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Every Legion—or at least most of them—had members who were Psykers.
These psychic battle-brothers did not have any formal structure within their Legions. In fact more often than not, they were treated with suspicion and regarded as mutants.
While they were trained and guided by the Emperor, along with specially trained Imperial Psykers under the command of Malcador.
This instruction only covered the basics—enough to help them control their powers so they would not become more of a threat than they already were.
Unfortunately, this was not enough.
The Emperor was occupied with numerous critical matters, chief among them the construction of the Astronomican, the consolidation of power within the Sol System, and securing the resources necessary for the formal commencement of the Great Crusade beyond it—along with other concerns that few were privy to.
Malcador, likewise, was burdened with his duties as the Lord of Terra, overseeing the Imperium's many departments such as the Administratum, alongside numerous other organizations—some mundane, others deeply secretive.
And as for trained mortal Psykers?
They were not numerous to begin with. One major reason was the sheer difficulty of training Psykers, compounded by their inherent danger and instability.
Even being born with the Psyker gene made an individual a prime target for the predations of daemons and other fel entities residing within the Warp.
(A/N: An individual is considered a Psyker if they possess the Psyker gene, but their potential is determined by the strength of their soul.)
Those born with particularly strong souls—or those whose power grew with age—would face increasingly frequent assaults in the form of visions, whispers, and tempting offers from these entities.
Accepting such offers was considered the height of folly.
These beings did not grant power out of generosity. The price of their "gifts" was, more often than not, the very soul of the mortal they ensnared.
The moment a mortal—Psyker or otherwise—accepted such a bargain, they surrendered not only their soul but also allowed the daemon to use its reflection within the Warp to possess them.
With sufficient soul strength—or the proper preparations—such possessed individuals could become catastrophic threats.
Their destruction could tear open portals into the Warp itself, which is why powerful Psykers were sometimes referred to as living Warp gates.
Given all these factors, and considering how extraordinarily rare it was to produce individuals of immense strength and discipline like the Emperor or Malcador, the Imperium remained extremely hesitant at best about any widespread Psyker training programs.
At best, such ideas were treated with caution.
At worst, it was considered safer to simply eliminate Psykers altogether—both for their danger and their status as mutants.
If not for the fact that Psykers were essential for certain roles—such as Navigators and Astropaths—they would have been even less tolerated than they already were.
As a result, Astartes Psykers were often left largely to their own devices after receiving what was deemed "sufficient" training, with little to no formal oversight.
That was the case…
Until the 4th Host of the Grey Wardens.
Or, more specifically—
Their Warden-Commander.
Solomon.
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Once Connor and Kaythan entered the chamber assigned to the 4th Host, they were met with the sight of eighteen Grey Warden Psykers.
Each one was working alongside groups of psychic Astartes from other Legions, instructing them in how to control their powers.
Thanks to their unique ability to draw in and "purify" Warp energy—allowing it to be used in a stable and safe state—they could prevent accidents before they occurred.
They could also suppress harmful mutations in other psychic Astartes—mutations that arose from using unfiltered Warp energy—and even nullify potential catastrophes should someone lose control during training.
"Rowena, where's Solomon?" Connor asked one of his sisters, who was currently instructing members of the V and IX Legions.
"Brother Solomon? He's most likely in the library."
Connor nodded and headed toward the adjoining library, with Kaythan following close behind.
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The library was vast, with towering shelves filled with books and ancient tomes. At its center stood a simple wooden table, where three individuals were seated.
One of them was a tall and striking woman with a voluptuous yet athletic build, clad in silver artificer armor. Her red-dyed hair was tied in a topknot that fell down her spine.
This was Jenetia Krole, Knight-Commander of the Sisters of Silence.
Beside her sat an Astartes in red and gold power armor. His shoulder insignia marked him as a member of the XV Legion—the Thousand Sons.
He possessed sharp, refined features and piercing blue eyes.
This was Ahzek Ahriman, Chief Librarian of the XV Legion, and perhaps the most powerful Astartes Psyker—barring those of the Second Legion.
He was also unofficially considered an assistant of the man beside him.
Also notably, despite being a potent Psyker, Ahriman appeared completely at ease in the presence of Jenetia—a powerful Blank whose mere existence inspired dread in others, and even more so in Psykers.
The reason for this ease…
Was the man seated between them who's own psionic power acted as a protective barrier for Ahriman.
He, too, was tall and well-built, with a toned physique, bronze skin, shoulder-length white hair, and striking red eyes—bearing what ancient Terrans would describe as a Middle Eastern complexion.
Despite his aloof expression, anyone who spent even a short time in his presence would quickly realize he was calm, gentle, and possessed a quiet, scholarly wisdom.
This was Solomon—
Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens' 4th Host,
and the most powerful and skilled Psyker among the Legiones Astartes.
"Brother? Kaythan? Is something the matter?"
Solomon was the first to notice Connor and Kaythan as they entered the library.
He was dressed in simple white robes, looking far more like a scholar than an Astartes—if not for his height and unmistakable musculature.
Kaythan nearly felt the urge to hug him on the spot.
After all, Solomon was one of the very few who didn't insist on calling him by that dreadful nickname.
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"Nothing bad, Solomon. I just came to check up on you and your Host."
Solomon nodded in understanding as Ahriman and Jenetia both offered respectful bows to Connor and Kaythan.
Connor returned the gesture with a simple nod.
"Ahriman, Jenetia—I hope you two are well?"
"As well as I can be, Lord Connor." Ahriman replied with a wry smile, while Jenetia gave a similar response through sign language.
Connor wasn't surprised to see them both here.
Due to the Grey Wardens' differences and their… "unique" status—along with several other factors—it wasn't easy for them to form close ties with most of the Legions, barring a few exceptions.
In fact, the Second Legion could be said to be closest to three distinct groups.
One of them was mortal, baseline humanity—as already explained.
But the other two?
Far more unexpected.
The Adeptus Custodes and the Sisters of Silence.
Because of their power, abilities, and relative closeness to the Emperor, the Grey Wardens interacted with the Custodes on a near-regular basis.
Not only were they often kept close to the Emperor, but He had, on multiple occasions, assigned Custodian detachments to accompany and safeguard Grey Wardens.
Over time, this led to frequent interactions between the two forces—and eventually, the Second Legion earned the acknowledgment and respect of the Custodes.
Whether it was their unwavering loyalty, their achievements, or their sheer strength, the Custodes were on of the few that currently knew and recognized that the Grey Wardens had proven themselves—despite their small numbers and relatively recent founding.
In fact, many Grey Wardens had formed genuine friendships with individual Custodians.
…Barring a few.
Cough. Diocletian. Cough.
The Sisters of Silence, however, were a more surprising case.
It all began when it was discovered that, unlike others, the Second Legion was not adversely affected by their Pariah aura.
Oh, the Sisters could still suppress the Fourth Host's psychic powers—even those fueled by purified Warp energy—but unlike other Psykers, the Grey Wardens felt no instinctive dread or revulsion in their presence.
That said, the psionic abilities of the Fourth Host—and especially the tactile telekinesis used by other Hosts?
…Yeah. That was a different story.
Even now, Kaythan had to stop himself from laughing whenever he remembered one particular test.
Solomon had once used his psionic telekinesis on Jenetia.
Watching the usually composed and unreadable Knight-Commander of the Sisters of Silence float helplessly in midair—while trying, with increasing irritation, to find something to anchor herself to—had been far too amusing.
Malcador had theorized that during their transformation, the Grey Wardens' gene-seed didn't just alter their bodies—it refined, or perhaps reshaped, their souls while leaving their core essence intact.
This could explain why they could stand in the presence of the Sisters as though it were perfectly natural.
As a result, the two groups began interacting more frequently—and, eventually, grew quite close.
In fact, Solomon and Jenetia spent a considerable amount of time together.
According to him, she was actually quite… "talkative."
How that was even possible, no one really knew.
Though Kaythan was willing to bet it had something to do with Solomon's psionic telepathy.
Connor shifted the conversation, asking about the current state of the Fourth Host.
Solomon answered dutifully, providing detailed updates, while Ahriman occasionally interjected to add context where needed.
That, in turn, reminded Connor of something important.
"How goes the matter of the Flesh Change?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Ahriman's expression darkened, and Solomon let out a quiet sigh.
"Not well. Just as Raphael suggested—the problem appears to be tied either to the soul… or to the gene-seed itself."
"I've begun compiling notes and drafting preliminary theories, but it will take time to reach any solid conclusions. Especially with… you know."
The Thousand Sons were the most psychically gifted of all the Astartes Legions—but beyond the usual suspicion they faced, they were also afflicted by a far more insidious curse.
The Flesh Change.
A horrific psychic mutation that worsened with every use of their powers.
If they were fortunate, the mutation would simply kill them upon overexertion.
If they weren't…
Death would be a mercy.
Connor and the others understood Solomon's meaning as he gestured vaguely around them. Ahriman spoke again, his tone steady despite the subject.
"Lord Solomon, the mere fact that you are dedicating time to finding a solution—or even a remedy—for my Legion is more than enough."
"We have endured the Flesh Change since our Legion's inception. We can endure it longer still."
"So please—continue your duties as well."
Solomon had trained under both the Emperor and Malcador for a time to hone his psychic abilities. Thanks to his accelerated learning, he mastered not only the foundational teachings but far more beyond them.
Afterward, he passed on everything he had learned—along with his own insights—to the rest of the Fourth Host, who absorbed the knowledge with remarkable speed.
From there, they began instructing both mortal and Astartes Psykers, tailoring their methods to suit each group.
They didn't just teach control—they established a solid foundation upon which their students could continue to grow and refine their psychic mastery.
As for the dangers normally associated with psychic training?
Those were largely mitigated by the presence of the Grey Warden Psykers, who used their unique abilities to nullify—or at least greatly reduce—the risks involved.
The fact that Solomon took the time to investigate—and actively attempt to remedy—the Thousand Sons' affliction was a testament not only to his character, but also to his skill.
Ahriman was deeply grateful.
But he was also aware of how critical Solomon's other duties were for humanity's future—and so, a part of him felt ashamed at the thought of asking for more.
Kaythan, seeing that everything here was under control, glanced at Connor.
"Well, Connor, things seem fine here. Let's check in with the Fifth—so you can meet with Lord Malcador afterward."
"If you're heading to the Fifth Host, it would be better to go directly to Lord Malcador's office instead."
Solomon's sudden interjection made both Connor and Kaythan turn toward him in confusion.
"Jeanne and her Host were with the Revenant Legion. Their genetic flaw flared up again. The Fifth handled most of it."
"Jeanne herself took care of the bulk of the work, leaving the rest to her Host before heading to see Lord Malcador."
Understanding dawned on them. They nodded and took their leave, making their way toward the inner sanctums—specifically, Malcador's personal office.
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Malcador's office doors were guarded by two Custodes, who didn't so much as move when Connor and Kaythan approached. Nor did they attempt to stop them as they entered.
The office itself was a spacious chamber filled with neatly organized stacks of vellum for long-term records and paper for more immediate matters, all stored within shelves, drawers, and other filing units.
The Lord Sigillite was usually buried in work—even when high-ranking officials stood in his presence.
But today was different.
The normally gruff old man wore a faint, contented smile as he leaned back in his chair.
The reason was obvious.
A gentle stream of golden light flowed from the hand of the tall Astartes woman beside him into his own body easing both his soul and body as well as making his mind feel cleansed.
Noticing Connor and Kaythan enter, Malcador let out a small grunt and straightened himself.
"Ah, Kaythan. Connor. I suspected you would arrive sooner."
He then turned toward the woman beside him, his expression softening into something almost grandfatherly.
"And thank you once again for your kindness, my dear."
"It is no trouble, my lord. You are vital to the Imperium's stability—this is but a small token."
Despite her height and athletic build, the woman appeared less like a warrior and more like a blend of a kind noble princess and a beautiful saintess.
She had long, golden-blonde hair that fell to the middle of her back, light blue eyes, and wore modest dark-blue robes that did nothing to diminish her natural beauty.
She turned to Connor, offering him a warm smile.
"Big brother, I hope you're well—and taking care of yourself."
Connor's expression softened considerably.
"I should be the one asking you that. But yes, I'm fine. If anything, you should be saying that to Raph. I don't know how many days he's locked himself away in his lab."
Jeanne let out a small, annoyed sigh at the mention of Raphael.
"Then I must be off to make sure he's fine. It was good seeing you as well, Captain Kaythan."
"And you too, Jeanne."
Even through his helmet, it was obvious Kaythan was smiling as she returned the gesture before leaving the office.
If one were to ask any Grey Warden—or really, almost anyone who had interacted with the Second Legion—who their favorite was…
Ninety-nine percent would give the same answer.
Jeanne.
Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens' Fifth Host.
Beloved by her siblings, and by nearly everyone fortunate enough to meet her.
She was kind, strong, and possessed a presence that seemed to uplift those around her—easing their burdens and stripping away the weight of negative emotions.
And like the other Warden-Commanders, she stood at the pinnacle of her specialization.
In her case—
The Holy Light.
She wielded it with unmatched ease, channeling far greater quantities than any of her peers.
If anyone from Azeroth—or the Church of the Holy Light—had been present, they would have recognized it immediately.
Jeanne was something exceedingly rare.
A living Saint of the Light.
Just like her "father,"
Alastor.
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Due to the unique talents Jeanne and her Host possessed in wielding this strange yet miraculous Light, they did not have as widespread a role as the other Hosts.
Unlike the First Host, which specialized in espionage, strategy, and coordination, or the Third Host, which focused on developing cures and medical techniques, the Fifth Host's abilities were not easily replicated.
Others simply could not wield the Light—or had no clear path to learning how.
That, however, did not stop Jeanne or her Host from striving to be useful.
They supported the Third Host in matters of healing, aided the Fourth Host in defending against and safeguarding others from psychic accidents.
And—most importantly—used their powers to calm the minds and spirits of those afflicted by horrific mutations or psychic instability.
More than once, they had assisted the Thousand Sons when the Flesh Change spiraled out of control, and likewise aided the Revenant Legion with their Red Thirst.
Through the Holy Light, they soothed minds and spirits, gently suppressing these genetic flaws.
And because their method was so careful and measured, there was no risk of the condition rebounding worse than before.
It was safe to say that the Fifth Host was both well-received and widely favored.
There was even a rumor that Valdor himself had once cracked a smile because of them.
Both the Emperor and Malcador held Jeanne in especially high regard—not only for her abilities, but for the conviction she showed in going above and beyond to help humanity, just as her siblings did.
The Emperor, however, did have one minor concern.
Not one he blamed them for—nor one they had ever intended.
It was simply… an unintended consequence.
When one healed the wounded with radiant light—or calmed a superhuman, bloodthirsty warrior using what appeared to be divine power—
People began to draw conclusions.
From any perspective, it looked like a miracle. Something divine. Something sacred.
As a result, many would fall to their knees in awe and reverence.
In truth, the only reason such incidents were not far more widespread was because the Fifth Host firmly denied any connection to divinity—
Let alone any claim that they themselves were divine beings.
Even so, those who became overly zealous were, more often than not, quietly taken for "re-education" in accordance with the Imperial Truth.
(A/N: Oh this just gave me a funny idea of Imperial equivalent of Truth enforcers but for the Imperial Truth)
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With Jeanne gone and his business concluded, Kaythan also took his leave, leaving Connor and Malcador alone in the room.
Malcador began explaining the reason for Connor's summons—and it was not what Connor had expected.
"My lord… truly?"
Malcador nodded, his expression serious.
"Yes. I have already discussed this with the Emperor."
"You and your siblings have contributed greatly to our cause—particularly in strengthening the Imperium's foundations through the efforts of your five Hosts."
"We've come to realize that while your importance warrants protection, keeping you confined to the Palace is… a waste of potential."
Connor's eyes lit up slightly.
"Does this mean we are to operate under the same parameters as the other Legions?"
"No."
Malcador shut that down immediately.
"Your importance is too great to allow such freedom under identical conditions. However, don't concern yourself—we have made other arrangements."
With a subtle use of telekinesis, Malcador passed him a vellum document. Connor read through it, his brow gradually furrowing.
"My lord… is this acceptable? The other Legions won't—"
"I understand your concern," Malcador interrupted calmly. "Or rather, I know which Legion concerns you."
"But you need not worry. This order comes from both the Emperor and myself. They need only fulfill their part."
Connor nodded, reassured.
The document granted the Second Legion explicit authority to command and lead regiments of the Imperialis Auxilia.
While their base of operations would remain within the Imperial Palace, they would now be afforded far greater operational freedom.
The First Host, under Connor's command, would finally take to the battlefield—serving as commanders and elite units while leading mortal regiments of the Imperialis Auxilia, and when available, the Solar Auxilia as well.
The remaining four Hosts would provide support where needed, while continuing their respective roles outside of combat—such as the Third Host's work within the Medicae.
They were also granted permission to request aid and cooperation from other Legions—should they be able to secure it.
Though the wording made this sound like a equal station between legions, the implication was clear.
The Second Legion was expected to hold operational command.
And anyone with even a modicum of sense would understand that such authority could only have come from the Emperor or Malcador themselves.
In effect—
The Emperor fully intended for the Second Legion to lead.
Despite the careful (political) phrasing, this was welcome news.
Connor and his siblings could now take a far more active role—not only in building the Imperium's foundations, but also on the battlefield, as Astartes were meant to.
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Afterwards, Malcador dismissed him once everything was discussed.
Connor walked down the golden halls, his mind already racing with plans for the future under these new circumstances.
Yet, in the quiet corner of his thoughts, one memory resurfaced—
The flaming figure he had seen during his metamorphosis.
I'll bring no dishonor to the Legion… nor to you…
Father.
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