The Primarch's return did not require an announcement to produce its effects.
The faction tensions that had held the fleet at Triplex Phall in a state of suspended conflict for six months simply ceased, the way a fever breaks overnight: not through resolution so much as through the removal of the condition that had been sustaining them. Before any formal communication had passed between the ships, the weapon arrays that had been held in readiness against the forge world below were already rotating away. The Carcharodons Astra understood, at whatever level such things are understood by warriors bred for singular purpose, that what had been holding them was no longer missing.
On the forge world's surface, in the forge-palace where Fabricator General Wesley Phall had spent six months conducting business under the specific anxiety of an orbital fleet with loaded weapon arrays overhead, the news arrived via the all-channel broadcast and was received with the particular relief of someone who has been waiting for an event that would make several very serious problems not their problem anymore. The senior Magi of the Forge Council had been carefully neutral throughout the standoff, neither provoking the Carcharodons nor offering them anything that could be construed as capitulation. They were, as a body, extremely glad that this posture had turned out to be the right one and that they would not have to find out what the wrong one would have cost.
The Thunderhawk came down through Triplex Phall's industrial atmosphere carrying Nolan and the Blood Ravens' command cadre, its plasma engines trailing heat signatures through the thick particulate air above the landing platform that Nolan had used before. It touched down with the weight of a vessel that had not been designed to be delicate, the landing gear absorbing the impact with the mechanical resignation of components that have been asked to do this many times.
Nolan stepped out of the dimly lit hold in his vibranium power armor and let his eyes adjust to the forge world's ambient light: the orange glow of distant forges filtered through a sky that was perpetually a degree or two from being actual cloud.
The landing platform was not empty.
The teleportarium signature manifested in three discrete columns of displaced light, each column resolving over the space of a second into a specific shape. Tyberos arrived first, his full armored mass and the Claws of Maelstrom at his sides, his eyes finding Nolan immediately across the platform. Behind him, the Terminator Guards of the Lamenters and Black Templars appeared in their own respective columns, ceramic and adamantium and the familiar faces of warriors who had been with the fleet for a long time. The last arrival was Reditus, the Armiger chassis descending from a slightly elevated teleportation point, its red optical lenses trained on Nolan with an intensity that was more personal than mechanical.
Then Tyberos went to one knee.
It was not a gradual thing: the Chapter Master of the Carcharodons Astra simply dropped to one knee on the landing platform's metal surface, lowered his head, and stayed there. The Terminator Guards went down behind him with the organized efficiency of people following a lead they had already decided on. The Armiger chassis lowered its upper section in the closest approximation to a bow its engineering permitted.
Nolan looked at them for a moment, said nothing, and waved one hand.
The matter was set aside.
Before anyone could say anything further, the shuttle traffic from the forge world's upper transit lanes became visible overhead: small craft descending in sequence toward the platform, each one carrying red-robed Magi in the standard formations of Mechanicus ceremonial reception. Wesley Phall had sent everyone he could assemble on short notice, and short notice had produced a substantial number of Magi.
Nolan exchanged greetings with the delegation as briefly as courtesy permitted, confirmed to the senior Archmagos that the meeting with Wesley Phall would occur in due course, and turned to lead everyone toward the interior.
Nolan's designated quarters in the forge world's administrative district were unmistakably Mechanicus in their character: the ceiling hung with chains that served no purpose except to carry small lumen-globes; the walls covered in relief carvings of gear-and-skull iconography extending from floor to ceiling; incense from the Mechanicus liturgical order burning in automated dispensers that cycled every hour. The rooms were large enough for the mixed company that now filled them, which was useful.
He stood in the central chamber with his arms extended.
The servo-automata that Triplex Phall's staff maintained in his quarters moved in from their standing positions along the walls, their manipulator limbs working at the vibranium power armor's connection points in the precise sequence that Reditus had taught them: pauldron seals first, then the gauntlet locks, then the torso assembly in sections. Each piece removed was placed on the specialized rack that had been assembled for exactly this purpose.
While they worked, Nolan spoke to Reditus, who had maneuvered the Armiger chassis into the chamber's corner and was watching the process with the attention of a craftsman observing workmanship below his standard.
"The left elbow actuator," Nolan said, without looking at the specific component. "The response lag on lateral extension. That started on the Ark of Omen."
"I observed it from your movement pattern during the Blood Ravens engagement," Reditus said. "Also the tertiary shoulder seal on the right side. I will want three hours."
"You have them."
With the armor removed and racked, Nolan was a figure of considerable scale even without it: the simple robes that had replaced it not doing anything to diminish the sense of something built to larger tolerances than the mortals and even the Astartes around him. He moved to the chamber's center, where Gabriel and the Blood Ravens officers were still processing the room's décor with varying degrees of adjustment, and began making introductions.
It took a while. Gabriel and Diomedes were presented to Tyberos, who received them with the specific brevity of a man who conveys assessment through silence. Orion, Chief Librarian of the Blood Ravens, and the Lamenters' remaining senior members regarded each other with the professional recognition of psykers in the presence of other psykers. The Black Templars were the easiest: they were interested in the new arrivals primarily as a measure of additional combat capability and were satisfied with what they found.
Two figures arrived partway through these introductions from the shadows of the chamber's entrance: the two Raven Guard Company Champions, who had covered the distance from their position in the forge world's intelligence hub through the Shadow Step and were therefore simply present without having gone through the mechanics of entering. They joined the gathering and were noted without ceremony.
Reditus, meanwhile, had moved to Nolan's side.
The Armiger chassis was not designed for quietly delivered conversation, but Reditus had developed techniques for it. The transmission channel was narrow and below the ambient noise of the room. In the minutes that followed, while the introductions continued around them, Reditus provided Nolan with a precise account of the six months: the faction dynamics, the exact nature of Tyberos's threat and how many times Reditus had found it necessary to invoke Nolan's name and authority to maintain the standoff, the state of the forge world's operations, and the current status of Wesley Phall's corruption examination.
Nolan listened. His expression did not change much. At the end of it he said, "The examination result."
"Kahurangi found nothing. Ongoing." Reditus paused. "Wesley Phall is waiting to speak with you."
"I know." Nolan's attention moved across the room to the assembled gathering. "Later."
When the introductions had reached a natural completion, he let a brief silence settle over the room. It was not a silence that required help: the assembled company had been waiting for it.
"I heard," Nolan said, "that while I was absent, you nearly produced an internal conflict on my behalf." He let that sit for a moment. "Astartes of multiple chapters considering fratricidal action over a temporary absence. I'm given to understand the daily fighting is insufficient entertainment and you were looking to try something more reckless."
The room received this without movement.
Tyberos, who did not have the expression of a man who embarrasses easily, went to one knee again anyway. Across the room, the two Raven Guard Company Champions looked at each other for a fraction of a second, reached an agreement, and went to one knee together with the resigned expressions of warriors who know when they've been called out.
Nolan looked at Tyberos first.
"This is the nature of the Carcharodons, and I won't pretend otherwise. Your loyalty over the years is something I have always seen and not forgotten." He let a slight pause develop. "But I am not inclined to keep a fleet of bloodthirsty sharks inside a cage called authority and expect the cage to hold indefinitely. Consider this a reminder. Before the Carcharodons move toward any significant decision in my absence, think through the consequences first."
He turned to the two Company Champions.
"The Raven Guard as a whole made the wise choice by staying out of the conflict between the two sides. That is noted." He addressed the Company Champions directly. "I understand the thinking behind the position you took. I don't consider it a punishable offense. However, the two of you will be transferred to the Twin Islands base and placed under David's operational command until further notice. This is not a punishment. Consider it a reassignment and a reminder about where the line between principled stance and inflaming an existing situation falls."
The two Company Champions received this without argument, which was the response of warriors who understood the judgment was fair.
Nolan turned back to the assembled gathering.
"Now. To the reason I asked everyone to be present."
He took a breath.
"Our fleet continues to grow. The number of ships, the number of chapters operating under this command structure. The current arrangement works. It will work less well as the scale increases, and the scale will increase." He looked across the room, letting his eyes settle on each group in sequence: the Carcharodons officers, Gabriel and the Blood Ravens, the Terminator Guards, the Raven Guard, the Lamenters. "Conflicts between different chapters' customs and command assumptions will multiply. The present standoff demonstrated one version of this problem. There will be others."
He paused.
"I am formally establishing the Twenty-Second Legion. Every chapter that joins under this command is, from this point, a company of my Legion and therefore my genetic descendants, regardless of whether blood ties exist. I am aware that they do not exist in most cases. That is not the point." He let that land clearly before continuing. "At the same time: every Chapter Master here becomes a Captain commanding an independent company. The warriors you brought with you retain the honorary titles they have earned. Their ranks are adjusted accordingly within the Legion's structure."
The room was very quiet.
"Each company stands equal to every other. The difference between companies is functional: what they are best at, what role they serve in a combined operation. There is no hierarchy of seniority between them. Within each company, your existing command structure and your customs remain exactly as they are. The Legion does not reach inside a company and tell it how to organize itself."
He let that clause register before adding the next.
"There is no upper limit on how large a company can grow. The Legion will distribute material resources uniformly to all companies from central allocation. If a company has its own means of recruitment, its own supply channels, its own methods of expanding its numbers, those remain that company's affair. If a company finds itself with ten thousand Astartes and wants to call itself a regiment, I will not object. I will, in fact, be pleased."
A brief silence.
"I am telling you this now, before the structure is finalized, because this is the moment when it can still be changed. If you have objections or concerns, they are worth hearing now. They are considerably less worth hearing once the Legion's basic organization is established."
He waited.
Gabriel moved first.
The new Chapter Master of the Blood Ravens drove his power armor forward before Tyberos had risen from his knee, and when he spoke, his voice carried the specific quality of someone giving a response they had already decided on before the question was finished.
"Every battle-brother of the Blood Ravens is willing to stand as the Primarch's genetic descendant. We will bring the full strength of the Librarius and all the knowledge the Chapter has gathered to the service of the Twenty-Second Legion."
Tyberos stood before the last sentence had finished.
"The Carcharodons Astra have never willingly fallen behind another Chapter." His voice was low and carried the chamber easily. "We obey the Primarch's orders. All of them."
"The Raven Guard is with you." The voice came from one of the Company Champions, quiet and precise in the Raven Guard manner.
"The Lamenters..."
"The Black Templars..."