The Angel descended amidst the interplay of light and shadow, extending a hand to the kneeling Loken and Abaddon, pulling them both to their feet.
The three walked along the red carpet, and the Gastrel Terminators on either side stood up one by one, watching the Primarch depart with solemn eyes.
Once that luminous shadow disappeared from sight, the Terminators exchanged glances; these unwavering warriors were now somewhat at a loss.
They regrouped their ceremonial formation and, in the communication channel, quietly discussed the Primarch of The Ninth Legion.
The image of that Primarch was too close to the legendary 'Angel'.
Was his extremely sacred appearance an adaptive mutation based on the environment? Or was it a generous gift from the Emperor?
The warriors held differing opinions, and due to the lack of authoritative conclusions, the debate grew increasingly fierce.
Loken stood to the Angel's left, ensuring that the Primarch's peripheral vision could see him, and also highlighting the Primarch's exalted status through his positioning.
Along the way, Abaddon, clad in black lacquered Terminators power armor, remained silent, trying to lighten his footsteps and make himself invisible so as not to disturb their conversation.
Sanguinius smiled, polite and elegant; he occasionally posed questions, and Loken always answered them perfectly, with precise judgment of scale.
They proceeded along the laid red carpet, from the deck to the upper levels of the vengeful spirit, entering the Hall of Honor.
The honor of the Luna Wolves was fully displayed to the other Primarch, and Abaddon couldn't help but puff out his chest, listening to his brother introduce the Legion's glory.
The Angel nodded slightly, listening to Loken's detailed introduction, his gaze sweeping over the items symbolizing honor.
Pacts, war swords, firearms, bullets, and various other items of all sizes were perfectly preserved in stasis fields, ensuring their eternal legacy.
Every item displayed in the Hall of Honor had a legendary past, representing the glorious history of the Luna Wolves.
"What is that?" Sanguinius asked for the first time after entering the hall, transitioning from a focused listener to an inquirer; he had noticed something different.
In the middle section of the Hall of Honor, there were very incongruous scars.
The hall was a place for expounding honor, and it should have been immaculate, guarded by solemnity and seriousness.
In the place Sanguinius pointed to, many exhibits had been deliberately damaged; from the traces, it was evident that the person was extremely barbaric and showed no respect for honor.
Those exhibits were shattered to pieces, noble items treated like weeds, lying humbly on the ground.
With the vision of a Primarch, it was not difficult to discover that the damage had occurred many years ago, so why had it not been repaired?
The Luna Wolves valued honor, so it was impossible for them to let it go unchecked; the reason for this was curious.
Loken and Abaddon naturally knew the direction the Primarch was pointing to; what it symbolized was the conflict between three Sons of the Emperor.
"It was the Great Wolf," Abaddon, who had been silent for a long time, spoke, turning his head slightly away, his voice somewhat dry, as if the sight there had wounded him.
The Great Wolf?
Upon hearing this title, the wild image of a brother appeared in Sanguinius's mind.
He had once seen him on the central avenue of the Imperial Palace; among the colorful statues of the Primarchs, there was a brother with golden hair and golden eyes, tied in a high ponytail, baring canine teeth, with a cruel face, accompanied by two giant wolves.
The current master of the Sixth Legion, who was clearing out Orks in the Firewheel Sector, the Great Wolf, Leman Russ, the Wolf King!
Why did he do this?
Sanguinius's golden brows furrowed slightly; although he didn't understand the specific reason, the act of destroying the Hall of Glory was undoubtedly a great humiliation to the Legion, a contempt for the warriors who had bled and sacrificed.
What puzzled the Angel even more was that despite the Wolf King's offensive act, The Wolf Shepherd not only did not repair the exhibition hall but also preserved it with a stasis field.
This could only mean that the reasons were complex.
"It was like this..." Seeing the Primarch stop there, Loken sighed deeply, his gray eyes filled with complex emotions, and he began to recount that conflict.
Abaddon did not stop him; this was already part of the plan.
Among the Gene-Father's reception routes, there was this contingency plan; the proud Horus Lupercal disdained to conceal it.
The three Primarchs had an unprecedented conflict over baseness and selfishness in that matter.
The Gene-Father did not mend the cracks, nor did he cover them up, leaving the scars open; he always believed his brothers would understand him.
Loken's expression was complex, his voice dry as he recounted the past, his eyes full of struggle.
From a personal perspective, he felt that the Wolf King and the Warrior King were not wrong; Legion honor should not be built upon the blood of cousins.
Most of the warriors in the Legion were also very conflicted about this matter.
The ultimate beneficiary of the Grey Claws tactic was the entire Luna Wolves Legion; no one, after receiving such favor, stood on moral high ground to criticize their father.
He carried the scorn of his brothers, and it was impossible for his heart not to feel pain.
But The Wolf Shepherd always firmly believed that everything he did was to protect the Legion and his Sons.
Loken slowly recounted, not speaking of rumors, but only information endorsed and certified by the Gene-Father.
Because the conflict, the one that occurred in the Primarch's room, its detailed contents were unknown even to First Captain Abaddon.
Most of the widely circulated content was spoken by the Gene-Father himself, and he could not lie.
Loken was also very careful not to inject subjective emotions, standing from a neutral perspective to avoid interfering with the Primarch's subjective judgment.
He also dared not conceal anything; it was almost impossible for a Space Marine to successfully deceive a Primarch.
Primarchs possessed extraordinary observational skills; they could discern whether others were lying through extremely subtle external expressions and keen intuition.
Sanguinius listened, nodding continuously, his face very calm, showing no emotion or inner change.
Through Loken's narration, he finally understood the reasons, which also involved the Warrior King — Blazkowicz Novick.
The two brothers stood together, jointly accusing The Wolf Shepherd of injustice, not only slighting a cousin Legion but also bringing shame upon their own Legion's honor.
In this matter, the actions of the Wolf King and the Warrior King filled him with sincere admiration.
The Luna Wolves had stepped on the blood of a brother Legion; their honor was no longer pure; they had stolen something that belonged to the Nineteenth Legion.
Outwardly unmoved, deep in his heart, Sanguinius agreed with Russ's actions; that's exactly what should be done!
Smash those impurities to pieces!
He looked at the calm obsidian floor of the hall; there was a scorched mark, clearly left by acidic saliva.
The Wolf King had smashed the Hall of Honor and left a puddle of drool!
Giving his brother a mental thumbs-up, Sanguinius averted his gaze and continued walking forward, leaving the Hall of Honor.
As he walked, his mind was also pondering.
Judging solely by his actions, although Horus's way of handling things was controversial, he did not hide shameful past events, which could definitely be considered open and aboveboard.
Guided by the red carpet, the Angel arrived at the core of the vengeful spirit, The Wolf Shepherd's palace.
Before his eyes was a towering, closed door, narrow and tall, carved with exquisite bas-reliefs depicting everything the vengeful spirit had witnessed.
The Angel gazed silently; this Glorious Queen warship, and the glorious past it carried, was already a part of Imperial history.
The bas-reliefs inscribed the brilliant past: the Emperor and Horus fighting side by side, the intimate father and son departing from the Solar System, conquering the Solar Territory, and advancing into the deeper void.
Further down was the crimson Eye of Horus, its gaze cast down, the Gene-Father of the Luna Wolves overseeing the campaigns, delivering world after world to the Emperor.
"My brother, please forgive me for not personally coming to greet you."
As Sanguinius admired the carvings, a deep voice filled with apology came from behind him.
The Angel turned to look in the direction of the voice; at the exit of the Hall of Honor, a tall figure, surrounded by Space Marines, walked towards him.
He was tall and robust, dressed in traditional non-powered ceremonial armor, with a crimson cloak flowing behind him without wind, a white wolf pelt draped over his shoulder, and a ceremonial longsword in his right hand.
His skin was bronze, symbolizing strength and resilience, his face wild and noble, yet possessing a unique charisma, and his piercing, dark golden eyes were gazing intently at him.
"How could I blame you for such a small matter?" Sanguinius walked towards his brother, a joyful and friendly smile gracing his pure, jade-like face.
Horus paused, stunned; he saw the beautiful Angel, his brother's countenance so noble, perfectly otherworldly.
He quickly walked forward, opening his wide arms, embracing his distant brother with the most fervent gesture.
The two Sons of the Emperor embraced on the crimson carpet, feeling the kinship that stemmed from their bloodline.
"Sanguinius."
"Horus Lupercal."
After a long embrace, the two brothers reluctantly parted, and Horus, looking at the pure white wings, exclaimed with heartfelt admiration: "What incredible beauty!"
"Sanguinius, my brother." He placed a hand on the Angel's arm, raising it high, and roared to his Sons: "Praise the Archangel!"
"Praise to the Archangel!"
Amidst Horus's low growl, the Luna Wolves collectively knelt, offering praise to the Archangel.
The Gene-Father's arrival finally made Loken and Abaddon breathe a sigh of relief, their tension instantly dissipating.
They were fortunate that the Primarch of The Ninth Legion they faced was not of an eccentric temperament and did not make things difficult for them due to the difference in status.
If The Wolf Shepherd had come, they would have been peeled alive, if not killed.
"Is your work done?" Sanguinius asked apologetically, thinking his sudden visit had interrupted his brother's work.
"No need to worry!" Horus said dominantly, "They have no choice but to submit to the Imperium of Man!"
Hearing his brother's reply, Sanguinius felt relieved; he hadn't embarrassed his brother.
"You surprise me greatly." Horus intimately pulled his brother up, leading him into the hall together, his words of praise never stinting: "Holy and beautiful."
"The universe is vast and full of wonders; beautiful things are as numerous as the stars, and you are the most dazzling among them!"
"I dare not accept such praise." Sanguinius smiled and humbly shook his head.
His brother was too enthusiastic; he dared not accept such praise, waving his hands in refusal.
"No!" Horus said very seriously, "I was somewhat mistaken. How can those filthy xenos compare to my brother?"
"In all the stars I know, you are clearly the most brilliant and beautiful, inspiring longing in the heart."
Sanguinius remained silent, an awkward smile appearing on his handsome face, feeling a bit embarrassed.
His brother's expression was serious, yet his words were extremely flattering, making it difficult for him to discern whether it was excessive praise or genuine sentiment.
In the fervent atmosphere, Horus put his arm around Sanguinius, offering all sorts of compliments.
The brother before him was so holy that he couldn't help but compare him to Fulgrim.
In terms of appearance alone, the two were equally matched, but they represented two different kinds of beauty—the splendor of an angel and the vividness of a phoenix.
The arrival of the Angel also made Horus sigh inwardly; he was truly surprised that the Gene-Father of The Ninth Legion was so beautiful.
That Legion, known as the "Ghoul," did not fit his brother from any angle; they desecrated this holiness!
Fate plays tricks, how ironic—a Legion inheriting the blood of an Angel, yet called "Ghouls"!
Legion Warriors pushed open the magnificent doors, ushering the two Primarchs into the palace.
Behind the doors was a massive palace, its dome a slowly rotating galaxy, its four walls adorned with dim bas-reliefs depicting epic heroes, solemn but not dazzling.
The miniature fusion torches on the walls lit up, illuminating the lines of the bas-reliefs with a just-right glow, dim yet not dark, complementing the hard-lined stone tables. It was like the palace of the gods.
"Brother, please take your seat."
Horus gestured to Sanguinius, leading him to the head of the largest stone table, where two chairs were already prepared, meant to bear the glory of the two Primarchs.
Unable to refuse such hospitality, Sanguinius slowly sat down, only then realizing that from his seat, he could perfectly overlook the hall.
Once the two Primarchs were seated, many mortal attendants emerged from a hidden door in the hall, beginning to arrange the banquet's drinks and food.
They were extremely skilled, every movement precise, clearly having rehearsed many times.
Sanguinius could tell that Horus had meticulously prepared this banquet to welcome him.
As the mortal attendants entered, the Legion Warriors also slowly took their seats, The Council of Four Kings members closest to the Primarchs, then extending outwards according to rank.
"Sanguinius, my beautiful brother."
Horus lowered his voice, calling, and reclaiming the Angel's attention: "Perhaps you already know, but I still want to introduce my Gene-sons to you."
"These are Ezekiel Abaddon and Hastur Ceyanus." He raised a hand, pointing to the left side of the stone table, his face showing unconcealed pride. Two warriors in power armor stood up, straightening their backs.
"Ezekiel is the strongest warrior; he is strong-willed and most like me in character. I think you've already met him. Ceyanus is different; his strength comes from wisdom; he is a strategist."
Sanguinius's expression was serious as he nodded to the two warriors, showing his respect for them.
Abaddon proudly raised his head; the Primarch's introduction to his brother was almost a boastful compliment. How could he not be proud?
Ceyanus, however, was different; his brow resembled Horus's, but he lacked the matching wildness, instead possessing a rational calmness.
The two bowed to the Archangel, expressing their inner reverence, and slowly sat down as the Primarch nodded in return.
"These are Tarik Torgaddon and Iacton Qruze." As the two warriors sat, Horus pointed to the right, and two more warriors stood up in succession.
"Torgaddon is very intelligent; he possesses exceptional talent for warfare and is a rare strategic genius."
Torgaddon's serious face softened into a stiff smile. Though stiff, his respect was evident.
Sanguinius raised a hand, signaling him not to be nervous, and offered a reassuring smile of approval.
"As for Iacton Qruze..." Horus pointed to the last person, seeing the face most like his own, his smile deepening: "The Legion calls him 'Little Horus' because he is most like me, almost a miniature version of me."
"Little Horus?" Sanguinius looked closely, comparing him to his brother. Their faces were nine-tenths similar.
He nodded in deep agreement: "Indeed, very similar."
Not just Little Horus, but under the latent influence of the gene seed, the other members of The Council of Four Kings also resembled Horus in some aspects of their appearance and demeanor.
It was just that others were slightly similar, while Little Horus was extremely similar.
"This is..."
After the two sat down, Horus introduced his Gene-sons to his brother one by one, his face filled with deep pride.
Sanguinius returned their greetings, patiently remembering each person.
"You've also met him." When it came to the last person, Horus's affection grew even stronger, "Gavriel Loken."
"Neither in appearance nor character does he resemble me, but I like him very much. Beneath his calm exterior lies intense passion, and many Legion Warriors look up to him as an example."
"He deserves your affection." Sanguinius was very generous; he had carefully observed this warrior during their journey together.
Loken was indeed different from others; his personality was unique, more independent and rational, with his own views on everything.
As the Tenth Captain slowly sat down, the mortal attendants had also finished arranging the meal, and the banquet could begin at any moment.
"Brother, please stand." Horus pulled his brother up, his gaze sweeping the hall, and he shouted to his Gene-sons: "This is one of my great brothers—Sanguinius."
"In the days to come, he will fight alongside me until the day he departs."
"You must respect my brother, just as you respect me, and love and obey his commands!"
"Hail the Archangel!"
The Angel's arm was raised high, a trace of surprise flashing in his blue eyes.
He had come at the Emperor's command to learn war strategy from Horus, never imagining he would receive a status equal to his brother's.
Horus's decision, legally, granted him equal power, which was the greatest respect and trust he could receive!
All Legion Warriors stood up, their armor clanking, their gazes fixed on the two Primarchs.
"Hail the Archangel!" The warriors' shouts echoed through the hall.
Sanguinius clasped Horus's forearm and loudly responded: "Hail The Wolf Shepherd!"
Unable to contain their adoration for their Gene-Father and Primarch, the Luna Wolves shouted again, responding with intense emotion: "Hail The Wolf Shepherd! Hail the Archangel!"
Horus smiled contentedly. He quickly gestured for his brother to sit down, signaling the official start of the banquet.
"Try this." Horus personally poured wine for his brother, showing unusual enthusiasm: "A fine wine I acquired at great cost, which I usually can't bear to drink, but it's perfect for my most honored guest."
Sanguinius held the wine glass in his hand, watching the crimson liquid slowly pour in, a refreshing aroma of wine wafting into his nostrils.
He noticed that his brother's words were true; in the spacious palace, apart from the main table, this type of wine was not placed on any other tables.
"What kind of wine is this?" The Angel's fair fingers held the wine glass, gently swirling it to awaken its mellow fragrance, and he curiously inquired about the wine's origin.
In Sanguinius's impression, as the most honored individuals in the Imperium, Primarchs could unconditionally enjoy all material possessions the Imperium had.
Yet, Horus showed a pained expression for this fine wine.
Indeed, as the wine flowed, Sanguinius saw a slight twitch in Horus's facial muscles; his brother was clearly pained inside.
"An export from the Nur Stars." Horus placed the empty wine glass aside, and as he spoke, he picked up his own glass, inhaling its mellow aroma, and said, "But very little of it flows out."
"When Argent Nur transports arrive at Terra, the upper nobility flock to them, frantically buying these luxuries, which never spread to other star systems."
A look of understanding flashed in Sanguinius's eyes. He had seen it on Terra: when Rogue Traders' transport ships arrived, noble shuttles immediately swarmed them.
Now he understood.
This wine was incredibly mellow, making one's appetite stir; no wonder it was so highly sought after.
"Under normal circumstances, within the Imperium of Man, I would never be able to get this, except as a gift from a noble."
Horus said, deliberately emphasizing "Imperium of Man," which did not include the Nur Stars.
He took a sip of wine, savoring its mellow fragrance, a playful smile on his face: "A noble was transporting goods home when his ship was waylaid by pirates."
"Out of my duty to protect Imperial nobles, I eliminated the pirates, but unfortunately, after the battle, the noble's cargo went missing..."
At this point, Sanguinius understood perfectly: those goods had been secretly moved back to the vengeful spirit under Horus's instructions.
The Angel showed a bright smile. Undoubtedly, his brother's way of sharing this prank had brought them much closer.
He just hadn't expected that his ambitious and resourceful brother would also do something so unexpected.
"It's a good thing he ran into me."
Horus curled the corner of his mouth, his smile holding a hint of strangeness: "If he had run into Russ, the pirates, the noble, and the supplies — none of them would have escaped."
Sanguinius didn't respond. He offered no comment on a brother he hadn't met.
It wasn't hard to discern a slight derogatory tone in Horus's words; he seemed to harbor a strange dislike for Leman Russ's existence.
With a topic to start them off, the two opened up and conversed in the relaxed atmosphere of the banquet.
As the host, Horus was cheerful and enthusiastic, with seemingly endless topics of conversation.
Sanguinius, as a guest, rarely took the initiative, but he engaged with his brother, offering his insights from time to time.
He also noticed that many of the topics Horus brought up were questions about his own situation, his origins, and local customs.
This was clearly a form of probing, an attempt to glean important information.
After careful observation, Sanguinius quickly realized that his brother was not doing this intentionally; his probing was entirely subconscious.
Perhaps in return, Horus also introduced every brother he had encountered—Leman Russ, Blazkowicz Novick, Moribus Solas, Ferrus Manus, Fulgrim.
He had his own opinions on his many brothers.
He was never stingy with praise for his brothers' areas of expertise, and the pride in his brows was never concealed.
Sanguinius nodded inwardly. Though Horus had flaws, he also possessed a genuine nature, open, and honorable.
On certain issues, he was incredibly stubborn, allowing for no compromise or indulgence.
The only thing that made Horus lose his composure was when he spoke of the Emperor, his eyes filled with wistful memories, even influencing his judgment.
It was clear that he revered the Emperor more than anyone, his words entirely devoted to defending him.
The Emperor, in Horus's words, was the Primarchs' perfect father, humanity's greatest leader, wise and mighty, incomparably glorious.
He seemed to have endless things to say about the Emperor.
Sometimes he would carefully whisper in Sanguinius's ear, sharing some of his private moments with the Emperor.
"What is your impression of Blazkowicz Novick?" Sanguinius abruptly asked Horus, ending the conversation about the Emperor.
His voice was clear, like bubbling spring water, instantly quieting the low murmurs of the superhuman warriors.
The Legion Warriors knew well—their Gene-Father rarely mentioned the Warrior King in private.
There were many reasons for this; they could see that The Wolf Shepherd held a very unique affection for the Warrior King.
The excited flush on Horus's face receded, his expression instantly stiffening, as if the eloquent speaker from moments ago hadn't been him.
Seeing the change in the banquet and his brother's expression, Sanguinius quickly realized he might have said the wrong thing.
The conflict between the two was much deeper than he had imagined.
He quickly began to speak, ready to change the subject to avoid awkwardness, but Horus stopped him.
"Don't worry about it." Horus waved his hand, his expression gradually relaxing, dispelling the gloom from the banquet.
The Luna Wolves in the banquet hall all perked up their ears; their Gene-Father was speaking of the Warrior King in public for the first time.
"Hmph!" Horus chuckled, taking in his sons' expressions, and smiled helplessly: "Actually, it's nothing."
His expression gradually shifted, showing no anger or other emotions, but rather a hint of embarrassment.
Sanguinius's eyes showed some surprise; such an expression had never appeared on his brother's face before.
"I envy Blazkowicz." Horus's voice was deep, and he smiled, "This is the first time a brother has asked me, and it's the first time I've expressed it."
"Perhaps among my brothers, there are others who envy Blazkowicz, after all, he possesses a free stellar empire."
"But my envy is not like others'; it's never been about power or authority..." His voice gradually trailed off, the rest of his words left unsaid.
Sanguinius listened quietly, a long sigh of relief escaping him as he realized his brother was not a narrow-minded person.
As for what aspect he envied, he could guess a little: the Emperor's visible emphasis on Blazkowicz was undeniable.
Anyone who wasn't blind could see it.
Not to mention Horus, even he himself, upon learning of that emphasis, couldn't help but feel a surge of envy.
The other brothers, needless to say, would also feel such emotions to varying degrees.
"Although I envy him," Horus raised his hand, pinching the air with his index finger and thumb, almost touching them together, "it's just this tiny bit."
Seeing his brother's stubbornness, Sanguinius raised his cup and clinked it with his brother's, giving him an "I understand" look.
The two continued to drink and chat, the topic changing to something more relaxed and pleasant.
The Legion Warriors also ceased their attention, recollecting themselves to focus on the feast.
Their Gene-Father envied Blazkowicz; they, too, had once envied the Doom Slayer.
Their cousin was deeply favored by the Emperor, who personally designed their Legion armor, allowed them to use auramite, and granted them extremely high status.
The welcoming ceremony was lively, with Legion Warriors conversing loudly and Primarchs exchanging sentiments.
During the banquet, Sanguinius repeatedly wanted to inquire about the specific situation of The Ninth Legion, but he ultimately suppressed the urge.
Blazkowicz had hinted that the Legion was not doing well at all.
In such a lively wine party, bringing up these matters might spoil the atmosphere, so he decided not to ask.
He only needed to wait quietly for their arrival, and after personally meeting his Gene-sons, everything would be revealed.
Horus also found it strange that Sanguinius had never mentioned The Ninth Legion throughout, so he assumed his brother was already aware and simply didn't wish to bring it up.
After all, The Ninth Legion… The banquet soon ended, and Sanguinius bid farewell to Horus, returning to his warship amidst his brother's fond farewells.
He had to make thorough preparations to welcome his Gene-sons' Legion.
The fleet would remain in the star system, awaiting the arrival of the Imperial Ministry of Internal Affairs to claim this planet for the Emperor.
A small incident occurred during the wait: before the Ministry of Internal Affairs officials arrived, the tithes collection ships surprisingly arrived first.
Faced with exorbitant taxes, the newly surrendered world could not bear the heavy burden, and instantly, rebellions erupted, resisting the tyranny brought by the Imperium.
Horus was furious, feeling that the ice world had defied him. He rejected Sanguinius's good intentions and personally led a team to quell the rebellion.
Time flew by, and a week later, the first fleet of The Ninth Legion arrived in the rendezvous star system.
The warships that emerged from the Warp were a terrifying deathly gray, exuding an aura that warned the living to stay away.
Sanguinius felt a tremor in his bloodline. Impatient, he came to the warship's deck early, lowering his status to await his Gene-sons' arrival.
When the transport ship docked and the hatch opened, before he even saw his Gene-sons, a strong stench of decay and blood rushed into the Angel's nostrils.
His expectant expression changed, his fingers twitching unconsciously a few times, and an ominous premonition surged into his heart.
Through the difficult-to-disperse scent of blood, Space Marines emerged from the cabin, their blood-red power armor covered in battle scars, their expressions cold and lifeless, their eyes devoid of the light of life, filled only with indifference and numbness.
The Space Marines saw the waiting figure; it was an incomparably holy Angel, and the tremor in their bloodline would not lie—that was their Gene-Father.
As the transport ship's engines shut down, a deathly silence fell over the scene. The Primarch and his Gene-sons stood in place, gazing at each other without speaking.
Sanguinius was expressionless, and the Space Marines were equally expressionless.
The Great Angel saw the detachment in his Gene-sons' eyes, and the Legion Warriors met the Primarch's gaze, but glimpsed only profound sorrow.