Imperial Year 2515, May. New World. Lustria, Lustria Isthmus, Constantinople (formerly Raider's Port). The Ashen Legion's luxurious stables (exclusive for Elven warhorses).
Julius-Koumani-Anteri-de-Winfert, the heir apparent to the Duchy of Winfert, son of Duke François, and elder brother of Queen Sulia, woke up to the humid morning air of Lustria.
Once a Grail Knight on a holy quest, Julius now served as the commander of the Ashen Legion's cavalry forces. His reputation was well-earned: a fearless, tenacious warrior with exceptional leadership and tactical skills. In the dangerous and mysterious jungles of Lustria, his exploits had earned him the title of "Crusader Knight Julius."
Fulgrim, the Primarch of the Ashen Legion, had taken a particular interest in this relative of his by marriage. Julius had been included in several major campaigns under Fulgrim's command, where the Primarch personally imparted his vast knowledge and experience. However, Fulgrim had not yet allowed Julius to join his elite Phoenix Guard. His reason? "It's not time yet." (In reality, Fulgrim had no spare gene-seeds left.)
This left Julius feeling somewhat frustrated.
But his frustration didn't end there.
Julius had hoped that his numerous achievements—countless slain Skaven warlords, Greenskin shamans, and undead pirate captains—would earn him a more prestigious role. At the very least, he thought, he deserved a command position that matched his contributions.
Instead, when the battles were over, Julius found himself back in the Ashen Legion's stables, tasked with tending to the high-maintenance Elven warhorses.
Through Julius's painstaking efforts, two of the purebred Elven warhorses that Fulgrim had acquired from an Arabian gold mage had finally bred, producing several foals. However, the ordeal had been far from glamorous—Julius had to assist during the mating process, physically pushing the reluctant stallion into position.
To make matters worse, the entire family of warhorses had since bonded exclusively with Julius. They refused to let any other stable hands near them, often charging intruders or kicking them away. While Elven warhorses were too intelligent to accidentally kill someone with a single kick, their precision was such that their blows caused excruciating pain without fatal injuries.
Thus, Julius remained their sole caretaker.
Resigned to his role, Julius rose from bed, freshened up, and donned his dirt-resistant stable attire. After a simple breakfast, he carried two buckets of water and fresh milk to the stables to begin his day's work.
As soon as the warhorses saw him, they neighed enthusiastically, nudging his face and neck affectionately before diving into their breakfast. Two of the horses even lifted their hooves, placing them in front of Julius as if to say, "Time for a hoof trim!"
Though exasperated, Julius dutifully fetched his tools. With practiced efficiency, he removed the iron horseshoes, used a small hooked tool to scrape out accumulated dirt and debris, and then replaced the old, worn layers of keratin with new, polished horseshoes.
The horses neighed in delight, thoroughly enjoying the care and attention.
By the time Julius finished, it was nearly 10 a.m. Sweating and exhausted, he sat down to rest, only to notice someone standing at the stable entrance.
"Well, well, Julius. You've become quite the accomplished stable hand," Fulgrim said, his expression a mix of amusement and pride. The Primarch had just returned from Hexoatl. "I think you deserve the title of Ashen Legion's Stablemaster of the Year."
"...…" Julius had grown accustomed to Fulgrim's playful teasing. Over time, he had become increasingly reserved, realizing that many of his past thoughts and actions seemed naive in hindsight. Viewing Fulgrim as a mentor, leader, and even an older brother, Julius exhaled deeply, signaling with a gesture for Fulgrim to get to the point.
"Not satisfied?" Fulgrim continued, clearly enjoying himself. His radiant smile, so dazzling it could outshine the Lustrian sun, carried an irresistible charm. "Alright, how about the title 'Bane of Equine Plagues'?"
Unable to meet Fulgrim's gaze, Julius felt his heart race. There was something almost unnerving about the Primarch's perfection. "What's the news, Commander?"
"Finish up here quickly," Fulgrim said, his tone turning serious. "I've brought important updates. Meet me at my villa at noon."
Julius nodded.
There was another war on the horizon.
At noon, the Ashen Legion's top brass gathered in Fulgrim's seaside villa to discuss the looming threat.
Among those present were:
Fulgrim, Primarch and Legion Commander. Pirazzo, Vice-Commander and Captain of the Phoenix Guard. Julius, Cavalry Commander. The Golden Wizard, Chief Arcane Advisor. Jerrick-Grimm, Chief Engineer and Dwarven master from Sea Gate. Carona, the Wood Elf Princess. Harlan Sanders, Political Commissar (formerly Lev Davidovich). Pedro, a former Estalian general. Weidenfeller, a former Imperial general. Yegorov, a former Kislevite Marshal. Felix the Iron, Winged Hussar and leader of the Cheka Special Forces. Hedwig, a master Witch Hunter. Hobbit Adventurer Hobbi, leader of the Halfling Exploration Team.
Over time, Fulgrim's charisma, strength, and strategic brilliance had united a diverse group of individuals from across the globe under the banner of the Ashen Legion. Now, the Legion boasted an army of 40,000 soldiers, united in purpose despite their differing backgrounds.
But the crisis they now faced was unprecedented.
"According to intelligence from the Slann Mage-Priest Mazdamundi of Hexoatl, three evil armies are converging on our position," Fulgrim began, standing before a massive map pinned to the wall. His tone was grave.
Using a pointer, he indicated the northern region. "To the north, a large Chaos army, numbering over 10,000, is gathering. This force has carved a bloody path through Naggaroth, where the Dark Elves have struck a deal with them. The Druchii are now acting as their guides, scouts, and vanguard, with each elf promised a hundred slaves as payment."
"The leader of this warband is named Vashnar the World-Breaker, who rides a black dragon called Midnight Shadow. Their objective is simple: to burn all of Lustria to ash."
The room erupted in curses and angry murmurs. Jerrick-Grimm, the Dwarven engineer, launched into a tirade in Khazalid, his words incomprehensible but clearly furious.
"Mazdamundi has promised to help us confront this northern threat," Fulgrim continued. "However, the second army is an old enemy of ours—the Skaven Plague Clan, led by Warlord Skrook. Defeated once before, he has returned."
"They will attack from the south. While the Serpent God's Chosen, Tehenhauin, has pledged to intercept the bulk of the Skaven forces, we must still prepare to face a significant number of them ourselves. Remember, the Skaven take no prisoners."
"Why is it that disasters always come in threes?" Pirazzo quipped darkly. "Perhaps I should blame my beard's alignment."
"All rats deserve to die," Commissar Lev grumbled, stroking his mustache. "I'll roast them with my newly invented New Orleans barbecue technique."
"And the third force?" someone asked.
"The third army," Fulgrim said, pointing to the sea, "is led by Luther Harkon, the Vampire Coast King. He seeks to reclaim the stolen plaque we took from him during our last encounter."
"Well, isn't this just perfect?" Julius's blood boiled with excitement. "All our enemies gathered in one place. Let's settle this once and for all!"
"While your enthusiasm is commendable, Julius, I must caution against overconfidence," the Golden Wizard interjected. "Our forces are stretched thin. If these armies attack simultaneously, we'll be forced to divide our troops into three fronts, leaving us vulnerable."
"Exactly," Fulgrim said, nodding. "Which is why we need a plan."
"What's the plan, Commander? Tell Hobbi!" the Halfling chimed in, bouncing with anticipation.
"I don't have a detailed plan yet," Fulgrim admitted. "But we can't sit here in Constantinople waiting for these armies to arrive. We must act first."
"Act first? Do you mean to strike one of the armies preemptively?" Commissar Harlan asked. "But how can we defend Constantinople if we divide our forces?"
"That depends on the speed of the enemy armies and our ability to delay them," Fulgrim said, his eyes narrowing as he studied the map. "It seems the three forces have reached an agreement to coordinate their assault. However, if we and our Lizardmen allies can temporarily hold off one or two of them, we can concentrate our efforts on eliminating one army at a time."
"How we choose our target will be the key to victory," Fulgrim concluded with a smile
. "Choose your enemies wisely."
The room buzzed with discussion as the officers debated which enemy to prioritize. Most favored targeting the Chaos or undead pirates first, as the Skaven's plagues were deemed particularly troublesome.
"For now, let's not rush to a decision," Fulgrim advised. "We need more intelligence. Our current information is insufficient."
After assigning tasks to gather intelligence, reinforce defenses, and prepare for war, Fulgrim dismissed the meeting.
Wood Elf Princess Carona lingered, clearly wanting to speak privately, but Fulgrim shook his head. "Not now, Carona. I need you to lead a reconnaissance mission to the south. Meet with Tehenhauin's Serpent God army and gather information on the Skaven's movements."
Reluctantly, Carona agreed and left, leaving Fulgrim alone in his villa.
The Primarch stood silently before the map, deep in thought.
Fulgrim understood the gravity of the situation.
The Emperor's deal with the Mage-Priests did not include defending Constantinople. The Lizardmen would assist but would not fight to the death for the city's survival. The true burden of the battle would fall on the Ashen Legion.
Worse still, Fulgrim had a nagging sense that an unseen force was orchestrating these events. His enemies operated from the shadows, while he remained in the open—a significant disadvantage.
"How can I focus my forces to gain an advantage?" Fulgrim muttered, frowning. "How can I seize the initiative?"
Just then, a golden light filled the room. A pair of radiant wings unfurled, reaching toward the heavens. The ethereal image of Sanguinius appeared, smiling warmly at his brother.
"You seem troubled, brother," Sanguinius said. "I must apologize—it seems I've brought you nothing but trouble."
"This isn't your fault, Sanguinius," Fulgrim said, his golden sunfire amulet glowing softly. He managed a smile in return. "This was bound to happen sooner or later."
"You've done an incredible job managing this diverse group of people," Sanguinius said sincerely. "I don't think I could have accomplished what you have. Back then, Guilliman handled most of the administration."
"It's not as difficult as it seems," Fulgrim replied. "It just requires a bit of finesse. Don't worry, Sanguinius. I'll celebrate your rebirth with a decisive victory."
But Sanguinius shook his head. "Don't expect a perfect, clean victory, brother. This battle will be grueling. You must prepare for the possibility of sacrificing the Ashen Legion."
"A premonition?" Fulgrim asked, his interest piqued. "What did you see?"
"I saw a fragmented vision," Sanguinius said, his tone somber. "In it, you were locked in combat… with him."
"Him?" Fulgrim repeated, his expression darkening.
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