Knight Titans are not true Titans.
Much as the miniature creation Reditus called the treasure of the foundry was only a Knight in name, the great walking machines of the Imperium's noble houses are something categorically different from the towering war engines of the Titan Legions. Most Knights in the Imperium belong to one of the old noble families: inherited machines, bound by blood and tradition, as much a mark of lineage as they are weapons of war. Those Knights that pass out of family hands tend to end up in the ranks of the Freeblade, wandering warriors with no house allegiance and their own reasons for fighting.
The origins of the Knight pattern are, in their way, humbling. They were likely large utility machines developed during the golden age of humanity to assist with planetary colonisation, machines built with as much thought given to civilian function as military purpose. Armed, yes, but never purely weapons.
Titans are a different matter entirely. Whatever their individual history or the complexity of their patterns, every Titan ever built was designed for one purpose: war. Nothing else. And all of them were designed and manufactured by the Adeptus Mechanicus, sanctioned to the Titan Legions, and owned entirely by the orders that field them. The Mechanicus does not permit the use or possession of a Titan by anyone outside their authority. This is not a guideline.
The distinction between a Knight's pilot and a Titan's princeps reflects this clearly enough. A Knight belongs to its noble pilot in a way that goes beyond law, bound by the neural link of the Throne Mechanicum across generations. A Titan's crew, by contrast, is more accurately described as a component of the machine itself: replaceable, consumable, serving a war engine that will outlast them all and return to the Legio when they are gone.
None of which matters to most citizens of the Imperium. Even those fortunate enough to see a genuine Knight in the flesh tend, without thinking, to file it in their minds as a small Titan of an unusual pattern. It causes considerable irritation among the noble houses.
The Mechanicus, for their part, has never bothered to correct the misconception. From a political standpoint, the confusion benefits them in too many ways to make correction worthwhile.
Nolan sat at the metal round table and said nothing for a moment.
His eyes moved from Reditus, still hovering in the air with its amber sensors dimmed, across to Sage Neil standing silent in her red robes, the dead mechanical arm hanging at her side. He had heard everything. He turned the full account over in his mind.
As David had suggested before leaving the room, the matter could be measured two ways. By one measure, he could have killed both of them on the spot and no one in the Imperium or beyond would have raised a meaningful objection. By the other measure, applying that solution would mean he had failed to actually teach either of them anything.
He exhaled slowly. His gaze settled on Sage Neil.
"Sage Neil. This began with you. Whether the intent was malicious or simply careless, the result was the same." He kept his voice level. "However, given your particular contributions to this base, I am setting aside the more severe response you would otherwise have earned."
He let that sit for a moment before continuing.
"What I am not setting aside is the consequence. You will be transferred to Hydra Island. David will arrange a regular supply line of materials and automatic servo robots. You will construct a new foundry there from the ground up."
Sage Neil's posture shifted almost imperceptibly. Nolan continued.
"David will also forward you a set of technical schematics for a project called the Sky Carrier, along with an unfinished prototype. Your assignment is to complete it. You will work within the design framework without compromising its function, but where you can make it more capable, I expect you to do so. A rotating team of Astartes will provide security at the island."
He did not say the rest aloud. He did not need to.
The Astartes rotation was not purely for her protection. If Sage Neil chose to interpret her exile as an opportunity and her foundry as a platform for something unauthorized, she would find the garrison was more than decorative. He had placed a ceiling on her ambitions and a watchful eye above it. Whether she tested either was her decision to make.
Sage Neil bowed in his direction, the motion precise and unhurried.
"Thank you for your forgiveness, Primarch. I will build you a Sky Carrier worthy of you and the Emperor."
David appeared at the passage entrance a moment later, and Sage Neil followed him out without looking back, the two of them moving toward whatever preparations came next.
The hall was quieter now.
Reditus waited approximately two seconds before firing its anti-gravity engine and sweeping forward, circling the table with an energy that its dimmed sensors had entirely failed to conceal.
"Ha! Lord Primarch, your wisdom and judgment are as sharp as ever. You see everything, miss nothing. Truly, the subtlety of your decisions is beyond what lesser minds could even..."
"Reditus."
The servo skull stopped.
Nolan looked at it with a faint narrowing of the eyes.
"You're celebrating early. Tell me about the miniature Construct Knight Titan. All of it."
"Ah. Respected Primarch. I humbly request that you hear my thorough and reasonable explanation, which is definitely not a quibble in any form whatsoever."
Reditus descended to land on the surface of the metal table, the slight vibration of its anti-gravity generator going still as it settled. Then it began to talk.
The story had started with Doom.
From the moment Doom had arrived at the base, Reditus had felt something it rarely allowed itself to examine directly: the possibility that it might become obsolete. Doom was a genius by any measurable standard, and his usefulness to Nolan was growing. For a Tech-Priest whose entire professional life had been spent being sidelined and overlooked, the old anxiety returned quickly. Sitting on a bench while the team moved forward without you was not a new experience for Reditus, but it was an experience it had no intention of repeating.
So it had turned to the one thing it knew how to do: it had started building.
The internet had provided a great deal of material. The arrival of Antarctic vibranium and the metals salvaged from the space hulk had provided better material still. And somewhere in the middle of absorbing schematics and pulling apart design principles from Mechanicus archives it had never been meant to access, Reditus had asked itself a question: what was the largest, most powerful war machine the Imperium of Man produced?
The answer was obvious. An Emperor-class Titan.
The practical reality followed immediately afterward: Reditus had never seen so much as a War Dog. Had never stood within a hundred kilometers of one. Had access to fragmentary technical data and the kind of reverent second-hand descriptions that Mechanicus initiates whispered to one another in the dark.
The ambition shrank in stages. The blueprints went through iteration after iteration. The Emperor Titan became something smaller, then smaller again, then smaller still, until what remained on the design surface was not a Titan at all but a machine that wore a Knight's silhouette: too small for the Titan Legions, too independent in design to belong to any noble house, and carrying, in Reditus's private assessment, a great deal of original thinking that had come out of the process of repeatedly failing to make it larger.
The native Mechanicus enthusiasts in Reditus's informal circle of research admirers had contributed suggestions. Most of them had been ignored. Some of them had not, and those were the ones that had led to the transformation systems: the Scythe configuration for close-quarters engagement, the Gear configuration for sustained fire coverage, and the Aquila configuration that combined both approaches into something that was still, technically, unfinished.
Nolan listened to all of it.
He looked at the servo skull on the table in front of him for a moment without speaking. Then the corner of his mouth moved.
"Reditus. As long as you remain loyal to me and to the Emperor, it doesn't matter how many Mechanicus Sages join this base or how talented they are. You are still one of mine. That has not changed and will not change."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to something quieter and more deliberate.
"Here is what I'm offering. Complete the Micro-Construct Knight Titan fully: all three configurations finished, the production line standing and operational. Do that, and I will personally promote you to the rank of Mechanicus Sage."
He held Reditus's optical sensors with his gaze.
"And if you feel the occasion requires the appropriate ceremony, I will find a way to arrange it. Perhaps even a visit to Mars."