This was perhaps the longest chapter that I've written for the story yet, so I can only hope that it's not the worst one yet. Also probably by the time of the next upload will I have updated and correct any errors in previous chapters, both grammatical and lore mistakes.
Chapter 6: Between Wolves and Hounds
Our newly forged legion waged more campaigns shortly after defeating the Glormanian Confederacy, against both aliens and humans alike, however many worlds welcomed the Bale Hounds. Eager to join the Imperium we represented, freely offering up both supplication and tokens of gratitude, and during that time our losses were cushioned by a steady stream of Arcadian recruits. However, there was one day I will never forget, as it marked the only time I had seen my brother Celvyn be both enraged and heartbroken. Half a decade had passed since our victory on Glormanian, we had finished a particularly grueling campaign in the Obsecura Segmentum, and we were being resupplied in both lives and ammunition. More specifically over one thousand battle brothers wearing our colors and badge. The fresh recruits would become the newly formed 3rd Host, composed entirely of Arcadian born warriors, carrying the combination of Arcadian culture, and secrets of the Wild Hunt with them to eventually be integrated into the Legion. I had received a clever yet obvious warning from Malcador via astropathic message, reminding me to keep to my agreement with the Emperor before teaching my Terran sons the truth. I felt it unnecessary, as we had ensured that all of my Legion knew the mantras, oaths, and songs of the Wild Hunt by heart. I was certain that in another half decade, I would be able to teach my entire legion the truth of the Warp, and then my discomfort with the deception would lessen.
I had chosen to oversee the personnel transfer of our newly formed 3rd Host, and Celvyn had joined in preparation to handle the logistical data of the transfer. From the transports marched a storm of vermilion and silver armored Astartes, every single one of their souls burned with the familiar passion of an Arcadian, but then suddenly the pride I felt was halted by a nostalgic echo amongst the crowd. I could tell by the look on his face, Celvyn had also registered the feeling, but in response his face showed horror and surprise. I gently followed behind him, as he desperately pushed his way through the crowd, until we were in the presence of a young space marine lieutenant. Anxiety radiated from my mortal brother's soul, and I would be lying if I did not share the feeling.
"Lieutenant," I spoke in a commander's tone, "Remove your helm." The Astartes looked at us briefly, before unsealing his helm with a hiss of pressure, and revealed a familiar richly dark face that had grown and matured. Selwyn Issacs, Celvyn's only son, my godchild who had always called me his uncle. I cannot imagine the depths of Celvyn's heartbreak in that moment, because despite sharing the initial shock, I felt honored by Selwyn's choice to join the ranks of my Bale Hounds, but I respected that Celvyn was less comforted by that fact.
"No," Celvyn whispered, "No! Not you! Not my álainn mac!" Translated to gothic, he was calling Selwyn his beautiful son, and the tears Celvyn shed were honest. It pained me all the more, but I can barely imagine the potent confusion Selwyn displayed towards his blood father's sorrow.
"Father…" he awkwardly began, "I only-"
"Not my Selwyn!" Celvyn screamed, and I knew that even without facing me, that he was directing his words towards me. I said nothing, because in truth there was nothing I could say that would lessen the pain my truest friend felt, and I doubt that my words would have reached him in such a state. Already the loading bay had grown quieter in the face of this display, and not wishing to let this delay the exchange, I silently summoned another logistics officer to take over Celvyn's duties. For the first time in the decades since we had known each other, my brother wept openly and collapsed to his knees. Celvyn had by then departed the prime of his life, having just entered his middle ages, yet he would not require the assistance of a cane for at least another decade. Yet as he wept I could see the toll from the years plain upon his face, and I felt guilty. He would have never taken to the stars had it not been for me, and I could have sent him back to Arcadia at any point to be with his family. Perhaps if I had, Selwyn would have lived a mortal life, instead of that of an Astartes, but we will never know.
Selwyn, with obvious hesitance and uncertain movements, knelt down to his birth father and gently cradled the man's frame into his ceramite covered arms. It was only then I finally realized that those who underwent ascension to an Astartes lost parts of their humanity in exchange for physical greatness, and for the first time I felt conflicted on the matter. Later I would implement a mandatory leave for the warriors under my command, humans were given the right to request shore leave or a transfer to another command, while my Astartes would be awarded two month leave after five years of service. Their destination could be any world of their choosing, provided I had the power to secure a round trip for them. Arcadia ended up being the easiest destination within my sphere of influence, and to this day many of the non-Arcadian space marines have requested leave onto my homeworld. The Arcadians would return to their clans to share tales of our war across the stars, and many of the Terrans had been adopted into some of the clans. In the end this allowed my sons to remember what and who they were fighting for aside from the Emperor's noble ambitions, they fought for the people.
Many of my brothers have been critical of this practice, believing that it will make my sons soft without the constant of death looming over their heads, and I am grateful some of them see the true merit. Vulkan has commended me for reminding my warriors of their humanity, Sanguinius believes that such a practice might benefit his own legion, and Guilliman has suggested that I should have them learn skills of labor or governing. In truth I never really cared what my brothers would have thought of the practice, nor any of the Imperial lords, I did it for my sons, so that their humanity would not quietly be lost to the fires of war. When Selwyn had first qualified for his own leave, I had forced his father to accompany him, and upon his return my godson thanked me for my insistence. I believe that was also when Celvyn had finally let go of any underlying resentment he held towards me, at peace that his son had made his own decision. Selfishly, I wished he had let go of the resentments earlier, but I cannot truly blame him. Although, I feel I could have used his voice when I first met my brother Leman Russ, Wolf King of the VIth Legion.
It had been roughly a year since the creation of the 3rd Host, and we were set to make war with an alien empire that thrived on the backs of cleverly disguised slavery. The VIth or Space Wolves Legion, had been deployed to reinforce our efforts to crush the resistance we would face. We were notified of their flagship, Hrafnkel, only by the auspex return as it entered the system. They did not even hail us as a transport ship leapt from the Hrafnkel to the Arcadia Retribution, the only message they sent was that the Wolf King demanded entry aboard my ship. Tempting as it was to deny their demands, I allowed their entry, and decided I would humble the Wolves later. I remembered the rumors of Russ and his legion's alleged barbaric savagery, but had dismissed them as opinions formed by those who hailed from more posh upbringings, so imagine my disappointment when the rumors had been true. At least in regards to the nature of Russ' warriors, there is no doubt in my mind that my brother has taken it upon himself to play the savage chieftain to appease his Fenrisian warriors.
I decided to meet the Wolves in the landing bay we had provided for them, alongside my newly formed Council of Temperament, veteran warriors and officers from across the legion whose wisdom I heeded. The ship that carried my brother and his sons had been decorated with sigils and fetish of Fenris, reminding me aptly of their tribal nature, and something told me that this meeting would not unfold as pleasantly as my meeting with Horus had. I was in full war gear, helm on my belt, and a spear in hand, my advisors had also removed their helmets. Slan, Anwill, and Cadhan, who had been promoted to a captain two years ago, were amongst my retinue, armed, but at parade rest. I could sense tension from them as well. Slan had once told me had fought alongside the VIth before my brother had returned, and how they had fought with a ferocity that was to be both respected and feared. Having seen the Wolves fight on numerous occasions now, I believe he was extremely generous with that descriptor.
"I have heard whispers that the Wolf King only respects physical strength," Anwill warned, "I trust you to act upon such whispers wisely, Arwyn." Without looking back I nodded, unbothered by the informality my High Librarian addressed me with. I should also mention that I had been instrumental in laying the foundation of what my brothers would come to call the Space Marine Librarium, in no small part to some of the papers I wrote on the nature of psychic disciplines, which I sent copies of to the Imperial Archives. Perhaps later I will have a better chance to explain that undertaking and how they had been received, but now I must write about the first meeting between the Emperor's Hunter and his chosen Executioner.
My first sight of Leman was impressive, he looked every part of the feral warlord clad in power armor, from his exaggerated canine teeth to his wild shoulder length blonde hair. His eyes scanned the interior of my vessel with primal speed, and a few bone fetishes clanked against his armor as he descended the boarding ramp. He was nearly as tall as Horus, but lacked any of the grace that radiates from our eldest brother, instead there was a bestial power and charm in all of his movements. Then his eyes fixated on me. As I said I had abstained from my helm, and bore my naked face, which had developed a thick dark beard after the many months I had ignored a razor's kiss, yet my head was still shaved on the sides. To this day I do not have any idea what my brother thought from his first sight of me. We approached him slowly, only during the approach did I notice the four Space Wolves that had joined him, and one of them looked drunker than I thought possible for anyone to be.
"Welcome, brother," I greeted with all the warmth I could muster, "To the Arcadia Retribution. I look forward to fighting alongside you." I extended my hand, hoping he would honor me with the warrior's greeting, but he just stared at me before barking in laughter.
"Haaaaa you are less stiff than Horus," he chuckled, "A shame you are a sorcerer, I might have liked you." While his sons joined in his laughter the entire deck went silent, and I felt a brief flare of tension from Slan. Those under my command knew my thoughts on being addressed as a sorcerer, or any of my genesons with the gift, that was why I gave them the title of librarian. So I would be lying if I said I did not want to feed Russ his own teeth, but I resisted that urge in favor of another.
"I hope your sons didn't inherit your manners," I said, "Hate to have to spank them if they get outta line." The wolves stopped laughing, two of them even started growling like actual canine beasts, but I gave them no attention. The Wolf King lost his jovial expression, snarling before stepping up close to me, and baring his fangs to me.
"You dare insult and threaten the Vlka Fenryka?" He practically growled with spittle scattering across my face, but I made no movement to wipe clean. I did not even flinch when Russ stepped up close to me, if Anwill was correct I would not back down to intimidation, especially aboard my own flagship.
"Since your arrival," I said calmly, "You've not only disrespected me but the authority of my legion. By that count brother, tell me which of us is being more disrespectful?" We stared each other down quietly, neither of us willing to so much as blink, admittedly we were being extremely childish and petty, yet in all fairness I was told all siblings fight eventually. I could tell Leman was a man unused to being faced by an authority equal to his own, and I was not going to let him walk all over me. I also believe he was surprised I had not yet made a display of my gifts, and he searched for any sign of weakness in my expression.
"Bah!" He barked, "At least you aren't spineless, brother." The feral tension melted away from his expression, and I caught a rare glimpse behind the savage mask Leman wears to fool the galaxy into believing he is nothing but a savage barbarian clad in power armor. There was a glimmer of respect in his eyes, and what I swear looked like fraternal pride. Only later did I theorize Russ had done all this on purpose in an attempt to not only test my spine, but provide a reason for his sons to respect me. Yet it did little to alleviate the fresh irritation that Leman's attitude caused me, but I led them to the Retribution's war room. The chamber was decorated in not only the banners of my legion's Hosts, but also with the battle honors belonging to the elements of Imperial Naval and Army forces that fought alongside us. The most prominent banner displayed the symbol of my legion, a canine silhouette with a pair of eyes and a flipped rounded triangle resting above the eyes, a representation of a Cu Sith.
Gathered around the hololitic projector were the various commanders and lords assigned to this new theater of war, from the commanders of the Imperial Army to representatives of the Titan Legion Falchion. Eight of my Paragons were present, along with the ship's Master Astropath, and two of the Sigillite's spies who had managed to gather workable intelligence on our new foes. A multiracial empire known as Xallian Collective, led by an insectoid alien race called the Di'xeron, whose females developed impressive psychic abilities used in concert with pheromones that gave them easy control of their male population. The alien society had developed advanced cybernetics, weapons, and other vitally important technologies. Their matriarchal line openly shared the bountiful fruits of their labors with any who would offer up their people's eternal loyalty in exchange, not counting the two human societies that had submitted, there were three additional species that had joined the Collective. A thick skinned hooved bipedal warrior race called Gravlompi, along with the Vilaphon a stocky breed who were masters of agriculture, and lastly the rarely seen master engineers known as the Pilixia.
The Collective controlled two full star systems, and over a dozen outlying colonies on the borders of their kingdom. The colonies would be simple enough for my legion to reclaim, but the Collective held its two systems with an iron grip in the form of naval patrol flotillas, star fortresses, and an insane amount of orbital defense platforms. Hence why the gathering of such an impressive display of Imperial might had been summoned to reinforce our efforts, as there seemed little hope in expecting aid from the human populations. That conclusion had been drawn after the destruction of a II Legion light cruiser tasked with negotiating with the human colonists. According to the cruiser's final astropathic reports, they had been crippled then boarded, and after a lengthy silence we had no choice but to count them as lost. That the Collective's forces had not destroyed the vessel out right deeply concerned me, either the crew had been claimed as slaves, or they had taken to studying our technological capabilities. Neither possibility sat well with me, and then Imperial High Command sent word that if we did not secure a total victory in three months' time, then we would receive more reinforcements. By elements of the Xth Legion led by their Primarch, Ferrus Manus, who at the time had already earned his moniker of the Gorgon.
While I am not a petty man, I did not wish my first meeting with another of my brothers to be under a situation born from failure, and I am fairly certain Leman shared the feeling. Combine that and the amalgamation of solid intelligence and projected estimates of the enemy's military strength, the odds favored neither side, and we had a titan legion on our side. There were too many variables to properly track and prepare for by myself, so I allowed the other Lords to speak their insights first, before I would voice my own thoughts. The Imperial Army swore to commit a four legions' worth of fighters to liberate the colony worlds, and the Navy lords detailed a strategy that would bypass hostile defenses while also identifying an optimal route for the titans. In both systems, a central world had been identified as the localized hub of the Collective's might, and the Titan Legion had claimed those worlds as the stages for their part in the campaign. Meanwhile, Russ had yet to so much as make a crude jest, forcing me to fill the silence with my own oaths.
To the Imperial Army I committed the companies of the 7th Host, as the 7th had the most familiarity with the Army, and would coordinate in harmony with the Army's battle plans. I proposed that the main bulk of my legion's fleet be spread out amongst the navy's forces, deploy breacher pods and sabotage enemy vessels from within, and that Arcadia Retribution act as the spear tip in clearing a path for the titan legion. I suggested that it would be favorable if the Space Wolves committed their flagship to a similar action, and here I came to learn the unwritten truth of the VIth Legion and Leman Russ. That the Wolf King and his packs kneel only to the Emperor of Mankind, and would not be commanded by anyone else.
"You don't command the Wolves, brother," Leman simply said, "It will do you well to remember that." Leman then laid out what plan of attack for his own forces, which simply put was to unleash the full fury of his wolves upon what was believed to be the Collective's origin system. When asked if he would coordinate his efforts with Naval command or Titans, Leman offered no answer, instead he stated that he would lead his Legion to new glories and whatever scraps they left were fair game for anyone else. I could sense a surge of disappointment spread throughout the gathered commanders, including my own Space Marines, along with curiosity aimed towards myself. Without needing to delve deeper I had already figured out why they were curious, they wanted to know if I would allow my elder brother to behave like the metaphorical "lone wolf'' and ifI would make him see reason. In truth, I had no plan, remember that I was not yet familiar with Leman's ways, let alone aware of the customs of the world that raised him. Plus, for all I knew the collapse of the Collective's governing world would only require the full concentration of a Space Marine legion, even if it appeared as nothing more than a grab for glory. Not to mention it did not go against my belief of unified but independent tactical autonomy, and the Wolves' goal was in line with the campaign's goals. Discussions continued and a properly organized movement of resources was established amongst our forces, later I asked Leman to join me in my private chambers, and to my surprise he accepted.
"Do you wish to scold me like a child?" He asked with clear amusement, once we were alone, "If so I believe myself to be your elder." I led him into my quarters which by now had become more personalized and lived in. A large pelt rug was laid on the floor, while the bed was large enough to accommodate myself and my brides, whose clothing had been haphazardly thrown across it, off in the corner were a series of potted plants, and tucked against a wall was a desk made from Arcadian wood. In the center was a makeshift electric cooking heater, and nearby a short cabinet of specially spirits brewed by the most esteemed clans back home. I had made my way over to the cabinet, but did not bother retrieving cups, for legend of my brother's drinking habits had reached even my ears.
"Sweet or bitter?" I asked without looking at him, but I could feel the surprise he reacted with.
"What?"
"Spirits," I explained, "Do you prefer a sweet or bitter drink?" This time I did turn to face him, and watched his confusion melt away to a sudden joy.
"Won't say no to anything with honey," he answered, "Though I'll admit I didn't expect you to offer up a drink, let alone choices!" With his answer I reached for an unopened bottle of apple and honey based wine that had undergone a far more potent fermentation, so powerful was the process that finishing the bottle would make me drunk, and I assure you it was enough to get the Wolf King drunk. I selected a bottle of barrel aged malted barley whiskey brewed by Clan Kilbegnan that would probably kill an unagumented human with but a sip. I sent the apple honey wine to Leman, and though discomforted by the use of my gift, he still took the bottle, opening it with his fanged teeth.
"Where I'm from," I started explaining, "We honor our guests with food and drink before we discuss business." He paused, the cork skewered by his teeth, his mouth opened awkwardly from the action, and his gaze shifted from me to the bottle.
"You think me a rude guest?" He asked and I simply shrugged in response.
"I'm sure some of the Clan's elders would say that," I admitted before taking a sip, "But we're brothers, won't do either of us any good to judge you just yet. Besides, I am sure Fenrisian culture has its own unique values and practices, plus it'll do us no favors for me to judge you before I've gotten a measure of your soul." Leman briefly choked on the wine, before letting out an infectious laugh.
"Doesn't the Imperial Truth deny a soul's existence?" He grinned while wiping his mouth free of spilt wine. I shrug while giving an open gesture with my arms.
"I agree with most of the Truth's tenants," I explained, "I've not seen any gods nor would they be worthy of humanity's worship, but I think it's human nature to believe beyond the material world." Leman was silent briefly, before taking another swig of the wine, and for a moment I was happy he enjoyed it.
"The tribesmen of my home have started calling the Emperor the Allfather," he stated, "And my Fenrisian warriors believe they are fighting in the afterlife." I did not know how to respond to that, or where to even begin questioning the rationality of his warriors. In truth I see no real problem in the belief of a possible afterlife, the idea offered a sense of ease and promised a rest in exchange for hard won lives, though officially I cannot support such beliefs as it would go against my vow to the Emperor.
"Not to mention they don't…approve of magic," he continued, "Can't say I do either." Again, a subtle allusion to naming me a sorcerer, I ignored the all too familiar bitterness at being called such a thing, instead focused on the savory taste of the whiskey, and spoke calmly.
"Then you haven't a reason to distrust me," I offered, "I am a psycker and a shaman, not a wizard."
"Yet you wield unnatural powers." He countered, and I perked a brow at that.
"You realize that it could be argued that we Primarch's have unnatural power," I argued, "Besides, our father is perhaps the strongest psycker of our species."
"He's the greatest of Jarls," Leman countered, "All understand that truth when they lay eyes upon him." He was not necessarily wrong, in my experience people understood just who the Emperor was just by looking at him, but I did not want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that.
"Regardless," I said, "He's trusted us with the Imperium's dream, so let our guns add to its song, and our blades carve our stories into history." I held up the whiskey bottle and out towards Leman, who reluctantly clanked his bottle against mine, and we each took a deep swig before we both let out a satisfied audible breath.
"If you want to honor your toast," he started asking, "Why spread your legion's forces?" It was a fair enough question, from what I understood neither Leman or Horus spread out their forces as I did for that campaign, but then again none of us waged war the exact same way. Take Curze and his Night Lords, who scorn traditional warfare in favor of striking utter terror into their foes, or Alpharius and his Alpha Legion whose talent for deception and subterfuge is unrivaled amongst the twenty legions.
"Those Imperial commanders have committed their strength to the campaign," I explained, "Their soldiers have family and kin who will mourn their deaths, so I spread my legion for three reasons. Firstly, if I can prevent the needless deaths of my allies then I will. Second, I have faith in my sons' brawn and brains to ensure a swift victory. Thirdly, our Imperium is meant for all humanity to inherit, and I believe that one day future generations will look back and see that they thrive thanks not only to the efforts of our legions, but the brave men and women who fought alongside us." He seemed to consider my words, but I could tell that he was not fully convinced that my rationales were enough to justify my methods in his eyes.
"You lessen your strength," Leman said, "Why do you "psyckers" care more about history or the future than the here and now. Even uncle Malcador." That was the first time I had heard one of us refer to Malcador as our uncle, yet I cannot say that I did not understand why he had been labeled as such, and only later after my own investigation did I learn that the Sigillite and Leman have a special bond. Regardless, it was clear that Leman and myself would not have a bond like the one between myself and Horus. While unfortunate was not entirely unexpected, word of my brother the Wolf King's distrust of psyckers was already growing famously throughout the Great Crusade. Before he left, I told Leman that the honey wine was a gift and that I wished him good hunting in the coming war, and he simply told me not to shame myself by dying to a lesser foe.
The war against the Xallian Collective began a standard week later, it was perhaps the finest example of Imperial strategical genius and how unpredictable the alien foes we faced could truly be. The Imperial Army reinforced by the 7th Host would take the colony worlds in under a week, first targeting their long range communication systems, before scouring the worlds clean. While the Imperial Navy's initial assault plan was successful, with the Arcadia Retribution acting as the destructive spear tip of the assault, stealth ships identified various enemy command vessels, and waiting ambushes spread throughout the system. At the same time, my Bale Hounds performed boarding actions destroying enemy vessels from the inside, before being retrieved then repeating the process upon another ship. The path to the hub world of the system was nearly carved cleanly for the Legion Falchion, but then the Collective surprised us all. Anyone familiar with vortex grenades will know that they punch a hole in reality that leads into the warp, then like a singularity steals away natives of the material into the empyrean, such a device originated from humanity's Age of Technology. In all my years fighting for the Great Crusade, I have yet to see aliens using technology in such a similar manner, except for the Collective. Later we would learn they had reverse engineered both our vortex explosives and ship warp drives, combining the two into a deadly void depth charge.
We had not even allowed them a full galactic month to study the bones of our recon vessel, but they already studied and created a new weapon to use against us. For a time they threw the entire fleet into disarray, I cannot say for how long that lasted, and a thousand praises upon Captain Keahi for his brilliant grasp of interstellar war. He identified that only smaller enemy vessels without warp jump capabilities were launching the vortex charges, and had the crew mark them on scanners, before sharing his discovery with the rest of the fleet. Never mind that my brother of the XIth would later boast that he would have overcome the Collective's surprise with greater speed, Keahi is a natural born naval commander, and I will not suffer any disrespect aimed towards him. I hope his husband and children know the hero that Keahi is regarded as by the entirety of the Bale Hound legion for all the lives his quick thinking saved. We still suffered casualties, the legion lost two battle barges and five times the number of light cruisers, and I was informed the navy fleet suffered worse than us.
Despite that, we succeeded in clearing a path for the Titan Legion to make planet fall, and I led the first three Hosts of my legion in deployment alongside the great war machines. That ground assault was perhaps the loudest I have participated in to this date, each step of a titan was a small earthquake, and its weapons fired louder than thunderclaps, I fear if not for my armor's audio compensators I would have been deaf for a year. The Collective had their own variant of Titans, albeit they were lesser in size, and were an equal for the smaller god machines. Meanwhile, the ground forces were a combination of Di'xeron, Gravlompi, and human warriors armed with advanced weaponry that hammered detrimental dents into Astartes power armor, while clad in sturdy light armor. On the third day we had captured a human prisoner who informed us that we had landed on the Collective's central seat of power, and that Di'xeron's queen was secured in a hidden bunker in one of five hive cities.
Apparently the Queen was more important to the Collective's war effort than we initially believed, upon arrival I had felt an overwhelming psychic presence, but no matter my efforts I could not trace its source. According to our prisoner, the Queen would use her immense psychic force to guide the warriors of her race, concentrating the efforts of their forces in a deadly unity we had never encountered before. The Collective's commanders were also able to quickly grasp the logic and reason of both my legion and our titan allies. Placing traps and bait for both forces respectively, and reassigning troop deployments to where they could beat, stall or ensnare our forces. While I admit this was an impressive display of their own tactical brilliance, it also exposed which city the Queen was hidden in, the fourth city. Its streets were too narrow, too dense with structures for Titans of any size to be effective, and from the scout reports had a higher number of Di'xeron warriors than the other cities. The composition of the troops was what truly gave it away, no matter how accepting the Di'xerons were it is rare to trust another species with the life of one's leader, how ironic that such a base instinct would be their undoing.
The defenders of the fourth city had dug themselves in for an invasion, setting the battlefield to favor their own guerrilla ambush tactics, and despite how adept the companies of the 3rd Host were in that field, it seemed they had met their match. The resistance they put up drew out the conquest of that city for days, and by the tenth the unexpected happened. An escort class vessel flying the colors of the Space Wolves soared overhead the city, launching a full company's worth of drop pods, and aboard one was Leman Russ. I could sense him through the gift long before I was given solid confirmation, and while admittedly I should have been grateful for the assistance, I felt insulted. Had he not criticized me for splitting my legion out amongst our forces? To make matters even worse, Russ' sons had very little squad cohesion, and ran wildly across the city, triggering traps we had deliberately ignored or circumvented. The Wolves that did work in packs were no better, cutting off Bale Hound firing lines, screaming curses and war cries in the Fenrisian tongue while gleefully killing anything in their path. Back then, in the heat of the moment, I believed that they were poorly named warriors. I have seen true wolves hunt with more awareness of each other and their environment, but I have hope that one day they will truly earn their namesake.
I was deployed with the 3rd Host's Paragon command squad alongside elements of their terminator elites, 27th Company's tactical squads, and four centurions squads, together we had determined the location for the entrance to the Queen's bunker. Placed between us and victory were roughly four square city blocks protected by heavy gun turrets, hovering plasma tanks, a small ocean of Collective soldiers, and well placed concealed sniper nests. With the terminator and centurion brothers forming the near unbreakable spear tip of our advancement, while the tactical squads identified and destroyed both sniper nests and turret encampments. At our set speed we would have taken the area before that nightfall, but then the first damned Space Wolf appeared. Like a madman he knocked aside my warriors and tore his way towards the forward line, his soul cried out in blood lust, uncaring about anything but earning himself more glory. He would have ruined our efforts just to satisfy his own ego. I could not let that happen.
Leaving nothing to chance, I channeled the gift throughout my muscles doubling my already impressive strength, and broke from cover to intercept the damn fool. With a single arm I gripped the Space Wolf by the collar of his armor, pulling him off the ground, and then skid to a stop behind the cover of an empty alleyway. Without hesitation I disabled three cables that fed his armor life, but he continued to struggle in my grip. It was painfully clear that he was going to continue to be a problem, but luckily he was not wearing a helmet, so with a measured blow to his temple I knocked the Wolf unconscious. I wanted to curse his bloodkin for raising such a fool, but there was no time to indulge that impulse. I scanned for the vox channel that the Space Wolves arts utilizing, and when I found it I opened the link and boomed across the vox.
"Russ! So help me if any of your wolves' recklessness gets any of my sons killed, I will beat common sense into them myself!" It felt good to shout the threat even if I knew there was no chance for me to deliver on it. Although it should come as no surprise that for similar reasons I refuse to commit my forces to the same warzones as the World Eaters, for their battle plans result in too high casualties and leave little room for cooperation. Truly I am grateful I have never fought against Angron or his sons, for they are the only legion I would truly fear to face if for nothing else than their casual disregard for their own lives and unnatural resilient rage. All of us, regardless of what we think of his behavior, respect Leman Russ, but not many of us fear him, and I do not know if he understands that. He brags that only a few would dare to fight him in a duel, but rarely did any of us have a reason to meet his challenges that was not to humor his ego. Remember this for later, and I assure you Leman did not forget the insult I laid at his legion's feet.
In truth I still do not care that I had insulted the Wolves, because of their reckless combat behavior, I was forced to accelerate the time I had originally given my forces. The Collective would have called for reinforcements the second the Wolves landed, I had already felt the Queen's psychic presence reaching out for more support. No doubt defenders scattered across the city were already enroute to kill us from all sides, and that left me with only one choice to save the lives of my men. In the shadow of the alley I closed my eyes, focused my gift into a psychic pulse that acted as a sonar, painting my second sight with skeletal impressions of my surroundings revealing the souls of my foes and their machines of war. I felt ten burning power cells feeding life into the plasma tanks, with an effort of will, I created building pressures around those cells, and I felt the howls of the immaterium batter against my mental defenses as I channeled a portion of my full psychic strength. I curled my hands into claws slowly closing them into fists, and as I did the power cells of the tanks were crushed under the weight of my will. Later I was informed that it was like witnessing the lifecycle of ten miniature stars as those tanks exploded, but I had no way of seeing it myself, as I was reciting mantras to keep those unborn nightmares of the warp from entering my mind. Normally I would have relented in using my gift, but I could not afford to be so restrained with so much hanging on the success of this assault. I must state how much I loath using my gifts outside the purview of manipulations of the natural world, as utilizing such powers are a beacon for undesired attention.
Reciting ancient mantras while enforcing my will to reshape the discharged plasma energy into three glowing translucent spectral canine forms, and set them loose upon the enemy lines. When people speak of their fear of psyckers, unlike my beloved brother Magnus, I do not scoff at them for a supposed ignorance, instead I sympathize with them as even my powers can terrify me. While my body was crouched behind cover, I could feel the spectral hounds tearing into the Collective's troops, and knew the distraction would lessen the gunfire my sons would have to wade through, allowing us to advance with greater haste. An hour later, we had killed the last of the defenders, my summoned beast dissipated, and then after breaching the bunker's entrance unleashed more slaughter until finally we reached the Queen's chamber. I trailed behind the front of the assault, as I needed to regather both my strength and my soul's balance, but when the centurion sergeant requested my presence in the Queen's chamber I stopped lingering. I fear the horrors of that room will stay with me until my final days. The chamber's walls were formed by a honeycomb structure that was filled with occupied suspension tubes that housed members of each species within the Collective, each of them was a psycker of some caliber, and the top of their skulls were removed with a series of nodes connected to their gray matter, each wired to the Queen's strange metallic throne. There was an opened empty pod, its occupant had been an adolescent human male, his body laid lifelessly on an altar, and his brain was missing. A single glance to the Queen answered what had happened to it, as she had yet to wipe away the small bits of brain coating her insect-like mouth, and I felt disgust rush throughout my entire soul. Apparently the Di'xerons placed a tithe upon their alien subjects, in the form of psychically gifted individuals who would serve to strengthen their matriarchal line's own psychic power, and they believed that by eating the brain the Queen would gain both knowledge and greater power from the psyckers. I do not believe I need to detail how I avenged the Di'xerons' countless victims, but I ensured both the Queen's line and those horrid machines were utterly destroyed.
When I emerged from the bunker, I was greeted by the sight of Leman with two full squads of his Wolves, and he did not look pleased to say the least. Indeed he looked as if he wanted to jump me the second he saw me, but instead he marched forward, purpose in his stride.
"Not only did you dare command me," he snarled, "But you threaten my sons for fighting like proper warriors! We do not suffer such insults unchallenged!" I was exhausted, angry, and in no mood to humor my brother in any capacity. With a grunt I hurled my spear into the ground, tore off my helmet, and violently spat at Leman's feet. I did not even care that his Wolves had raised their bolters at me, nor that my own sons trained their weapons on them.
"You dare speak of disrespect, to me?!" I roared back, "We allowed you to take the theater of your choice, to fight there as you pleased, only to then deceive us, your allies, and then instead of offering cooperation you disregard the safety of my sons in favor of your own glories?!" Leman looked stunned, as if he did not expect me to answer with such a fire to burn in my words, but I did not stop to acknowledge that.
"Your wolves are lucky I didn't order them shot!" I continued, "I have offered you respect and understanding, but my patience has its limits brother! To hell with you and your legion's pride, if you wish for us to respect you and yours, then you will have to earn it properly next time. Because regardless of what you might think of me brother, I wouldn't dare be so opportunistic as to use you and yours as pawns for my legion's own glory!" Incredibly no one dared to be the first to attack the other, and Leman was able to set aside his own anger to acknowledge he had indeed risked my sons' lives for his legion's glory. Perhaps, he believed he would have reacted similarly as I had, at least I hope he did.
"Order the Vlka Fenryka again at your own peril, brother," he growled, "This is your final warning." They left the battlefield, later we learned that the main bulk of his forces had decimated the Collective's other occupied system, and left nearly no trace of the alien culture that once dwelled within it. There is no denying the potent destructive force that Leman's legion possesses, and it was only then I realized the immense difference in not only our legions but our very philosophies. Leman and his Wolves are independent and free as true wolves, roaming and hunting as they please, true they hold a greater loyalty for the Emperor than most legions, but I suspect that is due to both Leman's fraternal affection, and how the Fenrisians view the Emperor as mankind's rightful leader. When they fight, they do so without restraint to assert their dominance as one of the Emperor's greatest warriors, to do anything less would insult not only themselves, but their very way of life. Whereas myself and the Bale Hounds are more akin to farming or hunting hounds, our loyalty is not solely to the Emperor, but his subjects, we fight to protect or avenge them. In battle we do not fight without restraint, despite how hot our blood may run, we fight to ensure there is something worth living for after we claim a world. Even against the Glormanian Confederacy we left enough for the liberated humans to rebuild their society within the guidelines of Imperial law, we only destroyed the Eternal's foul tainted legacy, and even had left a company to help smooth the transition. Both Roboute and Fulgrim would likely describe Leman's methods of war as unrefined or short sighted, but I believe Ferrus would commend the Wolf King's commitment to strength and the destruction of our enemies. I simply say that Leman's methods are his own, even if I disagree with them, I do not believe it my place to determine if they are right or wrong, and even now I hope that he regards my own methods in a similar fashion. Even if it is only wishful thinking, I hope one day the two of us can set aside our differences and behave as brothers instead of rivaling generals.
To this day I wish I had Celvyn's wisdom to temper me during that campaign, but he had taken to maintaining our Librarium's archives and secrets in what I believe was an effort to avoid an awkward confrontation with me. Selwyn had been with me during the entire campaign against the Collective's forces, and showed remarkable restraint in asking me the questions that burned in his mind. Selfishly, I am grateful for that, for I believe answering such questions would have further weakened my already stressed self control in light of the Space Wolves behaviors. Selwyn if you should ever be one of those who read this record, please forgive my cold distance for when you first entered the legion's service. Know that I was and forever shall be proud that you chose to honor me by joining the ranks of my legion, but a part of me will always mourn the man you could have been if you had not become a Space Marine. Family is a truly precious thing, and is the source of the fire that burns with this legion, never forget that lesson.