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The blaring of several Titans echoed through the streets which were only matched by the cheers of the citizens. As always there was fanfare when a Primarch was to come upon Lucius but this one was clearly much more close to the Federation than all the others.
The middle of the streets were open without a single vehicle to cover them. Unlike the many times before where it was a small precession of soldiers this time it was filled to the brim with Astartes.
At the front was the Proelitor, both Astartes and Acillian, making their way through the streets as a vangaurd to control the crowd. Such use of force was not necessary upon the planet of Lucius, as the Serfs were tamed by the brilliance of their Holy Masters, but it also acted as a sort of control and pace maker for those present.
Behind them was the thousands of Iron Warriors. Their armor was a dark steel grey as so much of their arsenal was created from the forges of Lucius. Upon each of their shoulders was strands of yellow and black coloring, one with so much meaning to the Machine Cult.
Among these Astartes was Perturabo. The Giant of a man walked with a sort of annoyance with his eyes glancing at each of his sons. If someone looked at him from the outside you would say that he was dragged to these festivities against his will. This ran counter to the Astartes of his Legion, each of which held within their hearts an immense amount of Pride.
Such a thing TalOS was not surprised about when relating to the Astartes who walked amongst their Father. Roughly two decades ago the Iron Warriors had found themselves decimated and ridiculed for that decimation. That they were hated by almost every other Legion for this action and was hated by their Father because he was disgusted by them. They had suffered a great war that saw thousands of their kind die within the bloody planets, many of which killed by their own hands.
Today, today they felt all this pain and misery experienced at the hands of the Universe had been worth it. It had been paid for what now seemed liked a bright future at the side of the Mechanicum.
As Pertuarbo’s stone cold face looked upon TalOS the Fabricator General was no longer fooled. While his brother played the reluctant fool he was enjoying every cheer and cry of thanks in his honor.
When the two of them met the Pariah’s suspicions were proven correct. There, upon the steps of his manufactorium, the Fabricator General extended his hand towards his brother. He watched thoughts going through the eyes of his brother and for a moment they glanced in a direction that must have been so distant to him now.
With his thoughts finished, Pertuarbo shook the hand of TalOS to a cheering crowd.
