Russ, Since You've Prepared Spoils of War for Me, I

Of course I would not refuse your request for a duel.

On the first standard day of 911, the fleet of the Shadow of Order translated out from the Mandeville Point.

Engines rumbled, and the shutters came down.

Nimrod stood before the viewing window, staring at the burning wreckage of starships in the void.

"My lord, the Adeptus Custodes have sent word. A total of sixty-three Faceless Ones warships have surrendered and are under the wolf fleet's surveillance."

After a second of silence, Nimrod asked the Gloriana-class Battleship.

"Is the Orca among them?"

"My lord, Auspex scans have detected the Orca's keel tag. The warship's explosion has been confirmed. That fleet asset has been destroyed."

I'm not getting my hands on a Gloriana-class Battleship, then. The wolves are too rough. What a waste. Nimrod grumbled inwardly, then gave a helpless little shake of his head.

"Have the Reaper Lord send out a fleet to take possession. He will board Lecter with me."

Nimrod had mobilized the 7th Legion to come with him precisely because he had considered their extraordinary hatred for Sanchez. He hoped they would issue another challenge, giving him a chance to wring something more out of Leman Russ.

At the same time, on the bridge of the 3rd Great Company's flagship, the Nidhogg, Wolf Lord Ogvi Ogvi Heimschrut.

He stared at the enlarged image on the video screen.

The Shadow of Order.

Ogvi could not help recalling the night sky over Duran, when he had learned that the pack leader had been defeated by Nimrod and fallen into a coma.

Uneasily, he rubbed the Ceramite hand axe at his waist. The thick silver ring on his lower lip trembled as he snapped irritably, "Send a vox message to the wolves on the surface. Tell them Nimrod is