Chapter 115: Heydrich: We Only Discuss Purity of Bloodline When It Comes to Pets (Patreon)

Though this was his first time setting foot in the tavern, Guilliman had known about the place for a good while already. After all, Heydrich had simply waved a hand and swept up nearly every Flower Sprout in the process.

That was no small matter — even Yvraine and the farseer, fellow Sprouts themselves, had been left utterly stunned by it.

In terms of standing alone, the Flower Sprouts ranked among the very highest of the Eldar. Even within the maddest depths of Commorragh, the Flower Sprouts came and went as they pleased — even the Black Sprout leaders of Commorragh had to yield them a measure of deference.

White Sprouts and Wild Sprouts enjoyed no such treatment. None of the other factions, after all, had a god of their own — or had their god locked away inside Nurgle's realm.

But Cegorach, the Laughing God, was still alive and well, and that alone made this the most telling thing so far: for a god to let his own followers under his command submit to Heydrich meant that, on some level, he had essentially yielded to him — or at the very least, struck up a relationship of equals.

Naturally, this was something Guilliman needed to understand — and understanding it meant learning about this tavern.

Now that he'd come to see it in person, he still found it remarkable. Heydrich had already assigned a Harlequin to accompany him — one who could, when the time came, even open a door aboard the Macragge's Honour itself.

Though there were limits to how these doors could be opened — if the ship entered the Warp, the connection simply wouldn't hold. Of course, one could also be opened on Holy Terra, and Guilliman welcomed that idea gladly.

But it wasn't long before Guilliman's face twisted back into that constipated look, because right then four toilets abruptly swam into the corner of his eye.

There, at the head seat, sat one massive golden toilet, and arrayed before it were four more — pink, blue, green, and red — named Courage, Compassion, Wisdom, and Charm respectively.

And in front of those four sat one more, smaller golden toilet, named the Commander's Bowl.

In that instant, Guilliman knew exactly what all this was meant to represent, and he stood there pointing at the toilets with a face like he'd swallowed something rotten.

"Well, the tavern's always been a gathering place for jokes of every kind. These are all jokes that group of Flower Sprouts collected. And come on, isn't it a little funny? Though, granted, maybe a bit hellish."

By the time he finished, though, even Heydrich looked a little strained. And no sooner had the words left his mouth than the Flower Sprout trailing behind the two of them twitched at the corner of her mouth.

The Flower Sprouts really did collect jokes for the tavern, true enough — but the problem was, this particular set hadn't come from them at all. It had been there since the tavern was first founded. In other words, it was the tavern's founder — this human 'god' standing right here — who had made them.

For all their recklessness, even the Flower Sprouts knew to tread carefully around jokes about the Imperium — especially ones about the Emperor.

"Forget it. As long as you're having fun."

Guilliman took a deep breath and let the matter drop — no point pressing it further. Considering the Emperor had apparently cleaned this fellow's household out at some point, holding a grudge was only natural. Better he vent it somewhere like this than bottle it all up until it festered into something worse.

As always, when Heydrich took potshots at the Emperor, Guilliman simply pretended not to notice. Titus and the others standing behind him remained perfectly calm about it, though — they knew far too little to understand what any of it actually meant.

Soon enough the two of them stepped through a portal to their destination, and the sight that greeted them made both Guilliman and Heydrich suck in a sharp breath.

What hung before them looked like a black cloud pressing down from above, ready to swallow the sky whole. But from where the two of them stood, it was plain to see this was no cloud at all — it was a dense, teeming mass of insectoid bodies.

Both of them had read the reports, and Heydrich had even experienced something like it once in Space Marine 2. But no report, and no game, ever quite compared to seeing it with your own eyes — and even Heydrich felt his scalp prickle at the sight.

Not that the swarm posed him any actual danger — but it was like a bug crawling up your arm in the middle of summer.

Whether it was truly dangerous was one thing; the crawling unease it stirred up was another matter entirely.

That was exactly the reaction Heydrich and Guilliman were both having now. But it wasn't long before Guilliman turned to look at Heydrich — something had just occurred to him.

"Don't even think about it. That crappy door doesn't have anywhere near enough throughput. Don't get any ideas about using it to evacuate the population — if anything, letting them try might make the planet collapse even faster."

Reading exactly what Guilliman was thinking, Heydrich shut the idea down flat. The door simply didn't have the capacity for it — and if he actually let people use it, there'd be only one outcome: a pack of nobles abandoning the entire planet to save their own skins.

Heydrich wasn't going to allow that under any circumstances. He wasn't handing anyone that kind of escape route — everyone was staying to live or die with this planet, and no retreat would be offered.

"So this is the Tyranid swarm — the Imperium's greatest threat, these days."

Loken and Akurduana walked over just then, both of them curious about the Tyranids as well. And like Heydrich and Guilliman before them, they were both visibly startled by the dense swarm blackening the sky.

"The intel checks out — this scale amounts to nothing more than a fraction of a fleet. We genuinely don't need to bring in the main force. This one we can treat as training."

Titus stepped forward as well, sizing up the scale of the swarm overhead, then glancing at the Tyranid fleet readings on the augur array before offering his own assessment.

"This is all they've got in this wave. If we wipe them out entirely — or destroy more than half of them — this Hive Fleet is essentially finished."

Titus wasted no time laying out his judgment. Hive Fleets weren't invincible where interstellar travel was concerned. Setting aside how unscientifically they accelerated past lightspeed, even in that state, no matter how efficiently they conserved resources, there was still a cost to be paid.

This particular Tyranid swarm — one swallowed by the Great Rift and scattered into a smaller fleet — had already burned through a great deal of its reserves just breaking free of the Warp, which meant it now had to redevelop essentially from scratch. It wasn't the same concept as a full-scale invasion wave. So despite the intimidating spectacle, this really was all there was to it.

If they managed to take the planet, fine — but if they got bogged down here, they'd essentially be waiting to die. What biomass they had left simply wasn't enough to support another interstellar journey. Nothing like the Behemoth's tendril fleet, the one that had once nearly devoured the entire Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar.

"In that case, we'll need to rework the battle plan. Guilliman — you're not setting foot on the battlefield for this one."

"Huh?"

Guilliman blinked, caught completely off guard, then pointed at himself with an expression of pure disbelief.

"The Tyranid swarm's primary objective is devouring a Primarch's flesh and blood to harvest your genetic data — not that I think it'd do them any good. But if they detect your presence, they might redirect their main force straight to this planet. And this sector isn't Baal — it doesn't have that kind of firepower or defenses behind it…"

"Fine, then."

Heydrich hadn't even finished talking before Guilliman deflated like a punctured ball.

But then — thud, thud, thud!!!

"Could you not do that while I'm working out tactics… ugh, doesn't that hurt your head?"

The knocking sound in the background caught Heydrich's attention too. He turned to look, then let out a weary, resigned sigh.

Because right then, the lavishly dressed Planetary Governor had all but pounded his own forehead into a mallet-shaped lump against the floor. And you can guess exactly what he'd seen.

A Primarch of the Imperium. Since the Ultramarines formed the backbone of today's Space Marines, statues of their gene-father stood scattered across the entire galaxy — so naturally, the Planetary Governor recognized him on sight.

Governor though he was, if the man before him truly was a gene-Primarch, then only the deepest kowtow he could manage would be enough.

This was a true Son of God — the most sacred bloodline the Emperor had ever produced.

But compared to Guilliman, it was the unremarkable-looking young man standing beside him — barely two meters tall, black hair, black eyes — who unsettled him more. That man could simply order Guilliman around directly. Just what kind of standing did that make him?

It was like one of those old jokes — he had no idea what the man actually was, but he sure recognized the one 'in the driver's seat': some venerable Immortal Sovereign or other.

That was admittedly an exaggeration — but it was because something had just occurred to him.

"Could it be that what those Eldar clowns had been saying was actually true — that this man really was the sovereign of some ancient human kingdom? That he and the current Emperor were both ancient relics of humanity, and that the two of them actually knew each other?"

"Great gene-Primarch, I—"

"Stop kowtowing and get up. We'll be taking temporary control of this planet's governance until the war's over."

Looking at the Planetary Governor, whose forehead was now streaked with blood from all that kowtowing, Heydrich gestured for him to step outside, calm down, and get himself bandaged up.

"Yes, my lord."

The governor answered with utter deference, then turned and left without hesitation — though from the state he was in, his gait was so unsteady it looked nothing like the dignified bearing expected of nobility.

"All right, let's move on. Deploy your forces the standard way for dealing with a Tyranid swarm — I can send you a Titan legion in support. That'll include two Warlord Titans and several secondary Titans. This shouldn't drag on long. And capture me some mid-to-high-tier Tyranid organisms alive while you're at it — I need their bodily data for research. Consider it a chance to build up some combat experience against the Tyranids in the meantime."

As he spoke, Heydrich produced a bargain-bin version of what he called a 'A-Ruan Pouch,' loaded with the Titans and a portion of an armored force.

There was no one riding inside them, of course, but the Titan pilots were all standing by on call. A group could deploy quickly through the doorway, so it wasn't much of a problem.

As for stuffing the Tyranid swarm straight into the pouch — that was impossible. Whatever went in had to hold perfectly still for a moment before loading, and under those conditions, hardly any living creature could manage it — maybe one in ten, if that; out of a hundred, none at all.

"Understood."

Heydrich's real purpose was simple enough: Guilliman couldn't be allowed to show himself in front of a synapse creature. Ordinary Tyranid organisms were linked to the Great Devourer too, but that connection ran mostly one-way — the Great Devourer could only issue them commands.

Any finer, more precise coordination required a synapse creature's involvement, though — and if one of those caught sight of Guilliman, there was no telling what kind of frenzy it might trigger. Heydrich had no intention of grinding out a drawn-out slugfest against the Tyranids on this planet, so certain trump cards were staying hidden.

"The Imperium really has gone mad. The Ecclesiarchy's like a tumor, and yet you can't just cut it out."

"Father, but they aren't wrong — you are, after all, the man with the noblest bloodline in the entire Imperium right now."

Watching Guilliman's exasperation, Calgar — who'd come along with them — chimed in from the side.

"Noblest bloodline…"

At that, Guilliman turned to look at Heydrich, the question plain on his face.

"Don't look at me. Sure, my own empire cared plenty about birth — but the only bloodlines we ever fussed over were whether a pet was pedigreed enough for competition."

At that, the whole group — Guilliman included — pulled the same constipated face.

But thinking it over, none of them could quite come up with a rebuttal. When selecting Ultramarine candidates, they did prioritize applicants' ancestral bloodlines. Astartes from families with a history of successful implantation did show somewhat higher success rates — though admittedly, that leaned more toward superstition than science.

Still, it wasn't as if the group had never learned how Heydrich's own society was structured — he genuinely didn't care about bloodline in the slightest. His idea of a background check amounted to little more than checking for a criminal record.

"All right, enough chatter. Titus, work out the tactics. Aside from me, Guilliman, and Calgar, you're free to deploy everyone else as you see fit."

At Heydrich's word, Titus studied the map spread before him, quickly confirmed his targets, and then—

"Elder Loken, Elder Akurduana — there's likely a Hive Tyrant out there, or some other high-tier Tyranid unit. The three of us need to run a decapitation strike on it."

Smack!!!

Right then, Heydrich couldn't help but clap a hand over his eyes. Sometimes GW hyped up a commander's so-called leadership stats to the heavens — but put them on an actual battlefield, and it always came down to the same three moves.

It seemed a three-man Boarding Action straight at the enemy's high-value target was baked right into Titus's bones.

"Go on, then. Consider it a chance to see the world a little. With my full Titan legion backing you up, a swarm that can't even scrape together a single Zoanthrope isn't going to make waves."

Since he'd only just appointed the man, Heydrich wasn't about to second-guess Titus. He knew his own limits well enough — he wasn't about to turn into some Goldie type, poking holes in a battle plan that had already been finalized.

"Understood."

At Heydrich's words, Akurduana and Loken both nodded.

Both of them had come specifically to see the Tyranid swarm firsthand, so naturally they were more than happy for a proper, sanctified Boarding Action.

"I'll head back first. You stay here on standby and keep this door open. By the way, Irena and Celestine are just about ready to turn into a couple of wrecks by now."

With that, Heydrich turned and left. There was no need to reveal any of his trump cards — the standard Imperial battle doctrine would do the job just fine. Besides, he'd spent this stretch of time crafting a new Emperor Titan, along with more than a dozen Warlord Titans.

His Titan legion now numbered close to fifty machines in total — enough, by now, to go toe-to-toe with any of the Imperium's frontline Titan legions.