A Gathering of Two Primarchs (I)

"You'd better shut your mouth, Russ," the red-skinned giant warned. "I don't know what tricks you're playing now, but I'm not in the mood to continue with you."

"Continue with what?" the Fenrisian grinned. "Brother, please tell me, I'm really curious about what's going on in that big, hairy red head of yours."

Magnus walked away with a somber expression, offering no answer or response.

Leman Russ Russ gritted his teeth in annoyance, still smiling, but muttered a curse in Fenris. Judging from the few syllables with their intonation, it was clearly not a nice thing to say.

Karyl stared at the crimson figure, his eyes involuntarily narrowing. At that very moment, the hissing of Night Haunter rang out perfectly.

"That's strange, isn't it?"

"Yes," Karyl replied softly. "It is indeed a bit strange. But what I find even stranger is his distant attitude. Aren't he your brother?"

"He already looked like this when I first saw him thirteen years ago, Karyl." The Wraith shook his head, revealing a rather amusing smile.

"In his eyes, only the Emperor and knowledge were truly important; everything else could be infinitely postponed after these two things."

You sound like you resent him.

"If your allies would abandon the front lines without hesitation for some forbidden Xenos knowledge, you would too," Wraith said with a forced smile.

"What are you talking about?" Leman Russ Russ asked, frowning. "I admit this hissing language sounds amusing, like howling among wolves. But you can't just ignore me, can you?"

He raised his right hand in dissatisfaction, pointing to the line of crimson figures not far behind him. "I didn't go as far as him, I'm still standing here!"

"Please forgive me, Great Wolf," Karyl said dramatically, bowing deeply.

He pulled his cloak, concealing most of the skeletal armor, making the shadows, which seemed to be alive, dance realistically. Russ raised an eyebrow, reached out without hesitation to grab a handful, and casually commented on Karyl's demeanor.

"Those palace guards from Terra should really learn a thing or two from you."

Konrad Curze Curze let out a sharp laugh.

"Is it funny?" Karyl straightened up, turned his head to look at Curze, but he did not stop Russ from observing the cloak, and could even be said to have tacitly approved of his behavior.

"I'm not laughing at you." The Night Lords looked up, suddenly taking a keen interest in observing the sky above Ullanor, which was filled with all sorts of airships.

He was watching so intently that Karyl couldn't find a good reason to continue the conversation. He simply gave a cold laugh and stopped talking.

"This thing is really interesting," Russ grinned. "It's trying to bite me."

He raised his right hand, showing Karyl his cloak and gauntlets.

The Primarch's armor was now permeated by the shadow, defying all common sense and embedding itself into Russ's gauntlets. However, judging from his expression, the cloak itself should not have caused him any harm.

"It always has a lot of desires," Karyl replied calmly, while raising his hand and yanking the shadow sharply.

The cloak shuddered violently before lifelessly returning to his back, the raised corner collapsing limply.

Russ chuckled, rubbed his right hand, and shrugged.

At this moment, he displayed a peculiar nonchalance. The detachment of a wise man and the vulgarity unique to a brute converged on this wild face, his golden mane fluttering in the wind, and a giant wolf standing upright seemed to be speaking human language in the cold wind.

"What will happen if you satisfy this bloodthirsty beast?"

"It will bring about some changes," Karyl replied with a smile, showing no surprise at the strange scene before him. "Some changes that, in the long run, are for the better."

You're really good at riddles.

"Yes."

Russ clicked his tongue, chuckled, and walked away, not forgetting to greet Curze, though the greeting was a little off—he used some long-lost gangster gestures from Nostramo, complex and threatening.

However, in this context, it sounds more like brothers joking around.

The Night Lords narrowed his eyes and casually returned the Russ with even more complex hand gestures. The Fenrisian laughed and began to retaliate, with the wolf pack even cheering him on. The two exchanged blows, their distance growing ever greater, but their gestures becoming increasingly intense.

Curze was intently gesturing, he was close to winning, while Russ's gestures were becoming slower and less varied. However, at the crucial moment, he was stopped by Karyl.

"Where did you learn these gestures?" the skeleton asked softly.

A group of workers who had been standing there for a while and the red-robed members of the Mechanicum were looking at them strangely. The workers were whispering among themselves, while the red-robed members went even further, with the green light on their head monitors already flashing.

At the same time, a wolf howl echoed from afar, filled with the joy of victory.

"... Jago Sevatarion." Realizing what had happened, the Night Lords answered honestly. "Russ too, he learned it from Sevatar as well, using a piece of Grox Steak."

"Hmm," Karyl nodded noncommittally. "We'll talk about this later. Who else do you want to catch up with?"

"That depends on who else hasn't gone to the platform." Konrad Curze Curze looked away, avoiding eye contact with the skeleton, and quietly turned around. Karyl smirked and silently followed behind him, still with that Ghost demeanor.

--

Two hours later, they finally stood on the high platform.

Curze's plan to reminisce failed, which wasn't too surprising. The people he wanted to talk to either hadn't arrived yet or had already reached the platform.

Even Russ led his pack of wolves up, and didn't forget to use a communication channel code he'd somehow obtained to run into the Night Lords' internal channel and shout Konrad Curze Curze's name.

The Night Lords seemed unfazed by the situation, but the Night Lords were a different story. Some of the veteran captains, led by Van Cleef, remained relatively calm, but the reactions of the others...

You can imagine.

That said, this golden, gleaming platform was undoubtedly enormous. Exquisitely crafted decorations adorned this highly anticipated building, while the Adeptus Custodes, hidden in shadowy corners, kept sharp eyes.

As always, they were responsible for the Emperor's security. Curze and Karyl had gone through several checkpoints to get here. But they also had companions—a group of untouchables known as the Sisters of Silence, who had a devastating effect on Psyker.

Over the years, their close cooperation with the Adeptus Custodes has long been an open secret.

Curze silently withdrew his gaze from them, and after scanning the area once more, he realized that he and Karyl were probably the "loneliest" people here. The other Primarch had all brought their guards with them, but the Night Lords had not.

He was accompanied only by Karyl Lohars, and what's even more bizarre is that this combination attracted more attention than the Primarch and their guards, who were dressed in their finest attire.

"I bet they're only paying attention to us because you're here," Konrad Curze Curze said casually.

At the same time, he didn't forget to give Sanguinius a smile as he looked over.

The archangel with wings on his back is now clad in magnificent armor made of flowing gold and scarlet tears. White silver and pearls adorn his earrings and neck, yet they do not diminish his Radiance. Wherever he is, and whoever he stands beside, Sanguinius is eternally Radiance.

"Is that so?" Karyl retorted calmly.

"Otherwise what? You're so tall, and you're wearing armor that's completely different from everyone else's style," Curze mocked maliciously. "Even people who've never seen you before can easily recognize who you are."

Karyl ignored his mockery for the time being, deciding to save these matters for later in Ullanor. For now, he simply asked a question with great curiosity.

Am I well-known within the Imperium?

Curze turned his head and gave him a strange look.

"Famous?" he repeated. "No, my dear instructor of the Eighth Legion, you're more than just famous. Those eighteen years shouldn't have caused you any memory damage, right? Have you forgotten what you did before?"

"Of course I haven't forgotten," Karyl said. "I just don't think these are the kinds of things that should be publicized. Since they can't be publicized, I shouldn't become famous either."

"Those things might not be publicized, but—" Curze shook his head. "—Never mind, I'd better not say any more, lest you seem like an out-of-touch old man."

"Is it just my imagination, or have you really been having a lot of complaints about me lately?"

"This is certainly not your imagination, Father," the Night Lords replied, seemingly seriously.

Their conversation ended there, as Sanguinius and Rogal Dorn were walking toward them.

Baal's face still wore a gentle smile, while Rogal Dorn remained in his most famous form, expressionless and extremely serious, his eyes constantly glancing in Karyl's direction.

Karyl sighed silently, put on a stern face, and stared at Dorn with an expressionless expression.

"Stubborn Stone" intently probed the emotions behind those eyes, trying to find the answer to the question in his heart. Karyl did his best to remain calm, allowing the eye contact to last for more than ten seconds before suddenly giving a slight smile.

Dorn abruptly stopped, the force so great that his boots whistled on the ground.

"What's wrong, Rogal?" Sanguinius asked, puzzled—his view had been blocked by Curze, and he hadn't seen Karyl's face at all.

"Nothing," Rogal Dorn replied listlessly, letting out a slow, heavy breath. "It's good to see you back, Karyl Lohars."

"I'm also glad to see you again, Rogal," Karyl replied softly.

I'll have a meal, rest for a while, and then write the second chapter.