Chapter 188: No One Can Reject Horus
A direct order from Terra informed Horus that he and his Luna Wolves would soon be fighting alongside the 14th Legion—the Death Guard.
Horus didn't particularly care about the planet they were about to conquer.
It's a planet that has recently been colonized by humanity. The world had submitted a formal request for surrender to the Imperium, but after several Imperial vessels sent to the planet mysteriously lost contact, the Imperium made a decision to dispatch the Legions.
According to the final transmissions, the planet appeared to be disturbed by some kind of psychic xenos entity. The official reason given for the deployment was that the Death Guard possessed forces specifically "suited" to deal with such anomalies.
The summons, issued directly by Malcador, was frustratingly vague. The language in the order left Horus unable to determine exactly what kind of threat the Death Guard were meant to "deal with."
But, as Horus had always believed, these details hardly mattered. Two full Legions could crush anything that stood before them.
What concerned him far more than the planet was this newly recovered brother of his—Mortarion.
Traditionally, it was Horus who guided each rediscovered Primarch into the Imperium.
With Mortarion, Horus had expected the same—he had planned to be the one to welcome his brother.
But for some reason, Malcador had intervened in what should have been a bond between brothers and had stolen that privilege from him.
It was not a good beginning.
Cunning mortal psykers had no place meddling in the affairs of Primarchs.
Horus should have been the one to welcome his brothers.
He was, after all, the first to be found—the eldest—and he wanted to be the one to open the doors of the Imperium to his kin.
From scattered remarks made by his other brothers, Horus had managed to assemble a fragmented picture of Mortarion:
Born on a desolate death world.
Taciturn.
Unconcerned with his appearance.
Deeply devoted to his sons.
And strangely drawn to death itself.
A skilled diplomat like the Lupercal knew exactly how to receive such a brother.
And so, he positioned himself carefully—right where Mortarion's shuttle ramp would open.
The lighting was arranged perfectly, casting golden highlights across Horus' armor.
"Brother, welcome!"
Horus stepped forward, greeting Mortarion while simultaneously studying him.
The newcomer looked tall, gaunt, and worn.
His bone-white and moss-green armor was dull and unpolished, and what little trim of bronze-gold it bore was obscured by swirling toxins.
His only decorations were the censer-like incense burners from which poisonous fumes continuously poured, shrouding his face alongside the respirator he wore.
He looks like he belongs at a funeral, Horus thought, a touch inappropriately.
Perhaps the haze drifting around Mortarion gave the wrong impression to their other brothers.
But Horus ignored those petty distractions.
He walked forward and, with complete naturalness, gave Mortarion a welcoming embrace before warmly grasping his hand.
Horus cheerfully chose to overlook the fact that Mortarion had gone completely stiff in his arms during the hug.
Perhaps, for this less-social brother, that had been a bit too much closeness.
At that moment, Mortarion had stiffened like dry wood.
"I've been looking forward to meeting you for a long time, brother."
Horus spoke warmly, gently holding onto Mortarion's right hand as he instinctively tried to pull it away.
"Allow me to introduce myself—Horus Lupercal, the Primarch of the 16th Legion, the Luna Wolves."
His tall brother hesitated for a moment, then replied in a voice barely louder than a whisper:
"Mortarion, Lord of Barbarus, the Primarch of the 14th Legion, the Death Guard."
Horus gave Mortarion a friendly pat on the shoulder guard.
"I heard about the two campaigns you led with the Death Guard," he said sincerely.
"Speaking for myself, I'd be glad to fight alongside your Legion. I believe this will be an enjoyable cooperation."
Mortarion nodded slowly. He seemed on the verge of replying when Horus smoothly continued:
"While we wait for the vanguard to return, we have plenty of time to get to know each other. I'm especially glad that Malcador won't be interrupting us this time."
Even through the thick miasma surrounding Mortarion, Horus could sense his brother's confusion.
But honestly, the toxic haze was a bit much—even for a Primarch like Horus.
"...What do you mean?"
"Originally, it was meant to be me who welcomed you into the Imperium. But Malcador interfered with that process. None of our brothers were ever guided by him before. I found that... curious."
Then Horus grinned mischievously, like someone teasing a sibling about a shared secret.
"So? What was it like, being led by Malcador, brother?"
Mortarion chewed over the memory of being under the control of a psyker… and answered slowly:
"...It was awful."
Horus burst into hearty laughter and clapped Mortarion on the back again.
"Glad to know we're on the same page."
As he spoke, Horus was already gently tugging Mortarion down the ramp of the shuttle.
The Deathshroud—Mortarion's personal honor guard—followed close behind, never straying far from their Primarch.
Horus glanced to the side and caught sight of one particular Deathshroud, one clearly broader and larger than the rest.
"Your honor guard, I assume? What are they called, brother?"
"Deathshroud."
"A fine name. It seems we both share a certain… fascination with death."
Then, as if remembering something, Horus added:
"And I believe this one must be Hades, yes?"
Mortarion blinked in surprise, snapped out of the momentum of being half-dragged along by Horus' energetic rhythm.
He looked at his brother.
"Haha, your son is rather famous, brother." Horus smiled.
"Among the Techmarines of Mars, and even among our other brothers who've met him."
Naturally, Horus hadn't just gathered information on Mortarion—he had researched the entire Legion.
And one name kept showing up again and again: Hades.
As for the man himself—Hades was in full system crash.
That entire smooth, dazzling combination of words, gestures, and smiles had left Hades absolutely stunned.
Watching Horus work his charm—like it was as natural as breathing—had completely disoriented him.
And that smile… paired with those genuine-looking eyes…
With the radiant aura of a Primarch boosting him, Horus practically sparkled.
For the first time, Hades realized that some smiles came with built-in daze effects.
And if Horus was already this overwhelming, Hades couldn't even imagine what meeting Sanguinius would feel like.
Compared to the other Primarchs Hades had met before—Ferrus, Vulkan, and Perturabo—Horus was absolutely overwhelming in both appearance and demeanor.
It was exactly because of beings like Horus Lupercal, that the citizens of the Imperium held such profound awe and reverence for the Primarch of the Legions.
Hades was still marveling at Horus's conversational skill when he was suddenly struck by a horrifying realization—how had the topic just shifted to him?!
Neither Mortarion nor Hades had much contact with the other Legions, so they weren't yet aware that in nearly every Legion, beyond the Primarch himself, there would always be one or two exceptionally distinguished warriors. These individuals often served as close companions and trusted champions of the Primarch.
"Of course, I have my own exemplary warriors as well."
Horus continued the small talk with a smile as he led the Death Guard through a ceremonial corridor lined with Luna Wolves standing in welcome.
"Abaddon."
He turned his head and called out to a tall, black-armored Astartes. Abaddon strode forward like a proud grey wolf, his high ponytail swaying behind him like a sleek, glossy tail.
"My First Captain—Ezekyle Abaddon. I think you two might have a lot to talk about."
Horus beamed at Hades with a look of genuine camaraderie.
This was Hades' first time receiving the full effect of a friendly, charismatic, and absolutely radiant Primarch-level smile.
He felt as though he'd been hit point-blank with a flashbang. His thoughts stalled completely for a second—
Being a Luna Wolf… might not be so bad.
Abaddon, too, gave Hades a warm, easygoing smile.
Among the Luna Wolves, warriors who bore some resemblance to their Primarch—whether in looks or demeanor—were often nicknamed "Sons of Horus."
Abaddon, with his similarly handsome face and matching smile, triggered a moment of disorientation in Hades.
And thanks to their height difference, Hades's direct line of sight happened to land on Abaddon's bouncing high ponytail.
He was stunned again.
Hades was the type whose social skills took time to warm up—a slow-burn communicator.
Faced with the Luna Wolves' lightning-fast offensive approach, Hades found himself utterly outmatched.
And so, with Horus dragging along Mortarion and Abaddon leading Hades, the reserved and grim Death Guard were thoroughly overwhelmed by the full-force diplomatic barrage of the hyper-sociable Luna Wolves.
Today's battle:
Death Guard – defeated.
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Fun Fact:
Before Horus became the Warmaster, the only Primarch who canonically opposed his appointment was Corvus Corax, the Raven Lord—and that was only after Horus made him deploy his Raven Guard.
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