Respite and Choice

The nauseatingly foul colors of the Scarlet Maelstrom were finally left behind, replaced by the relatively calm expanse of realspace, guided by the Astronomican's faint yet steadfast light.

The scarred colossal hull of Macragge's Honour slowly entered a barren star system, like an exhausted beast finding a temporary shelter from the storm.

In the distance, the surviving ships of the scattered expeditionary fleet were gradually converging, confirming one another's identification signals.

The once vast fleet that had blotted out the sky now numbered less than half of what it had been at departure.

Damaged hulls, extinguished engines, and the silent names on the communications channels wordlessly told of the terrible price of crossing the Maelstrom.

Guilliman stood before the bridge viewport, gazing at the fleet's gathering silhouettes beyond it.

There was little grief on his handsome yet weary face. Instead, there was a profound sense of relief.

More clearly than anyone else, he knew that according to the original course of events, this fleet bearing the Imperium's final hope—and he himself—would have long since become twisted graves within the Maelstrom, playthings of the Chaos gods.

It had been the Hilling Empire, Obi-Wan's wisdom and power, the five Valkyries who had descended like divine soldiers, and above all that... supreme will, glimpsed only for an instant yet enough to overturn heaven and earth, that had forcibly dragged them back from the brink of Destruction.

"Initiate the priority sequence for resource redistribution," Guilliman's voice rang out through the fleet broadcast, calm and efficient. "All damaged vessels, report your condition."

Then, even better news arrived.

"Lord Regent! We have detected a stable Imperial world 0.7 light-years from our position—the Anvil Forge World! The world bears no mark of Chaos and remains operational! They have received our identification signal and are activating their orbital defense arrays... they have also opened port access! They... they are willing to provide supplies!" The navigator's voice trembled with incredulous excitement.

The Anvil world! A world of the Adeptus Mechanicus renowned for its forging capacity and tenacity! It was like a beacon suddenly igniting within the dark universe!

"Establish communications immediately! Convey the Imperium's greetings to the governor of the Anvil world, along with our list of needs. Fleet, alter course. Destination—the Anvil system!" Guilliman gave the order decisively, and at last a genuine light kindled in his weary eyes.

This was not merely a replenishment of supplies. It was a shot of strength for morale, proof that the Imperium had not fallen completely and that the embers of Fealty still burned.

The fleet began its difficult turn, slowly making for the Anvil system.

Damaged ships moved under the pull of tractor beams, while the surviving crewmen erupted into long-suppressed cheers and prayers.

The entire fleet was like a massive wound slowly closing, beginning to regain its vitality beneath the light of order and hope.

As the fleet slowly sailed toward the Anvil system, Cypher appeared once more in Guilliman's command chamber.

The Fallen Angel leader's expression was even gloomier than it had been on the bridge.

Not only had Guilliman's fleet successfully regrouped, but it had even begun recovering in strength due to the Anvil world's response.

What he had envisioned as timely aid in the snow had become a dispensable embellishment, and the value of his bargaining chip was rapidly dwindling.

"Lord Guilliman," Cypher said in a low voice, with a hint of barely concealed urgency, "it seems your fleet has temporarily escaped danger. But the road to Terra remains fraught with thorns. Warp travel is unpredictable, and the star regions around Terra have already been heavily blockaded by Chaos fleets."

Guilliman turned around, his sharp gaze studying Cypher. "Speak plainly. Your 'goodwill' always comes with a price."

Cypher took a deep breath and played his final, most enticing card. "We possess a shortcut. The Harlequin Troupe knows of a concealed, ancient Webway entrance nearby, one untouched by Chaos corruption. This branch of the Webway... leads directly to Luna."

"Luna?!" Even Guilliman's pupils suddenly contracted.

Luna! The satellite of the Emperor's Throneworld! They had actually connected the Webway to it. If they harbored any intentions...! But if they could reach Luna directly, it meant stepping straight into the heart of Terra's defensive perimeter! It would be countless times safer and faster than making the long journey through the Warp and then attempting to break through Terra's outer blockade!

"Yes. Luna." Cypher confirmed it, with a trace of desperation in his tone. "The Harlequin Troupe is willing to act as guide and lead the fleet through. In exchange, once you reach Terra, you must personally take me to meet the Emperor immediately!"

Guilliman fell silent, his fingers unconsciously tapping against the Adamantium table.

The Webway... a creation of the Eldar.

Evelyn's warning echoed in his ears: these Harlequins were not part of the Reaper Host, and their motives were far from pure.

The Webway itself was no easy road either. Unknown dangers lurked within it...

Would he entrust the fate of the entire fleet to a group of inscrutable Eldar and a Fallen Angel with shadowy secrets?

His gaze swept toward the window.

The Valkyries—Prince of Wales, Glory, Prinz Eugen, Nimi, and Joan of Arc—had not participated in the command proceedings. Once the fleet had completed its rendezvous, they had returned to their separate rest area, guarded by Spartan Squad, to recover while maintaining the detached bearing of Hilling Empire observers.

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood quietly behind and to Guilliman's side like a silent shadow. The Jedi Master's tranquil eyes seemed capable of seeing through everything, yet he did not interfere with Guilliman's decision. He was fulfilling the duty of an observer.

From the direction of the Anvil world, new signals continuously joined the fleet identification network.

Loyal Imperial Navy fleets and Space Marines from nearby star systems, having received word of the Regent, responded to the primarch's summons like worker bees returning to their hive and rushed here at full speed.

The expeditionary fleet was slowly recovering its numbers.

Strength gave him more room to choose, and more confidence as well.

"Cypher," Guilliman said in a low, powerful voice, breaking the silence. "The Webway is the domain of the Eldar. To place the fleet's safety entirely in the hands of a group whose 'goodwill' serves some unknown purpose, along with a warrior carrying undisclosed secrets..." He paused, his eyes fixing on Cypher like an eagle's. "That is an enormous gamble. One could even call it foolish."

Cypher's heart sank, and his fists silently clenched at his sides.

Then Guilliman changed course, calculation glinting in his eyes. "I can agree to use this Webway."

Hope instantly ignited in Cypher's eyes.

"But the conditions must be clear." Guilliman's voice was firm and carried unquestionable authority. "First, the Harlequin Troupe must provide the precise coordinates of the Webway entrance, internal structural charts, and information on every known risk point. Second, once inside the Webway, your forces and the Harlequin Troupe will serve as the vanguard fleet and clear the way at the front. My fleet will maintain a safe distance behind you."

Cypher's expression changed.

That meant if there were any traps or ambushes inside the Webway, his Fallen Angels and the Harlequins would be the first to suffer, reduced to cannon fodder! They would even remain within the firing coverage of the fleet behind them. Guilliman intended to use their lives to scout the route!

"This..."

"This is the foundation of trust, Cypher." Guilliman cut him off, his tone cold. "You proposed leading the way, so naturally you must prove that this route is 'safe.' If your hearts are clear, what is there to fear in walking ahead? But if you have other intentions..."

He did not finish the sentence, but the threat in his eyes was unmistakable—if the fleet behind detected any irregularity, Cypher and the Harlequins would be met with overwhelming firepower.

The air seemed to freeze.

Cypher stared intently at Guilliman, who returned his gaze without retreating an inch.

Evelyn gave a slight nod from the corner, clearly approving of Guilliman's handling of the matter.

Obi-Wan's gaze calmly passed over Cypher, as though weighing his resolve.

At last, the struggle in Cypher's eyes hardened into determination.

"...I agree." Cypher's voice was dry, as though forced out through clenched teeth. "We will go first. I hope you will... keep your promise."

"The Regent of the Imperium's promise outweighs mountains," Guilliman said solemnly. "Go prepare. Report the entrance coordinates as soon as they are confirmed."

Cypher gave Guilliman a long, deep look, then turned and left with an aura of gloom around him.

Supplies from the Anvil Forge World arrived like timely rain.

Tons of Promethium fuel, spare parts, weapons, ammunition, and medical supplies were swiftly distributed among the ships.

New warships continued to join them, replenishing the expeditionary fleet's strength.

Though it was still far from its peak, the fleet was no longer the shattered remnant that had escaped the Maelstrom. It had gathered a resilient strength once more.

The brief respite came to an end.

As promised, Cypher provided the coordinates of the Webway entrance—it lay within the shadow belt of a massive gas giant, exceptionally well concealed.

The enormous Imperial fleet set sail again, following Cypher's Fallen Angel cruiser and several strangely shaped Harlequin Troupe vessels, like moving stages, toward the entrance to that ancient shortcut.

Before reaching the coordinates, Guilliman issued his final order. "All ships, highest alert. Warm up weapons systems. Prioritize shield energy. All combat personnel to stations. Our guides will scout ahead." His gaze passed over Cypher's image on the communications screen. "It is time for you to fulfill your promise. Good luck."

Cypher's image showed no flicker of emotion. He merely gave a slight nod.

The engines of his Fallen Angel cruiser and the Harlequin Troupe's brightly colored vessels lit up. Without hesitation, they accelerated and plunged first into the region shrouded by the gas giant's immense shadow, where the structure of space was faintly distorted.

A moment later, an incredibly faint spatial rift opened soundlessly in the Void, rippling like water.

Beyond the rift was not the raging turbulence of the Warp, but a deep, tranquil tunnel glittering with strange dim light—the Webway!

"Entrance confirmed! Stable! Follow the vanguard fleet's signal!" The navigator's voice carried both tension and excitement.

"All ships, maintain formation. Enter the Webway!" Guilliman's voice was as steady as stone.

Battered yet resolute, the Imperial expeditionary fleet slowly entered the shortcut to Luna, to the heart of Terra, under the guidance of the Fallen Angels and Eldar Harlequins, like a torrent of steel cast into a tunnel of starlight.