V3 Chapter 122: You Will Be Crowned Warmaster of the Expeditionary Force
"You're sure you're going back?" Duvette sat beside Guilliman's desk, a snake-fruit he'd just bitten into in his hand.
Fresh fruit like this, grown on an agri-world, was a rare luxury on Terra. The mere fact it had made it into the Tower of Hegemony at all was proof enough of just how many rigorous transport and inspection procedures it must have passed through.
Guilliman didn't look up, still working through the pile of administrative business in front of him.
Several data panels hung suspended in his field of view, one after another, recording fleet redeployments, the handover of High Lord seats, and the staffing gaps left behind once each department finished its own purge.
Duvette couldn't tell if it was just his imagination, but Guilliman seemed a great deal more worn down now than he had been when he'd first arrived on Terra.
Made sense enough, though, thinking about it. This entire steaming pile of an Imperium — roughly on par with something the Warp itself had excreted — was probably something only Guilliman could actually stomach swallowing whole.
"Someone has to deal with Mortarion's threat eventually." Guilliman finished a deployment order, and opened the next battle report from Ultramar. "The Death Guard have already triggered several plague outbreaks along the edges of the Five Hundred Worlds. They're preparing for something on a much larger scale."
He left his own seal at the bottom of the document, his tone still level. "I have to go back and face my brother myself. In this entire Imperium, I'm the only one who can stand against him on an open battlefield."
Duvette took another bite of the snake-fruit in his hand, and found his mind drifting to what had happened in the original timeline.
Guilliman had once been driven to the brink of death by the Great Unclean One's Plague Prime, unleashed by Mortarion. In the end, it had taken the old man on the Golden Throne himself stepping in to turn the tide back.
With the Great Rift not yet open now, Mortarion projecting Nurgle's power into realspace should prove far harder than it had in the original timeline.
But the changes rippling through the Imperium now had grown large enough that Duvette couldn't guarantee that war would still unfold anything like the version he remembered.
"But someone needs to hold Terra down too." Duvette finished, and popped the remaining core straight into his mouth, swallowing it whole. Fresh fruit was simply too precious; wasting even a scrap of it felt like a shame to him.
Guilliman's hand stopped what it was doing. He raised his head, looking at Duvette beside the desk, seeming to genuinely weigh the question for a moment. "Are you asking me to send you to face my brother?"
I never said that. Don't put words in my mouth.
Duvette answered at once, silently, in his own head, his face staying perfectly calm all the while.
Right now, all he wanted was a bit more rest. Even trailing after Inspectorate personnel arresting people all day, every day, was still easier than facing down a Daemon Primarch head-on.
"I have another use for you." Guilliman looked at him and went on. "This Crusade will be built around two main fleets. I'll personally lead the First Expeditionary Fleet back to Ultramar. The Second Expeditionary Fleet, I'm giving to you."
Duvette slowly lowered the hand he'd been reaching out for a second snake-fruit with. He'd only meant to remind Guilliman to get Terra's affairs in order, and somehow, in the span of a few sentences, he'd walked away with an entire expeditionary fleet of his own.
"Once the fleet finishes assembling, I'll formally grant you the title of Warmaster of the Expeditionary Force." Guilliman called up a galactic star map, projecting a route already planned out before the two of them. "You'll advance along this route toward the Sabbat Worlds sector, clearing out Chaos forces along the way, and reclaiming Imperial worlds that have already gone dark."
Warmaster. Duvette repeated the title to himself, and immediately felt a small chill of superstition at the word.
The most famous Warmaster in the entire history of the Imperium had left that title carrying far too much weight, and after everything he'd been through with Marshal Slaydo, the word left him more than a little uneasy regardless.
In the end, though, Duvette nodded. "Fine."
The Sabbat Worlds sector wasn't unfamiliar territory to him. Plenty of old acquaintances were still out there — including one particular Warmaster currently leading an expeditionary force of his own.
That thought brought Duvette up short on another question entirely: could an Imperium actually have two Warmasters at once?
Guilliman seemed to guess what he was turning over, but offered no explanation about the title or how the war-zone authority would actually divide up.
"Admiral Villent will serve as the Second Expeditionary Fleet's supreme naval commander. He'll handle fleet navigation and void combat. You'll handle the Crusade's overall strategic deployment, and coordination between the different branches of service."
Hearing that name set Duvette a little more at ease.
Villent had never once given him an opening at the chessboard. Handing an entire fleet to a man like that meant, at the very least, he wouldn't have to worry about some rookie mistake in void combat.
And besides, Duvette had personally recommended him for the captaincy of the Conqueror, that Gloriana-class battleship — the man owed him a favour or two by now, at least, which would only make things easier to coordinate down the line.
"As for Terra, I've already had Tyrion assist with reorganising the administrative structure. The Council of High Lords will continue managing the Imperium's day-to-day governance, the Custodians will handle the Palace and Terra's security, and Slaydo will take over the Astra Militarum's supreme command structure once he returns."
Guilliman picked the data panel he'd set down back up. "Once Mortarion's threat is dealt with, I'll return to Terra and continue setting the Imperium's other war zones in order."
Duvette nodded, though his mind drifted once more to that plague war, still yet to come.
With the Great Rift not yet manifest, the Warp power Mortarion could draw on would stay limited, and with Guilliman already forewarned about his moves, things probably wouldn't escalate all the way to a god's own descent this time.
And even if things did somehow reach the worst possible outcome, the one seated on the Golden Throne surely wouldn't just watch Guilliman die.
That thought eased Duvette's mind a little, though he didn't say any of it out loud.
"Just the two expeditionary fleets?" Duvette asked, the question occurring to him suddenly.
This was a far cry from the Indomitus Crusade as he remembered it. The original Indomitus Crusade had fielded a huge number of main fleets, gathering up nearly every mobile reserve the Imperium could spare at the time.
Those massive fleet groups had been split into different battle groups, advancing across the galaxy all at once. Right now, with only two main fleets, the scale was clearly a good deal smaller.
"Only two main fleets, for now." Guilliman said. "I'll issue a mustering order to every fleet capable of responding, but any fleet currently defending a critical world, or already caught up in active fighting, has to remain in its own sector."
"Forces from the Solar Domain and the surrounding region will complete the first phase of mustering within three months. Fleets too far out will make for designated rally points, and join us over the course of the campaign itself."
Made sense, Duvette thought, and nodded. This arrangement was a good deal more sensible than stripping every local defence line bare all at once — at the very least, worlds already under assault from Xenos or Chaos wouldn't suddenly lose the protection sitting in their own orbit.
"Beyond that, I'll also be forming the Torchbearer Fleets." Guilliman went on. "They'll travel to each Astartes Chapter individually, as small dedicated task forces, delivering Primaris warriors, new equipment, and gene-modification apparatus, and ensuring the technology Cawl holds reaches its destination safely."
He raised a hand, calling up another organisational roster. "The great majority of the remaining Primaris Space Marines will be enrolled temporarily as the Unnumbered Sons, and committed to battle alongside the two expeditionary fleets. Once the situation stabilises, they'll be folded gradually into existing Chapters, and some of them will form new Chapters of their own."
"I'll assign a portion of the Unnumbered Sons to the Second Expeditionary Fleet. They'll fall under your strategic command for the duration of the Crusade, though the actual fighting will remain under their own Astartes officers."
Duvette watched the unit designations keep piling up on the list, and finally began to grasp, with real clarity, just what kind of fleet he was about to take command of.
The Imperial Navy, the Astra Militarum, the Machine Cult, and the Primaris Space Marines would all be part of it. Whatever else this Warmaster title meant, it clearly wasn't going to involve just sitting on a flagship waiting for reports to come in.
"So how much time do I actually get to rest?" Duvette asked.
Guilliman went back to working through the business on his desk, and the room fell quiet except for the faint sound of data panels being flipped through.
Duvette waited a while, and started to suspect Guilliman meant to just let the question drop entirely.
"Three months." Guilliman answered without even lifting his head, then sent off a fleet deployment plan he'd only just finished.
"I'll be planning every detail myself."
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