With the survivors of the former Horus-loyalist faction within the Fourth Legion having sworn unconditional fealty to their true genetic father, the Iron Tsar could finally announce with pride that he held total control over his Legion. He had secured the complete love and obedience of all his genetic progeny.
Having consolidated his grip on the Fourth Legion, Perturabo Rurik Kislevsky could now, with a composed mind, discuss the eradication of the Ork forces with his elder brother, Horus Lupercal, the First Found Son of the Master of Mankind.
Inside the temporary command pavilion.
"Hahaha! Perturabo Rurik Kislevsky, my brother!"
"My trust in you was not misplaced. Your Legion is as tenacious as they say, holding firm against Ork assaults from all directions to secure this hard-won landing zone! Because of that, we can now effectively deploy our main forces to the surface."
"All of this is thanks to your Legion. For this, I owe you a great debt of gratitude!"
As Perturabo entered the pavilion, Horus—who had been planning the next phase of the assault with his Luna Wolves officers—greeted his brother with the characteristic warmth of the First Found Son. He was not stingy with his praise.
"Heh. Horus, my elder brother, I certainly won't refuse your praise. However, all of this was earned through the blood and sacrifice of my warriors and sons on the battlefield. Such honors belong to the soldiers who charged at the very front, not to a Primarch who directed the battle from the rear."
Perturabo smiled slightly as he replied. Surprisingly, he did not directly claim Horus's compliments for himself, instead attributing the success to the rank-and-file warriors of his Legion.
Hearing these humble words from his brother, Horus looked at him with a flash of disbelief. He narrowed his eyes, observing his kinsman with newfound scrutiny.
"You display a wisdom and humility that even I find striking, my brother. You are not as arrogant as I imagined; instead, you maintain a modesty that is rare among our kind."
Horus spoke slowly, his voice tinged with genuine surprise and admiration.
"I am simply speaking the truth. No one can deny that the warriors fighting on the front lines are the ones who truly seize glory."
"Now, Horus, my brother, perhaps we should return to official business. I do not intend to waste time and allow the efforts of my fallen sons to go for naught. It is time we discuss how to annihilate these Orks."
"The greatest comfort we can offer the fallen is to defeat these green-skinned xenos as quickly as possible."
Faced with Horus's further admiration, Perturabo directly requested that they begin the military briefing.
"Indeed. You are right, my brother."
"Then let us begin planning our next move to scrub these foul xenos from this world entirely."
Horus nodded, appreciating his brother's straightforward style.
"By the way, Perturabo, your manner reminds me of another of our brothers. He is just as efficient and decisive as you, though he is perhaps a bit too blunt—lacking in social graces, one might say—and so he isn't particularly well-liked by everyone."
Horus recalled something and looked at the Iron Tsar.
"Oh? A brother as decisive as I am? What is his name? Perhaps one day I shall meet him on the battlefields of the Great Crusade, just as you and I have met today."
Hearing his elder brother mention another kinsman, Perturabo showed a flash of curiosity. As a recently rediscovered Primarch, the Iron Tsar naturally felt an innate curiosity and longing toward his other brothers.
"He is the Primarch of the Seventh Legion, the Imperial Fists—Rogal Dorn of Inwit. Most see him as a cold, stubborn stone. However, on the battlefield, he is an exceptionally reliable comrade. I suspect the two of you would get along quite well."
"Especially considering your home world of Kislev and his world of Inwit are both frozen, bitter realms." Horus nodded as he saw Perturabo's interest piqued.
"Perhaps one day your Iron Warriors and his Imperial Fists will share a trench as teammates. When that day comes, you will have the chance to know one another."
Horus added this final thought, further fueling Perturabo's anticipation of meeting his other kin.
"In that case, I am indeed curious about this 'stubborn stone.' I like to think of myself as iron, and iron is a remarkably hard substance as well. Perhaps I shall see then who is truly more tenacious."
Perturabo tilted his head slightly as he spoke.
"Now, enough talk. Let us deploy the war plan to end the Ork presence on this world and win another victory for the Emperor and the Imperium."
Horus nodded and signaled for Perturabo to join him at the command table. The First Found Son stepped toward the maps, ready to deploy for war alongside his brother.
"Yes. Let us begin."
Perturabo followed him to the table.
"Although the Ork forces here are immense and they are a bellicose race naturally skilled in combat, I have devised an excellent method through dozens of battles with these greenskins. But I need your full cooperation to use this tactic to defeat these countless xenos."
After staring at the map for a time, Horus Lupercal turned to his brother.
"Since you already have a plan in mind, I am all ears."
Perturabo nodded. As a Primarch newly arrived to the Great Crusade, he wisely realized he should defer to the command of a veteran like Horus.
"Orks generally only obey the strongest among them—the Warboss who leads them. If this Warboss dies suddenly, they descend into internal conflict until a new strongest emerges."
"If we slay this powerful Warboss on the battlefield, they will fall into chaos. At that point, they will no longer be a disciplined Legion, but a disorganized mob. They will cease to be a threat."
Horus explained the nature of the Orks to ensure his brother understood the upcoming strategy.
"So, Horus, you wish to conduct a decapitation strike against their leader to throw the xenos into disarray, then move in for the final extermination."
Perturabo grasped the concept immediately.
"Correct, my brother. You are indeed sharp. Our Father once mentioned you were a Primarch of immense knowledge and wisdom; it seems his words were true."
Horus spoke with evident pleasure at Perturabo's quick understanding.
"To achieve this, I need your Legion to pin down the Orks on the main front until I can lead my personal guard in a strike into their headquarters to behead their leader."
"When that moment comes, they will be a threat no longer, my brother."
Horus looked at the Iron Tsar with a solemn expression.
"I understand. I will draw their attention without hesitation."
After a brief pause for thought, Perturabo accepted Horus's command.
"Excellent, my brother. I admire your spirit." Horus nodded.