Eastern Fringe, Sector Military Command, eight years after the fall of Taranckd----
Amid the towering stacks of paperwork, a standard-pattern Servitor glided silently forward.
Its metal casing reflected the overhead lights, its joints emitting faint mechanical whirs. Without emotion, it extracted the "latest" astropathic message from the mountain of documents and smoothly delivered it to the edge of Departmento Munitorum Master Aisetham's desk.
Master Aisetham raised his head, his movements slow and somewhat labored. His temples had long since turned gray, and beneath his thinning silver hair lay a face covered in wrinkles and age spots. Time had carved deep lines into his features.
The Imperium's most advanced biochemical technology and most effective medical treatments kept his aging shell functioning day after day, like precision instruments. The Adeptus Mechanicus Biologis constantly monitored his bodily readings, ensuring that this pillar of the Eastern Fringe would not fall easily.
The burden upon him was immense. Nearly half the military affairs of the vast Eastern Fringe converged on his desk. Documents he had to review, orders he had to approve, and matters he had to decide arrived like an unending tide, wave after wave.
Master Aisetham rubbed his slightly sore eyes. His weary yet still shrewd gaze swept over the cold Imperial Aquila on the message's cover and the urgency rating printed in regulation lettering.
Master Aisetham scanned the contents of the message with his weary yet shrewd eyes.
Tarankd III had come under attack by a Chaos Fleet, with over a thousand Chaos Astartes present and a fleet that included a "battlecruiser"-class vessel.
Master Aisetham's brow furrowed deeply.
Tarankd III?
He searched his memory for a long while, yet still could not recall which region it belonged to.
"I need the records for Tarankd III from the last two hundred years, intelligence