Ultima Segmentum, orbit of Alexandria IV.
Shadow of the Throne, Primarch's Palace.
Nimrod gazed into Magnus's shifting eye, which had taken on a dazzling golden hue not seen in a long time.
"Do you remember this place?"
"Of course—" Magnus stood before the wall-sized observation window, looking down at the planet below.
"It was the first world to submit to me after I reunited with the legion and set foot among the stars."
"Alexandria IV was a symbol of the Thousand Sons' achievements. The Imperium's finest engineers had worked tirelessly to build cities in the style of Tizca."
"It was the model of my ideals, centered around erudition and the preservation of knowledge. The Archives beneath the planet held knowledge and documents surpassed only by Prospero."
His eye faded to gray. "It may suffer the same fate as Prospero."
"I will ensure that your achievements endure."
In the blink of an eye, Magnus's eye changed to orange.
"That will not be easy."
Nimrod shrugged and said with a smile.
"No matter how much effort it takes, preserving knowledge is worth it."
"Besides, I have their help."
Magnus's single eye followed Nimrod's gaze and took in the forty-nine warships.
Those ships were vastly different from the Imperium's Gothic vessels. Their hulls were broader and more heavily armored.
"Squats."
Countless flashes of light crossed his mind before settling on the galactic core, on the war in which he, Nimrod, and Perturabo had conquered the Squats together.
That race, standing only a little over half the height of an ordinary Imperial human, was as tenacious as its sturdy build suggested.
Magnus's eye shifted to azure as he stared at Nimrod.
"I have always wondered: we fought the Squats together, so why did they form such close ties with you after the war?"
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