The Fourth - Legion

The Fourth Legion didn't celebrate. They simply packed their artillery and began moving towards the next fortress, another, more difficult challenge, for they were the masters of iron and the servants of a war that would never end.

"Iron Without!" roared his Legionaries as they advanced, not running, but walking in a relentless, iron wall. The Imperial Fists fired from the breaches, but the IVth Legion simply ignored the casualties. They were used to taking suicide missions, forced by their primarch, Perturabo, to excel in hopeless situations. The Fourth Legion

When Valerius finally stepped into the command center of the fortress, he did not find a desperate garrison. He found a masterpiece of engineering, now ruined by his own superior engineering. The Fourth Legion didn't celebrate

The loyalist commander lay broken. Valerius looked down, his helmet displaying endless data streams of heat signatures and structural failures. He didn't feel pride—only the bitter resignation of his Legion's existence. They were the architects of devastation, the ones the Emperor used for the "dirty work", and now, they were the bringers of that same bitter justice to their own brothers. The Imperial Fists fired from the breaches, but

"Then it will make a louder sound when it falls," Valerius replied, his voice grating like grinding stone.

"They have had eighteen months to fortify this position," whispered his second-in-command, Berossus, over the vox-channel.