know what it is: what is the one precious quality that a true master needs?"

Numeon nodded: Of course he couldn't be as ignorant as a child.

"Creativity, my Lord."

“Only by walking your own path can you become a true master.”

“And this requires something that goes against reason: romance, or emotion.”

“I prefer to call it a dream.”

Vulkan smiled, and paused for a moment in his forging process, as if waiting for the metal to adapt to its new contours: the captain took a moment to take a peek, and he discovered that it was an unusual creation.

"What is this, my Lord?"

Numeon said somewhat uncertainly.

"A pair of... sharp claws?"

"Yes, a unique weapon."

The Fire Dragon Lord nodded.

"It's not for me: I prefer hammering to cutting."

"but……"

The Primarch changed the subject, and his voice became visibly softer.

"This is a gift for my dear brother, Conrad."

He raised his head, and the brotherhood made Vulkan's naturally ferocious face become much more amiable.

"You know, Conrad is such a lovely little guy, he is the cutest of all our brothers: God, although we seldom interacted with each other before, I don't think our friendship will be affected because of this. Conrad likes to make friends with everyone."

"And so am I."

"I share the same view, your Excellency."

Numeon nodded, not just to show his agreement, but to agree with the Primarch's words from the bottom of his heart.

Admittedly, there is no deep connection between the Night Lords and the Salamanders. They rarely fight side by side, but the few times they have done so, they have cooperated happily. At least neither side has crossed the other's red line.

The Eighth Legion was not a force that showed much mercy in war, and they did not mind reverting to their old ways of slaughter and intimidation at times, at least when they felt it was necessary, but these actions never got out of control.

And whenever the Salamanders protested against this behavior, the leader of the Night Lords Legion: in most cases, this person would be Sevatar, and would solve the problem with a Conrad-like concept.

They would simply hand over the disputed war zone to the Salamanders, and then choose to gnaw on those harder bones themselves: or drag out those guys who have gone too far, execute them in front of the two legions, and use blood to make up for the mistakes they have made.

"We can't control everything, but we can at least make them get what they deserve."

Faced with such rhetoric, although Salamander still found it somewhat unacceptable, he also expressed his respect: after all, with examples like the Word Bearers, Space Wolves and Dark Angels before them, the Night Lords were not too excessive.

Not to mention, after the chaotic Far Eastern star region was gradually brought under the rule of the Empire and stable trade routes began to run smoothly between the fiefdoms of various Primarchs, Nostramo had been steadily supplying Nocturne with various metal raw materials that they lacked at very favorable prices.

Conrad knew that his dark brother had a hobby of forging weapons, and he saw the supply of raw materials as a means of expressing goodwill rather than taking advantage of the opportunity to make a fortune.

So far, the results seem good.

“Conrad proved to us that he is a respectable, kind person.”

Vulkan shook his hammer.

"Remember? The last time we went to hunt down the Krave alien pirates roaming around Nocturne, we were always in a passive position due to the lack of information about these enemies. It was Conrad who sent people to share their experience in fighting these aliens in the Ghoul Stars. It can be said that it helped us a lot."

"Of course I won't forget, sir."

Numeon nodded seriously.

"So, you plan to make him a pair of metal claws as a thank you gift?"

"He never said that."

As if he had thought of something, a look of brotherly doting appeared on the Primarch's face.

"But the last time we met, in Ullanor, he would often stick around me, intentionally or unintentionally, and discuss with me the powerful weapons I had made. Although he never admitted it to my face, he always expressed his desire to have a new pair of claws in his words."

"Honestly, I don't think he's mature enough to ask for gifts." "But why not: those big, cute eyes are hard to refuse."

Vulkan laughed.

"That's what I was planning to do anyway."

"Also, I plan to name these claws Tranquility and Forgiveness."

"Is there any deep meaning in this?"

"Nothing profound, just..."

Vulkan's expression suddenly paused.

As a recognized kindhearted Primarch, Vulkan, despite his rough appearance, actually possesses the most delicate emotions among all the brothers. In this respect, he is even more outstanding than Morgan, Fulgrim and Horus: he can always sense the changes in the hearts of his brothers.

"I just feel that when I first met Conrad, he had just returned to the Empire. He gave me the impression of a man full of sadness. His heart was filled with boiling malice towards everything in the world. He hated the Human Empire and the Galaxy, and he hated himself even more."

“I thought it was going to be a tragedy.”

The Fire Dragon Lord shook his head.

"However, when I met him again later, after he had been educated by Morgan and had taken back his own Midnight Lords Legion, he gave me a much better feeling: especially recently, a kind of tranquility appeared in his heart, a sense of forgiveness towards everything, and most importantly, towards himself."

“So, I took the name: I hope it stays that way.”

The Primarch sighed uneasily.

"It's just my selfish desire: I hope he won't see through it."

"That's it."

Noumeaun nodded.

"Just as you named the hammer you were going to give to Lord Horus Dawnbringer?"

"Yes."

Speaking of his most trusted brother, a look of respect appeared on Vulkan's face.

"I met Horus not long ago. He gave me the feeling of a rising sun. I thought the Emperor's departure would affect him, but the Wolf God was not discouraged by this. He is becoming more powerful and confident. In him, I can feel the future."

"I can feel it: he has a great chance of becoming the dawn bringer of mankind."

"You mean his issues?"

The company commander was a little curious.

"Do not."

The primarch nodded.

"I don't care about these, but while we enjoy peace, the Luna Wolves are indeed the only legion still fighting for the unrecovered imperial lands: they have tasted victory and blood in these decades, and are becoming larger and more powerful."

"Indeed: I have heard that their number may well exceed four hundred thousand."

Numeon was somewhat emotional.

"In that case, their military strength is almost five times ours."

"We don't need too many people after all."

The Primarch didn't care.

Just as he said, Vulkan's fiefdom was the smallest among all his brothers, even smaller than that of Angron and Sanguinius: the southern border of the Great Vortex where Nocturne was located was an extremely desolate land. Most of the galaxies here had no traces of civilization and were filled with a large number of primitive and barbaric worlds.

There is even such a saying: If we use the standard of five hundred worlds, the Salamander Legion controls less than fifty worlds, and most of them are mediocre worlds with no special output. If the Salamander Legion itself did not have many troops, they might not even be able to be self-sufficient in weapons.

Coupled with the fact that the Legion has long maintained a tradition of recruiting soldiers mainly on Nocturne and lacks representatives from various worlds, their control over the areas under their jurisdiction is also evident: the Lord of Fire Dragon has to maintain the ancient tradition of daily patrols to ensure that his governors do not act recklessly and oppress the people.

But then again, with frequent patrols and the psychological effect of kindness, the Salamanders are indeed able to uncover the wanton behavior of almost every governor under their rule, which makes their reputation among the people not low. Many oppressed people in the Empire regard Vulkan and his instructions as angels of salvation.

Among the aristocracy, the Eighteenth Legion also has its own good reputation: who would not like a superior who is not greedy or possessive, who protects them and does not interfere with their power?

Therefore, the Lord of Fire Dragon still has the foundation of rule in his territory.

Although it is not as deep as some powerful Primarchs, it is not something that can be easily shaken.

But more often than not, the Fire Dragon Lord only maintains a tributary rule over his world. Relatively backward worlds form communes and regularly come to Nocturne to attend commune meetings, while more developed places, such as hive worlds and industrial worlds, can maintain a semi-independent state.

Everyone lives together in a collective that is called a federation but is actually more like a confederation.

This regime doesn't even have a formal official name: in the outside world, people jokingly call it the Great Whirlpool United Commune.

Internally, the name seems to be just right: the Salamanders can hardly be said to have a country, and Vulkan does not actually have a crown. They neither participate in daily management nor are willing to use the power of various forces to do private things for themselves.

The most important responsibility of the Eighteenth Legion is to protect the safety of everyone militarily and to have the Primarch Vulkan play the final role in certain major issues: such issues are often the taxation of the Empire, and so far, there has not been any major trouble.

Terra has not yet reached out, and seems to have no interest in reaching out to such a remote place. In addition, Vulkan has a good impression score with the Sigillators and the High Lords, so they are unwilling to push too far: the Salamanders will pay taxes, and the amount of taxes is not low, but it is not excessive either.

If I really have to say, there is a detail that makes people feel vaguely uneasy: although Terra's tax amount has never exceeded the standard, it has indeed maintained a steady growth rhythm, and outside the borders governed by the Salamanders, there have been news of anti-tax riots and uprisings one after another.

It is inevitable that people feel uneasy.

But other than that, there's nothing to worry about with salamanders.

They enjoyed peace, and even the threats from pirates and aliens were minimal.

In that case, the Salamanders naturally don't need to maintain a very large force: although Vulkan is also consciously expanding his army, his force has not yet exceeded 90,000, the smallest among all the legions.

Even the Dawnbreakers have more troops than them.

"I heard that the Second Legion had a force of 100,000 just a few years ago, and now their number is advancing towards 110,000."

"It's worth celebrating, isn't it?"

Vulkan nodded, his attention returning to his work.

"Of course the more warriors who can defend the peace of the empire, the better."

"Although I don't quite understand why they need so many soldiers now that the Great Crusade is over and peace has come."

“Not everyone is doing this.”

Noumeain thought about it.

"At least, Lord Dorne hasn't expanded his Imperial Fists much in recent years."

"Yes."

The Fire Dragon Lord nodded.

"This is normal: there will be no more wars that require the deployment of legion-level forces."

"Peace has come. There will be no more tragedies and no more victims."

"Rather than thinking about the war, we should think about the metal in front of us and the trial in a few years."

"I hope it's not too late."

"In time for what, my Lord?"

"Ah, nothing."

Vulkan stroked his chin.

"It's just that recently, or perhaps in a few years, we need to welcome a few of my brothers on Nocturne: Morgan, she will bring Conrad and Guilliman with her to discuss some cooperation matters with us, and she seems to have some personal matters that she wants to ask for my help."

"Private matter?"

Numaion glanced at the anvil.

"Mr. Morgan also wants a new weapon?"

"That's not it."

The primarch shook his head.

"But she told me that she had a very strange alien sword and might need my help."

(End of this chapter)