A grand parade was in full swing in the center of the City, its cheers and the thunder of ceremonial salutes faintly audible, like sounds from another, distant world.
Yet on the outskirts of the City, in a stretch of ruins utterly destroyed by war and still untouched by relief efforts, an entirely different, deathly silence prevailed.
Twisted metal skeletons stabbed at the dim sky. Charred, crumbling walls bore silent witness to the devastation, and the air hung thick with dust and the lingering stench of burning.
At the heart of this desolation sat an exceptionally massive figure, alone on a broken section of an enormous beam.
His head was bowed, his powerful arms resting on his knees, with his huge Chainaxe propped casually within reach.
Angron, Primarch of the War Hounds, looked like a male lion that had momentarily sheathed its claws to rest at the edge of its den, utterly out of place amid the distant, boisterous celebrations.
Footsteps broke the silence.
The tall, imposing figure of Lorgar Aurelian made his way through the scattered rubble and into the clearing amid the ruins.
His dark gray Power Armour looked especially solemn in the dim light.
He stopped, his gaze settling on Angron's somewhat forlorn back.
"Angron," Lorgar said, his calm voice breaking the silence, "what are you doing here?"
Angron did not turn immediately. He remained as he was, letting out a barely audible sigh before answering in a voice with the slightly rough edge peculiar to a gladiator. "Nothing, Lorgar. It's just... quiet here."
Lorgar asked no further questions. He walked over to Angron, casually brushed the dust and debris from the beam, and sat beside the red-haired Primarch.
The two Primarchs, the mightiest sons of the Emperor of Mankind, sat shoulder to shoulder atop the cold