Chelast did not hesitate. He accepted the glass of blood-red liquid, feeling the chill of the crystal against his fingertips.
He did not swirl it and study it like a wine connoisseur, but brought the rim straight to his lips.
Then Chelast drained the wine in a single gulp.
The full-bodied wine slid down his throat, bringing a trace of warmth that mingled strangely with the exhilaration still coursing through his body after the fierce fight.
"Welcome to the Emperor's Children Legion, Battle-Brothers." As Lucius watched him, his smile grew a little more genuine. The earlier air of tense rivalry dispersed like mist on the wind, and his tone gradually shifted toward a friendliness born of respect for their strength.
He drained his own glass as well, then casually set it on a nearby weapon rack, as though the fierce contest that had decided their victory and defeat really had been nothing more than an inconsequential warm-up.
Chelast nodded silently and handed back the empty glass.
He suppressed his turbulent emotions through sheer self-control. Sparring between Legion warriors was commonplace among the Legiones Astartes, and victory and defeat were simply part of a soldier's life.
Defeat tasted bitter, especially when he represented the honor of the Word Bearers, but the grace Lucius displayed in victory, together with the wine that symbolized reconciliation and acceptance, effectively eased the potential awkwardness.
He realized that while Lucius was strikingly arrogant, that arrogance seemed to stem more from his pursuit of absolute mastery and his confidence in his own skills than from malice toward any particular person.
Toward warriors whose strength fell short of his own, he would instead display a strange attitude bordering on appreciation, though this was not simply contempt for the weak.
Just as the atmosphere began to ease, and the