Warhammer: The 11th Primarch - The Black Emperor

Servo-skulls decorated with colorful streamers floated gently through the air, broadcasting synthetic audio from sound arrays:

"Malcador the Sigillite, Regent of Terra, appointed by the Master of Mankind, welcomes the Emperor's sons, Nareth and Leman Russ."

"Nareth, Primarch of the Eleventh Legion, Monarch of Vostroya…"

"Leman Russ, Primarch of the Sixth Legion, Wolf King of Fenris…"

Bronze braziers exhaled tongues of deep red fire, creating an atmosphere like the hearths of Fenris.

On the oak table, an entire rack of beef ribs was cut along the bone seams, revealing pink muscle fibers. Fat crackled over cherrywood charcoal, harmonizing with the low hum of a jazz double bass.

A waiter, wearing white gloves, served roast suckling pig, its skin blistered and crisp. Underneath, translucent layers of fat oozed slowly like molten beeswax as the carving knife sliced through.

Black Angus tomahawk steak sizzled as it struck a 280°C cast-iron plate, leaving caramelized marks between marble-like fat veins.

A head chef in a linen shirt rang a bronze bell, and four brawny men carried in an oak barrel of mead.

Malcador took a sip of his honey-wine and praised it:

"This mead doesn't reveal its true flavor until you've had a thousand cups."

"The warriors of Fenris brewed a spirit bold enough to topple mountains in only a few short years. We've taken even longer, but made it more refined."

Leman Russ laughed heartily.

"Malcador, drink all the mead you want!"

Nareth sharply noticed Malcador's appreciation for Fenrisian mead and culture.

'Just like I remember… Russ always had the best relationship with Malcador. And he was supposed to hate psykers, wasn't he?'

"Nareth, you should drink too. I believe you'll enjoy it."

Nareth could sense Malcador's intent; he was trying to foster brotherhood between him and Leman Russ.

'And likely secure our support in the War Council as well.'

Before the High Council of Terra was formed, the War Council was the true ruling body of the Imperium.

Besides the Emperor, Malcador, and the Fabricator-General of Mars, every Primarch and the commander of the Custodes held a seat.

"I prefer Vosvoth."

Nareth replied with a double meaning. Malcador paused momentarily, then shifted topics:

"Nareth, I want to thank you. Your support of the Great Crusade has made the expansion into the Segmentum Obscurus much smoother."

"In the coming war in the System, I will also supply both you and Russ."

Then, with interest, Malcador added:

"I heard from Russ that you've been engaging in a series of hunting competitions."

"You and your sons have won every match. This campaign to cleanse the greenskins in the Wheel of Fire is your next contest."

"I've prepared a gift. Whoever beheads the Ork Warlord will receive it."

Nareth was slightly surprised. Malcador had prepared an item for the Firewheel War.

'This is a new development, clearly a change caused by my arrival.

"I discussed with the Emperor who we believed would win. He and Horus favor you. But I'm betting on Russ."

"The Fenrisians will evolve into the Space Wolves. They will shine brilliantly in the stars. The outcome will be different this time."

Malcador's eyes were deep, and his words stirred the Space Wolves into howling cheers.

Jorin and other Fenrisians, undergoing transformation, were present. Sitting beside him, Enoch Rahvin stared challengingly at Sanchez:

"Sanchez, you only won because I wasn't on Fenris."

"In the coming war, I will challenge you and reclaim the Wolf King's blade."

"Only a wild wolf deserves to wield the Wolf King's sword."

Sanchez locked eyes with the former master of the Sixth Legion. In the early days of the Great Crusade, only a few could rival Rahvin.

But now, Rahvin was just a Wolf Lord of the "Space Wolves." Sanchez, by contrast, had become something much more.

'I am the Reaper Lord, a Baron of the Black Court, thrice blessed by my gene-father.'

The challenger rested his hand on his sword:

"If you want it, come and take it. But the one who'll fall is you."

"Enough."

Nareth suddenly interrupted their verbal duel and stared at Leman Russ.

"If the blade was given, how can you speak of taking it back?"

"What? Your pup doesn't have the guts to accept the challenge?"

"Afraid to fight an honor duel between Astartes?"

The Wolf King used crude words, masking how he was leveraging Astartes tradition to force Nareth into agreement.

Nareth raised his hand, silencing Sanchez:

"My Reaper Lord is more than willing to accept your challenge."

"But he's a commander, not a reckless brute. He doesn't fight just because someone dares him."

"If he's to accept, there must be stakes."

Nareth had no intention of letting Sanchez be endlessly challenged by every wild wolf with a blade.

He had to set a threshold; victory must come with a reward.

"I am not a brute! I am the Wolf Lord of the Space Wolves, not some nameless cur!"

Enoch Rahvin shouted. His fists clenched. If it weren't for the presence of a Primarch and the regent of Terra, he would have charged forward to reclaim his honor.

Leman Russ immediately understood Nareth's intention.

"I'll provide a wager for my pup. But yours won't get it."

"Victory will belong to Rahvin."

"I will also take the greenskin warlord's head! The wild wolves will prove we are the greatest hunters in the galaxy!"

Nareth's black eyes grew even deeper.

"Wild wolves are indeed fine hunters. But victory belongs to the Shadows of Order."

Malcador, seeing both legions and their sons on the verge of clashing, sighed imperceptibly. His weathered face gained another wrinkle.

"Let's see who wins after the greenskins of the Wheel of Fire are purged. I'll prepare a gift worthy of the victor."

The next day, after the banquet, Nareth met with the chieftain of Telavar, Sol, in his private villa.

Sol, dressed in a gray robe, said to the Primarch:

"My lord, I've received reports from the Treken System."

"My people have discovered rich mineral deposits beneath the main planet of Treken. We've already established a new base there."

Looking at Nareth with admiration, he continued:

"My lord, the Treken homeworld is awe-inspiring."

"It has a beautiful natural environment long lost on Terra, and it's also a highly efficient industrial base."

"Environment and efficiency, two normally conflicting ideals, are perfectly united in your world."

Nareth smiled as he listened to Sol's praise and asked:

"Then what brings you here?"

"I seek your support. Telavar hopes to grow in the Treken System, not just on the main world."

"Since the Unification Wars, we've provided the Emperor with weapons. Though the Mechanicum now handles that…"

Sol's face darkened, but his eyes soon lit up again:

"After the Imperium's founding, the Custodes' weapon maintenance and production were entrusted to us."

"We will bring the Emperor's shared knowledge from the Dark Age of Technology, and all our experience, to Treken."

Nareth nodded with satisfaction. Rising to his feet, he said:

"Chieftain Sol, I wish Telavar a soaring future in Treken. May you shine across the galaxy."

On the third day after arriving on Terra, the Primarch met with the head of the House of Drake, accompanied by two warriors clad in black armor.

...

If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.

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