Warhammer: The 11th Primarch - The Black Emperor

Campbell was not seated upon his mechanized throne, nor had he descended to the ground. Instead, he stood within his Knight suit, looking down at the approaching giant clad in black armor.

When Nareth came to a halt and raised his head to meet his eyes, Campbell, clad in green knight attire, stared back with steely resolve in his deep brown eyes.

Trained as a knight from childhood, his will was as unyielding as steel, impervious even to the ancestral spirits housed within the mechanized thrones. He intended to leave a lasting impression on this Primarch.

In the next instant, his body trembled slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over him. The antelope milk he drank that morning and the yak meat he had consumed churned violently in his stomach.

Nareth rarely allowed the full weight of his soul to manifest externally. That transcendent power was far beyond mortal senses, and even the strongest minds could crumble under its pressure.

Though now a powerful Beyonder, Nareth had learned to contain this force within his body, sparing mortals from its effects.

But now, he let go of the restraint, revealing his true presence.

Even Arsena, who was long accustomed to being near Nareth, experienced a momentary lapse in thought.

Campbell turned pale. He quickly averted his gaze, grateful that his household Knights could not witness his moment of weakness.

After a few seconds, knowing any delay would draw unwanted eyes, Campbell forced himself to speak, using sheer willpower to steady his tone.

"I am Campbell, Knight King of the ruling House Vextrix of the Daxos Star System. I welcome your arrival."

Nareth withdrew his soul pressure and responded:

"Monarch Nareth. Eleventh Legion. Primarch."

Unlike Campbell, he offered no flowery titles, no claims of dominion over Vostonia, no boasts of victories in Persephone. Just a direct, simple statement.

Yet the Knights and retainers of House Vextrix could feel a tremendous pressure behind his simple words.

It matched the lingering dread shadowing their minds; some even felt that Nareth stood taller than their massive Knight suits.

Campbell realized the mechanized throne could help stabilize him. Abandoning inherited noble decorum, he slumped into the throne, quickly connecting to the neural interface.

As the voices of his ancestral spirits flooded his mind, he felt, for the first time—a strange sense of comfort.

"Don't be afraid, Campbell. Grandpa's watching you."

"Hold strong, Campbell! You're the Knight King of House Vextrix. You're my blood! Great-grandpa doesn't want to see you wet yourself."

"…"

Campbell's rising goodwill was instantly crushed by rage.

"Shut up!"

He nearly blurted it aloud but clenched his teeth in time.

His anger burned away his fear. These damned ancestors always tried to help in the most irritating ways.

But he wasn't a child anymore. He was the Knight King. He didn't need help.

Campbell raised his head defiantly and met Nareth's gaze.

"Nareth, you are welcome here. If you are merely visiting my realm, you are welcome."

"But if you, like your gene-son, come to demand my submission, then forget it!"

"House Vextrix rightfully possesses its ancient lands and arms!"

He spoke loudly, defiantly. With the pressure gone, he felt emboldened.

"House Vextrix serves only the Omnissiah. I will only swear loyalty to Mars!"

Nareth let out a faint laugh and looked at Campbell.

"No. You will submit," he said, voice firm. "You will submit to me."

Campbell's mind was once again filled with the raucous voices of his ancestors.

"Campbell! Kick his ass! Who does he think he is?"

"Campbell, you must teach him a lesson. It's your duty as Knight King."

"…"

This time, Campbell agreed. He had to give Nareth a lesson.

With a provocative tone, he said:

"If you want me to submit, you'll have to challenge me the knightly way, through a duel of honor."

Gareth glanced at the Knight suit, noting its multi-barrel autocannon on the right and Thunder Gauntlet on the left.

'It's been a while since I stretched. A decent opponent.'

He smiled faintly.

"Very well. Let's begin."

Campbell didn't believe he'd lose. The Daxos Gloria was the most powerful Knight suit; only legendary God-Machines could best it.

Still, Nareth's earlier overwhelming aura lingered in his mind. An uneasy doubt took root.

'Could I actually lose to a so-called Primarch?'

He didn't want to believe it, but he wasn't going to take the risk.

Campbell thought quickly and devised a strategy for guaranteed victory.

"No. I propose a three-part duel of honor. You must win two of the three before I yield."

Nareth didn't hesitate.

"Agreed. I hope you still remember a noble's honor and a knight's dignity. Keep your word."

"Of course. I would never break my word."

"Then, what's the first challenge?"

Campbell smirked. He would play smart.

"House Vextrix is a Knight House. Our suits are our partners."

"If you want to earn my respect, you must prove yourself worthy to awaken a Knight."

"The first trial: I will assign one of my Tech-Priests. You will choose someone from your ranks. Both will attempt to revive a damaged Knight suit. The one whose Knight functions longer, wins."

No sooner had he finished than his ancestors erupted in protest.

"No! This violates the knightly code of fairness!"

"Our Tech-Priests are far more familiar with Knight suits. That's unfair!"

"Only a Magos of the Cult Mechanicms could match them in this!"

But other voices countered in support:

"Winning the first of three gives us a decisive edge."

"We are Knights, yes, but also nobles. This is a noble strategy: exploit your advantages."

"Exactly. Even if it slightly contradicts knightly rules, Campbell is the King. He can bend the code."

'Yes, this was a noble's tactic.'

Campbell stared at Nareth, waiting to see if he would dare accept the challenge.

"Accepted."

Nareth turned to the "Savant."

"Gabriel. I leave it to you."

Campbell looked toward the techmarine, who stood a little closer to the Omnissiah than the others. He had a servo arm on his back but otherwise looked unimpressive.

Certainly not as sanctified as their own Tech-Priests.

"Follow me."

As the cockpit closed, Campbell said over comms:

"Sol, prepare two damaged Knights."

"You will represent me in an honor duel against the Astartes; the challenge is Knight repair."

"You must win."

Moments later, a mechanized voice responded:

"As you command, Knight King."

.....

If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.

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