{oOo}

Cadia was an empty world. All the indicators suggested that it was an ideal planet for humankind and in the absence of man would surely have been selected for colonisation some form of xenos. Instead only a single corner of the world was home to anyone at all. Small, almost unnoticeable tribes of primitive humans that never strayed from their tiny refuge.

But now that he was on Cadia's surface, Kharn no longer wondered why no one had colonised the planet. In fact, he could only wonder that the tribes continued to survive on the howling wasteland and what reason his lord had for summoning him to this distant corner of the galaxy.

Not just him, either. From warzones scattered across entire segementum, out of scores of expeditionary fleets, the World Eaters were assembling. A detachment here, a company there. Four grand companies, a total force of almost five thousand, that had been serving under the Warmaster's command. Kharn himself had been overseeing recruitment from the dregs of a hiveworld halfway to Ultramar and had arrived with four dozen neophytes in tow.

The skies over Cadia were full to bursting as XII Legion ships jostled for postion in the orbtials, their captains as direct and forthright as the World Eaters that they transported. And on a barren, windswept plain, Thunderhawks and Stormbirds were delivering those Astartes to stand in grand parade. It was over a hundred years since Kharn's legion had come together in one place and in those days they were far fewer. Over forty thousand strong, they formed up a line a dozen deep that stretched for ten kilometers. At their back and their flanks were armoured vehicles, the transports and weapon platforms that supported them in battle.

A few old officers, like Kharn himself, walked the lines to seek out old friends among the veterans. One, standing at the very front, did not.

Primarch Angron stood, arms crossed, with his back to the legion.

It wasn't until Kharn reached the front rank that he saw the Astartes at Angron's side. Alone in the see of blue and white, this one wore rich purple battleplate, a slim blade more suited to a duellist than a soldier at his hip.

"My lord," the equerry greeted his primarch, stepping up to reclaim his place at Angron's right hand from this interloper.

Angron did not turn his head. "Kharn."

The purple-clad Astartes wore the heraldry of the 13th Company of the Emperor's Children, Kharn realised as the younger warrior turned to face him. But what was he doing here? The Phoenican and Angron were hardly close. "Captain Kharn," the Emperor's Child greeted him with a shallow bow. "It is an honour. I am Captain Lucius."

Kharn had heard of this young pup. It was claimed that he was unrivalled with the sword. However, the slight unevenness of his nose suggested that someone had demonstrated already that a fist was just as viable as a weapon. Pity it hadn't knocked some of the arrogance out of him. "Likewise." He stepped forwards, pushing into Lucius' personal space. "I have legion business with the Primarch. Excuse me."

Lucius' eyes flickered to Angron's face and whatever he saw there convinced him not to argue. He donned his helmet. "Of course," he agreed and gestured out onto the plain where Kharn's enhanced eyes could barely make out a tiny village of the local barbarians. "I'll check on their progress."

Angron waited until the interloper was almost by not quite out of hearing before glancing sideways at Kharn. "Tactiful of you," he spat in a contemptuous tone that passed for sarcasm when he spoke.

"Why are we here, Lord Angron?"

The primarch frowned in thought, trying to put his motive into words. "Who am I, Walkuf?" he snarled at last.

Kharn blinked. "Walkuf?" he asked incredulously. "What has that... children's entertainment to do with this."

"Everything!" Angron roared and then clenched his fist in front of his face. "Or nothing," he added in a more reasonable voice.

A dozen sarcastic replies crossed Kharn's mind but he didn't bother. Angron could manage sarcasm on his own part but his record of recognising it from others was spotty at best. "That isn't very clear, master."

"Am I... one of those stuffed toys?" Angron asked slowly, apparently straining to get the question out. "Or a mindless dog like Walkuf's Angry One?"

For the first time, Kharn regretted his participation in that project. It had seemed harmless enough at the time. "You are a warrior, Lord Angron. The greatest in all the Imperium."

"Hmph. And when this Great Crusade is over? What use the warrior when the Imperium is one of my sister's tea parties."

Kharn shook his head helplessly, unsure what to say.

"That is what I am here for. To find out."

"And what about him?" Kharn pointed at Lucius' back. "What his role here?"

Angron shrugged his massive shoulders. "What's the word? Someone who goes before."

"Prophet?"

"Do I look like Urizen?"

"No, lord. A guide, perhaps?"

The primarch shook his head and then froze in recollection. A grim smile returned to his face. "I remember now. He's here as a mine detector."

{oOo}

AN: The first of several Angron centered shorts set primarily during the Age of Heresy in Bloody Mary's route.