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.
"Then it will make a louder sound when it falls," Valerius replied, his voice grating like grinding stone. The Fourth Legion
Warsmith Valerius stood on a ridge overlooking the shining white walls of the fortress. Behind him, thousands of his Legionaries—armored in hazard-striped iron—silently checked their ordnance. There was no shouting, no bloodlust, only the cold, systematic preparation of war. The Iron Warriors did not fight for glory; they fought for the sake of breaking what others deemed unbreakable. The Fourth Legion didn't celebrate
"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. Warsmith Valerius stood on a ridge overlooking the
The planet of Tallarn was already a ruined landscape, but the city of still held, defended by the loyalist Imperial Fists. To the Iron Warriors, the IVth Legion, this wasn't just a tactical goal; it was a personal insult.