"Everything was over. Horus had defended the throne that was his."
"It was no different from what I calculated. Lorgar had failed utterly."
Although Perturabo had not appeared at the scene of that coup and betrayal, that did not mean he could not see what had happened there.
Swarms of drones circled overhead. These little devices, personally crafted by the Lord of Iron, possessed formidable reconnaissance capabilities and stealthy mobility. They were also new lessons in warfare that Perturabo had learned during his war of attrition against the Ultramarines.
Perturabo had always been one of the primarchs most skilled at learning and improving technology. The only ones who could stand alongside him were Ferrus Manus of the Iron Hands and Vulkan, Lord of Drakes.
Vulkan, however, was more adept at forging and tempering divine weapons with unique effects, while Ferrus excelled at creating highly advanced mechanical constructs.
His mechanical war-pack was fitted with countless dangerous weapons. If he had brought it with him when he fought Fulgrim, perhaps the outcome would have been entirely different.
Perturabo was more like a combination of his two brothers. What he excelled at most was the large-scale industrial production of advanced weapons of war to equip his legion and Iron Circle automata.
"Put me through to Horus. Let me coordinate the deployment of personnel and supplies across the planet and in orbital space."
"Time. We need time. There is no time to waste."
The data-cables embedded in Perturabo's skull, each serving a different function, were faintly heating up. Only the Lord of Iron himself knew that, as he spoke those words, the image of those mountain-moving, sea-filling blue smurfs surfaced in his mind.
The muscles at the corners of his mouth twitched helplessly. He found it absurd and deeply dissatisfying.
"It is all because