MTLNOVEL Chapter 169: You Are My Brother
Fenris, orbited the pale-red K-class star the locals called the "Wolf's Eye," along a highly eccentric elliptical path.
It took two Terran standard years to complete one orbit, and the Fenrisians called this a "Great Year."
At the end of the brief summer of a Great Year, Leman Russ crossed the sea, dragging behind him an unconscious Iron-Scaled Kraken, humming a tune in Forge-Cant, specifically a Jovik folk song.
The Wolf King had hunted down an Iron-Scaled Kraken over 23 kilometers long, the second largest known on Fenris.
'That tall guy called Nareth, that beardless whelp who just arrived on Fenris yesterday, there's no way he found the biggest one in the Sea of Storms.'
A broken spear, driven deep into the Kraken's body with brute force, barely harmed the massive sea monster, about as much as a mosquito bite would affect a human.
But the blood drew countless Fenrisian sea creatures, swarming toward the wounded Kraken from all directions.
A giant sea serpent lunged out, mouth agape, aiming for Leman Russ.
With a roar, the Wolf King hurled the Kraken into the air and punched the sea serpent aside, then caught the Kraken as it fell.
As he continued forward, various monstrous sea beasts emerged, only to be swatted away by Russ.
But even a Primarch couldn't fend off every single one of the 20+ kilometer serpents at once.
Drawn by blood, numerous creatures lunged at the unconscious sea monarch, tearing at it with teeth and claws.
Most failed to break through its iron scales and bony carapace, but one species, Rippers, succeeded.
Rippers resembled Terra's barracudas but were much larger, capable of devouring a Fenrisian in seconds.
Even as the Kraken was mauled by predators, Russ dragged it forward.
Ahead, the gunship's hatch opened, and Russ saw the Emperor standing there. He bared his fangs and roared in triumph.
"I won!"
"You lost!"
The Emperor's thunderous voice echoed across the sea.
Russ frowned. The Emperor, who had earlier conceded defeat in good spirits, now seemed confident, meaning only one thing: Nareth had hunted the biggest Kraken.
'Is his luck really that good? Or did he use some kind of sorcery?]'
Still dragging the Kraken, Russ pressed on.
Alpharius stood beside the Emperor, looking down.
"As you said, Russ lost. Nareth won."
Russ's Kraken was mutilated, still surrounded by scavengers.
Nareth's Kraken, by contrast, was intact, and nearly a quarter longer than Russ's.
When the two Primarchs were less than a hundred meters apart, Russ saw the beast behind Nareth, and had a bad feeling.
Its head alone was a fifth wider than the one Russ had caught.
He dropped his prey and climbed atop its head.
Moments later, he leapt across the water to stand before Nareth.
"You won. And you didn't use sorcery?"
Nareth glanced at the soaked talisman on Russ's chest, unimpressed, and replied flatly:
"I didn't."
As they spoke, the Emperor leapt from the ship, no psychic powers, just raw grace, and landed beside them.
"He didn't. That was my condition."
The power in the Emperor's words left no room for doubt.
Russ laughed heartily.
"I lost. When we return to Asaheim, I'll swear loyalty to you."
The Emperor nodded, satisfied. As he expected, the Wolf King, shaped by Fenrisian culture, was a man who accepted victory and defeat with honor.
Then, Russ turned to Nareth.
"You've earned the title of great hunter."
"I take back what I said, you are my brother."
As Russ opened his arms for an embrace, Nareth's mind flashed to a future memory:
During the Campaign of Dulan, the cold-hearted Lion had refused to help Russ restore his honor after being mocked as "the Emperor's lapdog." The two fought for a day and a night without a winner, until Russ laughed, and was knocked out by a single punch from Lion El'Jonson.
Since then, every time the Space Wolves met the Dark Angels, it ended in an honor duel.
Nareth's fists itched, but under the Emperor's gaze, he resisted the very tempting urge to knock Russ out cold.
He subtly sidestepped the pungent Wolf King's embrace and swam toward the intact Kraken.
"As agreed, your catch is mine now."
Even without the future memory, and despite Russ's hypocritical stance of opposing psychic powers while allowing his Gothi's to use "storm forces", Nareth would never side with Leman Russ.
The anti-psyker camp included Russ, Angron, and Mortarion.
The pro-psyker camp: Sanguinius, Jaghatai Khan, and Magnus.
Nareth would always side with Sanguinius, not only for political reasons but because the Shadow of Order's unique powers required psykers as cover.
Nareth had no interest in being Warmaster. The Emperor never asked him to play "big brother" either, so he saw no point in putting on Horus's "brotherly leader" act.
The Emperor and Russ both frowned. The Wolf King looked as if he'd just been doused in melted permafrost.
"It's yours," Russ muttered.
At his words, black aircraft engines roared overhead, descending in an orderly fashion to harvest materials from the two Kraken corpses.
Chroniclers came to the now-winter-bound Fenris, using translators to ask locals about the return of the third Primarch.
Across the many versions told, one detail remained consistent:
In 819.M30, the Master of Mankind and the lost Eleventh Legion Primarch, Nareth, stepped onto Fenris's frozen soil.
Leman Russ refused to swear allegiance immediately and issued three challenges. The Emperor had to win at least one.
He lost the meat-eating and drinking contests.
But the Monarch of Vostroya, chosen in crisis, defeated the Wolf King in a Kraken-hunting contest by slaying a larger beast.
Leman Russ then swore loyalty to the Emperor and rejoined the Imperium of Man.
After swearing fealty, the Fenrisians, by tradition, began calling the Emperor Allfather.
To welcome him, Russ ordered a traditional Fenrisian celebration, a feast.
The Allfather sat at the head of the table, Alpharius standing behind him like a sentinel with his spear.
On either side sat the Wolf King and the King of Vostroyaoynia, while Fenrisians and the Shadow of Order warriors faced off down the long tables.
By the second day of drinking, seated beside the Wolf King was his most trusted comrade, Jorin, known among the Fenrisians as Bloodhowl.
His black hair flowed down his back, and his face, chiseled like wind-sculpted bedrock, was covered in intersecting scars.
His weathered skin spoke of a life spent battling blizzards and relentless frost.
Jorin eyed the black-armored warrior across from him. Having bled with Russ through countless battles, he saw the Wolf King as an unbeatable titan.
Nareth's victory had enraged him. He had no love for the Shadow of Order, and especially not for Sanchez, the chapter master across from him, who radiated a loathsome aura worse than even the white-furred war-bears that once challenged him.
Jorin downed a massive gulp of mead, the burning in his gut setting his whole body ablaze.
His mustache bristled as he shouted:
"I am Jorin of Fenris. You're Sanchez, right? Thought so."
"Let's see who can drink more!"
The Emperor and the three Primarchs felt the tension and turned their gazes on Jorin.
'Jorin, seated beside Russ.'
Nareth immediately recognized him, the future Wolf Lord of the 13th Great Company, leader of the most honored and loyal of the Wolf King's forces.
Like the Vostroyans, Jorin and Russ's closest companions all would undergo Astartes implantation surgeries.
Though older and larger than recruits like Bisesni, they faced the horrific procedures without fear, ready to die for the chance.
Only a few survived. Those that did became the earliest officers of the Space Wolves, Jorin the most exceptional among them.
Nareth turned his gaze to Sanchez, curious how the Reaper Lord would respond.
Feeling the Emperor and the Primarchs watching, Sanchez smiled:
"Sure. But the loser will definitely be you."
Everyone sensed the confidence and the open provocation.
Fenrisians' mustaches bristled in outrage, their eyes filled with fury.
Russ frowned. He knew Jorin would lose. Though he was a heavy drinker, he couldn't outdrink an Astartes.
Not wanting Fenris to suffer another blow to its pride, Russ stepped in:
"Drinking's dull. If you must compete, make it a hunt."
Though Russ had accepted defeat, he still believed Nareth had only won because of the Allfather's favor.
His sapphire eyes sparkled with challenge as he looked at Nareth:
"Well? Shall your warrior and a Fenrisian hunter compete once more?"
"Agreed."
Nareth had complete confidence in Sanchez; the hunter would win again.
...
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