![]() ![]() The Wolves will always come to heel when called. They have a discipline we lack, because their passions are not aflame with the Butcher's Nails buzzing in the back of their skulls. The Wolves can be trusted, when we never could. ![]() We are not the tame, reliable pets that the Emperor wanted. We've all drawn blades purely for the sake of shedding blood, and we've all felt the exultation of winning a war that never even needed to happen. He needed a weapon that would never bite the hand that feeds. She wanted wars she could win." The Emperor needed a weapon that would never obey its own desires before those of the Imperium. The regiments of Imperial Army wearing the Warmaster’s Eye were no better. Would there be enough of the Warmaster’s hosts left to hold the Imperium in its entirety? And what would those hosts look like, with all order and discipline and humanity raked out of them? The Legiones Astartes were already blood-maddened and fighting by the side of those… those things. Surely even now, quiescent alien kingdoms at the Imperium’s edges were reawakening, daring to cast jealous eyes at the worlds they’d lost in the Great Crusade. But what would be left after this war? What would be left of Terra and the armies fighting to take it? The Legio Audax had willingly worn his colours and cast their fate with his. Horus was a hero, the Warmaster of the Imperium, the pacifier of the galaxy. “There it was again, the treasonous little notion Ulienne couldn’t quite shake.
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