The Surface of Norsca.
Norskajek, a town filled with Terran-style architecture, was the first settlement built by Imperial colonists on this bitter world using STC designs provided by the Adeptus Mechanicus. This town was intended to be the planet's capital and the residence of the Imperial Governor.
Consequently, the spaceport—the lifeline for communication with other worlds—was situated within Norskajek. This ensured that the planet's only channel to the outside world remained firmly in the hands of the Emperor-appointed Governor.
This centralization allowed for better management of the planet's unique exports and resources, which would eventually be shipped out as tithes—an indispensable duty and responsibility for every Imperial world.
In truth, the Imperial government on Terra only required a world to pay its tithes and maintain a semblance of obedience. They rarely pried into the finer details of local administration. As long as the tithes were met, the Governor of Norsca could effectively act as a god-king over his people without restraint or condemnation.
However, the Governor of Norsca was no longer in a position to enjoy such monarchical power. His folly had led to him being besieged by the combined native tribes of the entire planet.
He could only pray that the nearest Imperial forces would arrive at top speed. Failure meant being butchered on an altar by Norscan barbarians, who were consumed by rage over their desecrated holy sites, all to appease their wrathful gods.
Now, the capital of Norsca was surrounded on all sides by the very barbarian tribes it was meant to suppress. Every overland route had been severed, leaving the city isolated save for the internal spaceport. If there was any silver lining, it was that the Norscans lacked sophisticated siege engines. They were forced to rely on a protracted war of attrition to starve the Imperial forces in Norskajek into submission.
Fortunately, as the capital, the Mechanicus architects had considered the possibility of a long-term siege during the city's construction.
They had established numerous massive granaries and warehouses within the walls of Norskajek, allowing the city to stockpile vast quantities of resources.
Relying on these reserves, the Imperial forces under the Governor's command had successfully held out for over a year. However, their supplies were now nearing their end.
Upon the Walls of Norskajek.
"Damn them! Those heretical barbarians still refuse to withdraw! Are those so-called gods truly that important to them?"
"Those northern bastards are infuriating!"
Karl Vassa, the Imperial Governor of Norsca, stood atop the ramparts of Norskajek, staring with irritation at the Norscan tribal camps encircling the city. He cursed under his breath.
Though the siege was a long and grueling war, the Norscan tribal alliance controlling the outskirts had a much easier time than the Imperial soldiers and colonists trapped within.
The Norscans could rotate their forces out to hunt and gather to supplement their rations. In contrast, the Imperial troops and civilians were confined to strictly rationed stockpiles.
This difference in logistics meant that the Norscans could sustain the siege almost indefinitely, while the Imperials could only pray for reinforcements.
"My Lord, we have successfully broadcasted the distress signal. We can only hope the Emperor and the Terran government can spare a force to suppress these barbarians. Hopefully, they heard us," an officer nearby said softly. Judging by his tone, he wasn't particularly optimistic either.
The Governor said nothing. He stared with a grim expression at the Norscan camps that blanketed the hills and plains. After a long silence, he turned back to the officer.
"How much longer will our supplies last?" he asked after a moment of internal struggle.
"If you must know... even with the most frugal rationing prioritized for the soldiers, we can hold for two or three weeks at most. After that, I cannot say how much longer we can endure," the officer replied reluctantly.
"I see. Then we can only pray the Emperor's reinforcements arrive in time."
"I never imagined... I finally retired and received this world as my fiefdom, thinking I would have a comfortable old age. Then this happens."
"Perhaps my end is to die on the battlefield after all. I would rather die in street fighting once the walls fall than be dragged to their altars to be flayed for their bloody gods," the Governor remarked, his voice carrying an air of resignation.
"Look! Meteors! It's a meteor shower!"
Amidst the gloom, a sudden shout shattered the heavy atmosphere. It was a soldier on sentry duty, pointing toward the sky.
"What?! How is that possible? A meteor shower in broad daylight?!"
Governor Vassa was stunned. He snatched a pair of magnoculars from an attendant and rushed to the edge of the wall to see what these "meteors" truly were.
Countless "boulders" were falling from the heavens like a torrential rain. They slammed directly into the Norscan tribal camps surrounding the city.
The shockwaves from the impacts alone obliterated countless Norscan warriors who had previously terrified the local Imperial troops. They were turned into red smears before they even had a chance to react.
Soon, the rising mist of smoke and dust covered the battlefield, followed by the rhythmic, heavy thudding of mass-reactive bolter fire.
Karl Vassa and the other Imperial soldiers watched from the walls as the Norscan warriors, after attempting a few disorganized counter-attacks, began to retreat. An army they could not hope to defeat had arrived, forcing the fanatical tribes into a rare withdrawal.
"No, that isn't a meteor shower."
"Those are... Astartes drop pods. A Legion has come to save us. I truly cannot say whether this is a blessing or a curse," Governor Vassa said, his expression becoming exceedingly solemn as he shook his head.
"My Lord, someone has patched into our vox-channel. They are using... Fourth Legion codes. Do you wish to speak with them?" an attendant reported, his face filled with worry.
"Give it to me! Let me speak!" Vassa said without hesitation. The vox-link was established.
"I am Forrix, First Captain of the Fourth Legion. Several companies of the Fourth have just completed an orbital drop. By the command of our noble Primarch, Perturabo Rurik Kislevsky, the Fourth Legion will deploy across Norsca to annihilate the barbarian presence on this world."
"Furthermore, prepare yourself. The Primarch himself will be landing on Norsca. Ensure you are ready to meet him."