"Withdraw."
Mortarion's voice emerged from behind his respirator as he stood on the raised platform of the Endurance's bridge, his hood concealing half his face.
His gaze rested on the shrinking battlefield display in the holographic projection before him.
The Word Bearers had secured the major orbits around Bakka, the remnants of the Raven Guard fleet were scattering into deep space, and the Sons of Horus fleet had retreated far enough that it would not turn back.
A disciplined silence fell over the bridge in an instant.
No one questioned him. No one asked why.
Over the long years of the Great Crusade, the Death Guard's commanders had grown accustomed to treating their primarch's orders as indisputable facts.
Vorx stood below and to Mortarion's left, bowing his head slightly. "Understood, Father."
"What should we do with them?" asked Temeter, captain of the Death Guard's Fourth Company.
His voice was less composed, carrying an almost imperceptible trace of hesitation.
He stood at the edge of the bridge deck and pointed toward the two bodies still lying in the corner.
Mortarion followed Temeter's gaze.
Naberius's headless corpse lay curled beneath a control console in a twisted posture. The dark red pool of blood had long since dried into a deep brown stain, spreading from beneath him to the seams in the deck.
Storas had not even retained a recognizable shape. All that remained was a broad spread of flesh and blood, scattered by the scythe's blow, with no identifiable features left.
The corner of Mortarion's eye twitched. His voice remained steady, devoid of emotion. "These two..."
He paused, then continued. "Tell Horus that Naberius questioned my command and undermined the legion's morale, and I beheaded him."
"Storas was regrettably beheaded by the enemy and killed when the Word Bearers boarded the Endurance.