As the highest-ranking person present, Guilliman was offered mead from Fenris by Fafnir.
No one knew why these crude Space Wolves still carried wineskins when coming to pay homage to a primarch. Perhaps the sons of Fenris never parted with their mead.
Even after crossing terrifying Warp storms, they had stubbornly carried mead from their homeworld of Fenris.
If disaster struck during Warp travel, these Fenrisians might drain their mead, sing ancient songs of Fenris, and march generously to their deaths.
The Wolves' wineskin seemed to have been made from the spinal bones of some sea monster. Under the dangerous gaze of Glod, commander of the Victorious Army, Fafnir handed it to the primarch.
"Leman Russ, the Wolf King, isn't here, so you're our leader. Have a taste—fierce Fenrisian mead, a fine drink every man must taste!"
"This is the Wolves' highest respect, leader."
Guilliman's keen sense of smell penetrated the leather barrier and analyzed the potency of the so-called mead inside.
He detected several ingredients that could be considered highly toxic. Even Space Marines needed to treat Fenrisian mead with caution. As for ordinary humans? A single mouthful of that highly corrosive poisonous mead could probably burn straight through their entire digestive tract.
The primarch did not hesitate. Equally forthright, he accepted the wineskin made from kraken vertebrae, tipped back his head, and swallowed great gulps of the liquor.
The pungent scent of alcohol practically burst forth. A few drops of mead occasionally fell onto the lawn, directly corroding the plants into blackened, withered husks with a hiss.
Mm...
Even Roboute had to admit that he had underestimated the power of this Fenrisian mead. His esophagus and throat felt as though they were burning, while his stomach was astonishingly hot.
That was not merely a figure of speech. Damn