Following the submission of the Norscan tribes—who had witnessed Perturabo personally defeat their greatest champions—the Great Rebellion sparked by the Governor's folly finally came to a complete end.
This war had resulted in the slaughter of countless Imperial colonists dwelling in the plains, butchered by Norscans driven to madness by the desecration of their sanctuary. Even more people had been left displaced and destitute.
Similarly, as the instigators of the revolt, the Norscan tribes suffered devastating losses during the subsequent counter-offensives and purging operations launched by the Fourth Legion and the Kislev Streltsi. Many ancient and renowned tribes were systematically annihilated and put to the sword by Perturabo's forces.
As the price for rebelling against the Imperium, and by Perturabo's direct order, the surrendered Norscans were forcibly relocated from their traditional territories by the Kislev Streltsi and the Fourth Legion Astartes.
These Norscans were cast into newly established Gulags by the tribe. There, they were subjected to forced labor to repay the damages caused to Imperial property during their rebellion.
The fierce and warlike Norscan warriors were drafted into Penal Battalions under the command of the Streltsi, mirroring their counterparts on Kislev's soil.
Many Norscan warriors joined these Penal Battalions to fight for the Iron Tsar voluntarily. This was partly due to their submission to and worship of the strongman who had utterly defeated them, and partly to ensure their families in the Gulags received better rations and lighter labor assignments.
As Perturabo had previously declared, the world of Norsca was annexed into the Fourth Legion's domain—and thus into the Kislev Tsardom under his rule.
From this day forward, the Governor responsible for governing this world would no longer be appointed by the Administratum of Terra. Instead, they would be dispatched by the "Veche" Council established on Kislev, which Perturabo had created to better administer his state.
To replenish the population lost to the war, and before the Fourth Legion departed Norsca to continue the Great Crusade, Perturabo ordered a migration of people from his home world, Kislev, to restore Norsca's production capacity.
With the influx of Kislevites, Norsca eventually shed its barbarism and gradually integrated into the order of the Kislev Tsardom. However, that would be a story for the distant future.
Now, one final task remained. It was time to give Perturabo's sons a new name—a name bestowed by their genetic father, Perturabo Rurik Kislevsky.
This was the symbol that would truly complete the sacred and momentous ritual of the Primarch's reunion with his Astartes Legion.
In the plaza before the former Norscan Governor's residence.
Tens of thousands of Fourth Legion Astartes stood in several rigid phalanxes within the square. Shortly, their genetic father would appear in person to review these warriors who had just stepped off the front lines.
To this end, these cold and tenacious superhuman warriors stood with chests out, much like children yearning for a parent's approval. Even the marks and scars left by Norscan weapons on their Mk II Power Armor remained visible, a testament to their recent struggles.
Like tens of thousands of statues, the Astartes of the Fourth Legion stood in silent vigil, awaiting the arrival of their genetic father.
Meanwhile, Perturabo was making his way to the balcony of the residence to review his sons, followed by Forrix and Suvorov.
"My Lord, we are ready. All the Battle-Brothers are waiting for you."
"They... they only hope for a sufficiently positive... feedback from you. Many of them have just returned from the battlefields against the Norscans," Forrix said, keeping pace with Perturabo. He spoke with caution, carefully choosing his words for fear of displeasing his father.
Suvorov, however, watched Perturabo with a cold eye. As a sensitive veteran, he sensed that his genetic father might be a man of volatile temperament, and thus he never granted his "trust" easily.
"Then, do you believe the Fourth Legion deserves my commendation? In your eyes, at least, do they possess the merit?" Perturabo asked, seemingly casual.
"No, My Lord. I do not know if we meet your standards. But, if you are dissatisfied, then at least... at least do not be too angry. Grant them, at the very least, a neutral stance," Forrix replied, his heart racing as he scrambled to defend himself and the Legion.
By now, he had seen enough of the Iron Tsar's cold and ruthless methods of leadership. He did not wish to see his Battle-Brothers subjected to whatever harsh measures this father might devise.
"..."
"So, you are speaking up for your brothers, Forrix?"
Perturabo fell silent, scanning Forrix with a cold gaze before slowly asking the question.
"..."
"Yes, My Lord. I do not wish for Battle-Brothers who have endured such brutal combat to return to their commander only to receive no praise or honor, but instead be judged as criminals!" Forrix answered firmly after a moment of internal conflict.
"..."
Upon hearing Forrix's words, Perturabo fell silent again. This time, he did not speak further but continued his walk toward the balcony in an unsettling silence—the balcony where he would review the Fourth Legion.
Seeing this reaction, Forrix grew even more uneasy, but he had no other choice. Even if Perturabo were to make a disastrous decision next, as a soldier, he was bound to obey the Primarch's orders without condition.
Thus, he and the silent Suvorov followed Perturabo onto the balcony.
When Perturabo appeared, the silent Astartes of the Fourth Legion immediately turned their eyes toward him, waiting for his words.
Perturabo swept his gaze across the thousands of Astartes in the plaza, looking at them in silence as if deep in thought.
The longer Perturabo remained silent, the more anxious Forrix became. He began to fear that he and his brothers had failed to meet Perturabo's "standards."
"Astartes of the Fourth Legion, though you displayed many inadequacies during this campaign..."
"I must admit, your tenacity and stubbornness exceeded my expectations. From the displays in the command center, I saw many squads continue to resist while surrounded by Norscans, refusing to retreat."
Perturabo finally spoke, and his words were unexpected. They were words of praise—a rare occurrence that shocked the Fourth Legion veteran.
"You are like iron—heavy and dull. But similarly, you are so solid, so unyielding, that no blow can make you bend."
"I am honored to be your genetic father. I am honored to have you as my sons."
"And from this moment forth, you are the Iron Warriors. My Iron Warriors. The warriors of iron who shall slaughter all my enemies."
Perturabo continued, appearing to genuinely appreciate the Fourth Legion's performance, contrary to Forrix's fears. Finally, he bestowed upon them their new title.
"Iron leads to Strength. Strength leads to Honor. Honor leads to Faith. Faith leads to Iron!" He concluded his brief speech with his famous Litany of Iron.
"Iron leads to Strength. Strength leads to Honor. Honor leads to Faith. Faith leads to Iron!"
As Perturabo finished, the Astartes of the Fourth Legion—or rather, the Iron Warriors—recited the litany in unison. Their cold, resolute voices filled the entire square.
"Now, you are worthy to call me... 'Father.' Your actions have proven you have that right."
Perturabo slowly turned to Forrix and Suvorov behind him.
"Father!"
"Father!"
Hearing these words, the two high-ranking officers of the Fourth Legion dropped to one knee, addressing Perturabo with tones of profound reverence and love.
"Now, it is time for us to return to the Great Crusade," Perturabo said with a slight nod.