76. Undercurrents

Some people were stubborn. Very stubborn.

That stubbornness came in many forms, such as being hard-mouthed and refusing to accept anyone else's advice. Or acting like Perturabo. Fulgrim had joined their ranks ever since his resurrection, though he was still in the early stages.

What I mean was, he was only being hard-mouthed.

Like now.

He had clearly already taken up his weapon and made ready to strike out, yet he was still stubbornly going on about just how unreliable Leman Russ's plan was.

"I truly cannot believe the two of you both agreed to that damned plan of his. Charging into that hellhole with everyone on the entire ship—this can be called a plan?"

Fulgrim put his eloquence to full use, his words so caustic and his expression so biting that it was almost unbelievable. "A farmer tilling fields on some backwater planet, or a brain-damaged Khorne Berserker, could come up with a better plan than this using their big toe!"

Angron cast the Phoenix an irritated glance, unable to understand why he insisted on putting on this whole "I disagree" attitude.

So he got straight to the point as well. "If you're scared, you don't have to go, Little Phoenix. I understand if you don't want a few more scars on your face. Women care a lot about their looks, don't they?"

"Good comparison!"

The Wolf King, standing nearby and all too happy to watch the show, grinned broadly, laughing without a care, and even started clapping. "Good! Good! Brother, you're much better with words than the man I know!"

The Archangel stood to one side, watching these three unreliable brothers with a melancholy face, and had already begun sighing inwardly.

At that moment, he felt rather like he was looking after three children—and, based on what he