"Wow, Vulkan's ten-billion subsidy."
"So, once we have new gear, we can put the old gear up for resale..."
"Ahem, ahem."
Vulkan's coughing quickly brought Lorgar's thoughts back to the present, and he turned his gaze toward the mountain-steady figure beside him.
The promise of forged weapons was a more pressing matter now, and a far more exciting prospect.
"Brother Vulkan," Lorgar began, his voice having regained its usual composure.
"As for the weapons' specific forms and characteristics, I will have someone compile detailed specifications from Angron's and my combat data and preferences, then send them to your flagship. As for the rare metals and specialized supplies required for forging..."
Vulkan raised his enormous hand and gently interrupted Lorgar. "You need not worry about materials, Lorgar. I have accumulated some treasures in my stores that are difficult to find anywhere in the galaxy, precisely so that, when the time comes, I can forge weapons worthy of our mission. As for transport and handover..."
He looked toward Artellus Numeon, who stood attending them nearby. "Numeon will coordinate the entire process and ensure nothing goes wrong."
The First Company Captain immediately straightened, clenched his right fist, and struck it hard against his breastplate with a dull thud. "On the Legion's honor, my lord Primarch. I will personally take responsibility for the safety of all materials and finished weapons."
In just a few brief exchanges, the momentous matter of two Primarchs' primary weapons was settled.
With official discussions concluded for the moment, the atmosphere in the conference room relaxed a little.
Then Vulkan's molten-gold eyes slowly turned toward Angron, who had sat in the corner ever since arriving and seemed thoroughly uninterested in the "diplomatic meeting."
The World Eaters' Primarch was idly working a whetstone over the teeth of his blood-drenched Chainaxe, producing