Chapter 110 - At Least Horus Won't Get Chased and Hacked at Anymore
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Seth and his men had barely set foot back on Baal Prime, freshly evacuated from Baal Secundus, when they realized the fighting on the main world was already winding down.
The Flesh Tearers Chapter Master stared in disbelief as Primaris Space Marines strode past, taller than him, every one of them. He muttered to himself that the Imperium must have cooked up some new toy, then led his men toward the Angelic Keep to report to Commander Dante.
But everywhere along the way, the sight was the same: battle-brothers of his own bloodline, buzzing with excitement.
It left Seth and his men thoroughly bewildered.
Then an Astartes of the Angels Vermillion came barreling past, so euphoric he was practically dancing, and slammed straight into the Chapter Master. Seth grabbed him by the shoulder.
"What the hell is going on? Did we beat the swarm?"
"No — better than beating the swarm! It's Sanguinius! Sanguinius has returned! He's on Baal Secundus right now!"
The Astartes roared the words, then tore off down the central avenue, his Chapter standard streaming behind him.
He was going to plant his banner at the very spot where the Gene-Sire had touched down.
The men freshly returned from Baal Secundus stood rooted where they were.
What did he mean, they had just left, and the Great Angel Sanguinius had appeared on Baal Secundus the moment they were gone?
Seth stared blankly at his own open palm.
Then he slapped himself across the face.
It startled Captain Carmine so badly that he seized his Chapter Master's arm, terrified the man was about to do something stupid.
"How could I be so stupid?"
Seth muttered.
"How could I have evacuated so fast?"
"If I'd just held on another 30 minutes —"
The Flesh Tearers Chapter Master could already picture it: the moment they pulled out, Yore and his last surviving Blood Knights fighting on, bleeding, dying, and then the Gene-Sire descending from the heavens to save them.
That son of a bitch Yore!
How could his luck be that good!
The thought of Yore and his men hoarding the Gene-Sire's blessing all to themselves, that glory, made Seth grind his teeth in envy. He whipped his head around to look at his own company.
The Flesh Tearers battle-brothers flinched as one at the sight of their Chapter Master's face.
Rage, contortion, longing, jealousy, and barely-leashed restraint, all of it crammed into one expression.
"Chapter Master...?"
Captain Carmine had barely gotten the word out when Seth roared back at him.
"Emperor above, don't just stand there! Captain Carmine, I order you to find our Chapter's banner, right now, and follow that brother to the center of the avenue and plant it! Move! Don't let the others claim the good spots, and if they already have, beat the hell out of them and kick them aside!"
"Yes, sir!"
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Kaelen rode the shuttle to Baal Prime alongside Loken.
By now the Imperium had not only won a decisive void engagement, the Tyranid fleet had fled the system in panic, but on the ground, twenty Primaris Chapters were grinding down what remained of the enemy.
As for the daemons and the leftover bugs on Baal's two moons?
Let them tear each other apart. The Imperium could sweep in and harvest the leftovers afterward. Neither side could farm souls or biomass from the other anyway.
"Have you ever visited Baal, Loken?"
"No, Lord Kaelen. I joined the Luna Wolves late in the Great Crusade, and Lord Sanguinius only rejoined the Imperium 50 years after it began. Our Legion's 63rd Expeditionary Fleet was nearly always on campaign, there was never time to visit Lord Sanguinius's homeworld."
Loken paused, then added,
"And I was not close to Lord Sanguinius. Those who knew him well were the old Mournival. Captain Saejanus used to tell me stories about the Great Angel."
Kaelen gazed out the window at the red, desolate sprawl of Baal.
"A barren land. And yet it raised noble angels."
"I can already picture the Blood Angels in tears, welcoming their Gene-Sire. What do you think, Loken?"
"I think you're right."
Loken answered with a smile.
"Though if there's a dueling ground anywhere nearby, I suspect they'll start a fight over who gets to meet Lord Sanguinius first."
"You sure Sanguinius won't just walk in, catch them brawling, and punish them on the spot? The Great Angel isn't going to indulge that kind of thing from his sons. He's not Angron."
Kaelen let out a soft laugh.
Their shuttle came in fast, settling onto the landing pad at the Angelic Keep.
Commander Dante had been waiting some time. The Night Haunter had told him it was a mortal who had saved their father and brought him home, and so he, Luis Dante, was duty-bound to receive the visitor with the full weight of his sincerity.
Mortal or not, the man had earned the respect of every Son of Sanguinius.
The hatch hissed open, and a single mortal and a single Astartes stepped out before Dante and the Sanguinary Guard.
Dante took in the mortal at a glance. This had to be the one Lord Curze had spoken of, the resourceful Kaelen, the man acknowledged by the Emperor Himself.
Dante stepped forward and dropped to one knee before him.
Behind him, the Sanguinary Guard did the same.
And Kaelen was worthy of it.
"The Sons of Sanguinius offer you our deepest respect and gratitude."
Dante said.
"Lord Kaelen — your kindness, we shall never forget."
"Rise, Commander Dante. I have heard tell of your valor. You are a fine Son of Sanguinius, possessed of an unyielding nobility, the same quality I see in the Great Angel himself."
"Sanguinius told me, once, that he longed to see you. Not only because his blood runs in your veins, but because you have inherited the best of him. Today, I see he was right."
Watching a row of giant gold-armored figures kneel before him, Kaelen felt a small, smug warmth bloom in his chest. None of it showed on his face. He stepped forward with easy grace, both hands raised to catch Dante's massive vambraces and lift him up.
Maybe it was all the time spent around Horus, but Kaelen was starting to think his social game had leveled up considerably.
His words washed over the Sons of Sanguinius like spring wind. They rose as one, chests squaring with unconscious pride.
"My respects, Commander Dante." Loken stepped forward at exactly the right beat, his right hand rising to his chest. "I am Garviel Loken, former Captain of the Luna Wolves 10th Company. I currently serve as interim commander of the Primaris Chapters and their fleet."
He introduced himself with the same measured calm.
Dante's mind caught up an instant later.
Garviel Loken. A name out of Imperial legend.
The Loyalist of Isstvan III. The last of the Luna Wolves. The man who had boarded the Vengeful Spirit at the Emperor's side and faced the fallen Horus in the flesh.
"Lord Loken, Baal welcomes you." Dante snapped to the highest formal salute. "It is an honor to see you again."
Loken returned the salute, then went on.
"Lord Sanguinius and my commanding officer have already withdrawn from Baal Secundus. They should be arriving shortly."
He glanced past Dante's shoulder, out toward the main avenue, where the successor Chapters' personnel were swarming about. More than a dozen colossal battle standards, each belonging to a different Sanguinary successor, snapped and thrashed in the wind.
To win the spot closest to the landing platform, Astartes of rival Chapters were shoving each other. Some were already screaming insults at the tops of their lungs. A few had escalated to fists.
"It seems you have prepared thoroughly for this welcoming ceremony, Commander."
Dante's answer carried pride, and a faint, unmistakable edge of embarrassment.
He was thinking that this lot had set fire to whatever was left of the Blood Angels' noble image.
"There is nothing more uplifting than this day. The Tyranids are routed. Imperial reinforcements have arrived. And... our Gene-Sire has returned. For us, this is a blessing beyond measure."
"Of course, we shall also extend our hospitality to... Horus." Dante paused for 2 full seconds, and something subtle flickered through his tone. "We will keep the greater good in mind. We will master our emotions. And we will, when necessary, restrain those who cannot."
Kaelen and Loken exchanged a look at that, and let out a quiet, shared breath of relief.
At least Horus wouldn't be cut down the second his boots hit the ground by a mob of red-eyed Sons of Sanguinius.
For the Lupercal, this counted as the highest tier of diplomatic courtesy.
➤ Next: Be Worthy of the Blood of Sanguinius!
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