World 33-89.
After the Fourth Legion's landing force—primarily composed of Horus-loyalists—braved the planetary siege to establish a beachhead, the transport craft and landing ships of both the Sixteenth and Fourth Legions began their descent.
With the landing zones secured, the heavy artillery, armor, and specialized munitions previously held in orbit were ferried down to the surface, placing devastating firepower into the hands of the Iron Warriors.
Once temporary fortifications were constructed and reinforced by heavy weaponry, the conflict shifted into trench warfare—the very specialty of the Fourth Legion. Under the cover of reinforced ramparts and thunderous artillery barrages, the battered Iron Warriors successfully repelled the subsequent Ork counterattacks. The open ground before their positions became a graveyard, piled high with the green-skinned corpses of those claimed by heavy shells and small-arms fire.
As larger detachments of the Luna Wolves and Iron Warriors arrived via Stormbirds and Thunderhawks, the cunning Orks realized the scales of war had tipped against them. The xenos chose to abandon their siege of the landing zones and retreated into the wilderness.
The Ork withdrawal provided the Iron Warriors a momentary respite, allowing them to accelerate the fortification of their perimeters. Meanwhile, vast numbers of Luna Wolves and additional Iron Warrior companies touched down across the world.
Most significantly, the two Primarchs, Horus and Perturabo, arrived on the surface aboard their respective Stormbirds. This signaled the end of the void-war phase; the conflict had transitioned into a conventional planetary campaign.
However, before finishing the Orks, Perturabo Rurik Kislevsky—the Supreme Tsar and Autocrat of all Kislev—had to deal with the last remaining thorns in his Legion. Without resolving this, he could not focus entirely on the xenos threat.
Fourth Legion Command Center, Planetary Surface.
"My Lord, though we were besieged by xenos and suffered catastrophic losses, we did not abandon our positions."
"We have not failed you, nor have we brought shame upon your name, My Lord."
Perturabo sat high upon his throne, looking down at the Iron Warrior commanders kneeling before him. These were the Horus-loyalist officers who had led the first wave of the drop. Now, they were reporting their service to their gene-father and sovereign.
"Very well. You have indeed not disappointed me. You, who held a misplaced love and loyalty for Horus, have now proven your devotion to me with your own blood."
Perturabo nodded slightly from his throne, his voice slow and measured.
"My Lord, we have always been loyal to you!"
The Horus-loyalist officers broke into a clamor at Perturabo's blunt assessment. One officer stood up to defend his brothers.
"Hmph. Do not bother with excuses. I know that in your hearts, Horus—who led you before my return to the Imperium—holds a more significant place than I do."
"I am an autocratic monarch of Kislev. I cannot tolerate such behavior. Had it not been for the intercession of Forrix, my First Captain, I might have chosen decimation for you all."
"But at his urging, I chose to send you to the frontlines to face the xenos. In this way, the die-hards have been consumed, and your current numbers as survivors are too few to cause any meaningful disruption."
Hearing the officers' attempts to defend themselves, Perturabo dropped all pretense and told them the naked truth.
"My Lord... you... you sent us to die on purpose?!"
Shock and fury flashed across the faces of the Horus-loyalist officers. Several found the courage to ask him directly.
"Yes, and no. I merely sent you to the most violent front to engage the strongest Ork forces. Compared to being decimated by my own hand, this was a far more honorable end. Those who fell on the battlefield will still be recognized as martyrs of the Imperium and warriors worthy of remembrance."
"But from this day forward, you must renounce that excessive affection and worship you hold for Horus. You will give your love and loyalty entirely to me, your gene-father. Only I, your true genetic father, am worthy of such devotion."
"If you cannot do this, I will not hesitate to form you into penal battalions to be spent on the battlefield."
Perturabo's reply was direct, devoid of any attempt to soften the blow.
The officers remained in a state of shock and anger for a moment, but soon, some realized that Perturabo had indeed chosen a path that allowed both sides to survive.
One officer was the first to drop to a knee. Seeing this, the other Horus-loyalist commanders understood Perturabo's intent and followed suit. One by one, every officer in the room knelt before their gene-father in submission.
"My Lord, my gene-father, from this day forth, I pledge my loyalty to you as I do to the Master of Mankind. Until death."
The former Horus-loyalists spoke in unison to the Iron Tsar. They had finally submitted to the Tsar—not just because he was their father, but because they had witnessed his cold, calculated methods.
"Excellent. Excellent."
"Then, from this day forth, you are truly Iron Warriors. My Iron Warriors."
A look of immense satisfaction crossed Perturabo's face as he surveyed the kneeling ranks.
"Iron within, iron without."
"From iron cometh strength. From strength cometh honor. From honor cometh duty. From duty cometh iron."
Perturabo spoke these words slowly. They were a gift to his sons, and they were his own creed.
"Now, rise, my Iron Warriors," he said.