Loken had seen Fulgrim once before at the Great Triumph on Ullanor, and even though it had been from a distance as he had marched past with tens of thousands of other Astartes warriors, Loken's impression of the primarch had never faded from his mind.
It was a palpable honour to stand once again in the presence of two such godlike beings as the primarchs.
The eagle-stamped pressure door slid open and the Primarch of the Emperor's Children stepped onto the Vengeful Spirit.
Loken's first impression was of the great golden eagle's wing that swept up over Fulgrim's left shoulder. The primarch's armour was brilliant purple, edged in bright gold and inlaid with the most exquisite carvings. Hooded bearers carried his long, scaled cloak, and trailing parchments hung from his shoulder guards.
A high collar of deepest purple framed a face that was pale to the point of albinism, the eyes so dark as to be almost entirely pupil. The hint of a smile played around his lips and his hair was a shimmering white.
Loken had once called Hastur Sejanus a beautiful man, adored by all, but seeing the Primarch of the Emperor's Children up close for the first time, he knew that his paltry vocabulary was insufficient for the perfection he saw in Fulgrim.
Fulgrim opened his arms and the two primarchs embraced like long-lost brothers.
'It has been too long, Horus,' said Fulgrim.
'It has, my brother, it has,' agreed Horus. 'My heart sings to see you, but why are you here? You were prosecuting a campaign throughout the Perdus Anomaly. Is the region compliant already?'
'What worlds we found there are now compliant, yes,' nodded Fulgrim as four warriors stepped through the pressure door behind him. Loken smiled to see Saul Tarvitz, his patrician features unable to contain his relish at being reunited with his brothers of the Sons of Horus.
Lord Commander Eidolon came next, looking as unrepentantly viperous as Torgaddon had described him. Lucius the swordsman came next, still with the same sardonic expression of superiority that he remembered, though his face was now heavily scarred. Behind him came a warrior Loken did not recognise, a sallow skinned Astartes in the armour of an apothecary, with gaunt cheeks and a long mane of hair as white as that of his primarch.
Fulgrim turned from Horus and said, 'I believe you are already familiar with some of my brothers, Tarvitz, Lucius and Lord Commander Eidolon, but I do not believe you have met my Chief Apothecary Fabius.'
'It is an honour to meet you, Lord Horus,' said Fabius, bowing low.
Horus acknowledged the gesture of respect and said, 'Come now, Fulgrim, you know better than to try to stall me. What's so important that you turn up here unannounced and give half of my crew heart attacks?'
The smile fell from Fulgrim's pale lips and he said, 'There have been reports, Horus.'
'Reports? What does that mean?'
'Reports that things are not as they should be,' replied Fulgrim, 'that you and your warriors should be called to account for the brutality of this campaign. Is Angron up to his usual tricks?'
'Angron is as he has always been.'
'That bad?'
'No, I keep him on a short leash, and his equerry, Kharn, seems to curb the worst of our brother's excesses.'
'Then I have arrived just in time.'
'I see,' said Horus. 'Are you here to relieve me then?'
Fulgrim could keep a straight face no longer and laughed, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. 'Relieve you? No, my brother, I am here so that I can return and tell those fops and scribes on Terra that Horus fights war the way it is meant to be fought: hard, fast and cruel.'
'War is cruelty. There is no use trying to reform it. The crueller it is, the sooner it is over.'
Fulgrim said, 'Indeed, my brother. Come, there is much for us to talk about, for these are strange times we live in. It seems our brother Magnus has once again done something to upset the Emperor, and the Wolf of Fenris has been unleashed to escort him back to Terra.'
'Magnus?' asked Horus, suddenly serious. 'What has he done?'
'Let us talk of it in private,' said Fulgrim. 'Anyway, I have a feeling my subordinates would welcome the chance to reacquaint themselves with your… what do you call it? Mournival?'
'Yes,' smiled Horus, 'memories of Murder no doubt.'
Loken felt a chill travel down his spine as he recognised the smile on Horus's face, the same one he had worn right after he had blown out the Auretian consul's brains on the embarkation deck.
With Horus and Fulgrim gone, Abaddon and Aximand, together with Eidolon, followed the two primarchs, while Loken and Torgaddon exchanged greetings with the Emperor's Children. The Sons of Horus welcomed their brothers with laughter and crashing bear hugs, the Emperor's Children with decorum and reserve.
For Torgaddon and Tarvitz it was a reunion of comrades, with a mutual respect forged in the heat of battle, their easy friendship clear for all to see.
The apothecary, Fabius, requested directions to the medicae deck and excused himself with a bow upon receiving them.
Lucius remained with the two members of the Mournival, and Torgaddon couldn't resist baiting him just a little. 'So, Lucius, you fancy another round in the training cages with Garviel? From the look of your face you could do with the practice.'
The swordsman had the good grace to smile, the many scars twisting on his flesh, and said, 'No thank you. I fear I may have grown beyond Captain Loken's last lesson. I would not want to humble him this time.'
'Come on, just one bout?' asked Loken. 'I promise I'll be gentle.'
'Yes, come on, Lucius,' said Tarvitz. 'The honour of the Emperor's Children is at stake.'
Lucius smiled. 'Very well, then.'
Loken could not remember much of the bout, it had been over so quickly. Evidently, Lucius had indeed learned his lesson well. No sooner had the practice cage shut than the swordsman attacked. Loken had been ready for such a move, but even so, was almost overwhelmed in the first seconds of the fight.
The two warriors fought back and forth, Torgaddon and Saul Tarvitz cheering from outside the practice cages.
The bout had attracted quite a crowd, and Loken wished Torgaddon had kept word of it to himself.
Loken fought with all the skill he could muster, while Lucius sparred with a casual playfulness. Within moments, Loken's sword was stuck in the ceiling of the practice cage, and Lucius had a blade at his throat.
The swordsman had barely broken sweat, and Loken knew that he was hopelessly outclassed by Lucius. To fight Lucius with life and death resting on the blades would be to die, and he suspected that there was no one in the Sons of Horus who could best him.
Loken bowed before the swordsman and said, 'That's one each, Lucius.'
'Care for a decider?' smirked Lucius, dancing back and forth on the balls of his feet and slicing his swords through the air.
'Not this time,' said Loken. 'Next time we meet, we'll put something serious on the outcome, eh?'
'Any time, Loken,' said Lucius, 'but I'll win. You know that, don't you?'
'Your skill is great, Lucius, but just remember that there's someone out there who can beat you.'
'Not this lifetime,' said Lucius.
The quiet order met once again in the armoury, though this was a more select group than normally gathered with Lodge Master Serghar Targost presiding over an assemblage of the Legion's senior officers.
Aximand felt a pang of regret and loss as he saw that, of the Legion's captains, only Loken, Torgaddon, Iacton Qraze and Tybalt Marr were absent.
Candles lit the armoury and each captain had dispensed with his hooded robes. This was a gathering for debate, not theatrics.
'Brothers,' said Targost, 'this is a time for decisions: hard decisions. We face dissent from within, and now Fulgrim arrives out of the blue to spy on us.'