The first captain ignored the question and answered with one of his own. 'Tell me, why do you object to Nathaniel Garro with such vehemence? He is a Death Guard, is he not? He is your battle-brother, a kinsman Astartes.'

'Straight-arrow Garro!' Anger bubbled up through Grulgor's mocking reply. 'He's not fit to be a Death Guard! He is high-handed and superior, always looking down his nose! He thinks himself so much better

than the rest of the Legion, too proud and too good for the rest of us!'

'Us?' asked Typhon, pushing the commander to say what he knew was there just beneath the surface.

'The sons of Barbarus, Calas. You and I, men like Ujioj and Holgoarg! The Death Guard who were born upon our blighted home world! Garro is a Terran, an Earthborn. He wears it like some sacred brand, always reminding us that he is our better because he fought for the Legion before it was given to Mortarion!' Grulgor shook his head. 'He pours scorn on my company, upon our brotherhood and comradeship of our lodge, too haughty to mix with the rest of us outside of rank and rule, and do you know why? Because his precious birthright is all he has! If he wasn't favoured by the Emperor with that damned eagle cuirass he wears, he wouldn't be allowed to ride the hem of my cloak!'

'Temeter is a Terran-born, and so is Huron-Fal, and Sorrak and countless others within our ranks,' said the captain levelly 'Do you detest them as well, Ignatius?'

'None of them drag the old ways around like rattling chains. None of them think themselves a cut above the rest because of their birthplace!' His eyes narrowed. 'Garro acts as if he has the right to judge me. I will not tolerate such condescension from a man who grew up watered and well-fed, while my clan fought for every breath of clean air!'

'But is not Mortarion himself a Terran?' Typhon asked with a wicked smile, daring Grulgor to go further still.

'The primarch's place of birth was Barbarus/ insisted the commander, rising to the bait. 'He is, and always will be, one of us. This Legion belongs to the Death Lord first and the Emperor second. Garro

should be reminded of that, not given praise he does not deserve.'

'Bold words,' noted Typhon, 'but I'm afraid you may be further disappointed. Our lord commander has not only granted Captain Garro the cups today, but will also take him as equerry to the war council at our next port of call.'

Grulgor's pale face flushed crimson. 'Did you come to mock, Typhon? Does it amuse you to parade Garro's favours in front of me?'

The line of Typhon's jaw hardened. "Watch your tone, commander. Remember to whom you speak.' He looked away. 'You are a true Death Guard, Grulgor, a blunt instrument, lethal and relentless, and you are loyal to the primarch.'

'Never question that/ growled the Astartes, 'or I will take your head, first captain or not.'

The threat amused the other man. 'I would never dare to do such a thing, but I would ask you this -how far would your loyalty to Mortarion take you?'

To the gates of hell and beyond, if he commanded it.' Grulgor's reply was immediate and absolute.

Typhon watched him carefully. 'Even if it was against the will of a higher authority?'

'Like the Sigillite?' snapped Grulgor, 'or those wastrels filling the Council of Terra?'

'Or higher still/

The commander snorted with bitter laughter. The Death Lord first, the Emperor second. I said it and I meant it. If that makes me of lesser worth than men like Garro, then perhaps I am.'

'On the contrary/ nodded Typhon, 'it makes you all the more valuable. There are great powers soon to bloom, Ignatius, and men of your calibre will be needed when those moments come.'

He threw a dismissive glance up at the gallery. 'And what about him?'

Typhon shrugged, a peculiar gesture in the heavy plate of his armour. 'Nathaniel Garro is a good soldier and a leader of men, with the respect of many Astartes in this and other Legions. To have him at the primarch's side - as you say, a man so staunch a Ter-ran - when a time of decision came to pass... that would carry much weight.'

Gralgor sneered. 'Garro has a steel rod up his backside. He would break before he would bend his knee to anything but the rule of Terra.'

'All the more reason for the primarch to keep a close eye on him.' Typhon's gruff voice became a rough whisper. 'I, however, see the reality in your viewpoint, Ignatius, and when the moment of choice comes and Garro does not fall in to line-'

'You might require the services of a blunt instrument, yes?'

A nod. 'Just so.'

The commander showed his teeth in a feral smile. Thank you, first captain,' he said, in a louder voice. 'Your counsel has been most soothing to my ill-humour.'

ENDURANCE TORE ITSELF from the mad fury of the warp and crashed into corporeal reality once more, leading the Death Guard flotilla into the wide-open diamond formation of the 63rd Expedition fleet. Garro, once again in his full battle armour and honour kit, stood behind and off to the side of his primarch as Mortar-ion observed the Warmaster's forces from the assembly hall. Flanked by the Deathshroud, Garro's commander stood with one hand pressed to the thick armourglass window that formed the right eye socket of the giant stone skull on the ship's bow.

'My brother seeks to impress us,' Mortarion said to the air. The Sons of Horns have indeed assembled a mighty force in this place.'

Garro had to admit that he had rarely seen the like, not since the days when the Emperor himself led the Great Crusade. The darkness was thick with ships of every type and tonnage, and the space between them swarmed with auxiliary craft, shuttles and fighters on perimeter patrols. The arrowhead arrangement of the green and grey liveried Death Guard ships slipped carefully into a pattern cleared for just that purpose. To the far starboard, across the bow of Typhon's flagship, the Terminus Est, he spied the ornate purple and gold filigree of a cruiser from the III Legion, the Emperor's Children, and high above at a different anchor, blue and red trimmed craft from the XII Legion, the World Eaters.

But what caught his attention and held it firmly was the single great battleship that orbited ahead of them all, isolated in its own halo of open space and screened by a wall of sleek Raven-class interceptors. A heavy ingot of fashioned iron, the Warmaster's Vengeful Spirit radiated quiet power. Even from this distance, Garro could see hundreds of gun turrets and the slender rods of massive accelerator cannons that were twice the length of the Endurance. Where the Death Guard ship displayed a skull and star sigil, Horus's flagship had a massive golden ring bisected by a slim ellipse. The eye of the Warmaster himself, unblinking and open to see all that transpired. Soon, Garro was to set foot aboard that vessel, carrying the honour of his company with him.

Repeater lights set into a control panel beneath the windows clicked and changed, signalling that the Endurance had come to her station. Garro looked up at

his primarch. 'My lord, a Stormbird has been prepared in die launch bay for your egress. We are ready to answer die Warmaster's summons at your discretion.'

Mortarion nodded and remained where he was, observing silently.

After a moment, Garro felt compelled to speak again. 'Lord, are we not ordered to attend the War-master the moment we arrive?'

The primarch grinned in a flash of rictus. 'Ah, captain, we move from the battlefield to the arena of politics. It would be impolite of us to arrive too soon. We are the XIV Legion, and so we must respect the numbering of our brethren. The Emperor's Children and the World Eaters must be allowed to arrive first, or else I would earn the ire of my brothers'

'We are Death Guard/ Garro blurted. 'We are second to none!'

Mortarion's smile widened. 'Of course,' he agreed, 'but you must understand that it is sometimes tactful to let our comrades think that is not so.'