Chapter 2 The Errors of Nikaea
Chapter 2.1 Adoptive Sons
Ezekyle Abaddon, First Captain of the Lunar Wolves, and now the highest ranking commander of the legion waited for the doors before him to slide open. He was out of armour, wearing the lighter coverings of all Lunar Wolves when off duty. Not that a true Astartes like himself was ever off duty. But armour needed repairing, weapons needed sharping, and an Astartes need time to address the other aspects of their person that could not be fixed in a dueling cage or a medical bay.
As Abaddon entered the room he noticed 2 large wooden screens obscuring a corner of the room. They were ornately decorated with images of birds, wolves and verdant lands. Whilst a very practical individual, even Abaddon could understand and appreciate the craftwork that had gone into them. This same craftwork was reflect in all the furnishings of the room, including a large ornate seats provided near the centre of the room. In one of them sat Sanguinius, The Great Angel.
No, not just the The Great Angel. The Warmaster.
Sanguinius gestured to the empty seat with a warm smile, welcoming Abaddon in. Abaddon had been present at many gatherings with the Great Angel before, but always his father's side. This was different, almost uncomfortable. To be treated as an equal to a being of such power and status. His father had been worth, but he was not.
"First Captain, I am glad you could join me. Please, take a seat," said Sanguinius warmly.
"As you command Warmaster," replied Abaddon, bowing low in respect. Regardless of his worthiness, he would never refuse the command of a Primark.
As Abaddon took his place, Sanguinius continued, "I apologise for summoning you during your rest time but I had some matters I wished to discuss with you. Matters regarding your legion and its place in the Great Crusade."
"My Lord Warmaster," said Abaddon, "We serve at your will. We serve The Warmaster and The Emperor both. Upon your summons, I shall obey unquestioningly."
Sanguinius smiled, standing up and moving to a nearby table. On it sat a bottle, with 2 fine clear cut wine glasses. Unliked the rest of the rooms decoration they were fairly plain and simple, but that simplicity seemed to enhance the blood red liquid it contained. Sanguinius poured into both and handed one to Abaddon.
"This was Horus' favourite. Or, the favourite we shared at any rate. He never spoke of another."
Abaddon accepted the glass but did not drink, and Sanguinius noticed him stiffen slightly at the name of his fallen Primark. The Angel could read every emotion on the First Captain's face, and those he tried to suppress.
"You blame yourself, don't you?" asked Sanguinius quietly.
Abaddon stared down at the glass and the crimson liquid within. It was, he thought but would never voice, a stupid question. But the Warmaster, and favourite of his Father Horus, was deserving of an honest reply.
"How could I not. I was his First Captain, leader of his personal guard. I was always by his side and swore to fight for him and defend him until my death. I failed. I was even there when he was struck by that weapon, and I could do nothing. Would that it have struck me instead of my Father. I would gladly give my life a thousand times to bring him back. A thousand more for this misery to never have occurred at all. I command the Lunar Wolves as I have before, but we have lost our pride. We have lost our self respect. I am not fit to lead and whilst I considered resigning my position as First Captain, I know there is no other with the strength to hold the Legion together, and it would dishonour my Father to have his sons become nothing more than a rabble."
Sanguinius reached out and place a hand on Abaddon's shoulder. Abaddon looked up into the Angel's ocean blue eyes and his heart rending smile. For a moment, just a moment, his grief seemed to slacken like a river's course diverted.
"Ezekyle, you are too hard on yourself," said the Angel, "I know this pains you more than any, and your entire legion is still in grief, but you are the strongest of my brother's sons that I have ever know. Perhaps the strongest amongst all Astartes. You have managed to hold your legion together through this suffering, and I wish to help you carry the load."
Abaddon turned away from that gaze. So pure and untainted by the stain of failure he felt. The words were kind, but undeserved. However to deny them would be to insult The Great Angel, and he had done enough to cause injury to the line of Primarks.
Sanguinius could sense Abaddon's agitation, and so withdrew to take his seat once more and continue.
"I made a request of my Father and Malcador when I was appointed Warmaster. A request which would require your consent, but if granted I would make the same pledge to your legion that I did to my own. It was originally conceived that when Horus was granted the title of Warmaster his legion would be granted the honour of being renamed the Sons of Horus. Thus have I been granted the same honour to renamed the Blood Angels as the Sons of Sanguinius."
Abaddon nodded. It was a fair honour. Despite the bitter sting in his chest for the future lost where he fought alongside Warmaster Horus, he found he could not begrudge the Angel and his sons the reward given.
"However," Sanguinius continued, "I refuse to sit back and let my brothers sons languish at the rear of the Crusade, not given the opportunities to gain honour and renown of their own. To this end, and by your leave of course First Captain, I have asked for the Lunar Wolves to be renamed the Sons of Horus and to be reassigned to The Warmaster's direct command. The Sons of Horus and The Sons of Sanguinius would both serve at my pleasure. Operations would be conducted jointly, and for all intents and purposes we would one force, however it would be one force, two legions, sharing a commander."
Abaddon was stunned. Of all the ways he had expected this conversation was to go, this was not one of them. It was a bold move to be sure, no Primark commanded more than a single Legion. It was true that the 13th Legion under Roboute had an unusually large influx of Astartes following the disappearance of the missing 2 Primarks, but no Primark had ever wielded that much power before. With 2 legions Sanguinius would become the most powerful Primark in the Imperium. But, as Warmaster, did he not have that right?
"Others backed my request," said Sanguinius, "Roboute's concern for the protection of The Warmaster given the assassination of Horus raised reasonable questions of how to provide that extra security. How better than to give The Warmaster an additional Legion's worth of support? Also I wish for you to have a chance to silence any naysaying about your Legion's abilities. I will NOT have the sons of my brother's honour besmirched. I will put my life in your hands and I KNOW you will keep me safe because my brothers death was not your fault. I know if you are able to demonstrate to the galaxy you are able to serve and defend me, the poisoned words will cease and once again your Legion will be spoken of with respect."
Sanguinius stood and walked towards the 2 large wooden shutters, placing a hand on the frame gently. Turning back to look at Abaddon he asked, "What do you think, First Captain. Would you and your Legion have me as your Primark? Would you let me lead you into battle and place my very soul in your care?"
Abaddon stood, very slowly, placing the wine glass on the floor. This was a great deal to process. Abaddon expected The Great Angel to say either the legion was being disbanded, or that their force would be distributed amongst the rest of the expeditionary fleets. This was a chance for continued renown, to continue the legacy of Horus and of the Lunar Wolves in a new form. As a man weighed down by the weight of the world, he paced his way to before Sanguinius, kneeling before him in supplication.
"My Lord Warmaster-"
"Sanguinius, please Ezekyle. I would not have my brother's favourite son stand on ceremony in private."
"My Lord Sanguinius. You offer us an honour we are not deserving of. And whilst part of me wishes to be punished for my failings and to drag my Legion down into the depths with me for our weakness, there are good men under my command who deserve better. I do not deserve to command the Legion, and placing my Father's pride into your care would be the greatest gift I could give him from beyond the grave. I will see to it that every man of the Sixteenth submits to your will wholly and utterly, and be it consume every last man of our Legion we shall keep you safe, no matter what foe you face."
Sanguinius pulled Abaddon to his feet, his face beaming with joy. Abaddon could not help but blanch from The Great Angel's exuberance. His Warmaster was a thing of brightness he did not deserve, but it did ease his pain a little knowing that his acceptance affected The Great Angel so.
"I am glad, Ezekyle. You humble me with your words but as a gracious host I accept them. I make you this promise I shall not alter the traditions of your legion anymore than I did the Revenant Legion before they were remade as my Blood Angels. Your structures shall remain the same, and whilst they may be different to my own sons they shall also be allowed to continue as they were. As I said before, you shall be 2 legions, with your own cultures and traditions, but with one commander. Your Mournival for example, I would seek to speak with them to get their blessing as I have yours."
"You wish to retain the Mournival then my Lord?" asked Abaddon.
"Indeed. It would be unfair to deprive you of this tradition, but it would also be unfair to my own sons for you to have privileged access to The Warmaster when they do not. Thus I would speak with you all for establishing a Mournival of my own sons. As your legion's Mournival follows the stations of the moon, so should theirs follow the passage of the sun. My two Mournivals will help me guide each of your legions and ensure a harmonious unity. Also there is something pleasing about the Nine members of my Mournivals including myself. The Sixteenth and the Ninth, with the Nine together ensuring all affairs are just."
Abaddon bowed his head, "I shall see it done. I shall have the Mournival gathered within the hour to discuss your needs."
Sanguinius shook his head.
"No, tomorrow will be better. Take the time to discuss all I have said with your brothers of the Mournival. Ensure it is fully considered, and if any have any concerns or worries about what I have proposed they should bring it to me and speak candidly so that I may ensure their needs are met. I wish nothing to be held back, and I wish to be treated the same as you did my brother when you were his Mournival."
"As you command, My Lord."
"There was… one other thing," said Sanguinius coyly, "I have taken the liberty of having my artificers begin a first draft of repainting my legion's colours to reflect their new status as the Sons of Sanguinius. I also took the liberty of drafting up a new scheme for the Sons of Horus should you all accept my proposal. Tell of what you think of these."
Sanguinius rolled back the wooden screens to reveal 2 suits of Mark IV Pattern armour. On the left stood a suit of what was clearly Lunar Wolf armour, still the same base white that Abaddon recognized of his legion, but with some subtle changes. The edges of the shoulder plates and other detailing which had formerly been black were now a burnished gold, much like the warplate of Sanguinius himself. The icon as well had been changed, that proud symbol that sat on the shoulder. Instead of the wolfs head and moon, there now gazed a baleful eye. The eye of Horus.
On the right stood a much more unusual set of armour. Also the Mark IV variant, this one was completely jet black, the deepest black Abaddon had ever seen in his life. This too had gold detailing in an echo of its companion next to it. They appeared as a set, left and right, light and dark, 2 halves to a whole. This one however instead of the baleful eye, a blood red droplet have been painted directly in the centre of the pauldron, with 2 fine white wings.
Both sets of armour had glowing red eyes, something typical of a Lunar Wolf battle plate but new for the Sons of Sanguinius. They glowered menacing at the far distant wall, arms resting at their side. Never worn and devoid of life, Abaddon found it humorous how no Astartes battle plate remained that pristine for long once a battle brother was inside it.
"Magnificent" he breathed, "All would fear the sons of black and white, the Sons of Horus and the Sons of Sanguinius."
Sanguinius smiled again, though in a softer manner. It pleased him to see the Son of Horus with such an expression. If he narrowed his eyes, just for a moment, he could see the smile of his brother on Abaddons face once more.
"I am pleased you approve, Ezekyle. Please, do go speak with your brothers in the Mournival and discuss my request. I will never force my will upon your legion, but if you will have me I would be honoured to have the Sons of Horus as close to me as my own sons."
Abaddon ran a hand across the pure white armour before bowing once more to Sanguinius and departing with a final, "As you command, my Lord."
Sanguinius watched the First Captain of the Sons of Horus go, before turning and running a hand down the black plated suit of armour. That warm smile for Abaddon suddenly lost all of its strength. The weak smile remained, but it was no longer jovial or encouraging. It became the smile of a broken man, who had no choice left but to smile to hide his inner pain.
"My cloak of grief," he whispered to the silence, "Eternal mourning for my brother. The black of one forever unable to let go of a loss. But none should know of the darker meaning of this shade in my sons' armour. His sons shall be bathed in light, mine in my sadness. But all that they shall know and all that history shall remember is their glory, their honours, their victory. Warriors of black and white together uniting my Father's dream. I shall wear my gold of the Emperor's finery, being his proxy, his icon. My sons will be the glorious champions hailed in black, alongside my brothers sons the conquerors in white. In the end that is all that matters, all that must be remembered. The secret of the mourning shade I shall take to my grave, and I shall not pass on my grief to any other. Our sons shall be happy together, Horus, and become everything we hoped they would be."
Withdrawing from the suits of armour and picking up his wineglass again, Sanguinius withdrew to his private quarters beyond to continue his private thoughts alone.