Sanguinius's heartfelt speech brought the expedition fleet's morale to a peak.
Words possessed great power, and Sanguinius was especially skilled in wielding them. So long as he spoke, so long as he appeared before the people, everyone drew faith and strength from his sacred countenance.
Not even the other equally noble and extraordinary primarchs could compare to him in this regard.
Leaving aside the Blood Angels, whose morale had risen to its utmost heights and who could scarcely wait to slaughter the traitors, even the Astartes of the other Legions and the mortals aboard the fleet threw themselves into their work with full focus and vigor.
They understood that perhaps they could not wield the immense strength of the Astartes, but no one was without value. Even a humble worker responsible for maintaining a warship's engines, or a cook laboring in the kitchens to provide nutritious food for his comrades, had his own worth and contribution.
"Though this is not the first time I have heard one of your speeches, it still makes my blood boil, my brother. You are the most extraordinary among us."
"You possess the noblest soul among us. Only you still bestowed mercy upon those mortals."
Lion praised him sincerely. Back during the Second Imperium, he had supported Sanguinius becoming Regent. It had not been entirely to counterbalance Guilliman; he truly believed that if one person had to be chosen to inherit the Emperor's position, it could only be Sanguinius.
Of course, with Jaghatai present, both of them had to keep the secrets of that time.
Sanguinius smiled and shook his head. "You are wrong, Lion. Before Vulkan, none of us can call ourselves noble. Only our brother from Nocturne truly held humanity in his heart. He was the primarch most like our father."
"Compassion and