When Lorgar stepped back into the magnificent conference chamber used to announce major decisions, the atmosphere inside had already changed.
The tension that had hung over the selection of the Warmaster, charged with competition and scrutiny, had dissipated, replaced by a practical solemnity with a clear purpose.
The air seemed to retain the lingering echoes of strategic planning. The enormous Holographic Star Chart had dimmed, but the star system coordinates that had just been illuminated still seemed to glimmer in some of their eyes.
The assignments for the Ullanor Crusade had clearly been settled swiftly and efficiently during the brief interval in which he had been "dealing with" Basilio F.
The decision had been made, with no need for lengthy discussion. That was very much the Emperor's style.
Five Primarchs had been selected, along with their Legions.
Horus Lupercal of the Luna Wolves, Perturabo of the Iron Warriors, the Khan of the White Scars, Fulgrim of the Emperor's Children, and Ferrus Manus of the Iron Hands.
The Emperor had chosen the Legions and commanders under his command who excelled most at breaking fortified positions and fighting hard battles, those best able to carry will and destruction to their utmost extremes.
Ullanor, the world occupied by a vast Ork empire, required neither conciliation nor infiltration, but the most direct, ferocious, and merciless frontal destruction.
This would be a war of conquest destined for the history books, a demonstration of the Imperium of Man's supreme military might.
Lorgar's gaze swept calmly across the chamber.
Horus was speaking quietly with Fulgrim beside him, his face bearing his usual infectious, confident smile, as though that absurd interlude of a duel had never happened.
Perturabo stood with his arms folded, his iron-gray face betraying neither pleasure nor anger, though the slight rise and fall of