Meet at Hangar 4, Do Not Don Armor

Lonatister, the current captain of the Emperor's Children's Second Company, was sprinting at top speed.

Considering where he was, this run could only be described as highly unusual. After all, the Emperor's Children held an exceptionally special affection for the fortress known as the Wing of the Eagle.

Chemos was no longer as harsh as it had once been. Great cities had risen from the ground, and beneath ecological domes, they possessed things that most worlds in the Imperium lacked.

This was all thanks to Fulgrim. He had personally laid out and planned every city in his homeland. His talent for governance, so often overlooked or concealed beneath that handsome face, had been reborn the moment he set pen to design plans.

Every city had developed its own distinct industries according to local conditions, yet each could be divided into three independent but interconnected districts: industrial, residential, and administrative. The citizens lived well; their labor was rewarded, and they never lacked food or clothing.

Yet quite a few officials who had come to Chemos on business had noticed a particular detail and raised a question: Where were the military garrisons? Why had the Phoenix not established protective forces for these miraculous cities?

Their questions would be thoroughly answered once they looked up at the sky, for the answer was the colossal floating fortress known as the Wing of the Eagle.

Since its construction, every Emperor's Child of the post-Legion era had trained within it, grown within it, and received assignments within it. Chemos was their homeland, but the Wing of the Eagle was their true home.

The honors they had earned bit by bit with their own hands were irreplaceable.

That was why Lonatister's mad dash was so startling. Beneath his feet lay emblems of honor forged from the armor