Lion El'Jonson.
For five Terra standard years, this name frequently appeared in Jaghatai's ears. Sometimes it was mentioned inadvertently by his Terran sons, sometimes it was the low whispers of mortal officials echoing in the corridors. More often, it was the slow, sincere, and serious recounting of his brother Horus.
In the words of mortals and Astartes, the Primarch of the First Legion was not a particularly capable figure. People spoke softly of his quick temper, claiming he was far inferior to a great commander like Horus:
whether it was his savage origins, his reclusive and arrogant demeanor, or his failure to achieve any distinguished battle records in the years since his return to the Imperium all became reasons for their whispered criticisms.
And the outbreak of the Rendan War further fueled these sentiments: how powerful was the First Legion? Everyone admitted they were once the most powerful of all Astartes Legions, even the arrogant warriors of the Shadow Moon Wolves would concede this point.
But look now: the once great First Legion, led by their Primarch, left tens of thousands of corpses on the most distant and savage frontiers of the galaxy, and hundreds of times more mortal warriors also shed their blood on the battlefield.
Yet, despite this, the so-called xenos empire named Rendan had still not been utterly annihilated, and vast territories and worlds in the northern Milky Way had still not been recovered into the Imperium's grasp.
The once strongest and largest Legion had lost its prestige in just a few years. And compared to the triumphant advances of Horus and Guilliman across the galaxy, compared to the frequent victories of the Eleventh Legion when facing the Rendan Empire, Lion El'Jonson and his sons couldn't even produce a detailed victory report.
People only saw: this Calibanite, leading his Legion, repeatedly demanded more auxiliary forces and supplies, and repeatedly disappeared into the most remote darkness. Whenever they returned,
they would be scarred and have suffered heavy losses, millions of auxiliary forces would vanish again, completely unlike other Legions' resounding victories. Such a tragic state naturally became the best proof of the Caliban Lion's lack of ability.
As for the Rendan, which everyone on the front lines spoke vaguely of? It was merely a xenos regime. In these years, the Legions of Horus, Guilliman, and Dorn had annihilated countless such blasphemous civilizations, harvesting victories and glory in abundance in the western and southern galaxy.
How had they ever been as disheveled as the First Legion?
Such numerous words continuously echoed in Jaghatai's ears. Even Horus, whom he admired most, had once quietly evaluated his brother in private discussions:
the Primarch of the Shadow Moon Wolves compared Ferrus Manus's and Guilliman's command abilities to his own. As for Lion El'Jonson, the Wolf King admitted he would be a good frontline commander, but only that.
"He lacks the vision to see beyond star sectors and systems. His energy and fury are often entangled by minor issues on a single world, then he expends his precious time and power on a completely thankless problem."
When referring to his brother, Horus commented thus.
Jaghatai tentatively believed this conclusion. After all, in his father's hypocritical Imperium, the only one he could trust, and the only one he wanted to trust, was Horus.
But at the very first sight of Lion El'Jonson, Jaghatai Khan crushed all memories and preconceived notions into dust scattered by the wind, allowing everything his eyes saw and believed to form true cognition. Not even the words of Horus, whom he respected, would become the foundation of blind faith.
And upon seeing Lion El'Jonson for the first time, this Great Khan from Chogoris knew what kind of person he was.
Those mortals, their ideas were indeed wildly mistaken.
——————
Horus's state was somewhat strange.
This Primarch of the Shadow Moon Wolves was the most sincere figure in front of almost all his brothers and friends. He loved to greet everyone he met with smiles, cheerfulness, and shared topics, always keeping himself enveloped in a vortex of trust and warmth.
Horus was like the sun; his surroundings would never lack warmth and harmony. This was the image he had painstakingly cultivated. As for whether this was to imitate his genetic father, who was born with immense radiance, or if he had his own thoughts and considerations, Horus himself preferred not to dwell on it.
But at this very moment, facing his approaching brother, Horus involuntarily put away his smiles and camaraderie. He straightened his back, standing there like a perfect marble statue, his face displaying a subtle, almost imperceptible, yet perfectly standard and ritualized smile.
The Great Khan of Chogoris couldn't help but frown. The Horus he saw now didn't feel like a kind elder brother, but rather the kind of monarch he disliked most.
And more tragically, Horus did not possess the perfect talent of a monarch. He was more like a prince deliberately imitating his Imperial Father, diligently maintaining his important yet fragile authority in front of his powerful brothers.
The current Horus made him uncomfortable.
But Jaghatai would not point it out. Of course not.
"You're late, brother."
Horus stepped forward. With his step, Lion El'Jonson also stopped advancing. The two Primarchs maintained a solemn atmosphere, keeping a distance of about two meters.
Horus smiled, as sincerely as possible.
"I thought you wouldn't come. After all, you haven't attended a gathering of brothers in a long time. Last time, I even wanted Leman Russ to meet you. You two haven't seen each other since your return."
"The war is urgent."
Facing Horus's long monologue, the Caliban Lion merely responded with a few simple words. He seemed to possess a natural low-pressure aura, automatically deflecting Horus's warmth outside his mental sphere.
The Wolf King spread his arms, appearing completely unaffected by his blood brother's cold words. He revealed a sufficiently amiable smile, so much so that Lion El'Jonson couldn't find any fault with it.
"You can contact us, Lion El'Jonson. You are our brother and a part of us. Your Legion and my Legion both serve the Great Work. You don't need to shoulder all the responsibility yourself, facing the most desolate war in the galaxy alone."
"Side-by-side combat?"
A hint of a smile appeared on the Caliban Lion's face. It wasn't a gentle smile, but a languid, beast-like mockery of prey.
"Are you willing to let your wolves bleed, Horus?"
"In the most remote corners of the galaxy, unnoticed, unknown, only silent bleeding and countless sacrifices."
Horus paused. He didn't answer immediately.
"If our Father gives the order, I will lead the Shadow Moon Wolves anywhere, to fight any opponent."
As his words fell, the two Primarchs simultaneously fell silent. A heavy atmosphere slowly solidified between them, as if in the next second, the two Legion Masters would draw their blades and become enemies.
Who knew how long passed? Perhaps a few seconds, or perhaps a minute. In the Primarchs' senses, this was a long time.
Then, at a certain moment, with a tacit understanding, Horus and Lion El'Jonson swayed their bodies together and laughed. Amidst this laughter, the two Primarchs embraced and greeted each other.
"Welcome back, my brother. You have returned from the bloody abyss of the galaxy and deserve some rest."
Horus lightly patted Lion El'Jonson's shoulder. This was not a truly genuine embrace. His tone was gentle, containing a sincerity that no one could question.
And Lion El'Jonson had already put away his smile. He returned Horus's profound affection with the calmest tone.
"I never returned, Horus."
"I never left there. I never left my Legion. My spirit has always been there, and that will not change."
——————
When Jaghatai saw Lion El'Jonson walking towards him, he vaguely seemed to recall something.
He was not unfamiliar with this brother. In his memory, there were people like him.
That was on the planet Chogoris. At that time, his foster father had not yet died in tribal feuds. He would take him galloping across the steppes, enjoying feasts, bonfires, and strong liquor.
And in those grandest feasts, there would often be a special group of guests. They rarely came, but always left a deep impression.
They were a group of wild men, men wrapped in animal hides, bone arrows, and strange tattoos. They were assigned to the most honored seats, close to the chief and elders,
but a natural vacuum would form around these peculiar guests. No one wanted to approach them, and they didn't care. They just drank, or told some of their own stories. Before the next dawn, they would quietly leave.
The residents of the steppes, though equally wild, would sing ancient songs of the Ever-Sky, carve exquisite jewelry and golden pendants, and adorn their felt tents with tapestries depicting legendary stories. But this group was different, completely different. They sat there as if the beasts of the forest had grown hands, feet, and faces, and had come to civilized society.
Jaghatai had once inquired about these people. He was told that these people were hunters from the forest. They were the ones in the tribe who disliked the steppes and civilization. They spent their days and nights soaking in the forest,
either by the chief's command or simply because they liked it there. In short, they had always stayed in the deep forest. They had gone mad, becoming exactly like the beasts they once hunted, and no longer wished to leave the forest to return to their true kin and civilization.
Only the most demanding missions and the call of their chief could make them temporarily return to the civilized world. They would silently carry out their missions, and then once again disappear.
When Jaghatai became the Khan, he respected these eccentric fringe figures, allowing them to remain in Chogoris's last forest. He did not absorb them into his sons or legions. Jaghatai had thought he would never see such people again.
But now, it seemed the galaxy was more wondrous than he had imagined.
——————
Fulgrim pulled up a chair, turning the three Primarchs' summit into a four-brother conference.
Whether by coincidence, or Chemos's Phoenix's trivial whims, the placement of the four chairs was quite peculiar.
The Wolf King's and Lion's chairs were placed in the middle, but Horus's and Fulgrim's own chairs were slightly forward. In this way, Fulgrim was actually closer to Horus.
But apart from that, Chemos's Phoenix had no other particular actions. The four brothers sat together, introducing and greeting each other. The atmosphere between Jaghatai and Lion El'Jonson was inevitably somewhat quiet, but Horus's and Fulgrim's open nature made the conversation generally very pleasant.
Their topics revolved around war, home, the galaxy, and their respective sons. The names of Abaddon, Arjac, and Aktoana were repeatedly mentioned. But compared to the somewhat bland and monotonous campaigns of the other three Primarchs, Lion El'Jonson's stories were clearly more captivating.
"My most intelligent son, Zahariel, once went to the front lines of the Rendan War."
Horus leaned back in his chair, gently stroking his chin with one hand. His gaze was fixed on his brother from Caliban.
"He told me about the Rendan War: long, brutal, seemingly endless. On the desolate and empty fringes of the star system, there were only more and more xenos legions. The war of attrition would extend from one star system to another."
Lion El'Jonson's gaze was also fixed on the Wolf King.
"Stop beating around the bush, Horus. What do you want to say?"
The Wolf King's brow twitched uneasily. Fulgrim lightly scanned the somewhat awkward scene, reached for a bottle of good wine, picked up a few glasses, and poured wine for his brothers one by one. During this brief pause, Horus blinked, having thought of his next words.
"I am simply moved by the extraordinary brutality of this war, my brother. I once had the honor of fighting alongside the most ancient Dark Angels, but as far as I know, they have successively fallen in this war."
"So, what do you want to say?"
The Primarch of the First Legion showed no compromise whatsoever. He stared intently at his brother, as if a soft spot in his heart had been mercilessly poked.
He seemed to be enraged. The Calibanite's strange pride suffered due to some unintentional remark from Horus.
Horus paused for a second. The atmosphere seemed a little awkward.
Jaghatai saw Fulgrim smile. Chemos's Phoenix raised his wine glass.
"Horus just wants to help you, Lion El'Jonson. He just finds it a little difficult to say. We are brothers, and it's only right for brothers to want to help each other. In fact, it's not just Horus; if you need it, I will also bring my sons to assist you greatly."
"I don't need it."
Lion El'Jonson looked at the extended wine glass. He agreed, raising his own glass, and touched it very reluctantly, but didn't drink a single sip.
"I don't need help, Horus. Thank you for your kindness."
"My Legion and I endure all of this. We endure death and sacrifice. We will continue to endure them until the mission entrusted to us by the Emperor is completed. And all of this is our own affair."
Horus smiled. He showed no trace of embarrassment. The Wolf King spoke some apologetic words and also extended his wine glass towards Lion El'Jonson. This time, the Lion King returned a calm smile and took a sip.
"You don't need to be so stubborn, my brother."
The Wolf King continued, displaying a grace that even Lion El'Jonson found somewhat moving, as if the previous awkwardness didn't exist at all.
"There's not only one war in the galaxy, and the Great Crusade is far from over. You don't need to expend all your efforts on one war."
"This is a mission, Horus, the Emperor's mission. He entrusted the eastern part of the galaxy to me."
"Yes, I know, this is a mission, the eastern part of the galaxy is your responsibility, but as we've said, the Emperor entrusted you not only with territories to defend, but also with the… need to gather other brothers."
The word "power" lingered on the Wolf King's lips, but he ultimately didn't say it.
"From the beginning, this was not a war that could only be fought alone, Lion El'Jonson, my brother. Perhaps, you don't need to rely solely on the strength of the First Legion. You can also try to entrust your trust to others.
From Zahariel, I've heard of the deeds of others. Mortarion and his warriors fulfilled their obligations. The White Scars and the Nineteenth Legion also shed blood and made sacrifices."
"And those mortals, Lion El'Jonson, my son once mentioned a mortal named Morgana. She seems to serve in your Legion and has accomplished deeds worthy of song in this war. Unfortunately, the details of this war haven't reached our ears further."
Lion El'Jonson fell silent. His silence was shifting.
At first, it was merely the languid aura of a feline beast, but when Horus mentioned a certain special mortal, Lion El'Jonson's face froze for an instant.
He opened his mouth, seemingly a bit unwilling.
"Yes, Horus, the war with Rendan and its victory were not achieved by my Legion alone. There were… others."
"That's right."
Horus smiled, taking a sip of wine.
"You should be more frank, my brother. Whether it's Jaghatai or Mortarion, their sons and Legions indeed bled in this war. Perhaps their deeds weren't as significant as those of the Dark Angels, but your Legion certainly needs more allies and support."
The Lion King didn't immediately reply. He silently chewed on Horus's words, his eyes narrowing, emitting a somewhat dangerous gaze.
"And you, Horus?"
"If I asked for your help, would your Legion come to the northeast of the galaxy and make sacrifices?"
Horus's expression remained unchanged.
"I have my own mission, Lion El'Jonson. My next objective is to eliminate a psyker xenos lurking in the Druan System, together with Jaghatai and Mortarion."
"But if you issue an invitation, and our Father approves it, I will wholeheartedly assist you."
Lion El'Jonson didn't reply. He showed no sarcasm, nor did he laugh.
He remained silent, quietly meeting Horus's gaze.
Until Fulgrim refilled his own glass, then raised his full goblet and inserted himself into the conversation.
"Why are you so troubled by these things, my brothers?"
"Don't be so serious. Although we all have heavy missions on our shoulders, not all our brothers are as busy as we are right now—you know who I'm talking about, right, Horus?"
The two Primarchs laughed simultaneously.
"Leman Russ…"
Lion El'Jonson softly uttered the name.
Fulgrim played with his hair, slowly easing the tension between the Wolf and the Lion, as if telling a bedtime story.
"Our Fenrisian brother is currently slacking off. His mission progress has already made Holy Terra quite displeased. It's just a pocket empire, yet he still hasn't completed the mission to punish it."
"Durin."
Lion El'Jonson slowly spoke the word.
"I have received Holy Terra's directive. As soon as things here on Moloch are over, I will take my Legion and tell Leman Russ the importance of efficiency and attitude."
Horus laughed.
"You'll like Russ, Lion El'Jonson, my brother. I swear to you, you have some things in common. Although they might not be readily apparent, in some aspects, you are truly very similar."
"Perhaps, you'll hit it off immediately."
Lion El'Jonson had no further reply. Instead, Fulgrim glanced at Horus, and a mischievous thought surged within him.
Then, his tone seemed to indicate he had discovered some minor issue.
"Was that a mission directly from Holy Terra, or a mission given to you by our Father on Moloch, Lion El'Jonson?"
"It was Holy Terra's directive."
"Hmm… then what did you and Father talk about on Moloch?"
With Fulgrim's question, Horus involuntarily perked up his ears.
Chemos's Phoenix saw this scene, and his lips couldn't help but curve. Sure enough, when he brought up this question, Horus's calm demeanor seemed to falter.
His Wolf King brother could never tolerate anyone being more intimate with the Emperor than himself.
Fulgrim felt a malicious pleasure. He slowly leaned back in his chair, not caring about Lion El'Jonson's answer.
Lion El'Jonson's lips twitched. His eyebrows furrowed, and he finally squeezed out a few insincere words.
"Just some trivial matters."
These two chapters briefly pause the plot to establish and deepen the image of the several Primarchs.
It is worth noting that this is still the first half of the Great Crusade, so the Primarchs' personalities may differ from those during the later Great Betrayal. Their views on each other are also in a stage of exploration.
The next chapter will begin with the classic Warhammer universe plotline, the Cat-Dog War. After the war, there will be a short plotline about Druan, which will lead to the climax of the Rendan War and the fall of the Eleventh Legion. And when the Emperor loses a Legion, he will welcome back his daughter.
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