Chapter 127: Barbarus – Initial Assessment Summary
The sky over Barbarus was as gloomy as ever, but for the farmers who had long been accustomed to toiling on this land, today was actually considered a bright and sunny day.
Hades stood in the open field, contemplating how to arrange the recruitment process for new Death Guard initiates.
According to his own plans, the recruitment for the Death Guard would consist of two sources: voluntary enlistment and the private scouting of talent by the Death Guard itself.
He didn't have to worry about any obstacles in the recruitment process. Barbarus still had a simple societal structure, with no established noble houses or aristocracy.
The Death Guard Legion held absolute governing authority over this planet.
After all, on some planets, being chosen as an Astartes was considered an immense honor. Many noble families would use their offspring's selection into the Legion as a means to expand their power.
However, Barbarus had no such customs. The population was uniformly poor, leaving no excess resources to sustain a landowning class. As a result, there were no inter-family power struggles hindering enlistment—no melodramatic conflicts over recruiting new initiates.
In reality, the Death Guard required a large number of new recruits, but that didn't mean just anyone could join. High-quality recruitment was essential to maintaining the Legion's combat strength.
The first batch of Barbarus recruits who underwent transformation had all been seasoned veterans who fought under Mortarion for years, enduring the toxic fog of war. They were the most elite warriors Barbarus had to offer at the time.
Now, however, due to the intervention of the Imperium and the Mechanicum, large-scale warfare on Barbarus had ceased long ago. After the Legion left, most of the planet's able-bodied young men had flocked to the construction of the orbital ring, leaving only the elderly, women, and children on the surface of Barbarus.
Of course, Hades was not looking to recruit those working on the orbital ring. They were already too old, having missed the optimal age for the transformation process.
Instead, his primary recruitment targets were the children who had either been left behind or sent back to Barbarus by their parents.
The orbital ring did not provide resources for those who could not contribute labor, so most children born there were eventually sent back to Barbarus.
On the planet's surface, the Mechanicum's tech-priests had yet to fully decipher the planet's unique biological ecosystem. Furthermore, they were hesitant to glass the homeworld of a Primarch and rebuild it from scratch. As a result, Barbarus still relied on small-scale farming.
Some agricultural machinery, suitable for the planet's native crops, had been introduced as a temporary solution.
The tech-priests believed this transitional period would eventually pass, making it unnecessary to design a dedicated, highly efficient farming system for Barbarus's current low-yield crops.
Yet, even after the Death Guard's first battle had concluded, this transitional period still had not ended.
Hades recalled a particular moment when he inquired about the progress of the tech-priests—only to be met with blank stares from the mechanicus.
They had responded by dumping a pile of research papers in front of him, proving that they were indeed working on the issue.
Faced with the tech-priests, Hades had maintained a polite smile—though he had nearly lost his composure.
Of course, he didn't blame them. Having spent time living on Barbarus himself, Hades understood just how strange this planet could be.
Perhaps, he thought, he would only be able to resolve this issue once he found a way to purge the Nurgle-tainted warp energy lingering on this world.
And now, shifting focus back to Barbarus—this planet never had a strong foundation in mining. Its primary industry had always been agriculture, with some fishing along the equatorial ocean regions.
Due to the lack of surplus labor and industrial infrastructure, commerce had never truly developed on Barbarus. In most regions, bartering was still the main form of trade.
In fact, back when Mortarion ruled from his fortress, resources were distributed rather than traded. Money? That concept barely existed here.
The only people who occasionally brought Imperial currency to Barbarus were those returning from the orbital ring, but these small metal tokens were practically worthless on the planet.
Interestingly, however, Hades had noticed that small decorative trinkets for gas masks were particularly popular on Barbarus. Some enterprising individuals brought these knickknacks—crafted from industrial scrap on the orbital ring—back to the surface, exchanging them for food.
This created a unique phenomenon—
The young and able-bodied of Barbarus would choose to work on the orbital ring, where conditions were generally better. The newly established human settlements there were especially attractive to those who had spent their whole lives farming.
Meanwhile, the tech-priests and Imperial bureaucrats aboard the orbital ring would trade large amounts of basic living supplies in exchange for their labor. Even if these workers could no longer continue their labor, the accumulated resources were often enough for them to return to Barbarus and live out their remaining years.
At present, the orbital ring primarily focused on manufacturing semi-finished mechanical components that might be used in future efforts to terraform Barbarus. It also produced some of the daily necessities needed by the Death Guard Legion.
Of course, some quick-witted Barbarusians chose a different path, joining the service industry. Some became personal attendants to Imperial officials, while others opened small businesses in human settlements.
The more daring ones attempted to secure passage on merchant vessels, leaving their homeworld entirely.
Compared to the lifeless stagnation of Barbarus itself, the orbital ring surrounding it showcased the rapid development of a civilization that had finally moved beyond mere survival.
Back on Barbarus, however, those who remained—or those who were simply waiting until they became strong enough to work on the orbital ring—continued their daily agricultural labor.
Every morning, groups of children would set out together, heading to their family fields outside the village to work.
The elderly stayed behind, handling rudimentary food processing, cooking, and other household tasks.
Previously, the Death Guard stationed on Barbarus had conducted regular patrols of human settlements, ensuring that these villages—devoid of strong, able-bodied workers—were rarely attacked by wildlife.
Now, a standard Barbarusian life followed a clear pattern—
A child would be born on the orbital ring, only to be sent back to Barbarus by their parents, where they would be raised by grandparents or relatives in the village.
Once old enough to wield farming tools, they would begin working in the fields.
Once older still, and capable of handling most of the work aboard the orbital ring, they would leave Barbarus to spend the majority of their adult lives there—finding a partner, starting a family, and eventually sending their own children back to Barbarus.
If they lived long enough to outlast their labor value, they would return to Barbarus with their savings, helping to raise their grandchildren.
Of course, this cycle had only repeated itself for one generation so far. Wealth had yet to accumulate, and the first wave of elderly workers was only just beginning to return home.
Hades blinked.
Why did this feel... so familiar?
He wanted to change the current state of affairs, but for now, his priority was selecting the first batch of new recruits. Only after that could he plan for Barbarus's long-term development.
Barbarus couldn't remain like this forever. Hades knew that all too well.
The industry on the orbital ring was not enough to sustain the rapidly growing population in the long run. Ultimately, it had to be Barbarus—the planet itself—that should bear this burden.
However, until the issue of Nurgle's warp-taint was resolved, this planet was not suitable for any long-term construction projects.
Perhaps the Blackstone Obelisk could be useful against the warp influence, but after his last experiment with it, the damage had only worsened.
And even if it were functioning properly, the range of a single obelisk could never cover an entire planet.
"Are you thinking about how to select new recruits?"
A familiar voice interrupted Hades' thoughts.
Hades didn't even bother turning his head.
"Finally out of the Medical Room?"
Mortarion glanced at Hades, then silently looked away.
—Had Hades always spoken like this?
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"It really is difficult to accept."
As he sat there—sat beside the dying Calas—Mortarion had thought about many things.
What had he done, exactly, to make his friend choose the path of betrayal?
Perhaps Calas had not chosen it willingly. But he, Mortarion, had chosen to ignore his friend's gradual fall.
Mortarion still remembered the first time he met Calas Typhon—a battered, mud-streaked young man struggling to get back on his feet.
"Mortarion, I know you. You're the Xenos Overlord's child."
Then, the youth gave a sly smile.
"I knew it. You're going to save us."
"Come with us. Down the mountain. To the human villages."
Not far away, the young Hades had been sitting in a truck, waving frantically at them to hurry up.
At that moment, Mortarion had been thinking only about revenge—revenge against his adoptive father, because he knew Necare would never let them go.
Going with them? That would only get them all killed.
But Calas had grabbed his wrist and dragged him down the mountain.
He was a Primarch. The strength of a mere mortal was nothing to him.
And yet, he had still been pulled forward. From that moment on, he had been dragged into the current of fate.
But Calas…
Could he pull Calas back out of that fate?
Would the still-unconscious Calas Typhon give him that chance?
If Mortarion was destined to lose this opportunity forever, then could he at least try to avoid creating an even greater tragedy?
Perhaps, in his endless pursuit of liberation, he had ignored far too much.
Liberation. Yes, liberation.
That had always been his goal. It was the oath the three of them had sworn together. It was the word he had repeated to himself countless times.
But as Calas lay lifeless on that bed, as Hades exhausted himself planning recruitment and countless other affairs—
Mortarion suddenly asked himself: Was liberation really all I ever wanted?
Did those who followed him swear loyalty to liberation itself—or to the boundless possibilities after liberation?
He recalled that, before his campaign against Necare, he had once envisioned a plan for Barbarus's future—its recovery, its prosperity.
Then, the Emperor had intervened.
After that came his biological father's promises—greater liberation, grander liberation.
Mortarion had to admit, there was a moment when he had been tempted by those empty guarantees.
Without hesitation, he had forged ahead. He had sharpened his scythe once more, vowing to liberate world after world.
It felt like he had been climbing an endless mountain.
But had the world he "liberated" ever truly celebrated that freedom?
"You cannot replace one tyranny with another."
"You… did you ask these people if they wanted to do this??"
Did his sons—his Legion—truly take pride in the liberation he had led them to?
Mortarion stood in silence, lost in thought beneath his breathing mask, as toxic fumes slowly seeped down from his imposing figure like a statue.
In the end, he had left the Medical Room. The people of Barbarus never mourned their wounds for long—life always went on, and those too weak to overcome their sorrow would be swallowed by the poison.
Only those who adapted to reality could survive, even if that reality was not what he had once envisioned.
Mortarion blinked and focused on Hades, who was surveying the terrain, contemplating how to select new recruits.
"I left the Medical Room,"
"Because it's hardly a quiet place. Vorx and Garro's transmission requests were coming in every five minutes."
Hades turned his head, giving Mortarion an incredulous look. It was rare for him to display such a dry sense of humor.
They shared a silent understanding not to bring up Calas Typhon.
"I hope Garro and Vorx are doing well," Hades remarked. "How are things on their end?"
"The post-battle cleanup is mostly done, but they're still negotiating with the Imperial departments about assuming administrative control."
"Interestingly," Mortarion added, "according to Garro's report, the Imperium even sent two separate teams of bureaucrats with completely contradictory tax policies."
Hades shook his head in resignation. The Imperium's bureaucracy was, as always, exactly what he expected.
"So instead of helping them with the situation in Galaspar, you're here for the recruitment?"
"Of course, I should be present for Barbarus's second recruitment wave."
Mortarion sounded completely justified.
"Besides, I already signed off on Galaspar's post-war management. The coordination with other factions can be left to Garro and Vorx."
As always, a Primarch's efficiency was staggering. But Mortarion had also decisively delegated the finer details of governance that he had no interest in handling.
Before Hades could question him further about his work, Mortarion changed the subject.
"So, how do you plan to select the recruits?"
Hades shrugged.
"I haven't decided yet."
Should he rely purely on medical examinations? Capture wild beasts and make the recruits fight them? Or organize a tournament where they fought each other for advancement?
All of these were common methods. Recruitment processes were often tailored to suit each Legion's identity.
The Space Wolves, for example, would abandon their candidates on the icy tundras of Fenris—anyone who survived and made it back earned their place.
There were countless ways to assess physical endurance. Hades simply wanted to choose a method that was efficient and quick.
But he also hoped to screen recruits not just for physical aptitude, but for their mindset and ideology.
During the Great Crusade, Legion recruitment had been notoriously lax in this regard—virtually nonexistent.
Not that the Legions were entirely to blame. Psychological and ideological selection was an incredibly subjective process.
"Why not just—"
Mortarion's power armor creaked as he raised his massive scythe, Silence, pointing toward the distant mountain range.
"Make them climb."
"The Death Guard requires resilience. Only those who survive nature itself can become worthy of the Legion."
Hades followed his gaze. As the elevation rose, the toxic fog grew denser.
Back when the Death Guard's resistance fighters had trained for rebellion, they too had climbed these mountains.
"That could work," Hades said slowly.
But first, he had to ensure that the poison in those mountains wasn't tainted by Nurgle's warp influence.
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