"Brother, make me an iron bucket."
Ferrus Manus slowly turned his head and looked at Mortarion.
"Why," he asked carefully, "do you need an iron bucket?"
Mortarion folded his arms and sat down without invitation.
"I'm going to beat Magnus."
Ferrus stared at him.
"And this requires… a bucket?"
Mortarion looked back at him as if Ferrus were the foolish one.
"You don't understand."
Ferrus already disliked where this was going.
The Psyker Debate
Recently, Magnus, Sanguinius, and the Khan had been meeting frequently.
On the surface, their temperaments could not have been more different.
In truth, they shared a crucial similarity.
None of them feared psychic power.
On Prospero, psykers were scholars.
On Baal, psychic mutation was rare but not inherently condemned.
On Chogoris, Stormseers were integrated into tribal culture — respected, but never worshipped.
The wider Imperium, however, maintained a cautious and contradictory stance.
The Emperor strictly regulated psychic practice. Outside of the Thousand Sons, no Legion openly fielded sanctioned battle psykers as formalized units. Many Legions used them quietly. None institutionalized them.
Magnus intended to change that.
He argued that psychic assets were strategic force multipliers. That ignoring such potential was wasteful. That disciplined structure would prevent disaster.
He did not advocate reckless warp research in this discussion — only formal recognition of Librarius-style divisions.
The Khan supported codification.
Sanguinius supported regulation.
Both refused to endorse Magnus' more ambitious theoretical pursuits regarding deeper warp exploration.
Mortarion opposed the entire concept.
Not privately.
Not philosophically.
Viscerally.
To him, psychic power was corruption waiting to metastasize.
He had heard Yuki's warnings about the entities within the Immaterium.
Magnus had heard them too.
That was what angered Mortarion most.
"You know the danger," he had told Magnus once.
"And I know the utility," Magnus had replied.
So Mortarion began calculating.
If persuasion failed, perhaps correction was necessary.
Thus—
The bucket.
Ferrus rubbed his temple.
"You intend," he said slowly, "to ambush Magnus with a bucket."
Mortarion nodded.
"He won't see it coming."
Ferrus blinked.
"He is one of the most powerful psykers alive."
"I have a way."
Mortarion's expression was utterly serious.
Ferrus exhaled.
"My forge does not produce weapons for fraternal assault."
Mortarion stood.
"…Very well."
He turned to leave.
Ferrus felt mildly relieved.
Mortarion paused at the doorway.
"I will require it eventually."
And then he left.
Ferrus stared at the empty entrance.
He did not like the certainty in Mortarion's tone.
Second Customer
Not long after—
"Brother, make me an iron bucket."
Ferrus' jaw tightened.
"Are you all conspiring against me?"
Magnus smiled with theatrical innocence.
"I have no idea what you mean."
Ferrus' eyes narrowed.
"What is the bucket for?"
Magnus adopted a solemn tone.
"I discovered a deep artesian shaft on Prospero during excavation surveys. The mineral density of the water is extraordinary. Ordinary containment vessels fail under its weight. I require a receptacle of exceptional durability."
Ferrus did not smile.
"Tell the truth."
Magnus sighed.
"…I intend to strike Leman Russ."
Ferrus' eye twitched.
The Wolves Incident
Magnus had recently attempted to win Russ' support for the Librarius proposal.
He had approached Fenris personally.
Russ had not been pleased.
"If you're here about that witch nonsense again," Russ had warned, "I'll break your spine."
Magnus insisted he was discussing formal regulation, not reckless experimentation.
He outlined the proposal.
Explained oversight structures.
Risk mitigation.
Strategic advantage.
Russ listened.
Then gestured.
The wolves lunged.
Magnus retreated in undignified haste.
His pride was wounded far more than his flesh.
Upon returning to Prospero, he concluded that Russ required physical clarification.
Hence—
The bucket.
Ferrus rose slowly.
"If either of you approach my forge again with this absurdity—"
Magnus was already backing toward the exit.
"Understood, brother. I see you are busy. I will return later."
Ferrus' metal hands clenched audibly.
Magnus fled.
Ferrus stood alone in his forge.
His patience was thinning.
If one more Primarch asked for an iron bucket—
He would make one.
And use it himself.
Third Visitor
Perturabo entered carrying several schematics.
Ferrus' eyes narrowed instantly.
"Don't."
Perturabo frowned.
"Don't what?"
"You want a bucket."
"What?"
Ferrus stared.
Perturabo slowly unfolded the blueprints.
"I need structural components forged to extreme tolerances. Terra's atmospheric remediation arrays require alloys beyond standard density thresholds. My current fabrication tolerances are insufficient."
Ferrus paused.
"…Oh."
Perturabo studied him.
"You look irritated."
Ferrus said nothing.
Perturabo continued.
"These parts must withstand sustained gravitational and thermal stress. If you are incapable—"
Ferrus' expression hardened.
"I am capable."
Perturabo nodded.
"Good."
He began explaining load calculations.
Then he paused.
"You mentioned a bucket."
Ferrus hesitated.
"…Irrelevant."
Perturabo's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Was it iron?"
Ferrus froze.
"Yes."
Perturabo's lip twitched faintly.
"I see."
He remembered very clearly the iron bucket incident.
He also remembered being struck with it.
He looked at Ferrus thoughtfully.
"You forged it."
"Yes."
A pause.
Perturabo exhaled through his nose.
"That explains the structural integrity."
Ferrus opened his mouth to apologize.
Perturabo raised a hand.
"It is irrelevant."
He tapped the schematics.
"These tolerances. Can you achieve them?"
Ferrus studied the design.
"Yes."
Perturabo nodded once.
Then, almost casually—
"Brother. Make me a bucket of iron."
Ferrus: …
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