The Red Tear's interior was opulent. Gold, jewels, frescoes and statues lined the walls, and once Angron looked up, he noticed the ceilings were equally richly decorated. Still, somehow, all the works of art did not overshadow one another, although Angron suspected the line was very close.
"You look skeptical," Sanguinius said, as he offered Angron a goblet of wine.
He accepted the golden vessel, noting the fine embossing that decorated it. Partially hidden by his fingers, tiny winged warriors wrestled giant scorpions.
"That's not a decoration I'd expect on a drinking vessel," Angron replied.
Sanguinius looked at the embossed figures, his expression distant. "It's not very accurate. I had been but a child, when it happened." He took another goblet, one decorated with small garnets, and poured wine for himself. "I left the camp of my tribe—I had been curious what is over the dunes, and I found a nest of scorpions." A dreamy smile played on his lips as he spoke. "There are so many ways to prepare a scorpion. I will have to treat you to it someday."
Angron eyed the goblet again. "Is hunting for scorpions a common past-time?"
"Oh, no, they're this big," Sanguinius indicated somewhere above his knee, "and very vicious. Had anyone known we're close to their territory, we would have not made camp in the area."
Angron nodded, and took a sip of the wine. It was one of the heavier ones, but it lacked sweetness. A good vintage, he supposed, but he wondered what the point of drinking it was, if one could not get drunk.
"How was it to grow up on Baal Secundus?" he asked. "Aside from the scorpions."
Sanguinius shrugged. "It wasn't easy," he replied. "And it was dangerous—many of the things that made human lives easier were destroyed or forgotten, and the surface is irradiated. Many of my tribespeople died of cancer. Others were eaten, or killed by bands of mutants." He paused, looking into his goblet. "But it was not impossible. The tribes look out for their own, and they accepted the Imperium willingly."
"Wouldn't it be easier, if they were united?" Angron asked.
Sanguinius nodded his expression wistful. "It would. But the Imperium needs strong warriors, and the tribes provide exceptional candidates for the Blood Angels. As much as it pains me, until the Great Crusade is concluded, I should not risk that changing the world will make them less suitable."
"And what makes them better recruits?" Angron asked.
"They know life is harsh," Sanguinius replied, still looking as wistful as before. "Even children know how to fight, and how to kill. They are savage warriors."
Angron looked past Sanguinius. If it was brutality and bloodlust that made for good Astartes, then he could easily think of suitable candidates. Nuceria used to have plenty of them, and perhaps, had he not managed to throw away his chains, the World Eaters would have new brothers and sisters in their midst.
"I could not have done this," he said firmly. "Before I rebelled, there had been gladiatorial games on Nuceria. The warriors that fought in the arenas were savage too, but they were slaves. I couldn't give them freedom—not after the Nails. There was no way to remove them, and once you felt their kiss, you would only know rage. Everything else would fade. Even if it had been their choice, I wouldn't agree."
Sanguinius looked like he was about to say something, but Angron was not done. "Your reasons are bullshit, brother. You can teach anyone to be a warrior—you don't need them to kill giant scorpions as children just because you had to.
"If you put them up against the wall, everyone will fight. If you take away the fear of consequences, they will be savage. It's human nature. I always found it takes much more strength and will not to fight."
"But not everyone is strong enough to survive transformation into an Astartes. The harsh circumstances on Baal weed out those too weak to survive." Sanguinius frowned.
Angron laughed. "And all those clever Apothecaries can't do that? Besides, if they are too weak then they die. Don't tell me there isn't a mortality rate with your recruits, too." He turned the goblet in his fingers.
"I should have thought of this on my own," Sanguinius said, after a moment of silence.
"Yes, you should have," Angron said. "But what we should and what we do, can be two different things."
Sanguinius nodded, putting his goblet away. "Even such as we can be blinded by what we have learned to be the nature of life. It can makes us blind to the fact that what we experience is not always the only way—and not even right, at times." He regarded Angron for a moment solemnly, and then a gentle smile tugged at his lips. "You are an example we should follow, brother, to have managed to overcome this limitation."
Angron shook his head. "I learned it by being a stubborn idealistic moron, who didn't understand human nature at all. Learn from my example, but don't repeat my mistakes."
Sanguinius's smile grew, gaining a mischievous edge. "Don't worry on this account, brother. I read the books I gave you—I know which ideas are beautiful in theory, but terrible in practice."
"I could have guessed it was going to be orks," Kharn said.
In the pit before him, Amit was demonstrating that the title of the Fifth Captain of the Blood Angels had gone to a truly savage warrior. Shinnargen was doing his best to prove that the World Eaters had nothing to be ashamed of in this department either, which resulted in a lot of snarling, yelling and bleeding.
The Blood Angel next to him—someone from the Second Company—glanced in his direction, and grinned, "Because no other xenos would keep us all amused?"
"If you are amused by orks, you have a very poor sense of humour," Kagos grunted.
"Don't bait," Kharn sighed. "Just challenge him."
The Apothecary gave him a look that was probably meant to imply he was ruining his fun, but it simply didn't work with his face. The Blood Angel sniggered. Kagos grinned, and Kharn felt like shaking his head.
"I've never been good at subtle," the Blood Spitter stated, his teeth still bared in mirth.
A collective shout drowned the answer of the Blood Angel—Kharn turned his head in time to see that, Amit and Shinnargen were now on the ground, wrestling. Then, suddenly, the World Eater roared in shock and pain, and tore himself away from Amit's grip. His ear was bleeding profusely, and when Amit rose to his feet, he spat something fleshy out.
"Flesh Tearer, huh?" Kagos said, his voice betraying awe.
Shinnargen picked himself up. The blood was already starting to scab, thanks to the Laraman cells in it. The World Eater wiped some of the blood of his cheek, as he gave Amit a long measuring look. Then, a savage grin split his face.
The fight was clearly far from over.
"So, orks…" Kagos said, after a moment. "There has to be a lot of them, wherever we're going."
Kharn shrugged, turning his head towards the Apothecary. "Apparently, one of them was smart enough to find its own arse without a map, and figured out how point the rest at several planets."
"Blitzklaw, was it?" the Blood Angel said. "Orks tend to have really ridiculous names, don't they?"
This time both Kagos and Kharn shrugged. "As long as they line up nicely so I can kill them, I don't care," the Apothecary said baring his teeth in another grin.
"You're very monothematic, you know?" Kharn sighed. "And shut up, if they start insulting each other I want to know if I can learn something new."
He almost felt Kagos roll his eyes. The Blood Angel sniggered again.
The ork blinked stupidly, and looked down at his chest. The tip of Raging Heart—Kagos's spear—was jutting from it. Suddenly, the weapon was withdrawn with a hard tug, and blood gushed out of the wound. The creature slumped to the ground, coughing blood and cursing, unable to comprehend why it could no longer move. It was simply too dumb to understand its spine had been severed. Kagos ended its gurgling guttural tirade by stepping on its head. It broke with a sickening crunch, blood and brain-matter splattering over his armoured foot.
With a half-disgusted, half-disappointed snarl the Apothecary trampled over the orkish carcass, as he ran towards a prone body in white and blue. Gore stained the dented armour, and the Astartes was missing a leg from the knee down. Worse, he had stopped cursing a few minutes ago, and his rune was pulsing yellow on Kagos's display.
It took only a few more steps from the Apothecary to reach the fallen Astartes. He knelt down next to him, and quickly started inspecting him for further trauma. The breathing was labored, accompanied by unpleasant gurgling—clearly, something was not right with his lungs. With practiced efficiency, Kagos started working on making sure the World Eater lived until he was transported to the Apothecarion.
He needed to be quick—he could hear the battle rage around him, his battle brothers clashing with orks around him, and there was already more in need of aid. His hands moved surely and quickly, and he was whispering commands to the armour of the other Space Marine, getting it to inject further doses of drugs and antibiotics into his brother's system. With every second the possibility of him getting shot or otherwise attacked was growing, and though he relished nearly every opportunity to fight, Kagos knew he was now an easy target.
Something boomed next to his foot.
A moment later, he heard the bark of a bolter above him, accompanied by the scream of a jet-pack. By the sound of it, a squad of Assault Marines was about to land. Kagos didn't have time to check who it was, but he registered the sound of armoured feet smashing into the ground. Shadow fell over him—the Astartes had formed a protective circle around him.
He caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, but it was just something peripheral to his task. The breathing of the fallen Astartes was growing less forced by the second, and finally, Kagos looked up.
He was surrounded by a circle of Blood Angels.
"I thought you might need a hand, Apothecary," one of them said.
The World Eater recognized voice—it was the Blood Angel he had talked with during the duel between Second Captain Shinnargen and Amit the Flesh Tearer.
He bared his teeth under his teeth in something between a snarl and a grin. "I'll cut one off a greenskin if I do," he snorted.
The Blood Angel's chuckle was distorted by the vox. "My name is Krios, by the way. I didn't manage to introduce myself properly."
"Kagos," the World Eater growled, getting up. "If you want to tag along, I don't care. Just don't slow me down."