He had been looking forward to returning to the fleet and the Round after four months in Rivers-Concourse and having to play politics with the rulers of the new Republic.

So much that he had forgotten how dull their own meetings could be.

"The fleet will be ready soon," Alten'lo commented as he tapped his throne and projected the fleet sectors over the Round Chamber. "As previously discussed, the Rotary will proceed as follows."

With a sweep of his hands the fleet compositions, assets and dispositions were broken down into segments.

Trystane still found the name a bit lacking.

'Rotary'.

Four months of planning, rituals and recuperation and the best name they had agreed upon was the Rotary?

Legends were not likely to sing praise of the legion's imagination.

It was probably more imaginative than some of the names in the Imperium.

But really, rotary?

"Ten Terran years in each post," Dinada commented, the Master of Onyx leaned forwards on his throne to regard the image as if its very image irritated him. "It will be questionable to our cousins."

The others grimaced at that, the sons of the sixteenth were pleasant company, but they had all poured over the reports of the other eighteen legions (and the one that they were not allowed to discuss), it was not promising to set up that much scrutiny.

"The Authority is creditable excuse, Guildmaster," Fleet-Master Ningishzida said as he leaned forwards onto his tented fingers to observe the display. "Even if maintenance is disregarded, it is hardly an easy thing for a new crew to manage. A few exaggerated truths in the battle records and it becomes more plausible."

"That was not my concern," The master of Onyx let out a breath. "Their arrogance is astonishing, we will be seen as cowards if we are perceived as moving between Expeditionary Fleets so quickly."

"Is that an issue?" Trystane smiled at the roll of the Onyx's amber eyes.

"The issue is that they make the most honor-crazed among our people seem restrained in comparison," Dinada flashed his eight fangs in disgust. "I have no interest in trusting an ally which will deem us expendable in the name of their own glory."

"I acknowledge the possibility," The Primarch spoke up, his colorless eyes regarded the chart with annoyance. "It is why we will endeavor to not rely on them."

"Just smile and pretend it is not an issue," The Legion-Mother laughed from her seat, mourning-tear markings in contrast with her smile. "Let them have their glory and leave them to it if needed."

"I understand, Morygen-Mother, but I wish this to remain on our minds," The Onyx Guildmaster snorted but was otherwise wordless.

Trystane understood his brother's annoyance, Dinada was in many ways the most filial among them after Alten but lacked the elder Astartes's patience for the more conventional attitudes of the other Legiones. He was the most against the Rotary.

"Do not worry brother," Alten'lo smiled. "I do not disagree with your sentiment."

The master of Gold traded nods with the master of Onyx before turning his attention back to the display.

"Gold and Ruby will remain with the main Expeditionary Fleet to form the bulk of our force limitations," He gestured to the thousands of vessels which were already moving towards the central fleet-formation. "Silver, Emerald, Sapphire and Pearl will form the bulk of the rotary forces."

Each of the guilds would serve in one of the regional bases while the main force operated as the principle face and strength of the legion.

"Emerald will hold the Warden-Vigil over Calengwag," Alten'lo nodded to Percivale.

The first station on the Rotary was the Warden-Vigil, which would station the guild as guardians of Calengwag for a decade's time. It would also hold responsibility over the 'heartland' of the newborn Imperium, hunting Void-outbreaks within the Imperium territories and dark spaces. It was also the best time to resupply and try new inductees, allowing a fatigued guild to build its strength in a relatively safe setting while ensuring that the homeworld was safe.

"Silver will hold the first Companion-Vigil," Alten'lo confirmed while pointing towards the empty seat that had been raised where the future Silver Guildmaster would someday seat.

The Companion-Vigil would fill much of the remaining space of the main fleet, providing their force with a fresh guild to throw into the most visible crucibles of the Great Crusade and ensure that the ties to the main legion stayed strong.

Well, that is the idea, Trystane amended.

Four months had only managed to reduce the running to four potential candidates for the position and it would not do for a headless guild to do on its own.

"Tor, you will carry out the Ascending-Vigil while Morien will perform the Descending-Vigil," Alten'lo continued.

Two guilds scattered from mobile muster-points to the various Expeditionary Fleets to the Galactic North and South as needed. North would serve ten years before taking the South while the previous holder would move on to the Warden-Vigil.

"And the Onyx will scatter," Alten'lo concluded.

"Our ships will carry their own rotary as agreed," Dinada grunted.

Alten'lo had only begun of course.

Seeker elements, titan deployments, ship compliments and so many other factors needed to be addressed before arrangements were complete.

It was all a very tiring thing but Trystane understood their importance.

They were setting a precedent and one that would be in place for centuries at least, barring of course that some of the grimmer prophesies of his Primarch held true.

Trystane divided his attention between his minor role in the meeting and thinking about the past few moons.

The Sisters had made things hard, their arrogance had not gone without comment in the territories of Ruby at least. It had come as a relief that Percivale had been left to deal with them, as the quiet master of Emerald was by far the most reserved of their number.

More worrying was the fatigue that he sensed from both the Primarch and the Legion-Mother.

Morygen's mourning markings were demanded by tradition, black lines of paint tracing from her eyes. But there was a lack of vigor to her voice that made her seem old, withered and plainly sad.

The Primarch was little better, Galtine was easier to read than his wife. He simply forgot to put up a pretense of external reactions when his mood was sour and did a poor effort of hiding his impatience to return to the heavens.

He understood it, better than the others perhaps.

His spartan chambers in the halls of the Ruby had felt more like a prison than a home on the few occasions he had been able to sleep and even that had been preferable to what was outside.

It had not been completely awful; his sister's new grandchildren had been warm and even loving. But they were the exception in a sea of painful reminders.

It was tempting to think of Calengwag as home.

But Trystane knew that it wasn't.

Their homeworld was a wellspring and a tomb.

New brothers, new blood for their family.

But also, the resting place of so many kin, kith and wars that it hurt to linger there for longer than necessary.

The crusade is our real home, Trystane sighed. What that says about us is an entirely different affair.

…

So, the forces of the Second Legiones Astartes splintered into four fleets.

Percivale of the Emerald remained on the homeworld of their legion, holding sway over the entirety of the system's defenses in addition to his own fleet forces.

Morien of the Pearl departed southwards aboard the bridge of the Battle-Barge Joy. With him, he took seven thousand Astartes and their accompanying forces, taking the Legates Imperator to be delivered to the Tenth Primarch with them.

Tor Galath of the Sapphire departed north with his flagship Multitude and his six thousand brothers, to his new base in the Hundredth and Seventy Seventh Expeditionary Fleet.

And the Eighty Second Expeditionary once more launched towards its appointed coordinates. Twenty-two thousand Astartes remained with the main fleet, along with the Legio Vexos and a full three million mortal warriors.

Their destination was the predicted location of the Sixth Legion.

Cognomen: Space Wolves.

…

"It is a ridiculous name," He chuckled as he opened a decanter from his private collection and offered it to Alten'lo.

Trystane was unabashed in the furnishing of his apartments on the Avalon.

He kept a comfortable home, walled in stone and wood to resemble a middling country-estate scaled to his physiology.

Which included a comfortable den with a roaring fire that almost seemed real, decorated with wood-over-steel furnishings and leather seats, one of which his brother filled.

"They are worthy of some respect," The bearded Astartes said after sipping from the bottle and handing it to him. "They are relentless warriors and loyal to the emperor."

"Isn't that the basic expectation?" Trystane chuckled as he took a drink of his own. "I do not think that we are meant to relent and be treacherous, except the twentieth."

"We are still supposed to not be aware of their existence," The Terran berated him with some humor in his gruff voice. "And 'Space Wolf' is no more humorous than Luna Wolves."

"They are not prone to void combat and if we accept an extra-planetary definition," He pushed back his silver-gold mane. "Then we must accept that we are the 'Space Dawn Knights', 'Space Luna Wolves' and 'Space Iron Hands'. Even calling them Vlka Fenryka seems a bit too literal if it actually does just mean 'Fenrisians'."

The Terran arched a bushy brow, "You are being a touch literal."

"I am," Trystane admitted with a laugh. "But I am worried."

"Oh, I would not say that you are alone in that," Alten'lo admitted while evaluating the trophy blades the lined the walls.

He could freely admit that he had something of a taste for collecting weaponry. Aeldari blades, makeshift Ork klaws and a wide assortment of xenos and human arms, some of which had been maddeningly difficult to hang-up due to their irregular shapes.

Head taking was not unusual on Calengwag, some areas practiced it as a matter of evidence or in ritual practice.

But… Trystane thought that there was something a touch morbid about collecting the skulls of sapient creatures as decorative furnishings.

It struck an uncomfortable middle ground between disrespectful and needy by his reckoning.

"They seem like they will be difficult," he said more seriously. "The Luna Wolves had their odd touches, but this Rout sounds like an irritatingly grim bunch from the records."

"They have spirits," Alten'lo commented. "I have heard it takes like death."

"Who would want to drink death?" Trystane chuckled. "I would much prefer to drink good-humour, coin and other things I can actually enjoy."

"I am not sure that I understand them, they are a rather private legion," The Golden Guildmaster admitted. "Age is hardly a promise of answers."

"Well that is disappointing," Trystane muttered as he finished what was left of the decanter. "I had thought older people were of a more knowledgeable make."

"Age is relative, are you not four years my elder?" Alten'lo frowned curiously.

"Two!" Trystane waved defensively.

"Terran," The elder said dryly.

"Well, then yes," He laughed. "But in fairness, you look older. Is that not what really matters?"

He emphasized by passing a hand over his clean-shaven face to highlight the contrast between him and the elderly seeming former legion-master.

"By that logic, all of the Sixth would be your elders," He shook his head.

"As long as I get to be youthful one," He laughed.

"Is there not a jibe among mortals regarding desperate attempts by the aging to retain their youth?" He said plainly.

"Precisely!" Trystane smiled while standing up. "Let me get another so we may reminisce about my immaturity."

He enjoyed the company of the senior Astartes, especially his willingness to follow his horrid jests without restraint.

It was one of the things he likes best about being home.