Chapter 59: Erebus — I Will Support Your Father, Lord Perturabo
He had won.
Technically.
Perturabo lay back within his command chamber, staring up at the cold iron ceiling.
Victory.
A hollow word.
Inside his armor, the stench was… undeniable.
A catastrophic miscalculation.
The Lord of Iron closed his eyes.
This is the price of vigilance, he told himself.
The cost of protecting what is mine.
"…What is that smell?"
Across the chamber, Erebus wrinkled his nose slightly.
Perturabo sat upright instantly.
"I won," he said flatly. "Stay away from my family."
And then—
He left.
No.
He ran.
The sight left the assembled warriors in stunned silence.
Behind him—
Lorgar Aurelian lay collapsed on the arena floor, unconscious.
Moments before, he had fought with everything he had—
Faith, strength, conviction—
—and yet, in the final instant, he had seen something else.
Golden.
Immense.
Unstoppable.
A pair of phantom fists.
Then—
Darkness.
Erebus… I tried…
That was his final thought before losing consciousness.
Back in the stands—
Erebus applauded lightly.
"Well performed," he said. "Convincing."
Magnus glanced at him.
"…You are insufferable."
Calliphone stood at a distance, watching Perturabo's retreating figure.
Her expression softened.
Then dimmed.
"…I should speak with him."
She knew.
She had crossed a line.
Still—
A faint smile touched her lips.
"…Thank you, Captain Khârn," she murmured under her breath.
Five Days Later — Olympia
The departure was… grand.
Crowds gathered.
Standards raised.
Warships prepared.
And at the center of it all—
Perturabo stood, expression carefully restrained.
Inside—
He was relieved.
Erebus had informed him that the Emperor had recalled them to Terra.
A summons.
A reason to leave.
Outwardly, Perturabo showed only solemn dignity.
Inwardly—
He was already halfway gone.
Calliphone watched the fleet from afar.
Silent.
Still.
A Private Discussion
"…She wishes to join us?"
Lorgar looked mildly surprised.
Erebus nodded.
"She intends to serve."
"And Perturabo?"
"He does not know."
A pause.
Lorgar considered this.
"…Then we do not take her."
Erebus raised an eyebrow.
"We establish a presence here instead," Lorgar continued. "A foundation. A congregation."
"A… church," Erebus said.
"Precisely."
Calliphone would remain.
But not idle.
"She will lead it," Lorgar added.
Erebus nodded.
Reasonable.
The Decree
The appointment was swift.
Unquestionable.
Calliphone—now appointed as the spiritual authority of Olympia's new Imperial congregation—stood within a newly consecrated hall.
Before her—
A towering statue of the Emperor.
Behind her—
A world beginning to change.
She knew what it meant.
Distance.
Separation.
Erebus would leave.
And perhaps—
Never return.
Elsewhere—The Iron Warriors
Perturabo stood with arms crossed, watching reports scroll across his command display.
"Deploy orbital bombardment," he ordered coldly.
"Target all identified warp-tainted systems."
His mood had shifted.
Action.
Structure.
Control.
That was where he belonged.
The alliance formed in Olympia held firm.
The Iron Warriors, Word Bearers, and Thousand Sons exchanged knowledge and strength.
Weapons for doctrine.
Doctrine for insight.
Insight for power.
Perturabo had seen the truth of the Warp.
And he had made a decision.
If the Warp bred monsters—
Then he would become the force that broke them.
Far Beyond — Terra
The Emperor observed.
Plans within plans.
Possibilities branching endlessly.
The Great Crusade slowed… slightly.
Not enough to be noticed.
But enough to matter.
There was still much to prepare.
And one thought lingered—
Erebus…
A tool.
A problem.
Perhaps both.
Olympia — Cathedral Hall
Calliphone knelt before the Emperor's statue.
"…Forgive me," she whispered. "For thoughts unworthy of Your design."
She hesitated.
Then continued.
"…But I still wish… to walk beside him."
Silence filled the chamber.
Then—
Something answered.
Not in words.
Not in sound.
But in the presence.
Calliphone's breath caught.
"…My lord?"
The air shimmered faintly.
A will touched hers.
Distant.
Vast.
Your devotion is noted.
Her heart pounded.
But all things demand a price.
Calliphone bowed her head.
"…I accept."
Aboard the Conqueror
The fleet is prepared to enter the Warp once more.
Lorgar sat calmly, sipping from a cup.
"Brother Angron," he said mildly, "you seem… improved."
Angron scratched his head awkwardly.
"…Less noise."
Then he stood, grabbed a ration, and moved—deliberately—away from Lorgar.
Erebus said nothing.
But his expression suggested amusement.
Lorgar's smile twitched slightly.
Khârn approached, saluting.
"Translation into the Warp imminent."
He paused.
Then glanced at Lorgar.
"…No offerings this time?"
Lorgar's expression stiffened.
"…No."
Khârn nodded.
And left.
Magnus stood apart, gaze distant.
His thoughts lingered on Terra.
On his sons.
Responsibilities are waiting.
He sighed.
"…Perhaps," he muttered, "they have already completed everything."
Erebus glanced at him.
"…Optimistic."
Command Deck
Perturabo stood alone.
The Warp translation began.
Reality bent.
Stars stretched.
He exhaled slowly.
Peace, at last.
Then—
"Lord Perturabo!"
He turned.
Barabas Dantioch approached, expression troubled.
"What is it?"
Dantioch hesitated.
"…Erebus."
Perturabo's eye twitched.
"…What about him?"
"He has recruited several… notable figures."
A pause.
"…Including members of your household."
Silence.
Absolute.
"…Explain."
Dantioch swallowed.
"…Your father's retainers. And two of your sworn kin."
Something in Perturabo snapped.
Not loudly.
Not violently.
But completely.
"Erebus."
The name was a growl.
"EREBUS!"
The chamber trembled.
"Get back here!"
Far away—
Somewhere aboard the fleet—
Erebus paused mid-step.
Then smiled.
"…Ah."
End of Chapter
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