Ferrus's reaction was even more intense than they had imagined. His years of fighting in the Warp had not smoothed out his temper; instead, they had made him even more irritable and violent.
Ferrus ranted and cursed without pause. Not once did he describe Fulgrim, Perturabo, and the other traitors the same way twice. Even Jaghatai found his ingenious metaphors unexpectedly impressive.
This was actually rather interesting.
Jaghatai studied his brother. Ten thousand years had changed far too many things. The Imperium of Man, the Space Marines, and the Primarchs had all become things both familiar and yet subtly different from what they had once been.
Perturabo, that cold lump of iron filled with resentment, now possessed a little more humanity.
Fulgrim, that elegant and noble brother, now had a little more humility and restraint in his heart. But Jaghatai felt that Slaanesh's influence had still not been completely cleansed from him. At times, the shadow of that debauched daemon-serpent could still be seen in Fulgrim's words and actions.
Rogal Dorn had grown much quieter. He acted as though he did not care when his brothers criticized him, then silently completed his own work behind the scenes.
Konrad Curze was a withdrawn boy obsessed with old cartoons and constantly tormenting himself. Jaghatai had no further comment on him.
Angron was now trapped in a cold metal shell, hiding away in a lightless room to brood in sorrow and enjoy his hard-won peace.
At that thought, Jaghatai suddenly smiled. If Ferrus knew there were two traitor Primarchs here, would his tirade become twice as long? Judging by Ferrus's state of mind, Jaghatai thought it was quite likely.
And what had Ferrus become? More irritable, harder to communicate with, as though Angron and Perturabo in one of their foul moods had been