On the first standard day of 911, the Shadows of Order fleet transitioned from the Mandeville point.
With a hum, the blinds lowered.
Nareth stood before the viewport, staring at the burning wreckage of starships in the void.
"My Lord, the Custodians report that sixty-three Faceless battleships have surrendered. They are under the Wolves' fleet's supervision."
After a second's silence, he asked about the Gloriana-class battleship.
"Is the Killer Whale among them?"
"My Lord, auspex has detected the Killer Whale's keel tag. The ship has been destroyed. That asset is lost."
'Can't take the Gloriana. The Wolves are too rough, too wasteful.' He sighed inwardly, shaking his head slightly.
"Order the Reaper Lord to dispatch a fleet to take possession. He will accompany me to Lecter."
He had brought the Seventh Chapter because of their special hatred for Sanchez, hoping they would issue another challenge, giving him another chance to take something from Leman Russ.
On the bridge of the 3rd Great Company's flagship, the Nidhogg, Wolf Lord Ogvai Ogvai Helmschrot stared at the magnified image on the viewscreen.
Shadows of Order.
He recalled the night sky over Dulan, learning that his Wolf King had been defeated by Nareth, left unconscious.
He fingered the plast-steel handaxe at his belt nervously. The heavy silver ring in his lower lip trembled. He spoke, his voice irritable.
"Send a message to the Wolves on the surface. Tell them Nareth is here."
His sunken eyes held the gaze of a hunter.
"Prepare a Stormbird. I'm going to the surface."
He wanted to see for himself the Nareth who had defeated the Lord of Winter and War.
On Lecter's surface, Amlodhi Skarssen Skarssensson, Wolf Lord of the 5th Great Company, swung his great axe, felling the last yellow-brown armored Faceless before him.
He glanced at the information flashing on his tactical display. His body froze.
Seven red arrows.
"Sanchez." His voice was heavy. Humiliating memories flashed through his mind.
He had failed the Wolf King's trust. He had found no evidence of Shadows of Order abusing sorcery. He had lost the duel. The Wolf King had lost the Russ cloak.
The Allfather's artisans had woven it from the pelt of the great wolf Black Mane.
It belonged to the Wolf King. Now it hung on Sanchez's shoulders.
A humiliation he could never wash away.
Beside him, Rune Priest Ohthere Wyrdmake's eyes held a deep-seated hatred.
His left leg ached. His prosthetic creaked.
He had not only failed the Wolf King's mission, but had been played like a fool by Sanchez. He had lost his leg.
Wyrdmake looked up, sensing something. He saw a black metal bird descending. Its outline was like an Imperial Aquila, particularly grating.
It was pitch black.
"Nareth is quite leisurely. He comes here as if on a diplomatic mission." Wyrdmake said with disgust.
The Wolves had no Aquila Lander. Diplomacy was the way of the Shadows of Order, of the Luna Wolves, the Blood Angels, the Emperor's Children, and the Thousand Sons. Not the Wolves' way.
The pitch black was even more grating than the white, red, and purple of those Legions.
'If only Jorin hadn't destroyed the Faceless' yellow-brown cannons. One shot at Nareth's craft...'
Jorin, Wolf Lord of the 13th Great Company, swung his axe, slamming it into the gaping maw of 1st Company Captain Suarez.
The frost blade was cold. It split the sharp teeth.
As blood sprayed on his armor, he heard his Wolf King's roar.
Having fought alongside him for years, Jorin immediately recognized the Wolf King's uncontrollable pain.
He turned in panic. He saw a gleaming blade slash past his side, taking a chunk of flesh.
He breathed a sigh of relief. He saw the Wolf King's left arm gripping Hannibal's right arm.
"Your fate line is severed." Russ, guided by the fate line, had caught Hannibal's arm.
He dropped Helwinter. He had promised Nareth to keep Hannibal's body intact.
He lunged at Hannibal, grappling him like a wrestler, roaring as he lifted him.
Meron, Sasebo, and the other neophytes, who had walked out of the legion fortress unarmed, watched Russ smash their gene-father onto his knee. The sound of his spine breaking tore through them.
They fell to their knees, tears streaming.
Russ's right hand caught the tumbling body. His left hand rose, gripping Hannibal's throat. He squeezed.
His blow was precise. He crushed Hannibal's throat, crushed his fate line, but kept his neck intact. His head and body remained connected.
"Father!" The remaining Faceless cried in sorrow.
Russ's ice-blue eyes dimmed. He crouched slowly, his left hand gently wiping the blood from the yellow-brown armor.
As he wiped away the blood, he seemed to wipe away his ill-fated fate line.
He rose. His gaze hardened. He threw his head back in a long, victorious howl.
The Wolves howled in triumph, their cries instantly drowning out the mourning.
Suddenly, a thunderous voice sounded, drowning out both howls and mourning.
"Faceless! The battle is over."
"Lay down your arms. I will review you."
The voice echoed in every Faceless's mind, resonating deep within.
They instinctively obeyed the commanding voice, releasing their weapons.
CLANG, CLANG, CLANG...
As weapons fell, they looked up at the sky.
Golden wings tore through the burning sky. A dazzling light pierced the black smoke.
"Lord Nareth!" Meron saw the light of hope.
"Lord Nareth!" Sasebo saw the revelation of the Emperor's Tarot.
They walked towards the light, filled with hope.
Russ silently picked up Helwinter. He walked towards the descending Nareth.
"Nareth, I have kept my promise. Hannibal's body is yours."
Nareth's gaze swept over Russ, then was drawn to the gleaming psychic light.
'A golden ring. Spiritual luster.'
'The Emperor gave him Hannibal's ring.'
'An unexpected gain. I have acquired a second ring.'
He withdrew his gaze and said to Russ, "You kept your promise."
"Do you remember the challenge I issued?" Russ's chest burned with fire. He needed a decisive victory to wash away the shame of his defeat by Nareth and to cleanse his ill-fated fate line.
Nareth's gaze swept over Russ's frost blade axe.
'Helwinter.'
'I took your Krakenmaw. You made this frost blade from the Kraken's fang.'
"Russ, since you've prepared a trophy for me, of course, I won't refuse your duel challenge."
Russ's ice-blue eyes were cold as knives. "This time, I will win."
He had mastered the fate line.
...
Term Correction Kraken's Bane -> Krakenmaw
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