Chapter 38 — The Wolf King Returns
"Burp—!"
Leman Russ wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Sister, I don't think any of this is necessary."
"Yeah," Horus added quickly, "if Russ says it isn't—"
"It's necessary," Yuki cut in firmly. "Absolutely necessary."
The three Primarchs stood within the strategium of the Imperial Wing, its observation vault filled with the slow swirl of warp-light. They were en route back to Terra.
After Russ had sworn allegiance, the Emperor intended to send him directly to war.
Yuki had elbowed him in the ribs.
"What?" the Emperor asked.
"What do you mean 'what'? Did you forget something?"
"…What?"
"The return procession."
Silence.
Understanding dawned.
The Emperor had been about to dismiss the matter as ceremonial excess — but one glance at Yuki's expression convinced him otherwise.
"…Very well. Take Russ to Terra. Then return with haste."
The Emperor's Burden
Once, he would not have agreed.
The Great Crusade was paramount. Delay was unacceptable.
He knew too well the future's shadows: betrayal, division, sons turning against their father.
He had no time for sentiment.
Yet Yuki was the exception.
In every future thread he had glimpsed, she remained loyal.
More troubling still — her presence blurred inevitabilities.
Possibilities he had never allowed himself to consider began to surface.
Hope.
A dangerous indulgence.
Still… he permitted it.
Why the Parade Matters
Russ did not care.
If he returned without ceremony, he would laugh and move on.
But the Imperium was not ruled by Primarchs alone.
Officers would whisper. Administrators would compare. Legionaries would notice. Periphery worlds would speculate.
Small perceived inequities could become grievances.
Grievances became rivalries.
Rivalries became wars.
Yuki prevented such wars before they began.
Horus Insists
"I'm coming with you."
"Horus," Yuki said, "wouldn't it be better to remain with Father?"
Horus's jaw tightened.
He was not leaving his sister alone with this ale-soaked barbarian.
Russ himself seemed indifferent. He only agreed to return when Yuki promised three months of Fenrisian food imports.
Horus watched her coax him and felt his patience snap.
Before he could stop himself, he grabbed her arm.
"Sister… I want to come too. Please."
Silence.
Even Russ raised an eyebrow.
Horus immediately regretted every decision that led to this moment.
Yuki shuddered.
"You are not allowed to act cute ever again."
Russ's golden eyes glinted with quiet amusement.
Beneath the Wolf
Russ had sensed Horus's emotions from the beginning:
resentment
loss
fear of displacement
Horus had been the first returned son.
Now he was not unique.
Russ understood pack hierarchies instinctively. He maintained distance not from dislike, but from respect.
Yuki, however, reminded him of the she-wolf who had raised him:
warm
fiercely protective
unconditional
He gravitated toward that warmth.
Still, he did not mind that Horus struggled.
Pack bonds were forged through conflict as much as loyalty.
"Fine," Yuki sighed. "I'll tell Father."
She left.
Russ and Horus remained.
Silence.
Then:
"Brother," Russ said, producing a flask. "Drink?"
Horus recoiled. "No drinking!"
"It's Fenrisian. Mild."
"You son of a—"
Terra Awaits
At Terra's starport, Malcador the Sigillite watched the approaching warship and sighed.
Another Primarch.
Another variable.
Another potential catastrophe.
Service to an Emperor meant navigating the storms of family politics without ever appearing to do so.
Fortunately, if anything went wrong, the Emperor and the Princess would bear the consequences.
Probably.
Arrival of the Wolf King
The warship descended through golden cloud layers.
Crowds gathered to see the Sixth Primarch.
Russ disembarked, two massive Fenrisian wolves at his side. Yuki and Horus followed.
The crowd's reaction was… muted.
He looked less like a prince and more like a warlord dragged from myth.
Still, cheers were mandatory.
Russ clasped Malcador's forearm.
"So you're the empire's famed regent."
"Only an old servant, my lord."
Behind him, Horus shot Malcador a sharp glance.
Yuki noticed everything and wisely said nothing.
Two Primarchs had returned and Terra was already lively.
What would it be like when all twenty stood beneath the same sky?
Palace Feast
Russ swallowed delicate pastries whole.
"…Not good."
"I agree," Yuki said, devouring roasted beef Russ had brought.
Horus felt despair creeping in.
His noble sister was being converted into a Fenrisian.
Taking Command
"We should not linger," Horus said. "The Crusade cannot wait."
Russ tore meat free and fed his wolves.
"You won't have to wait long."
"How long did it take you?" Russ asked.
"A year."
"I'll need a minute."
Horus frowned.
"This is not something to rush."
Russ smiled and opened the window overlooking the palace courtyard.
Below, tens of thousands of warriors of the Sixth Legion waited.
He leaned out and howled.
"Awooooooooo!"
Something ancient stirred in the gene-seed of every warrior below.
Their answering howls shook the palace stones.
Even the wolves joined.
Russ turned back, sunlight igniting his golden eyes.
"The pack knows its king."
In that moment:
Horus understood the nature of instinctive loyalty.
Malcador revised several private assumptions.
Yuki admitted she could never compete with that level of theatrical dominance.
Valdor paused mid-patrol, wondering why there were wolves in the palace.
Three months later, the warship Hrafnkel departed Terra.
The VI Legion received its name:
The Space Wolves.