Kaiser Whitefang took intermittent swigs from the mead he had brought with him, standing a short distance from Wodhaus as he waited for him to tear open a Warp rift with his life.
This operation had succeeded, yet it had also failed. Though they had successfully dismantled the Chaos altar, the Warp storm around Armageddon would likely dissipate in a few days. Then they could reinforce that world and wipe out the Ork beasts upon it.
But at the same time, the loss of the Child of Prophecy and the imminent death of the Rune Priest cast a shadow over this victory. Every old wolf was a precious, seasoned hunter, and a Rune Priest, as the Chapter's librarian, was even more indispensable. But in this cruel universe, no one was too valuable to sacrifice.
"No one is too valuable to sacrifice."
Kaiser Whitefang silently repeated those words to himself. They were spoken by the Wolf Lord who had stood before him amid wind and frost after he had passed the selection, before he became a Space Marine.
Back then, he had merely been a rough tribal brat. Every morning, he would rise early and follow the tribe's elders into the ice fields to hunt. At noon, when the frozen sea had loosened somewhat, they would cut an opening into the thick, opaque ice sheet.
Huge fish would gather beneath the rare opening to draw in precious oxygen, and they would catch them with finely crafted nets with large meshes. The small and medium fish were released. It was a tribal tradition, one that had continued for countless years. Day after day, it was a simple tribal life. Sometimes they fought the neighboring tribes over food shortages, but Kaiser Whitefang had never lost a tribal war. Though he had suffered some