Perturabo suddenly rose. The throne, alive with writhing metal conduits, creaked and clanged as the Primarch sprang to his feet. Black cables struck one another, but their low rumble failed to drown out his astonished voice.
"What a fast warship."
The Primarch's eyes could distinguish every molecule in a material. This was Perturabo's gift. The Iron Blood had no observation windows, but since his ascension to daemonhood, he had gained complete control over every molecule of the warship. Its auspex served as his third eye.
Even from thousands of miles away, the Lord of Iron could clearly see the engine flames pouring from the Wind and Cloud-class Battleship. The bombardment cannon's ammunition drum above it rotated, automatically loading a powerful main-gun round. The alluring curves of the ship's outer armour tugged at Perturabo's heart.
"This is a very fast warship," Perturabo said, turning toward the deeper reaches of space. "It has many flaws, but that brother of mine would like it. That foul-mouthed, conceited bastard."
The Lord of Iron's sudden movement made the members of the Trident put down their work and turn toward their father. (The Trident was an advisory council comprising the three most senior Warsmiths, responsible for advising the Primarch.)
"What about that magnificent engine of war in the video?"
"We have made contact with the remnants of the Vanguard Fleet. According to their intelligence, after covering the ground forces and securing an overwhelming advantage, that vessel left planetary orbit to pursue our Evacuation Fleet 87."
"Is that all? Hecassos, is that really all they brought me? Failure, retreat, and a lost target?"
Perturabo's normally cold voice changed, becoming frightening. The Warsmith named Hecassos inwardly prayed that his Gene-Father would not punish him over this, while addressing Perturabo in the most respectful tone he could muster:
"The