The Overlords were driven back to the mountains. The sacrifices were fewer than Mortarion had anticipated.
But Mortarion did not relax. He gripped his weapon and approached the other being.
"I am Mortarion. Thank you for your assistance."
He asked tentatively, "Are you also human?"
"My name is Nareth." The Primarch had already keenly sensed that the surrounding toxic fumes were not particularly thick.
He knew the toxic threat varied across different regions of this feral world.
In the valleys and lowland plains where humans lived, they could survive most of the time, even before Mortarion made filters for them.
Just like humans on industrial worlds, generations of living there led to adaptive evolution. Ordinary humans from other worlds would, without protection, mostly die within a short time in such an environment.
The truly dangerous areas were the mountainous regions inhabited by the xenos Overlords. Moreover, the higher one climbed, the thicker and more toxic the mists became.
At the highest peaks, even Mortarion, a Primarch raised in this environment, would be affected even while wearing a filter.
His ultimate failure to defeat Necare was partly due to being weakened by the toxins.
Nareth commanded the living metal to recede.
The inhaled toxins caused a momentary sourness in his mouth and nose, but it quickly normalized.
The people of Barbarus, seeing he was unaffected, as if born to Barbarus, stared in amazement.
Nareth noted that the wariness in Mortarion's eyes faded, but was replaced by a hint of worry.
'Mortarion's reaction is exactly as I thought,' Nareth mused inwardly.
'Mortarion sees himself as the savior of the Barbarans, viewing the slaying of every Overlord as his personal mission.'
'He would not welcome a new powerful figure, as I could threaten the completion of his mission.'
"I am an outsider, wishing to make a trade with you."
Hearing this, Mortarion relaxed slightly, asking with confusion, "A trade? What do you want?"
The outsider's weapons, the flying metal vehicle, all were things beyond Mortarion's imagination.
The Barbarans had only crude weapons and farming tools. He didn't know what could possibly interest the other party.
"I need flora and fauna from Barbarus," Nareth stated. Barbarus's lifeforms survived in toxic environments.
Most were highly poisonous, while others possessed strong resistance to toxins.
These toxic substances would be useful for the "Apothecary," the "Biologist," even the "Potions Professor." There might even be potion ingredients.
"I also want the heads of the Overlords. I am quite interested in them."
"In return, I will provide you with food, refined weapons, and more resilient armor."
"I can also provide you with better filtration devices, even customized improvements based on the specific toxic conditions in the mountains."
"Of course, you would need to collect the mountain toxins yourselves," Nareth said with a smile.
'Mortarion won't refuse such a trade. With food, Mortarion can gather more followers and feed them.'
'Equipped by me, the Barbarans can clear out the Overlords faster. I'm exchanging common gear for potion ingredients and local flora/fauna, a fair trade.'
'The enemies are killed by Mortarion. He fulfills his mission as desired. I can accomplish the Emperor's task without becoming the scapegoat or the target of his hatred.'
As Nareth pondered, Mortarion fell into quiet contemplation.
Calas Typhon, having finished arranging other matters, approached and heard the outsider's proposed trade.
His eyes lit up. He quickened his pace, walking to Mortarion's side.
"His terms are quite favorable."
"I agree to your trade. Typhon will act as the representative to negotiate the details," Mortarion stated. He had no reason to refuse the outsider's offer.
Nareth promptly gave orders for Arsena to dispatch a transport vessel.
Two hours later, the Barbarans gazed skyward as a black behemoth slowly descended.
Servitors wearing respirators unloaded crates.
The first brave Barbaran drank the nutrient gruel, achieving the feat of feeling full for the first time in his life.
The food generously advanced by Nareth caused the skeptical Barbarans to cheer and accept the trade.
Mortarion took the food to the surrounding human settlements.
Within a few short days, his rebellion army swelled several times over.
Liberated from the constraints of the barren land, able to support more people, Mortarion recruited followers without restraint.
Marlena arrived on Barbarus, excitedly taking charge of the crates of toxins delivered by the Barbarans.
On the fourteenth day of Nareth's arrival on Barbarus, Marlena, standing beside him, excitedly reported in Vostroyan.
"To date, we have obtained one hundred and forty species of flora and fauna through trade, totaling over seventy thousand two hundred specimens."
Nareth nodded slightly. Combined with the forty-seven Overlord heads he had already moved to the Kingdom of Disorder, this trip to Barbarus was not in vain.
His gaze shifted to the distance. Typhon led over a hundred Barbarans wearing gas masks and grey armor into the camp amidst cheers.
The gas masks were stock intended for Legion serfs and crew, temporarily allocated and traded to the Barbarans.
The grey armor was forged on the Shadow's Sovereignty's fabrication decks specifically to counter the toxic claws and vicious bites of the Overlords' shamblers.
Nareth's gaze passed over them, landing on a metal cart.
He saw within it a crimson, vine-like plant, its stems densely covered with hooked thorns.
On some of these thorns hung pieces of grey armor; others held bloody flesh.
'Sequence 6 "Rose Bishop" primary material: Flesh Rose.'
'An unexpected harvest.'
Nareth's gaze then swept over the Barbarans, noticing over a dozen of them had damaged armor on their arms and elsewhere, as if torn by something.
A few others were carried on the shoulders of fellow Barbarans. Their ashen skin was flushed red, as if burning.
They were unconscious, their bodies trembling slightly at times.
"Marlena, administer antidotes to them."
Marlena immediately walked over. Nareth had forbidden her from using psychic powers on Barbarus, but even without biomancy, creating antidotes was not difficult for a "Biologist."
Nareth approached Typhon, saying:
"I am very interested in these plants. I am willing to pay with one hundred scythes forged from fine steel."
Typhon's somber face immediately lit up with joy.
"Thank you for your generosity."
"I need more. The more, the better," Nareth added. Seeing Typhon hesitate, he continued, "I will additionally provide antidotes and protective gloves for harvesting."
"Of course," Typhon agreed. Just then, the camp erupted in cheers again.
The thunderous cheers were even louder than when Typhon had entered.
Mortarion, clad in grey armor, strode into the camp.
His heavy armor emitted weighty sounds with each step.
Over a dozen children, shackled with chains, were driven into the camp by grey-armored warriors, their faces filled with terror.
The Barbarans in the camp stared at them, momentarily stunned, then began to curse angrily.
A stout Barbaran woman threw the half-polished object in her hand with force.
The wooden object, already taking the shape of a cup, struck a boy squarely on the head.
"Witch-spawn! Drop dead!"
In the eyes of most Barbarans, flames of hatred burned.
Because the Overlords who had enslaved them for generations used psychic powers, in the hearts of the Barbarans, all who practiced witchcraft deserved death.
These children brought back were all psykers.
However, not everyone felt this way.
The Primarch keenly observed that only Typhon and the dozen or so closest to him looked upon the returned children without hatred.
Nareth's gaze finally settled on the chain looped around the little finger of Mortarion's right hand.
The other end of the chain was tightly locked around a boy's neck.
The boy struggled desperately but to no avail.
With every step Mortarion took, the boy was yanked into the air.
He stumbled and crashed to the ground, over and over.
The Primarch studied the child and immediately understood why Mortarion was dragging him separately.
Not only was his gaze resolute, not begging for mercy like the other children, but he also possessed a powerful psychic talent.
The psychically-driven power he wielded instinctively was stronger than that of the other children.
Where he passed, the surrounding Barbarans instinctively gave way.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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