The skies of Barbarus have always been bleak, but for the farmers accustomed to toiling here, today was an unusually bright day.
Hades stood in the open field, pondering how to arrange the selection process for new recruits for the Death Guard.
In his plan, the Death Guard's recruitment would consist of volunteers and those scouted privately by the Death Guard.
He didn't have to worry about recruitment roadblocks. The societal structure in Barbarus was still simple, with no presence of noble families or aristocrats.
The Death Guard held absolute administrative power on this planet.
On some planets, being chosen as a stellar warrior is a rare honor. Many noble families would then send their heirs into the military to further expand their influence.
But on Barbarus, where poverty was widespread and there was no surplus to sustain a landlord class, there were no melodramatic disputes between families over recruitment.
In truth, the Death Guard needed many new recruits, but not just anyone could become a member. Quality recruitment ensured the strength of their forces.
The first group of modified Barbarus citizens were veterans who had fought alongside Mortarion in toxic battles, representing the best military minds on Barbarus.
Now, due to the intervention of the Empire and the Mechanicus, large-scale wars have ceased on Barbarus. After the Legion departed, many of Barbarus's young adults flocked to the Star Ring, leaving the elderly and children behind.
Of course, his target recruits were not the middle-aged working on the Star Ring. They had missed the ideal age for the transformation surgery.
The children left behind, or those sent back to Barbarus, were Hades' main focus.
The Star Ring does not provide for those who can't work, so most children born there are sent back to Barbarus by their parents.
On Barbarus, because the Mechanicus still hasn't fully understood the planet's ecosystem and doesn't want to risk completely destroying its environment, small-scale farming persists.
Some agricultural machinery suitable for local crops has been introduced, used as transitional tools.
The Mechanicus believes that this awkward phase will pass, so there's no need to design a dedicated assembly line for Barbarus's current low-yield crops.
However, even after the first battle of the Death Guard, this transitional period persisted.
Hades remembered the confused looks of the wise men when he asked about their progress, and the pile of papers they handed him as proof of their efforts.
Facing the wise men, Hades struggled to maintain a polite smile.
He didn't blame them. Having lived on Barbarus, Hades knew its peculiarities.
He thought he might be able to use the Blackstone Obelisk to handle the planet's tainted psychic energy. But after his last experiment with it, the obelisk was even more damaged. And one obelisk wouldn't be enough to cover an entire planet.
"Are you pondering the recruitment of new soldiers?" a familiar voice interrupted Hades' thoughts.
Without turning his head, Hades replied, "Finally out of the infirmary?"
Mortarion glanced at Hades and silently averted his gaze.
Did Hades always speak like this?
"It's indeed hard to accept," Mortarion mused, thinking about many things as he sat by the dying Calas. What had he done to drive a friend to betrayal?
Maybe Calas didn't have a choice, but Mortarion, who had ignored his friend's gradual descent, remembered their first encounter. A disheveled young man struggled to stand in the mud, "Mortarion, I know of you, the child of the Alien Lord."
Then the young man flashed a mischievous smile, "I knew you'd save us."
"Come with us, down the mountain, to the human villages."
In the distance, a young Hades was atop a truck, shouting at them to run.
Mortarion was still contemplating revenge against his foster father, believing that Nacre wouldn't let things rest. To follow them? He feared that his presence might bring doom upon everyone.
But Calas grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him down the mountain. Being an Original, human strength meant little to him.
Yet he found himself being pulled along, thus thrusting him into a predetermined fate.
But Calas…
Could he pull Calas out of this entwining destiny?
The still unconscious Calas Typhon – would he grant him that chance?
If Mortarion truly lost this opportunity, could he resist creating a greater tragedy?
Perhaps he had been too fixated on 'liberation' and overlooked too much.
Liberation. Yes, liberation.
He had always sought it, always pursued it. Their collective vow had been liberation, a word he had whispered countless times.
Yet as Calas lay lifeless, and as Hades was lost in his world of recruitment, Mortarion began to wonder. Was it mere liberation he sought? Or the infinite possibilities thereafter?
He recalled, before the assault on Nacre, his visions for Barbarus's rehabilitation and prosperity. But all that was interrupted by the Emperor.
Followed by promises from his birth father – a grander liberation, a more radiant one.
Mortarion admitted, there was a moment he was swayed by those empty promises. He committed, sharpening his scythe, pledging to liberate world after world.
It felt like climbing an endless mountain.
Yet, had any of the worlds he liberated truly celebrated their freedom?
"You cannot replace one tyranny with another."
"Have you ever communicated with the locals?"
Did his followers genuinely feel pride in his liberations?
Underneath his mask, Mortarion pondered, the noxious gases slowly streaming down from his figure.
He eventually left the medical chamber. The people of Barbarus never mourned for long. Life persisted, and those consumed by sorrow were swallowed by the toxic mists.
Only the strong, those who adapted to reality, survived – even if that reality differed from their hopes.
Mortarion blinked, focusing on Hades who was surveying the terrain, contemplating the recruitment.
"I left the medical chamber," Mortarion began, "because it wasn't a place of tranquility. Vox and Garro sent communication requests every five minutes."
Hades turned, incredulously eyeing Mortarion. For once, Mortarion displayed his dry sense of humor. They silently acknowledged the topic of Calas Typhon.
"I hope Vox and Garro are fine," sighed Hades.
"How are things on their end?"
"Post-war cleanup is almost done, but they're still negotiating with the Imperial department over administrative management," Mortarion reported, "Interestingly, Garro mentioned the Empire sent two groups of bureaucrats with conflicting orders regarding tax policies."
Hades shook his head. The Empire's bureaucracy was predictably inefficient.
"Why aren't you helping them in Galaspa? Why are you here for the recruitment?"
"The second recruitment for Barbarus? I should obviously be present," Mortarion declared proudly. "As for Galaspa, I've approved the post-war plans. Garro and Vox handle the liaison with other factions."
The efficiency of the Originals was unmatched, but Mortarion was swift to delegate tasks he deemed trivial.
Without giving Hades another chance to question, Mortarion promptly inquired, "How do you plan on selecting the new recruits?"
Hades shrugged, "I haven't decided."
Should it be based on physical criteria, or perhaps pit them against beasts in combat? Maybe a straightforward duel between the applicants?
Each method served a legion's distinct orientation. For instance, the Space Wolves would throw their potential recruits into the snows of Fenris. Surviving that trial earned them a place.
While Mortarion pondered physical tests, Hades wondered if they could also psychologically and ideologically screen these recruits. During the Great Crusade, legions rarely screened recruits for their ideology.
"Perhaps," Mortarion's power armor creaked as he raised his scythe, pointing to the distant mountains, "make them climb."
"Death Guards require resilience. Only those who survive nature can become worthy Death Guards."
Hades gazed at the mountains. The higher the altitude, the denser the toxic mists. Back in the day, training for the Death Guard resistance meant leading them up these peaks.
"That could work," Hades slowly responded. But first, he needed to ensure there was no interference from the corrupting psy-energy in the mists.