The Primarch of Liberty

Chapter 141: The Scholar and the Eagle



The gilded halls of the Imperial Palace echoed with footsteps that somehow managed to sound irreverent. Franklin Valorian, the 11th Primarch, strode through the corridors with an air that seemed to challenge the very solemnity of his surroundings. Fresh traces of greasepaint still clung to the corners of his face - remnants of whatever mischief had earned him entry into the Black Library. His massive frame carried precious tomes with uncharacteristic gentleness, their ancient bindings protected against his ceramite armor.

As the towering doors of the Sanctum Imperialis parted before him, Franklin's face broke into what could only be described as a schoolboy's grin. The chamber beyond held wonders beyond mortal comprehension: impossibly complex machinery, gates to dimensions unknown, and at its heart, the partially-constructed Golden Throne. Beside it stood his father, the Emperor of Mankind, currently elbow-deep in what appeared to be the throne's quantum mechanics interface.

"Hey there, Daddy-o!" Franklin's voice boomed through the sanctum with deliberate cheerfulness. He threw a salute that somehow managed to be both technically perfect and slightly mocking. The Emperor, surrounded by floating hololithic displays and crackling with psychic energy, spared him the briefest of glances before returning to his work. A slight tightening around his eyes was the only acknowledgment of his son's characteristic irreverence.

"You know," Franklin continued, undeterred by the minimal response, "most fathers would at least pretend to be concerned when their son returns from a library full of homicidal space clowns." He approached the throne's platform, carefully setting down the ancient tomes. "Though I suppose most fathers aren't busy building interdimensional subway systems either."

The Emperor's hands continued their precise movements through the hololithic interface, but a barely perceptible sigh escaped him. "Proceed," he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of millennia.

Franklin's grin widened. "Right, so about that little problem with our resident nerd and his sons..." He gestured to the books. "I picked up some light reading material. This one's particularly interesting - 'Minor Warp Gods and Their Interactions When Brought into the Materium.' The checkout policy was murder, by the way. Literally. Had to juggle three Harlequins while reciting Aeldari poetry backwards."

The Emperor's hands paused in their work. His golden eyes fixed upon the books, then moved to his son's mind, scanning the memories of their acquisition. Franklin allowed the inspection with an exaggerated eye-roll.

"Right, so here's the thing," Franklin began, pacing energetically. "The Thousand Sons' gene-seed problem? It's basically a harmony issue. Think of it like a cosmic orchestra where Magnus is the conductor, but half the musicians are playing from different sheet music." He paused, waggling his eyebrows meaningfully at his father. "And I'm pretty sure a certain feathered friend of ours snuck some blue notes into the composition, if you catch my drift." Franklin continued, "Now, according to these books - and let me tell you, getting them was an adventure involving three mime performances and what I can only describe as interpretive dance - we can fix this. We need three things: the source of the original resonance, that's Magnus; a ritual sacrifice from said source, probably just some psychic energy or something, no need to get dramatic; and..." He paused for effect, grinning widely, "a local Warp deity to keep the other gods from crashing the party."

The Emperor's golden eyes narrowed slightly. "You tread dangerous ground, Franklin." "Now, now," Franklin held up his hands in mock defense, "I'm not naming names, Man- Emperor of Mankind." He emphasized the title with theatrical gravity.

A heavy silence fell over the chamber, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. The Emperor's psychic presence expanded, filling the room with a weight that would have brought lesser beings to their knees. Franklin merely stood there, still smiling, though his eyes held a serious gleam.

"The real trick," Franklin continued, undaunted by his father's display of power, "is how we're going to involve Magnus without him finding out about the whole 'Chaos Gods' situation. Though between you and me, I'm pretty sure he's already got some ideas. Guy spends more time in the Warp than some demons I know. Not that I know any demons. Officially."

The Emperor rose from the Golden Throne, His massive form towering even over His Primarch son. "Magnus's revelation must come from Me, at the proper time. Your focus should remain on the Thousand Sons themselves."

"Fair enough," Franklin conceded, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Though I hope your idea of 'proper time' isn't going to be like that time you tried to explain the birds and the bees to Leman Russ. Poor guy still thinks Fenrisian Wolves have something to do with it."

The Emperor's stern expression didn't waver, but He reached out and activated the Akashic Reader. Images and information began to flow through the air between Father and Son.

"The timeline remains unchanged," the Emperor stated, showing Franklin visions of possible futures. "Magnus's fall was never born of malice, but of pride and ignorance. His actions, though devastating, were meant to save, not destroy."

"Yeah, that's our Magnus alright. Heart of gold, head of granite." Franklin studied the projected images thoughtfully. "You know, for a guy who can see the future, you sure do let a lot of bad stuff happen."

"The paths of fate are- "

"'Complex and interconnected, requiring careful manipulation lest we cause greater catastrophes,"" Franklin finished in a passable imitation of his father's voice. "I know, I know. But sometimes I think you just like being cryptic. Would it kill you to actually explain things to your kids once in a while?"

The Emperor's response was to show more images: Magnus breaking the wards of the Imperial Palace, the Webway Project in ruins, Terra besieged by demons. "Some truths must be earned through bitter experience."

"Right, because that worked out so well with Horus," Franklin muttered, then quickly raised his hands again as the temperature in the room plummeted. "Sorry, sorry! Too soon? It's still

too soon, isn't it?"

The Emperor turned back to the Golden Throne, clearly considering the conversation concluded. "Focus on the ritual. I will handle Magnus."

"You got it, Dad!" Franklin called out cheerfully, gathering up the books. "Oh, and maybe next time we can talk about your tendency to play favorites? I mean, I know I'm clearly the best son, but some of the others are getting jealous."

As he reached the door, Franklin turned back one last time. "You know, a little humor wouldn't kill you. Might even help with the whole 'mysterious all-powerful being' thing you're going for. Try it sometime!"

The only response was the sound of tools resuming their work on the Golden Throne, but Franklin could have sworn he saw the slightest shake of his father's head - whether in amusement or exasperation, even the Primarch couldn't tell.

As the doors closed behind him, Franklin couldn't help but grin. "Well, that went better than expected. Nobody burst into flames this time!"

The crystal spires of Tizca gleamed under the twin suns of Prospero as Franklin Valorian strode through the corridors of Magnus's personal sanctum. The scent of ancient parchment and psychic residue permeated the air, mixing with the distinct aroma of frustrated Primarch - a bouquet Franklin had become quite familiar with during his visits to his various brothers. He found Magnus exactly where he expected: hunched over a massive tome, his crimson form radiating waves of psychic energy that made the nearby crystals hum in sympathetic resonance. The floor around his desk was littered with discarded scrolls and failed experimental notes, all bearing the telltale signs of research into the Flesh Change.

"Knock knock!" Franklin called out cheerfully, rapping his knuckles against a crystal column. "Your favorite brother brings gifts from the nerdiest library in existence!" Magnus looked up, his eyes focusing on Franklin with a mixture of curiosity and mild exasperation. "Franklin. I wasn't expecting you until next month. Don't tell me you've managed to set another sector on fire with one of your... experiments."

"That was ONE time," Franklin protested, producing the copied tomes from his Mechsuit's storage compartment. "And technically, it wasn't fire - it was synchronized quantum destabilization that just happened to look like fire. Totally different thing."

Magnus's eye fell on the books' titles, and his eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "'Minor Warp Gods and Their Interactions When Brought into the Materium' and 'Warp Corruption and Remedies: A Practical Guide for the Chronically Screwed'?" He read aloud, his voice caught between amusement and concern. "Do I want to know how you acquired these?"

"Probably not," Franklin grinned, settling himself into a chair that creaked ominously under his Primarch-sized bulk. "Let's just say I now have a newfound appreciation for mime artistry and leave it at that. But check out page 394 - I've got a solution to your legion's little

mutation situation."

Magnus carefully opened the first tome, his scholarly instincts temporarily overwhelming his curiosity about his brother's latest escapade. As he read, his expression shifted from skepticism to growing interest. "This ritual... it's surprisingly straightforward. But the components required..." He paused, focusing on a particular passage. "It requires a sacrifice of significance from the progenitor?"

"Yep!" Franklin popped the 'p' sound enthusiastically. "Something personally meaningful that can act as an anchor for the stabilization effect. I was thinking maybe your stamp collection, but you struck me more as the 'dramatic gesture' type."

Magnus stroked his chin thoughtfully, his mind already racing ahead. "My left eye," he

declared after a moment. "It would serve as both sacrifice and eternal watchful guardian over my sons, preventing the Flesh Change from ever returning."

"Wow, way to one-up everyone in the dramatic department," Franklin whistled. "But yeah, that'll work. Very symbolic. Very you. Though I was serious about the stamp collection thing - everyone needs a hobby that doesn't involve potentially reality-breaking magic."

Magnus continued reading, then stopped abruptly. "This third component... it requires a local Warp deity to prevent interference from other powers?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Franklin, who exactly did you have in mind for this role?"

Franklin's grin widened to near-impossible proportions. "Oh, you know him, I know him - our great golden daddy himself, the one and only Man-Emperor of Mankind!" Magnus let out a long-suffering sigh, one that seemed to contain millennia of dealing with his brother's irreverence. "You know, sometimes I forget that beneath all the jokes and pop culture references, your mind is actually quite formidable."

"Aww, thanks bro! That's the nicest thing you've said to me since that time I turned Leman's

wolves pink for a week."

Magnus's gaze drifted to his personal library shelf, where another book - one of Franklin's previous "gifts" - sat ominously. "Speaking of your mind, that spellbook you gave me... The Imperium really should establish some form of psychic Geneva Convention, if only to prevent you from creating more spells like 'Manual Breathing Awareness' or 'Itchy Bones."" "Hey, those are classics! Though I admit, the Testicular Torsion spell might have been a bit much. But you should have seen Angron's face when I used it during our last sparring match!" Franklin chuckled at the memory. "Though maybe we should keep that one between us

brothers. The Inquisition might get ideas."

"Franklin," Magnus pinched the bridge of his nose, "the Inquisition doesn't even exist yet."

"Details, details! Speaking of details, we should probably do this ritual on a nice, empty planet. You know, just in case things get a bit... explosive. I know this great spot in Segmentum Pacificus, right on the edge of the Galactic Rim. Perfect for potentially reality- altering rituals that may or may not involve our secretly-a-warp-god father." Magnus nodded slowly, his tactical mind already working through the logistics. "I'll need time to gather my sons. A few Terran weeks, perhaps?" "Works for me! I'll send word to dear old dad and get my Techno-seers ready. They've been dying to try out their new Warp-stabilizing algorithms anyway." Franklin stood up, his armor whining slightly from the crystal dust that had somehow accumulated on it. "Just try not to make any deals with suspicious warp entities before then, okay? I hate it when people steal

my dramatic timing."

"Franklin," Magnus said as his brother turned to leave, "thank you. Despite your... unique methods, you've provided a solution that might save my sons. I won't forget this." Franklin waved dismissively. "Hey, what are brothers for? Besides, someone has to keep you from doing something monumentally stupid like, oh, I don't know, breaking through father's psychic barriers and ruining his secret project."

Magnus blinked. "His what project?"

"Nothing, nothing! Forget I said anything. Just focus on getting your legion ready, and I'll

handle everything else." Franklin paused at the doorway. "Oh, and Magnus? Maybe lay off the warp-diving for a few weeks? The last thing we need is some overgrown bird daemon trying to crash our party."

As Franklin's footsteps echoed away down the crystal corridors, Magnus returned to studying

the ritual texts, a small smile playing at his lips. His brother might be the most irreverent being in the galaxy, but there was no denying his effectiveness. Though he did make a mental note to hide that spellbook better - the last thing the galaxy needed was Leman Russ discovering the "Spontaneous Fur Braiding" enchantment.

In the distance, he could hear Franklin's voice echoing: "Hey, anyone know where I can find a

planet-sized ritual circle? Asking for a friend!"

Magnus shook his head and returned to his studies, grateful that at least one of his brothers combined brilliant intellect with enough chaos to make the Warp itself seem orderly by comparison. Though he did wonder if he should warn their father about Franklin's tendency to add explosions to all his rituals...

Magnus the Red stood in quiet reflection, his psychic senses extending outward to absorb the

captivating scene unfolding before him. The Techno-seers of the Liberty Eagles presented an intriguing paradox - an immaculate blend of technological precision and psychic potential that challenged everything Magnus thought he understood about the nature of psychic power.

A group of Techno-seers was currently stabilizing a Thousand Sons Marine, who had begun exhibiting signs of the dreaded Flesh Change. Their movements were seamless, executed with a degree of coordination that Magnus could only describe as unnatural. Through his psychic sight, he detected the subtle hum of machine-spirit communication that connected them - an intricate web of unseen technology. Their neural-link visors glowed with a soft blue radiance as data flowed between them, their augur staffs pulsing in perfect synchrony. "Impressive," Magnus whispered, his scholarly mind cataloguing every detail. "They're not merely containing the mutation - they're actively reversing its progression by manipulating the fabric of reality itself." His gaze remained fixed on the afflicted Marine, whose twisted

form gradually returned to its original state, though he noted the effect lasted only as long as the Techno-seers sustained their effort.

"To restrain an Alpha-level psyker," Magnus mused, mentally running through calculations, "they would likely need three Battalions. That assumes a purely defensive operation." He paused, analyzing the situation further. "Their reluctance to employ offensive capabilities introduces an unpredictable factor. A margin of error must be factored in."

The Crimson King paced slowly, his mind swirling with the broader implications of what he

was witnessing. The Liberty Eagles' approach to psychic warfare was unlike anything he had ever encountered – perhaps unlike anything in all of galactic history. While most Legions treated their Librarians as specialist combatants, Franklin had molded his into a versatile support network capable of manipulating both technology and the Warp.

His thoughts wandered to combat records he had reviewed. The Liberty Eagles' engagements were often marked by overwhelming force, yet their casualties remained notably low. The Helican Campaign against the Legion of Ouroboros stood out in his memory. A xenos threat that could have dragged on for years had been eradicated in just seven days, thanks to the combined efforts of the Liberty Eagles and the Custodes.

"Seven days to obliterate a hivemind species," Magnus mused with disbelief. "Though perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. Franklin has always had an uncanny ability to find the most efficient path to victory, even if his methods do seem... unconventional."

A grimace flickered across Magnus's face as the memory of the Razing of Commorragh

resurfaced. The Dark Eldar, among the most ancient and dangerous species in the galaxy, wielded technology that was incomprehensible to most of the Mechanicum. Yet Franklin had taken the battle straight to their doorstep and emerged victorious. "Millions dead," Magnus acknowledged quietly. "But against the Dark Eldar, on their own turf... that's practically restraint."

Magnus returned his focus to the ritual instructions Franklin had sent him. As he read through them, he saw the connection unfold. The Techno-seers' ability to temporarily stabilize the Flesh Change suggested that the ritual's approach was sound. Their fusion of technology and

psychic power might even offer new insights into how to improve the cure once it was finalized.

"My brother," Magnus chuckled softly to himself, "you disguise yourself as a fool, but in

truth, you may be the wisest among us. You've crafted a Legion that perfectly balances brute force with defensive measures, overwhelming power with precise control."

As the demonstration concluded, Magnus watched as the Techno-seers powered down their equipment, and the drones returned to their dormant positions. Each one bore the symbol of the FBI - a mark that seemed both ancient and futuristic, much like the Liberty Eagles

themselves.

"The largest concentration of Librarians in any Legion," Magnus mused aloud, "yet their

focus is almost entirely on defense and support. An ideal counter to enemy psykers who might attempt to disrupt their technology." A smile tugged at his lips as he realized the brilliance of it. "One reality-bending attack could deactivate their equipment, but good luck getting past their psychic shields to even try."

Magnus turned back to the ritual instructions, his mind suddenly filled with renewed hope forn/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

his sons. If Franklin could create such an effective synthesis of technology and psychic power, surely the ritual would work to cure the Flesh Change permanently.

"Soon," Magnus whispered to himself, as if reassuring his Legion, "we will take our rightful place in the Great Crusade. No more fear of sudden transformation, no more holding back." He glanced once more at Franklin's ritual instructions, noting the marginal notes that had become his brother's signature - including a crude sketch of the Emperor with a smiley face. "Though perhaps with slightly less dramatic flair than Franklin might prefer."

The twin suns of Prospero bathed the crystal windows in long shadows as Magnus settled into

his preparations. In the distance, he heard the Techno-seers begin their next demonstration, chanting a blend of technological incantations and psychic formulas that somehow reminded him of Franklin's irreverent humor.

"The perfect trade-off," Magnus concluded, understanding fully now why his brother's Legion was so effective. "Unleashed destructive power, tempered by equally absolute defensive measures. Franklin, you magnificent fool, you've created something truly extraordinary." With fresh determination, Magnus immersed himself in mastering the ritual that would save his sons. Soon, the Thousand Sons would stand alongside their brothers in the Great Crusade,

and Magnus anticipated how their unique psychic approaches might complement the Liberty Eagles' unparalleled capabilities.

Still, he made a mental note to ensure that any joint operations avoided Franklin's more... creative battle strategies. The galaxy might not yet be ready for the chaotic mix of traditional psychic power and whatever Franklin might consider "tactically appropriate fireworks deployment."