Within the White Scars' Great Khan's tent, the air was suffused with a faint, distant fragrance of sandalwood.
Outside the tent, mortal musicians seemed to be playing some kind of orchestral instrument, lending the interior an especially elegant and transcendent atmosphere.
"Many believed the White Scars were barbarians from some backwater, thinking they carved horrific scars into their bodies according to ancient savage customs. But in this thirty-first millennium, how many people could still understand music, appreciate sandalwood incense, or play chess against one another?"
Who, exactly, was the barbarian?
Lox laughed inwardly. The more dealings he had with this Khan of the White Scars, the more he realized that the other man was quite an interesting character, utterly unlike most people in the Imperium.
This Great Khan was one of the rare sane men.
The two primarchs battled each other across a small chessboard, their movements incredibly swift. Their primarch-level minds meant they barely needed time to think or calculate; Lox had to focus with all his might just to barely keep up with the logic behind their match.
The pieces shifted in a whirlwind of changing fortunes. As they traded moves, the Wolf King's pieces fought like trapped beasts, completely suppressed by the Khan's nimble and fluid formations.
The Chogorians had mastered the essence of guerrilla warfare: when the enemy advanced, they retreated; when the enemy halted, they harassed; when the enemy tired, they attacked; when the enemy withdrew, they pursued. Before long, he had forced his brother into a desperate corner.
Jaghatai Khan took a sip of tea. Anyone could see the Wolf King's agitation.
And in war, once one's mind was in turmoil, one had already lost half the battle.
"You are still angry about the Alaxxes Nebula, aren't you, my brother?
"A man cannot separate