After Governor Vassa and his administration were dispatched to the Gulag—sentenced to repay the losses caused by their stupidity through hard labor—the Fourth Legion assumed direct control of Norsca.
By Perturabo's personal decree, all administrative affairs on the world would remain under the Legion's jurisdiction until the pacification of the Norscan barbarians was complete. Only then would governance be handed over to bureaucrats arriving from Kislev.
The Council of Terra was of little concern in this matter. As a Primarch and a son of the Emperor, Perturabo possessed the inherent authority to dismiss planetary governors and local governments, placing such worlds under his personal dominion.
Thus, following a thorough purge of Norsca's upper echelons, the Fourth Legion took full command of the Imperial colony's affairs.
The local colonists, exhausted by the prolonged war and the grueling siege, showed little reaction to the Primarch's dismantling of their government. Their primary desire was for Perturabo to annihilate the rebel tribes as quickly as possible so they could return to their lives in peace.
With the siege of Norskajek broken, Perturabo ordered a massive influx of grain and supplies from Kislev and nearby systems. These resources were rapidly transported to the capital, saving the residents who had been on the brink of starvation.
This act earned the Primarch the deep affection of the Norscan people. Soon, they began to follow the example of the Kislevite soldiers who had arrived with the Legion, warmly addressing the Iron Tsar as "Little Father."
With the threat of collapse averted and the planetary government stabilized, Perturabo moved to the next phase: the total extermination of the rebellious tribes to ensure the world's absolute submission to the Imperium.
The Former Governor's Mansion, now the Fourth Legion Command Center.
The grand hall of the mansion had been transformed by Fourth Legion Tech-Marines into a command hub for the Iron Tsar. True to Perturabo's preferences, the space was filled with rows of cogitator engines and sophisticated tactical arrays.
Perturabo stood before a hololithic map, his eyes fixed on the geographic projections of Norsca, which were constantly updating with the latest battlefield intelligence.
First Captain Forrix and Second Captain Suvorov stood solemnly behind their genetic father. After a period of silence, Forrix spoke first.
"Under the watch of the Astartes and Streltsi deployed throughout the city, the populace has readily accepted our rule. There is no significant resentment regarding the purge of the former administration."
"The people of Norsca are not mourning their old government; rather, they are eager for us to press our advantage and wipe out the barbarians who destroyed their homes."
"In my estimation, we should strike while our momentum is at its peak to trap and destroy these tribal coalitions."
Forrix delivered his report in a detached, analytical manner. He had realized that his father favored officers who embodied rationalism, and he had carefully tailored his persona to match.
"And what of you, Suvorov? Forrix suggests we strike now to finish these barbarians in their dens. What is your view?"
Perturabo turned away from the hololith to look at Suvorov.
"My Lord, I hold a similar view."
"The breaking of the siege and the 'Death from Above' strike by our Legion have placed immense psychological pressure on the tribes. It would be ideal to capitalize on their fear while it is still fresh," Suvorov added. He clearly supported Forrix's plan for a final, decisive blow.
"You agree as well, Suvorov?"
"Good. It seems we share the same intent." Perturabo nodded slightly, approving of their assessment.
"Then let us plan the next step. This will be an extensive campaign; we shall be at war with every tribe on the planet. This is the first true battle between me and the Fourth Legion."
"When this war concludes, I will stand upon the ruins of the Norscan tribes and bestow upon you the name I have chosen."
"At that time, you will no longer be a Legion defined by a mere number given by the Emperor. You will be an Astartes Legion with a name granted by me, your genetic father. A true Legion."
"If you fight with sufficient valor, you shall also earn the right to call me 'Father' once more."
Perturabo inclined his head, already visualizing the conclusion of the campaign.
"Then, My Lord, let us begin the planning! The Fourth Legion stands ready for your command, without hesitation or regret!"
Forrix's face flushed with excitement. He desperately craved the recognition of his Primarch for himself and his battle-brothers.
He glanced at Suvorov and saw a similar glimmer of joy in his friend's eyes. Suvorov nodded back at him in silent agreement.
"Then, My Lord, allow me to point out the adversaries we face."
"Unlike the Imperial colonists who mostly reside on the southern plains, these warlike barbarians built their tribal strongholds among the northern mountain ranges. Their fortresses are designed to be easily defended and difficult to assault."
"However, against our heavy weaponry, their 'impregnable' fortresses are of little consequence. If we deploy our full strength, we can erase them with ease."
Forrix pointed to the markers on the holographic map, explaining the tactical landscape to his father.
"Very well. However, I want a plan of maximum efficiency. A scheme that achieves the greatest victory with the least possible loss."
"I will also deploy my Kislev Streltsi to the field. They will work alongside you—and compete with you."
Perturabo nodded in satisfaction as he issued his final instruction.
"By your command, My Lord."