The heat of the day was fading over Nocturne. The ash settled in long veils across the volcanic plains, and the men and women were driving their herds back toward the safety of their settlements before nightfall. Far off, the Deathfire mountain grumbled, still restless as ever, even after its eruption that very day. The sky above was red-stained by volcanic heat and the light of the suns.
Vulkan stood upon a high dune of blackened sand, the wind tugging at his rough, dark cloak. Beside him stood the golden warrior who had cast aside the guise of a mortal outlander. Neither said anything, only letting the events of the past days replay in their heads. The golden figure possessed a powerful, but at the same time warm presence. It was literally like the sun, which could shine and warm the Earth, or burn those who came too close.
"I am a son of a blacksmith," Vulkan said quietly, gazing out over the world, "and you..."
"What?" asked the stranger. "What am I?"
Vulkan turned to face him fully now.
"You are no mere outlander."
The heat of the day was fading on Nocturne, and the two great beings stood on a high dune looking out at a world of fire. The warrior bowed his head, acknowledging the truth of Vulkan's words. He then raised a gauntleted hand to the sun and watched the light reflect off the metal. He had shed a lie, this warrior, one meant to put the Noctumeans and their chieftain at ease.
"Am I not a man, Vulkan?" He asked.
The glow intensified, running along the edges of His plate and armour-clad body. He shone with a radiant golden light.
"You look like a king," Vulkan replied, and for the first time felt uncomfortable in the rough clothes of a blacksmith.
"I am no king," said the warrior. "But is a king not also a man?"
"Not to the vassals of his kingdom."
The warrior smiled, like a mentor who was pleased with his student. He turned to face Vulkan. His long hair got caught in the hot wind, trailing behind him like black smoke. At that moment, he looked like a statesman about to address his people. Fitting for the words that came out of his mouth.
"I am the Emperor."
"Ah," said Vulkan, and now it was his turn to smile, though faintly. "Greater than a king. And your empire is the stars?"
The Emperor followed his gaze to the blood-red sky. His expression grew solemn as he thought of something only he knew or had the strength to know. It was the look of a father who wanted to explain something to his son, but couldn't because the son wasn't ready yet. So it was his burden to carry for now.
"Not yet. There is darkness out in the void."
His eyes returned to Vulkan, colder now, burdened with knowledge of reality and the future.
"That is why I need you," he said.
His sombre mood lasted only a moment before the warmth returned.
"I need you, a blacksmith's son, to help me bring the light to this darkness that shrouds and clouds humanity."
"Light? Of creation?" Vulkan asked.
"Yes. And to be one of my generals."
Vulkan's brow furrowed, suddenly not feeling so good about where this discussion was heading.
"I am no warlord."
"And yet war has come to the galaxy. It was inevitable, Vulkan, and you shall be one of those who lead it. Mankind must emerge from Old Night and embrace the Truth."
"Your truth?" The question carried an edge, a bit of accusation, which he didn't try to lessen at all.
"The Imperial Truth. That there are no gods and that mankind's fate belongs to itself."
Vulkan looked down at his hands, flexing them slowly.
"I know only the truth of metal," he said. "How it bends beneath fire. The truth I can see. The truth of the stone beneath my feet. The people I protect. That is enough for me."
"And that," said the Emperor softly, "is why I need you."
Vulkan glanced sideways at Him.
"I still do not understand."
"You will."
The wind shifted. Volcanic ash swirled around their boots.
"And if I do not wish to leave?" Vulkan asked. "General. Warlord. Conqueror. I have never imagined a sword in my hand, nor an army at my command."
"You already lead your people. That young man, whom you call a brother, he will follow your command," the Emperor replied.
"That is different. I protect Nocturne from those who would see it harmed or enslaved. You are talking about conquest. I am a maker, not a destroyer."
"You would prefer a hammer to a sword," the Emperor asked.
"Yes." Vulkan nodded. "And an anvil against which to strike it."
The Emperor stepped slightly from the sun's light. The brilliance around him softened. For a moment, he seemed almost ordinary, a weathered traveller, perhaps a farmer or hunter who had spent long years beneath harsher suns. He seemed like anyone and no one at the same time.
"I want you to come and join me willingly," He said. "Will you allow me to convince you? I would have you see the necessity of your presence and see my cause as just."
Deathfire erupted once more in the distance, a tongue of lava licking the sky. The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet, but neither of them seemed to notice. But Vulkan then looked around, feeling the change in the atmosphere.
"The Time of Trial comes soon," he murmured, looking at Deathfire.
"It does," said the Emperor. "And the 'Time of Trial' is not for this world alone. This is a time of trial for all of mankind."
Vulkan's gaze lingered on the mountain before returning to his father. He nodded.
"Very well, convince me. If your cause is just, I will leave Nocturne and follow you. But I will ask questions."
"Ask," said the Emperor. "And I shall answer truthfully."
.
They walked along the ridge as night deepened.
"Was it a trick?" Vulkan asked at last.
"A trick?"
"Your disguise, I mean. You did not remove a mask in the traditional sense. I have never experienced such a thing. You changed... everything about yourself. Is this..." he gestured to the golden armour, "your true form?"
The Emperor regarded him with interest.
"Is identity not a matter of perception? You see... what, a gold-clad ruler? A king, you said earlier. Another might see a father. Or merely a man. Like your brother earlier. He sees something different from you, which is very interesting."
"Karesh? What did he see? Did you show him something different?" Vulkan asked.
"As I said, everyone sees something different."
"But was it a trick?"
"What does it matter?" the Emperor asked.
Seeing Vulkan's reaction, he held up his hands to show his sincerity.
"Please, I am not trying to avoid the question, but I am interested in your rationale for asking it."
"I would know the manner and design of the man who asks me to leave my home and people. I am a simple man, but do not think of me as simple-minded."
"You are neither, Vulkan," the Emperor replied, but did not elaborate, "and, yes, I suppose it was a trick of sorts. A means of determining the truth."
"Then are you a sorcerer?" Vulkan pressed. "Was it magic?"
A flicker, which was barely perceptible, crossed the Emperor's features, his mood darkening. Vulkan slightly raised his eyebrow at the sight.
"Not a sorcerer. Magic... is not real. It is ignorance," he said. "It is another word for science not yet understood. Show fire to a primitive tribe, and they call it witchcraft. Bring a starship to a world that has never harnessed steam and has yet to invent the combustion engine, and they call you a god. Superstition is the darkness of old ways and the atrocities committed in their name; that is what I wish to bring an end to."
"So you are a scientist?"
"A reductive term," the Emperor replied thoughtfully. "But not inaccurate. I have a laboratory and have accomplished much to reach this point, through experimentation and hard work."
"And war?" Vulkan asked. "You are a warrior too. That much is obvious."
"Yes, and war." His voice lowered. "I won't lie to you. There has been bloodshed, as you will come to understand, it is unavoidable at times. And there will be more. Enlightenment does not come without struggle. However regrettable, I have had failures. Some I shall never speak of."
"My brothers?" Vulkan asked quietly.
Silence. The Emperor didn't seem willing or able to tell Vulkan, and he didn't press. Silence was answer enough.
"Are they like me?"
"They are utterly unlike you," the Emperor said, and now there was unmistakable pride in his voice. "And your individuality is your greatest strength. My proudest achievement."
"Will I meet them if I agree to follow you into the stars?"
"Yes. Some I have yet to find. You will learn from them and they from you."
Vulkan glanced down at the sand accumulating around his boots. The desert was shifting again, as it usually was around this time. Soon it would swallow this ridge, and another would emerge elsewhere. Such was the way of life.
"Are they from worlds like this? Similar to Nocturne?"
"As harsh and as beautiful, you mean? Some are kings, some scholars, chieftains, some slaves... and some even blacksmiths," the Emperor's eyes settled meaningfully on Vulkan.
"And what would they think of me? Could I call them brothers and feel a bond between us?"
"You will."
The Emperor studied him closely.
"Your brothers will be great and powerful. They are beyond mankind in so many ways, as are you. They will learn to be warriors quickly, the ways of conquest and liberation. Leading armies, inspiring the lesser men around them to greatness, will be second nature to them, as it will to you. But your lesson, Vulkan, is the most crucial, however, and you are uniquely disposed to teach it."
The Emperor put a fatherly hand on Vulkan's shoulder.
"What lesson?" Vulkan asked.
The Emperor placed a hand upon Vulkan's shoulder—firm, paternal.
"Humanity."
They stood in silence as the wind rose and Deathfire's rumbling explosion heated the air. At last, Vulkan spoke.
"If I find your cause wanting, I will not follow."
"I would expect nothing less."
"I will speak with Karesh about this," Vulkan said.
The Emperor looked at his son with an interested expression. He searched Vulkan's face and his feelings for the answer to his questions. And who knows what else he did.
"You are truly close."
"Yes. He is my brother. He was there when I first ventured outside the home, and was met with disbelief and suspicion. Karesh never looked at me differently, as if he couldn't see a difference at all. He adopted me as his friend without me agreeing to it, which, looking back at it now, was quite humorous."
"He doesn't bother with appearances. I noticed."
"Yes. It must be this trait of his that allowed him to peek underneath your... 'trick' and see you for who you truly are."
"He has a strong mind, your brother. I can sense it. His ability to see the truth behind lies and illusions is a gift more precious than most realise. Especially in this galaxy. It is rare to have such a friend and brother, Vulkan. Treasure it."
"I do."
Vulkan left his father and walked over to where Karesh had been waiting and observing the golden warriors. A single look told Karesh that these were warriors, unbreakable, unyielding bringers of death. Their presence felt suffocating to his senses, and the longer he looked, the more he was sure of this fact.
They stood at over 9 feet tall, at least with the armour, so he guessed they were roughly 9 feet without it. They hadn't moved since the golden outworlder had told them to stay, but the way they moved before that already told and taught Karesh a lot. Such smoothness and precision, despite the weight of the armour. No wasted movement, no wasted energy... truly impressive. Especially the one that was a bit taller and had a stronger presence than the others.
The golden warrior turned his head around and looked at Karesh.
For a short moment, Karesh felt his instincts scream, no roar at him to step back and fight. But he fought that instinct, and even kept his eyes on the 'banana boy'. He didn't know it then, but the way he looked and acted was duly noted by these warriors. Not taken as an affront, but the fact that he was taken notice of... a mortal such as him, already spoke a lot.
"Brother," Vulkan said as he approached.
"Yes?"
"I spoke to him, my father, I mean."
"And when will we leave?" Karesh asked.
"I was going to talk with you about this first."
"We both know that you are a man of your word and honour. And that man--"
"The Emperor," one of the golden men said. "You will show respect... mortal."
Karesh felt a knife at his throat, but didn't back down. He only nodded his head, understanding that the pride of the warrior in front of him was large, and he should indeed offer the powerful stranger the proper respect.
"The Emperor knew your character, Vulkan. Besides, we both know that you can't stay here, while an untold number of humans suffer under similar conditions as Nocturne."
Vulkan thought about it and then nodded. Karesh was right; he couldn't help it.
Vulkan's only reservation on departing Nocturne was that he would not leave its people undefended, but in this the Emperor countered that Vulkan's duty was not simply to one Human world but to many worlds that knew the terror of the darkness and the feasting of alien horrors uncounted as Nocturne had, and that Nocturne itself as the homeworld of a Primarch would forever be secured by his gene-sons, the XVIIIth Legion which bore his blood.
Karesh also promised to keep watch over Nocturne until reinforcements arrived, after which he could follow his brother to the front lines.