Abominations

The Ember troops were the Ashen Hammers' dedicated Auxilia. Their relationship was like that between Nuceria's gladiator detachments and the War Hounds: comrades-in-arms, and family.

This bond, tempered by blood and fire and tested countless times over the long years, had long since reached the point of unconditional trust. Thus, while aboard the transport, Norn briefly revealed his primarch's attitude to Captain Liz Catra, who would be accompanying him for some time.

Her reaction was much as he had expected. After a brief moment of shock, the captain quickly calmed down.

"So the situation really is bad." She frowned, her nearly ash-white face grave. "I never thought that one day, he would ask the tribespeople to abandon their traditions."

Indeed. Norn sighed softly.

Back when Vulkan drove out the Dusk Wraiths, there had been no distinction between cityfolk and tribespeople on Nocturne. In those days, Sanctuary had merely been a cluster of several larger nearby tribes struggling to survive together. The primitive beliefs born in the wilderness had not yet vanished completely behind towering city walls as they had today.

Thus, Vulkan himself had once been a tribesman, and he had passed down his own altered beliefs.

They were the Promethean Way followed by the Sons of the Fire Dragon today.

But broadly speaking, it had nothing to do with ancestor worship or the worship of gods. It was regarded as a philosophy concerning battle, life, patience, and the craft of forging.

"I'm worried..."

The captain spoke in a low voice, interrupting Norn's thoughts. He was not displeased; instead, he was very curious about what she had left unsaid.

"Worried about what?"

She shook her head. The drake tattoo on her ash-white skin, inherited from her lineage, seemed to move like a living thing.

"You should know that, in recent