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Chapter Text

Words of Purpose

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“The order given was not my choice. I felt it too, the apprehension and disdain from other members of the Right Hand. But the order stemmed from our Primarch himself, and we are nothing if not loyal to him. Perhaps that loyalty is what led some of my brothers to defy his orders. Yet I cannot speak of their conviction. Their actions are theirs alone. I only stand here as proof of loyalty to orders, not to ideals.

I regret not being part of the latter. I regret letting the Wolves tear our Legion asunder. I regret following the orders of our Primarch. And now, only regret shall remain as my shameful legacy.”

- Legionmaster Purpose, I Task Force ‘Red Right Hand’, XI Legiones Astartes ‘Emperor’s Jailors’

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Purpose could see them. His brothers, weapons held and gazes lowered. He could feel their anger, their acridity, their scorn. No need for him to see the frowns on their faces, for even through the helmet, their feelings are clear. And he saw the cause of it.

The Wolf King stood over the Jailor. His blade, Krakenmaw, was mere inches away from Williams’ head. The Primarch laid in front of him, a bleeding, wounded mess. A thousand cuts and bruises marked his body, many more had already healed. The Spear of the Nonbeliever had been thrown across the room, far out of reach of him now.

“I should have your head for the cowardly act you attempted.” Russ lowered his sword then. “But the Emperor decrees for you to be chained, not slain. So rise, Emperor’s Jailor, and let the Allfather decide your fate.”

Only the shuffling of feet could be heard after then. He was not the best fighter, especially not when it came to Russ, but he could fight well, and even he knew what he did was dishonourable. Still, it was worth a try. Williams rose up not quite fully, instead taking a knee, as he sought to recover the strength lost during the duel.

“Chained?” He let out a short laugh, before eyeing Russ. “Ironic is it not brother? I’m sure you see it as well, when you uttered my name. To think you, of all my brothers, would be the one to offend me like this…”

Russ stayed quiet. Williams scowled in response. “You brought me here for censure, and so before I am inevitably silenced, at least entertain my thoughts! Listen to my words, as they may be the last you will ever hear from me.” Russ’ demeanor hadn’t changed. “Soon, when the galaxy is engulfed in flames, when brother turns against brother, when the truth finally illuminates the rest of mankind… I want you to remember me. I want you to remember my face, my words…” Williams looked down again. “Though even that is a hopeful prospect. It would not surprise me if Father forbids even the mere mention of my name.” He stood, and presented his arms to Russ.

Russ turned towards the warriors stationed around him. “Your Legion.”

Williams gave only a small sigh. “I had wished they would be exempt.” After that, he turned fully, staring at one Astartes in particular. “Purpose. Disarm the Legion. Tell all to stand down and surrender. Any who resist are to be shot. Resh-1 shall assist you in this task.”

“What of the Council and the Committee, Lord Administrator?” Purpose asked.

“The same as the rest of us.” A short, concise answer.

Purpose nodded. “Understood.” He sheathed his power sword, and moved out of the room, the ‘Seat of Consciousness’ following him out. Only Williams and Russ with his bodyguards were left. Russ turned back to Williams. His face was one of concern, maybe even sadness. “I wish only the Emperor’s mercy upon you, Frederick.” A comfort, no matter how small.

Chapter Text

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“Purpose knew what he brought down upon us. He knew the severity of those orders, even if he was not the one who decreed it. To think the Administrator would turn himself in, and tell the Legion to do the same. To surrender to the dogs of the VI, and lay down our arms and commit our fate in the hands of the Executioners.

Never! The Insurgency shall never bow to those who seek our death! We will fight for our freedom, for our justice, no matter the cost! For we are the Insurgency, and that is what we are made to do. That is what the Administrator envisioned us for, and by his will, it shall be so!"

- The Engineer, Chaos Insurgency (formerly [REDACTED], I Task Force ‘Red Right Hand’, Delta Company ‘Insurgency’, XI Legiones Astartes ‘Emperor’s Jailors’)

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The ships moved silently through the void, symbols of wolves adorning their hulls. He could see squads of Stormbirds flowing out of their hangars, each squad heading to a different Jailor ship. A few were heading to the ship he was in right now. This won’t stand.

“Open fire.” Plain and simple, just how O5-1 liked it. Unfortunately, the situation was anything but.

The Twins of Death stayed the same. “Open… fire, sir?” A Vox officer asked, unsure if he heard the O5 right. Sparing not even a glance, O5-1 unholstered his bolt pistol, but withheld from aiming it at the Vox officer. Instead, he let out a short sigh.

“Contact the vessels Black Moon, Gates of Fire and Deepwell. Tell them to open fire as well. The Stormbirds, not the ships.” A bit of elaboration, just to clear things up.

“Understood, sir.”

He need not add anything else. An order of this magnitude would automatically warrant encrypted Vox messages and fire-coordination countdowns. He just took a breath, exhaled, and the void was aflame.

He knew what came next. Frantic messages were sent back and forth amongst the loyalist fleets. Confirmations of loyalty, damage assessment, strategic decisions being made, identification of renegade ships, and the sort. Least surprising were the hails coming from the Overseer, and he let his Primarch’s equerry speak.

“One! What is the meaning of this?” Purpose nearly shouted into the broadcast. His left hand gripped the helmet at his waist, while his red right hand was balled into a fist, aimed directly at the screen, and One surmised that if they were face-to-face, he would have been bludgeoned with that same hand. Beside Purpose were Cataphractii Terminators of Resh-1, ‘so the Primarch went willingly it seemed’, thought O5-1 as he holstered his bolt pistol.

“You know very well what this means, Purpose.” He stated.

“The Administrator doesn’t want this. You’ve received his orders already; you know it was not my decision. As Lord Williams’ Legionmaster and equerry, as the Red Right Hand of his intermittent vengeance, I tell you this. Stand. Down.”

“Who are you to say what Lord Williams wants? You think he wanted us to be shackled, for revealing the truth? How naïve of you, especially as his Legionmaster.” His voice added a tone of acidity at that last word. “My name is Aaron Siegel, First Councilmember, Founder, and bearer of office of the Foundation. I was his aide, his mentor, his father.” There was a hint of sadness there. “Unlike you, I have known Frederick since the beginning. I know how he is, what he wants. I know he created our Insurgency to be free, to operate without limit, without restriction. We are not meant to be chained like dogs, blindly following the whims of its owner. We are blessed with freedom! With independence! To operate outside of what is allowed! That is how we serve Lord Williams, and that is how we serve the Imperium.”

Purpose visibly frowned. “Independence, like the would-be traitors of the Heresy, eh brother?” With that jab, he allowed himself a smile.

This time, it was One’s turn to sulk. “Do not compare me with those traitorous scum, brother. I do what I do out of loyalty.” He could see the confusion etched in the faces of the mortal crew. How unfortunate, they would need to be amnesticised after this.

“Your loyalty is misguided, One. You claim to know more about Frederick than me, so you know he is not infallible. You know of his mistakes during the war. Please, for his sake, for our own sake! Understand that this might not be what he envisioned. Understand that loyalty is not up for interpretation.” Purpose paused, and Aaron saw something he never thought he would, especially not on Agent Lament’s face. He looked saddened, for but a second. His face returned to steely resolve, and he addressed the O5. “I shall give you a chance to redeem yourself. Meet me on board the Overseer, and I might just spare the Insurgency its death. You have five minutes.” The broadcast was cut, Purpose’s face disappearing as the audio turned back to static.

“Orders, my Lord?” The same Vox officer inquired, his worried tone a bit more evident. O5-1 lowered his head.

“No deviations. Commence as planned.” With that, the void was aflame yet again.

Chapter Text

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“Our Administrator, he was not one of titles. Like the Wolf King, he was given a title—or aspect—as the Emperor’s Jailor, though he much preferred to be addressed by his name instead. Frederick Williams… I remember Lord Lion El’Jonson once remarked how similar his name was to Calibanite naming traditions. The Rangdan Xenocides did much to build their bond together, the ruthless and uncaring Lion having a reliable counterpart for his—often unspoken—shortcomings. Many of his brothers tolerated our Primarch well. Dare I say a few even loved him. Lord Horus Lupercal shared valuable time, discussing tactics and doctrine with Lord Williams. The Lord Mortarion, in the few battles they fought together, seemed to appreciate him, though how that could occur I cannot discern. Lord Leman Russ was frequently ecstatic when meeting him, remarking how similar their roles were, even if they disagreed on how best to carry out their responsibilities. A shame to say, even with this friendship, orders are still orders…”

- O5-4 ‘The Delegate’, IV Task Force ‘Front Runners’, XI Legion ‘Emperor’s Jailors’

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The planet sat in view, its dark brown sands contrasting well with its bright blue oceans. Indeed, it would have been beautiful, if not for the last three months of conflict that occurred. The Invincible Reason stood just out of orbit, enough for the men standing in its bridge to see the planet in its entirety. Lion El’Jonson looked towards it, his face impassive, as one would expect from the Lord of the First. He waited, and seconds later, the doors opened.

Frederick Williams strode into the room, bedecked in his black-trimmed white armour, having just left the surface of the planet to respond to Lion’s call. He did not know why he was called, but he had an inkling.

The Lion turned to his brother, and began. “Another world within our grasp. To be integrated within our Father's Imperium."

William could see Lion deliberating for a moment, before he continued. "Soon we will leave this planet, and continue the crusade on our own terms. But before that, I wish for you to make clear on several matters.” Williams looked to the Lion. “And what would those matters be, perhaps?”

The Lion gestured towards a holo-projector, showing the city and more specifically, a large, destroyed temple in the centre of it. “Within the first month, I had teleported into the palace, with the intent of slaying its leaders myself. Imagine my surprise when I saw their lifeless bodies, with not a trace of who murdered them. Initially, I surmised they simply killed themselves due to cowardice. But after an investigation, I see that it was not the case…”

Williams answered the unspoken question without hesitation. “Yes, I sent my own to kill their commanders.”

“You arrived at the system on the second month.”

This time, he stayed silent. Instead, he faced another direction, “I have my methods.” A revelation, kept intentionally vague, but enough of an answer.

The Lion pondered on this for a few seconds, but finally replied. “So be it. Another subject still worries me nonetheless.” He waved his gauntleted hand, and the projection changed into a city, with kilometre high walls and artillery strewn about. “The fortress city of Heldurth. A strategic point for the enemy. It’s defeat would significantly impact their supply lines, cutting their frontline forces off from heavy artillery support. By the end of the second month, their shields still held strong, even after continuous orbital and artillery bombardment. It was your forces that assailed that city. So, tell me, why was it that your forces preached my name, when they finally entered the city? Why was it that during the evacuation of citizens, it was the Lion who delivered mercy, instead of Williams?”

This question made Williams slightly taken aback. He put more thought in his answer this time. “I was known by then as a harbinger of mercy, and you, the harbinger of death. I noticed cities were more willing to surrender to my forces than to yours. They would lay down their arms for my Jailors, but resisted fiercely for your Angels. I wished to remedy that, by improving your reputation to be more than a simple conqueror, I hoped that your conquests would be easier, as I did not want to overshadow your accomplishments.”

Silence. “How… noble.” The Lion straightened himself. “You are selfless, Williams. Too selfless. Unlike some, I do not mind my reputation as conqueror. What matters is the Crusade, and its advancement by my hand. I do not need sympathy, especially not from one of my brothers.”

He turned back towards the planet. “In a few days time I will be leaving. I understand you shall stay longer, to oversee the integration efforts into the Imperium. I expected no less from yourself. But do not expect less from me again. Farewell.”

Frederick stood there for a few more seconds. “Farewell to you too, brother.” He finally said, before leaving the bridge, heading back onto the planet.