Banquet Hall of the Vengeful Spirit, Gloriana-class battleship.
The flagship of every Primarch was not only a mobile fortress and command center but also a magnificent palace. The reason was simple: a Primarch was not just the Emperor's general and commander, but also the sovereign and king of their respective home world.
Consequently, beyond directing wars, a Primarch acted as the Emperor's representative to appease and host countless visitors. These ranged from the Emperor himself, the Imperial Regent, and delegates from the Senatorum Imperialis and the Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars, down to planetary governors and local mortal representatives.
Regardless of whether a Primarch personally favored luxury, their flagship inevitably maintained a vast retinue of servants befitting their status. Renowned chefs were among them in great numbers, their sole task being to provide the Primarch's daily meals and cater to visiting dignitaries.
Today, Horus Lupercal was hosting Perturabo Rurik Kislevsky, the Fourth Primarch and his genetic brother, in the flagship's grand banquet hall.
Perturabo, the Supreme Tsar and Autocrat of Kislev, took a slight sip of the red wine from his crystal goblet. He couldn't help but nod at the quality of the vintage.
I can tell this is an aged wine, preserved for millennia. I can even taste that it was crafted in the era before the coming of Old Night—a time when humanity still held a beautiful vision for the future, Perturabo thought as he savored the wine.
Horus had informed him that this came from several barrels gifted personally by the Emperor, drawn specifically to honor his genetic brother. Perturabo could sense that Horus was telling the truth. To host him, Horus had not hesitated to open an ancient vintage from the Emperor's own collection. This gesture softened the Iron Tsar's expression, improving his opinion of the "First Found" brother.
"Today, we celebrate our brother, Perturabo Rurik Kislevsky!"
"Previously, we almost tasted the bitterness of defeat at the hands of those ferocious Orks. But at the critical moment, he appeared on the battlefield leading his Fourth Legion."
"Without Brother Perturabo's timely intervention, we would not have this victory today! So, this glass is for you! Perturabo, my brother!"
"To the Iron Tsar!"
Horus, seated across from Perturabo, stood with his glass raised and addressed everyone present with a passionate speech.
"To the Iron Tsar!" "To the Iron Tsar!" "To the Iron Tsar!"
Hearing Horus's toast, the Luna Wolves and Iron Warriors in attendance stood in unison, raising their glasses and shouting with respect.
Perturabo couldn't help but offer a slight smile at the invitation to the toast. After all, no one—least of all someone as naturally sensitive as he—would refuse the feeling of being praised and honored. He slowly rose, raised his own wine, and began to speak.
"However, without the full cooperation of Brother Horus, I would not have been able to overcome those troublesome Orks so quickly. Therefore, this victory belongs to both of us, achieved because our hearts are united as brothers!"
"This glass is for you! Horus Lupercal, my brother!"
The Iron Tsar raised his goblet, shouting to Horus with equal fervor. He drained the glass in one gulp, and his words pushed the already excited atmosphere to a new peak.
Perturabo's tactful response brought expressions of immense pride to the faces of the Luna Wolves. Horus himself showed a flash of surprise and quiet delight. Thanks to this harmonious interaction between the two Primarchs, the victory banquet—intended to bridge the gap between the two Legions—concluded as a resounding success.
Bridge of the Vengeful Spirit.
Horus led Perturabo to his command center, followed naturally by the trusted subordinates of both Primarchs.
"Perturabo, my brother, although we successfully routed the Ork fleet and held our celebration, this is not the end of the war."
"I need your Legion and my Luna Wolves to continue this campaign. I wonder if you are willing? My brother?"
Horus walked slowly to the command table equipped with a holographic projector, then turned to Perturabo with a serious expression.
"That is my intention exactly, Horus. I wish for my Legion to learn more from the Luna Wolves, who have always been called the finest. We yearn to establish our own legend within the Great Crusade."
Hearing the invitation, the Iron Tsar nodded in agreement.
"Excellent! Truly a brother of mine!"
"Then we shall begin the next phase of the plan. The coming campaign would be impossible without you." Horus nodded happily. He adjusted the holographic projection to display the geography of a specific planet—his next objective.
"Perturabo, this is the home world of the Orks we just engaged. According to intelligence, these Orks have been ravaging the nearby sectors, and this planet is rumored to be their base and origin."
"If we conduct a total extermination campaign on this world, we can root out these Orks entirely. The people of the surrounding sectors will no longer have to fear being slaughtered by these green-skinned xenos."
Horus began explaining the plan, ensuring Perturabo understood the mission.
"I understand. So, what is your intent?" Perturabo nodded, already grasping the objective.
"Taking this Ork world requires a massive force and overwhelming firepower. Fortunately for me, your Legion possesses both."
"I hope that for this battle, your Iron Warriors will be responsible for pinning down the main Ork host. I, meanwhile, will seek out their weakness and launch a decisive strike."
"If we can slay their leader, the Orks' morale will collapse. At that point, you will be able to crush their forces completely."
Having been asked directly, Horus no longer hid his intentions and stated them plainly.
"I see..."
A pensive expression appeared on Perturabo's face. He seemed to have his own thoughts on the matter. After a moment of reflection, the Iron Tsar looked up at Horus.
"I understand, Horus. I will lead my Legion as your vanguard when the time comes."
"Excellent. I am counting on you, my brother!"