Informal formalities

The war dogs' rebuke

I can't say

IT WAS A little cruel, in Loken's opinion. Someone, somewhere - and Loken suspected the scheming of Maloghurst - had omitted to tell the officers of the 140th Expedition Fleet exactly who they were about to welcome on board.

The Vengeful Spirit, and its attendant fleet consorts, had drawn up majestically into high anchorage alongside the vessels of the 140th and the other ships that had come to the expedition's aid, and an armoured heavy shuttle had transferred from the flagship to the battle-barge Misericord.

Mathanual August and his coterie of commanders, including Eidolon's equerry Eshkerrus, had assembled on one of the Misericord's main embarkation decks to greet the shuttle. They knew it was bearing the commanders of the relief taskforce from the 63rd Expedition, and that inevitably meant officers of the XVI Legion. With the possible exception of Eshkerrus, they were all nervous. The arrival of the Luna Wolves, the most famed and

feared of all Astartes divisions, was enough to tension any man's nerve strings.

When the shuttle's landing ramp extended and ten Luna Wolves descended through the clearing vapour, there had been silence, and that silence had turned to stifled gasps when it became apparent these were not the ten brothers of a captain's ceremonial detail, but ten captains themselves in full, formal wargear.

The first captain led the party, and made the sign of the aquila to Mathanual August.

'I am-' he began.

'I know who you are, lord.’ August said, and bowed deeply, trembling. There were few in the Imperium who didn't recognise or fear First Captain Abaddon. 'I welcome you and-'

'Hush, master.’ Abaddon said. We're not there yet.’

August looked up, not really understanding. Abaddon stepped back into his place, and the ten, cloaked captains, five on each side of the landing ramp, formed an honour guard and snapped to attention, visors front and hands on the pommels of their sheathed swords.

The Warmaster emerged from the shuttle. Everyone, apart from the ten captains and Mathanual August, immediately prostrated themselves on the deck.

The Warmaster stepped slowly down the ramp. His very presence was enough to inspire total and unreserved attention, but he was, quite calculatedly, doing the one thing that made matters even worse. He wasn't smiling.

August stood before him, his eyes wide open, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly, like a beached fish.

Eshkerrus, who had himself gone quite green, glanced up and yanked at the hem of August's robes. Abase yourself, fool!' he hissed.

August couldn't. Loken doubted the veteran fleet master could have even recalled his own name at that moment. Horas came to a halt, towering over him.

'Sir, will you not bow?' Horus inquired.

When August finally replied, his voice was a tiny, embryonic thing. 'I can't.’ he said. 'I can't remember how.’

Then, once again, the Warmaster showed his limitless genius for leadership. He sank to one knee and bowed to Mathanual August.

'I have come, as fast as I was able, to help you, sir.’ he said. He clasped August in an embrace. The Warmaster was smiling now. 'I like a man who's proud enough not to bend his knees to me.’ he said.

'I would have bent them if I had been able, my lord.’ August said. Already August was calmer, gratefully put at his ease by the Warmaster's informality.

'Forgive me, Mathanual... may I call you Mathanual? Master is so stiff. Forgive me for not informing you that I was coming in person. I detest pomp and ceremony, and if you'd known I was coming, you'd have gone to unnecessary lengths. Soldiers in dress regs, ceremonial bands, bunting. I particularly despise bunting.’

Mathanual August laughed. Horus rose to his feet and looked around at the prone figures covering the wide deck. 'Rise, please. Please. Get to your feet. A cheer or a round of applause will do me, not this futile grovelling.’

The fleet officers rose, cheering and applauding. He'd won them over. Just like that, thought Loken, he'd won them over. They were his now, forever.

Horus moved forwards to greet the officers and commanders individually Loken noticed Eshkerrus, in his purple and gold robes and half-armour, taking his greeting with a bow. There was something sour about the equerry, Loken thought. Something definitely put out.

'Helms!' Abaddon ordered, and the company commanders removed their helmets. They moved forwards, more casually now, to escort their commander through the press of applauding figures.

Horus whispered an aside to Abaddon as he took greeting kisses and bows from the assembly. Abaddon nodded. He touched his link, activating the privy channel, and spoke, in Cthonic, to the other three members of the Mournival. War council in thirty minutes. Be ready to play your parts.'

The other three knew what that meant. They followed Abaddon into the greeting crowd.

THEY ASSEMBLED FOR council in the sttategium of the Misericord, a massive rotunda situated behind the barge's main bridge. The Warmaster took the seat at the head of the long table, and the Mournival sat down with him, along with August, Eshkerrus and nine senior ship commanders and army officers. The other Luna Wolf captains sat amongst the crowds of lesser fleet officers filling the tiered seating in the panelled galleries above them.

Master August called up hololithic displays to illuminate his succinct recap of the situation. Horus regarded each one in turn, twice asking August to go back so he could study details again.

'So you poured everything you had into this death trap?' Torgaddon began bluntly, once August had finished.

August recoiled, as if slapped. 'Sir, I did as-'

The Warmaster raised his hand. Tarik, too much, too stern. Master August was simply doing as Captain Frome told him.’

'My apologies, lord.’ Torgaddon said. 'I withdraw the comment.’

'I don't believe Tarik should have to.’ Abaddon cut in. This was a monumental misuse of manpower. Three companies? Not to mention the army units...'

'It wouldn't have happened under my watch.’ murmured Torgaddon. August blinked his eyes very fast. He looked like he was attempting not to tear up.

'It's unforgivable.’ said Aximand. 'Simply unforgivable.’

We will forgive him, even so.’ Horus said.

'Should we, lord?' asked Loken.

'I've shot men for less.’ said Abaddon.

'Please.’ August said, pale, rising to his feet. 'I deserve punishment. I implore you to-'

'He's not worth the bolt.’ muttered Aximand.

'Enough.’ Horus smoothed. 'Mathanual made a mistake, a command mistake. Didn't you, Mathanual?'

'I believe I did, sir.’

'He drip-fed his expedition's forces into a danger zone until they were all gone.’ said Horus. 'It's tragic. It happens sometimes. We're here now, that's all that matters. Here to rectify the problem.’

What of the Emperor's Children?' Loken put in. 'Did they not even consider waiting?'

'For what, exactly?' asked Eshkerrus.

'For us.’ smiled Aximand.

'An entire expedition was in jeopardy.’ replied Eshkerrus, his eyes narrowing. We were first on scene. A critical response. We owed it to our Blood Angels brothers to-'

To what? Die too?' Torgaddon asked.

Three companies of Blood Angels were-' Eshkerrus exclaimed.

'Probably dead already.’ Aximand interrupted. They'd showed you the trap was there. Did you just think you'd walk into it too?'

We-' Eshkerrus began.

'Or was Lord Eidolon simply hungry for glory?' asked Torgaddon.

Eshkerrus rose to his feet. He glared across the table at Torgaddon. 'Captain, you offend the honour of the Emperor's Children.’

That may indeed be what I'm doing, yes.’ Torgaddon replied.