Huron to the Rescue

The group descended from the deck and arrived on the dock.

A Cultist tattooed with a Chaos Star stared at the strange party.

There were larger-looking Astartes, an enormous Ogryn in a black robe that concealed his face, an Imperial Inquisitor, and a mortal in white robes.

And a Dreadnought.

The Cultist shouted through his throat, which had already been fitted with a Vox system.

"(&*%￥#, state your business!"

"We're here to see Huron," Bona said.

"No. Without permission..."

In the blink of an eye, Horus seized the wretch by the head and lifted him up, staring at him expressionlessly.

"That was a statement, not a request."

Then he hurled the wretch away. The man rolled across the dock and crashed into several crates.

A Red Corsair approached from the side, ready to punish these newcomers.

But when he saw the members of the Rebel Company, all considerably larger than him, he fell silent.

Sure enough, a Chaos Cultist soon came scurrying over.

"My lords, please come in."

Only then did the group make their way inside without further obstruction.

Bals surveyed this lawless place in bewilderment.

"Why are we here?"

"Are we finding Gagags a new employer?"

No matter how Bals looked at it, this pirate empire seemed like an ideal place for Gagags, that Ork Big Mek.

"No, Bals," Horus said.

"We're here to find the Star Scar Claws."

The oversized iron coffin froze. Even without seeing his face, they could tell he was stunned.

"What do you mean?"

"My brothers are here?!"

"What are they doing here?!"

Horus did not answer. He merely raised a hand, gesturing for them to continue.

News that the Rebel Company had come to join them was enough to bring Huron Blackheart out to welcome them personally. After all, the glorious deeds this powerful company of Thunder Warriors had accomplished over ten thousand years were renowned among loyalists and the forces of Chaos alike.

He personally arranged a banquet, and rather than sitting high above them on a dais, he stood below to receive them with courtesy.

The doors opened. When he saw their power armor, so dilapidated it was practically crumbling, Huron could no longer contain his smile.

"Welcome, my friends. We've had little time to prepare, so I'm afraid the banquet is hardly lavish."

Bona glanced at him, probing Huron through imperceptible means.

There was some Chaos corruption, but not much.

He was still very different from the other fools who had embraced Chaos.

"We didn't come here to join the Red Corsairs Chapter."

Huron's smile froze, then he frowned slightly.

"Then did you bring an Inquisitor here to kill me?"

"You're... Huron?"

A mechanical voice suddenly rang out.

Only then did Huron notice the Dreadnought. He looked at him in confusion.

"Who are you?"

But the Dreadnought did not answer, as though he had frozen in place.

Bona answered instead.

"We brought your brother back from the dark Arena of Commorragh."

Memories flooded back to Huron, until he finally asked in disbelief:

"Bals?"

The Dreadnought seemed to awaken. He immediately raised his weapon, about to unleash his Vulkan Heavy Bolter on Huron.

But Horus reacted instantly, planting a foot on the barrel and stomping the rotary cannon down. A ferocious burst of heavy bolter fire tore through the floor.

"You damned traitor! You betrayed the Imperium! You betrayed the Star Scar Claws! I'll kill you!"

Having anticipated this, Bona silently pressed the button in his hand. The Dreadnought's controls were instantly cut off, leaving Bals unable to move his body.

But Bals continued to thunder through his Vox system.

"You damned bastard! I'll kill you!"

Just then, heavy footsteps sounded from the corridor on the other side.

Amanius, the "Alchemist," approached.

"Huron, what happened here? Why was there gunfire?"

Huron's expression was conflicted, and he remained silent.

Bals, meanwhile, found a new target.

"Amanius, you bastard! You traitors! You bastards who forsook the God-Emperor's will!"

Amanius stared for a moment before realizing who it was.

"Bals? You're back?"

"Bals didn't come back! Bals died in the dark Arena of Commorragh!"

The Dreadnought continued to roar.

"When I fought day and night in the Arena just to survive, the hope of seeing my battle-brothers in the Star Scar Claws again was what kept me alive!"

"If I'd known the infamous Red Corsairs were the former Star Scar Claws, I'd rather have stayed in Commorragh's fighting pits and killed for the Emperor until my final breath!"

"Rather than come here and see the disgusting state you've fallen into after turning to Chaos!"

Bang!

Huron smashed the table with a punch, fury blazing in his eyes.

"You understand nothing, Bals."

"Those rotten relics, the High Lords of Terra, treated us as expendable. They stationed us in the Maelstrom Zone to fight enemies who outnumbered us several times over."

"Those fools knew perfectly well that our handful of Chapters couldn't accomplish anything, yet they refused to send even the slightest reinforcement. Instead, they wasted all their energy on endless infighting."

"And when my own efforts finally brought together an army capable of wiping out the pirates, those bastards who thought of nothing but collecting taxes bombarded me without hesitation. Half my body was burned to charcoal!"

"It was the other brothers of the Star Scar Claws who carried me all the way into the Maelstrom!"

"Would you rather cling to blind loyalty to a rotten Imperium than believe in us, the brothers who lived beside you and faced life and death with you?"

Bals fell silent.

Only after a long while did he speak.

"There can be countless reasons for betrayal, but only one for loyalty."

Huron wore a conflicted expression and merely sighed softly.

"I'll permit you to leave. Go."

Seeing that neither Bals nor Huron seemed inclined to speak further, Bona raised a hand slightly. Four Thunder Warriors lifted the immobilized Dreadnought and carried him back.

Bona, however, looked at Huron Blackheart.

"Tyrant of Badab, I've fulfilled your bounty."

"Now I demand my reward."

Only then did Huron Blackheart take notice of this mortal.

The Rebel Company, the Inquisitor who had not spoken a word this entire time, and the mysterious towering figure beside him all seemed to obey him.

He was puzzled, unable to think of anyone in the Imperium who could command such obedience.

"You've earned it. Tell me, what do you want?"

"The right to recruit troops from the Astartes under your command, and a fleet capable of conquering a Forge World."

Huh?

Surely the Imperium wasn't recruiting troops from rebel forces?

Still, Huron nodded.

"Go ahead. Someone will come shortly to coordinate with you."

Bona offered a simple salute, then turned and left.

Huron sat on his Throne, feeling hollow, watching the distant white-robed figure and listening to the heavy Dreadnought's firm, ringing footsteps on the deck.

He knew he had lost a dear friend forever.

Huron during his time with the Astral Claws.