Nareth and Guilliman's psychic projections arrived together at the Golden Palace.
The moment he sat down, he looked around and noticed the annoying Russ had not yet arrived.
Moments later, Nareth leaned back in his chair and said to Russ, who had hurried in.
"Russ, have you worn that cloak enough?"
"I could ask Sanchez to let you borrow it for a few more days."
"I won't renege," Russ roared. "After the battle with the Dulanians, I will honor the wager."
Nareth smiled and nodded, thinking to himself.
'No, I plan to collect in person.'
As Nareth pondered, the Fabricator-General of Mars entered the Golden Palace. He nodded to Ferrus, glanced at Nareth, then shifted his gaze to the expressionless Perturabo and the amiable Vulkan.
Golden light blazed. The Emperor and Constantin Valdor appeared.
After taking his seat, the Emperor's gaze fell upon Nareth.
"Nareth, you achieved a brilliant victory at Taxal."
"Now, I want to hear your report personally."
Nareth's gaze swept over the assembly, over the somber Perturabo, over Hannibal with his prominent cheekbones.
"My Lord, the victory was not mine alone. Perturabo's iron defense line, established in the Vicious Sector and the Forge World of Sha'nir, held back the xenos advance."
"El'Jonson, Guilliman, Omegon, and the task forces from the various Legions fought bloody battles at Taxal to secure victory."
"I thank them for their timely support."
After expressing his gratitude, Nareth detailed the war. The Emperor occasionally nodded and asked questions.
Finally, he outlined his next plan.
"I have already issued orders for a comprehensive purge of the remaining xenos that invaded Imperial territory."
Nareth did not mention his complete plan, the Rangdan Xenocides.
He recalled the last battle of the Second Rangdan War occurred in 882, ending with an accidental encounter between Imperial and Rangdan fleets.
The Third Rangdan War began in 887, when a White Scars hunting company accidentally discovered the Rangdan homeworld.
In 890, led by the Lion and Russ, seeking retribution for the desecration of the Omnissiah's sacred domain, the Forge World of Sha'nir committed its Legio Cybernetica.
Though the Third Rangdan War was not as large-scale as the second, the Imperium's northwest frontier still trembled. Astartes casualties exceeded eighty thousand.
Of those, the Dark Angels lost fifty thousand.
After this war, combined with the ninety thousand lost in the Second Rangdan War, the Dark Angels ceded their position as the largest Legion to the Ultramarines.
Most of the remaining thirty thousand casualties were Space Wolves.
Nareth had no intention of giving the xenos nearly a decade to develop. With the Dice of Prophecy, he could naturally find the Rangdan homeworld and launch the Rangdan Extermination War in advance, before they could regain their strength.
"Good, very good," the Emperor nodded with a smile. "My Pegasus does not disappoint me. All enemies of humanity will ultimately fail."
He glanced at Russ and continued.
"The Dulanians have blinded the Wolves. Their advance is slow."
"My Pegasus, you will secure victory for me."
Russ clenched his fist. "Father, I can bring You victory. The Dulanians will be punished."
"Your progress does not satisfy me." The Emperor's smile faded. His voice was commanding.
Russ suppressed his anger and looked at Nareth.
'He's just been through a major war. Nareth and his witch-boys should decline.'
"As you command." Nareth answered directly and sincerely.
He had been planning to capture the Wolves' leverage and obtain the Dulanians' unique technology. Now the Emperor was handing him the task.
Nareth glanced almost imperceptibly at the Lion. In his memory, the Emperor, dissatisfied with the Wolves' progress, had dispatched the Lion. Now he was assigning it to Nareth.
'Emperor, I am very satisfied with your orders this time.'
As the War Council ended, Russ was about to leave in a fury.
"Russ, you don't need to deliver it. I'll come and get it myself."
Russ glared at Nareth. "I will not break my oath."
"The Wolves need no witch-boy assistance."
Guilliman, seeing the conflict between two of the Dauntless Few, frowned.
Having fought alongside Nareth, he was more convinced than ever that Nareth was the key among the five. Russ's provocations would only lead to crushing defeat.
Nareth smiled as Russ's psychic projection vanished, then returned to the Shadow's Sovereignty with Guilliman.
After repeatedly weighing and deliberating without finding the right words, Guilliman finally said helplessly.
"Nareth, it was a pleasure speaking with you. I look forward to our next meeting."
After seeing Guilliman off, Nareth said to Arsena Dunn.
"Tell Sanchez: it's time to collect."
His gaze was cold. His tone was sharp as a blade.
At the same moment, aboard the Space Wolves' Gloriana-class battleship, Hrafnkel.
The cloak made from the pelt of the great wolf Black Mane hung naturally. Russ paced along the outer edge of the observation chamber's arc.
In the simple, rapid Fenrisian battle-tongue, he asked Jorin, Wolf Lord of the 13th Great Company, the one he trusted most.
"Tell me honestly. What is the real situation?"
"Difficult," Jorin walked slowly beside Russ. "They all fight to the last drop of blood, knowing there is no retreat."
"Jorin," Russ nodded. "I believe you. I have never doubted you."
"But the bastards on Terra won't see it our way. They only see that we haven't finished it."
"Whenever the battle is at a stalemate, they think we're just indulging in slaughter, not mounting a proper assault."
"The Allfather..." he said wearily, "has been deceived. He has decided to send Nareth to finish this."
'Nareth. Sanchez.' Jorin chewed on the two names. The bitter memory of Fenris's defeat stung him.
"We have no friends on Terra. The other Legions are completely different."
Russ clenched his fist. "We have received our orders. We must carry them out."
"To survive. Just like on Fenris."
"The Imperium is being built. The worlds conquered by my brothers are meticulously recorded on golden scrolls."
"But that is not our way. Where the Wolves pass, only ruins remain. We take everything. Nothing grows."
Jorin saw a shadow fall over the Wolf King's usually smiling face. Russ roared.
"Jorin, I swore to Malcador. I will kill the Tyrant of Dulan."
"If we fail, those who scheme against us in the shadows will step forward and condemn us."
"And I will not allow Nareth to kill the Tyrant of Dulan before me. I hate seeing him win so calmly."
"He..." Russ paused, changing tack. "I will find the Dulanian's evil capital, Dulan, before Nareth."
"I will set fire to Dulan, burn it to ruins."
"Old friend, will you help me?"
"Of course, my Wolf King." Jorin's weathered face was resolute. He answered without hesitation.
'For you. And for myself.'
"You must move quickly. Find Dulan." Russ's large hand landed on Jorin's shoulder, warm and powerful.
"Don't lose to Nareth's witch-boys."
.....
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