Who had come?
To be honest, at first, none of them recognized who this old man was. His hair and beard were entirely white, and the weathering of age had veiled his face; only those eyes remained sharp. A quiet strength showed within them, making his old age seem almost laughable.
"Lion...?" Leman Russ was nearly speechless.
The aged lion nodded slowly. He walked into the room, pulled off the cloak he wore, held it in his hands, and folded it bit by bit. He looked travel-worn, clearly having hurried here the whole way.
"I thought he was only joking that day." Konrad Curze split his mouth in a grin. "Didn't expect him to actually get you up—sleep well, lion?"
"That has nothing to do with you."
Lion El'Jonson glanced at the Night Haunter, his expression not changing in the slightest. "You are indeed no longer that Hollow of midnight, but I have not acknowledged you yet, Konrad Curze."
"Ah, as if I need that so badly."
"You will."
"That certain tone of yours actually convinces me you're not an illusion—ha! A living, breathing Lion El'Jonson, standing right in front of us!"
Konrad Curze rose to his feet theatrically. "Welcome back! Glorious First Son, Warmaster of the Empire! Ah, no!"
He chuckled and turned toward another man, whose frown was astonishingly deep. "No, I got that wrong. You're not the Warmaster. Horus is, aren't you, Warmaster?"
The Wolf-Master fell silent with an ugly look on his face. A storm seemed ready to break in the very next instant, and Sanguinius had even prepared himself to intervene, but Horus did not grow angry.
He merely let out a long, weary breath. "...Perhaps I really am not suited for this position."
Lion El'Jonson narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Whether you meant to mock