Lox had been about to pilot the Red Alert back to Terra to ask the Sigillite about the situation.
But just as he was about to step into the ship, the Wolf King he had just bid farewell to called out from behind him.
"Wait. We're both going to see Malcador, so let's go together."
The previously drunken Leman Russ was now completely sober, his gaze sharp as a blade. In three quick strides, he arrived at Lox's side.
"How did you know I was going to see Malcador?" Lox looked at Russ's broad face with mild surprise.
He had developed something of a psychological shadow around the Space Wolves. Fafnir and his lot had tormented him badly enough. If the wolf pups were already like that, what would the Wolf King be like?
Probably even more of a heavyweight—enough to make one's jaw drop.
Russ pointed at his own nose and smiled proudly.
"My nose told me you were going to see the Sigillite. I happen to be going too, so we might as well travel together."
That really is a fucking dog nose, Lox cursed inwardly.
These primarchs were each shrewder than the last. Just moments ago, Leman Russ had been pretending to be drunk and throwing a drunken fit over the board. Yet the moment he left Chaghatai's warship, he was back to normal.
"But Lord Russ, isn't your ship waiting for you over there?"
Lox did not want to expose his clumsy excuse. He merely gestured toward the Space Wolves battle barge behind him.
Its enormous wolf-beast emblem was clearly visible even in space.
"Ahahaha, that ship? Forgot to tell you, they were only passing by." Russ laughed heartily.
Then, following a few quiet words from the Wolf Guard at his side, the Space Wolves warship