33 Delayed Judgment (VI, Return to Caliban)

Lion El'Jonson had not looked in a mirror for many years.

He knew full well that he had aged, and he was content to accept it, but he disliked mirrors. For some reason, he felt that his reflection looked utterly inhuman, possessing a majesty and coldness far beyond what a human being ought to have.

Of those two qualities, the latter was almost impossible to discern on his face, even though he had done his best to adopt a gentler expression. It was then that he began to realize how others saw him.

Whether he liked it or not, the Lion had to acknowledge one fact—he was a product of genetic engineering, created through both technology and mysticism by the most mad yet most brilliant scientist of the human race.

Therefore, his appearance could never have been the result of some natural mutation or passing whim. The Emperor must have considered the effects it might bring when He created him, yet He had done it nonetheless, just as He had with the others.

Radiance Sanguinius, beautiful Fulgrim, brooding Konrad Curze.

The Lion understood very clearly that the Emperor had expectations of them. Regrettably, even now, he did not know what expectations the Emperor had held for him.

He wanted very much to know the answer.

Gripping his sword, he rose to his feet. A forest stretched overhead, grass lay beneath his boots, shrubs encircled rough old trees, and Caliban's peculiar sunlight fell gloomily through the leaves and branches. Crisp insect chirps sounded in the distance.

What a familiar sight. Unfortunately, he did not truly miss it. At least, not now.

The Lion lowered his right hand, let the blade hang low, and began to survey his surroundings.

He had never been in the habit of wearing a helmet. People needed