Chapter 318: Lord of the Ultramarines

“We have more important matters to attend to immediately. I don’t have time to waste words on you, Inquisitor.”

Belisarius Cawl continued to focus on manipulating the arcane apparatus before him, never once sparing Greyfax a glance.

In truth, the two were not strangers.

After the Battle of Cadia had concluded, when both the Talon Fleet and the Imperial Navy withdrew from the Cadian Gate, Belisarius Cawl had arrived in the system aboard his Ark Mechanicus, the vast and ancient Zar-Quaesitor.

At that time, Inquisitor Katarinya Greyfax and Inquisitor Horst had been investigating the Blackstone Pylons, attempting to uncover how the Lord of Talon was able to wield those ancient xenos constructs.

Cawl had joined their investigation.

The three spent half a day conducting joint investigations, yet uncovered nothing conclusive. In the end, the inquiry was abandoned.

Greyfax had since been reassigned to the current system to investigate a cult with deep ties to the Aeldari. She had never expected that Cawl’s refusal to linger and study the Blackstone Pylons, his insistence that he had “more important matters,” would ultimately mean traveling toward the fringes of the Ultramar Segmentum, near the Realm of Ultramar itself.

Her gaze flicked briefly to the “Living Saint” standing beside Cawl, radiant even amid the cold machine-light of the bridge.

Greyfax could not help but suspect that the saint, who had vanished during the activation of the Blackstone Pylons and now inexplicably appeared aboard the King of Explorers, was intimately connected to Archmagos Cawl’s hidden machinations.

Cawl remained silent. One by one, he isolated memories related to the Living Saint and xenos involvement, extracting them from his cognition and encrypting them into a data-slate shard.

During their journey, the Ark had encountered a violent warp storm. Daemonic incursions followed, reality itself tearing like wet parchment along the vessel’s hull. It had been Saint Celestine, alongside Space Marines wreathed in unnatural flame, who had appeared without warning and turned the tide.

Later, while the King of Explorers underwent emergency repairs in an unnamed system, a renegade Space Marine warband began raiding the surrounding void. At the most critical moment, two Aeldari leaders, each commanding their own warhosts, intervened and drove the traitors back.

Cawl stripped all of these memories from his mind.

He removed the data shard and locked it into an encrypted compartment beneath the deck plating, secured such that the memories were beyond Greyfax’s reach, whether by technological intrusion or psychic probing. Greyfax would find nothing.

“The storm has not yet subsided,” the Navigator’s voice echoed directly within Cawl’s augmented consciousness, tinged with restrained unease.

Cawl finally turned his head slightly toward Greyfax and spoke in a flat, mechanical tone.

“Look at whatever you wish. Or you may sit on the bridge if you like. But do not force my hand, unless you wish me to eject you from my ship.”

The Adeptus Mechanicus, for all its autonomy, still afforded the Inquisition a measure of respect. Any other Magos, or even a Fabricator-General, would not issue such a blunt threat during an investigation.

But coming from Belisarius Cawl, it did not surprise Greyfax in the slightest.

Even among the Cult Mechanicus, Archmagos Belisarius Cawl was considered dangerously unorthodox, one who no longer feared accusations of heresy.

Weighing the vast disparity in combat capability between herself and Cawl, Greyfax slowly lowered the hand resting on her condemnor crossbow.

“Charge the Dimensional Engine,” Cawl commanded.

“You installed a dimensional engine on this ship?” Greyfax’s hand snapped back to her weapon, every instinct screaming danger.

At this moment, she was no longer considering arresting Cawl outright. Instead, she was calculating how to escape alive if proof emerged that he was collaborating with xenos and heretics alike.

“Get out,” Cawl snapped. He had urgent matters to attend to, and Greyfax was dancing on the last frayed strands of his patience.

He even briefly entertained the thought of later disciplining his crew, teaching them not to cower the moment an Inquisitor boarded, and certainly not to allow one like Greyfax aboard in the first place.

“She cannot leave.” The Aeldari clad in crimson armor spoke in flawless High Gothic, his tone cool and absolute.

“Correct,” added the female Aeldari with a sky-bound crest of hair. “At least not until we reach our destination. We must avoid the risk of interception by the Inquisition during transit.”

Cawl paused, calculating probabilities at machine-speed, then shifted his gaze away from Greyfax.

“Begin departure.”

The Dimensional Engine, installed in secret at Agrippina, roared to life, tearing open a path into the extradimensional void and drawing the King of Explorers into non-realspace.

Greyfax had just opened her mouth to demand that Cawl halt the process, but in the next heartbeat, the ship had already crossed into the Ultramar Segmentum.

If she wished to return to her own vessel or summon reinforcements, her ship would first need to traverse over a hundred light-years.

“You will pay for this!” Greyfax shouted furiously as two Skitarii Vanguard Alpha-class guards, summoned by Cawl, escorted her away under armed watch.

“Trust me,” Cawl said calmly, watching as she was taken into soft confinement. “If I succeed… I will not.”

The King of Explorers continued its voyage through Ultramar, setting a direct course for the Ultramarines’ homeworld: Macragge.

....

Two days later

Macragge

Macragge, fortress-world of Ultramar, stood immutable beneath a pale sky, its white stone citadels rising in ordered tiers from the mountainside. Here, discipline was not merely taught, it was lived, carved into marble, codified into law, and upheld by the sons of Guilliman. From this world the Ultramarines had ruled and defended Realm of Ultramar by ten thousand years of duty.

Chapter Master Marneus Calgar, Lord of the Ultramarines, moved tirelessly between several recruitment bastions across Macragge, overseeing the selection of a new generation of aspirants amid the white stone and banners of Ultramar’s martial heritage.

Chief Librarian Varro Tigurius walked at his side, briefing him on recent developments.

“The aspirants who failed the last phase of implantation have been returned to their homeworlds.”

“I only learned of this yesterday,” Tigurius continued. “The sudden warp disturbances have slowed astropathic communications of late…”

Every intake of aspirants produced failures, this was nothing new in the long history of the Adeptus Astartes. Many did not survive the process at all; others were found wanting by the unforgiving standards of the gene-seed.

Calgar felt regret for those who did not survive the process. All he could do was hope that, even without becoming Space Marines, they would live honorable lives as citizens of the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar.

“Another matter,” Tigurius said. “Archmagos Belisarius Cawl has arrived in the system. His Ark utilized a Dimensional Engine.”

At the mention of those words, Calgar’s expression turned contemplative. The march of his armored boots slowed, if only slightly.

Dimensional Engines were not forbidden outright, but they occupied a dangerous liminal space between sanctioned innovation and tech-heresy.

Ultramar did not reject technology simply because its creators skirted the edges of orthodoxy. Knowledge was to be understood, not feared, though it was always to be mastered and constrained by reason.

Calgar himself had hoped to acquire two such engines for study, to determine whether they carried hidden risks. Unfortunately, Imperial authorities appeared keen on restricting their spread. Every attempt by Ultramar’s envoys had drawn Inquisitorial intervention, followed by joint protests from Astropaths and Navigators.

The matter had been shelved.

“Contact the Archmagos,” Calgar ordered. “See whether he would permit a scholarly delegation to board his ship.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Tigurius replied, shaking his head. “His attitude is far more cooperative than you might expect. He has brought numerous gifts, among them power armor suitable for equipping all our mortal auxiliary officers, all bearing the Agrippina seal. Talon manufacture. He is quite willing to allow us aboard.”

Calgar had heard enough about Cawl to doubt he was simply a benevolent savant.

“Why has he come to Macragge?” Calgar asked.

“His ship encountered a storm,” Tigurius replied. “He requests promethium resupply and ideally assistance with repairs.”

Calgar agreed without hesitation. Ultramar did not abandon allies in need, nor did it squander opportunities for cooperation.

Seeing the Chapter Master in good spirits, Tigurius hesitated briefly before making another suggestion.

“The Archmagos has expressed great interest in the history of Macragge. I propose we hold a welcoming ceremony at the Temple of Correction, grant him entry to the Hall of the Primarch, so that he may pay respects to the Gene-Father.”

Calgar paused.

The Temple of Correction was a place of reflection and discipline, its cold stone halls designed to remind even an Astartes of humility before duty. Beyond it lay the most sacred chamber in all Ultramar.

The Hall containing Roboute Guilliman, was sacred ground, no outsider was permitted entry lightly. There, beneath vaulted stone and stasis-bound silence, the mortally wounded Lord of Ultramar endured, unchanged since the darkest days of the Imperium.

Yet refusing outright would be discourteous, given Cawl’s gifts. Moreover, maintaining good relations with the Adeptus Mechanicus was always beneficial.

And perhaps… allowing Cawl to inspect the stasis field surrounding the Primarch would not be a bad thing.

There was little cause for concern.

After all, what ill intent could a Mechanicus Archmagos, fascinated by the history of the Five Hundred Worlds, truly harbor?

With that thought, Calgar nodded in agreement.

Tigurius nodded as well, silently relieved.