The Gloriana-class Battleship Law of Faith
Strategic Conference Room
Compared with the fierce firefights elsewhere aboard the ship, the Strategic Conference Room at its heart was unusually quiet.
Heavy adamantium doors shut out the clamor outside, leaving only the low hum of the environmental circulation system.
The air carried the scent of incense and old parchment scrolls.
Lorgar stood before the enormous star chart table, his deep gaze seeming to pierce the rotating galactic projection above it and reach into the distant stars.
He stood tall, like a statue in an ancient cathedral, bearing the solemnity peculiar to a contemplative soul.
The conference room's airtight door slid open soundlessly, and a figure entered.
His arrival seemed to lend even the light in the room a little warmth.
The newcomer was immensely burly, taller and broader even than Lorgar, and could be called the largest of all the Primarchs.
He wore dark green Power Armour adorned with antique metal reliefs and draconic heraldry. His ebony skin gleamed with health, but most striking were his eyes, like molten gold, filled with gentleness and wisdom.
Vulkan, lord of the XVIII Legion, the Salamanders, was renowned for his compassion and outstanding craftsmanship.
"Brother." Vulkan's voice was deep and warm, like magma churning deep beneath the earth.
He approached Lorgar with steady, powerful strides.
Here he was, privately facing this brother famed for his devotion and learning at such close quarters.
An indescribable sense of kinship, rooted in their genetic origins, mingled with a long-absent ease and quietly spread through Vulkan's heart.
Beside Lorgar, even the urgency of war seemed to recede a little.
This, too, seemed to be an effect of Lorgar's own psychic energy; when true kin came into contact with him, they felt a sense of relaxation they had not known in