D-Day, 08:30 Local

Battlegroup Vanguard – 88th Aurean Dragoons

Before the war the Customs House of the Exchequer-General was an unimpressive if not forgettable building. A gray slab tower carved in the High Gothic brutalist style, it nominally housed Sanctus Terra’s Imperial ministry charged with administering the planet’s tithe. 

But the invasion revealed it was more than that. Its parapets had thrown off their angel statues to reveal long-hidden heavy weapon mounts. Onion-shaped bulbs thought to conceal church bells were revealed to be search and tracking auspex positions. And the large square surrounding it – once an open park frequented by pensioners and retirees – had turned into a busy, makeshift landing zone and motor depot for the 88th Aurean Dragoons.

A kilometer underneath the Customs House, behind blast doors guarded by Aurean grenadiers and surrounded by a small group of commissioned and non-commissioned officers, Lord Colonel Erryc Margrave quietly studied a map of the hive city. A bustle of commotion in his command bunker mirrored the activity above, with intelligence staff and administrators trading scripts of papers and voxes to push back the fog of war. A junior intelligence officer stood ready to summarize his report to the colonel. 

“Okay Lieutenant,” Lord Colonel Margrave sighed, “what’s the butcher’s bill?”

“Lord Colonel,” the young officer awkwardly responded, “suffice to say the War Council’s intel on enemy anti-air capabilities were…incomplete.” The officer did so acknowledging the vagary of bruises and a large gash down the Lord Colonel’s right cheek – both highlighting that the Commander of the Aurean 88th had just barely escaped a valkyrie crash an hour ago.

The Lieutenant gestured to a few areas around the customs house: “We’ve secured and successfully activated the defenses of the Customs House, henceforth code-named Fortress. Most of the 88th is spread across three grid squares, with those able making their way here.”

Lord Margrave grimly nodded. “Casualties?”

“Forty KIA or unaccounted for so far,” the Lieutenant responded. “Twice that wounded, unknown the split for combat-ineffective,” the intelligence officer continued. “We’ll know more over the next three hours as some of the errant drops circle back to Fortress and file their AARs.” 

The Lord Colonel swallowed his reaction to a number roughly equivalent to ten percent of his battlegroup. 

Composed, he responded. “I want all After Action Reviews circled to me as fast as they come in. Nothing fluffed. We need to give a realistic picture to higher so we can impress how quickly we’ll need an air corridor to begin CasEvac flights-” 

“-On that sir,” the Lieutenant interjected, “higher is holding all flights and aerial sorties until we can clear some of the local enemy anti-air.” 

The intelligence officer indicated several parts of the map. “Our pathfinders are reporting that these positions contain command and control for the Skyfire batteries that hit our air assaults. We’ll need to either take or destroy these positions before we can get orbital support.” 

“Copy,” Lord Colonel Margrave responded. He turned to the set of officers behind him and selected one through the dull red of the Bunker’s tactical lighting. “Well then Sag,” he called out, “you’re up.”

A thin figure in a weathered dragoon carapace holding a tank commander’s beret at his side stepped forward. His eyes were emotionless cold steel, hammered strong by the experience of previous campaigns. “Ready and willing sir,” responded Major Saggar Enfield. 

“Put together a task force and a mission package on these targets,” ordered the Lord Colonel, “and start rolling on them over the next hour. I know we don’t have much free for you, so pull whatever you can from 5 Commando’s detachment here too.”

Major Enfield nodded to affirm the order, though he couldn’t help but betray a bit of confusion.

5 Commando was a battalion attached to the 88th just before they departed Aurea. Composed of Tempestus Scions trained since birth to serve the Inquisition, they were the ones who initially dropped from orbit to secure the Customs House and activate its defenses. 

Most of them were stationed at a separate floor of the command bunker accessible only to the Lord Colonel and select members of his staff. Clearly, like the Customs House itself, there was more to their mission on Sangua Terra than he knew. 

The Lord Colonel detected the mixture of emotion washing over his Executive Officer’s face. “I’ll get you the clearance to start drawing on their officers. You’ll also need to be briefed on some aspects of their mission on planet.” 

“Very good sir,” Major Enfield responded. Lord Colonel confidently nodded to his XO and the intelligence officer briefing them.

“Well then,” he announced, “let’s retake this world.” He stood back from the table and saluted his men. 

“Aurea endures,” he intoned. 

In a unified shuffle of kit and gear, they returned his salute and shouted back. Aurea endures