Seeing Cullen fast asleep, Kaelen found himself unable to drift off and turned to look at Horus.
Bored, he wanted to strike up a conversation.
And since Cullen was a son of Lion El’Jonson, Kaelen naturally thought of the Lion himself.
“Horus, in your memory, what kind of person was Lion El’Jonson?” “Lion El’Jonson was a consummate warrior, an unimpeachable commander of legions, but not a perfect brother.
His heart held room only for the hunt and the Emperor’s command; he left no place for brotherhood.
We were the Emperor’s sons, but he desired only to be the Emperor’s weapon.” Horus sighed, reflecting on days long past.
“The First Legion was also the one that carried out Exterminatus most frequently.” “My other two brothers…
Curze slaughtered to inflict fear, and Angron slaughtered to soothe his own agony.
But Lion El’Jonson’s slaughter was simply because it was the fastest, most thorough way to complete the objective.
He would not spill an extra drop of blood for the sake of killing, nor stay his blade by a single soul for the sake of mercy.
That is what makes him the most terrifying warrior.
And no one ever knew what he did.” “Because they were dead, of course.
Dead men tell no tales,” Kaelen dryly remarked.
“Well, he was the Emperor’s sharpest blade hidden in the dark.
Oh, and then there’s the Emperor’s executioner, the Wolf King Leman Russ.” Hearing this, Horus did not take offense; instead, a soft chuckle slipped from his throat.
“Indeed.
Of all the Primarchs, only Lion El’Jonson truly grasped the fundamental nature of war.
War was never about damn honor or ceremony; war exists solely to win.” Horus’s gaze turned sharp as fire, offering a rare and exceptionally high evaluation.
“He would use any means necessary to secure victory.
To be honest with you, Kaelen, if there ever comes a day when someone pushes me into absolute desperation on a tactical grid or a battlefield—or even defeats me—that person could only be Lion El’Jonson.” In the spirit of the conversation, Horus abruptly pivoted, his intensely imposing eyes locking onto Kaelen as a playful smile touched his lips.
“Kaelen, if you lived during the era of the Great Crusade and had the good fortune to survive the trials and become an Astartes, which legion would you choose to join?” “Would you come to my Luna Wolves?
Or go to Lion El’Jonson’s Dark Angels to be a merciless knight?
Or perhaps serve under my most perfect brother, Sanguinius, as an elegant Blood Angel?
If you came to my Luna Wolves, I might even make you my equerry.” Equerry?
No thanks.
Horus’s previous equerry, Maloghurst…
the real Maloghurst was long dead by the Horus Heresy, when the confused Warmaster constantly mistook Argonis for Maloghurst, to say nothing of the long-departed Hastur Sejanus.
After listening, Kaelen answered without hesitation.
“Go joyriding with Jaghatai Khan’s White Scars, or keep a low profile with Corax’s Raven Guard,” Kaelen said, rubbing his chin as he analyzed it with complete gravity.
“And if I wanted stability—a quiet job with solid benefits—I’d definitely choose Roboute Guilliman’s Ultramarines.” “…” The smile froze on Horus’s face.
“My friend, that answer genuinely hurts my feelings,” Horus said, spreading his hands with a look of theatrical grievance.
“I thought given our friendship, you’d show at least a slight bias toward my legion, if only to be polite.” Kaelen burst out laughing.
Then Horus turned the question back around.
“What about you, Kaelen?
In your eyes, what kind of figure is my brother Lion El’Jonson?” “Me?
I view Lion El’Jonson as a classical knight.” Memories of official lore books surfaced; Kaelen remembered how the Lion’s knightly demeanor was portrayed in *The Son of the Forest* and *Angels of Caliban*.
Though what Kaelen liked best was the returned Lion El’Jonson in *The Son of the Forest*.
The old knight was cool as hell—waking up after sleeping for ten thousand years, the old geezer had shed his youthful rashness and icy hostility, replaced by every virtue a classical knight ought to have: courage, temperance, wisdom, and justice.
“Horus, guess whether Lion El’Jonson’s temper improves after ten thousand years?” Kaelen teased him with a prompt.
This successfully stoked the Wolf God’s curiosity.
He found it genuinely hard to associate his “cold and ruthless” brother with the idea of a “milder temper.” He still vividly remembered back when they were celebrating with Lion El’Jonson’s adoptive father, Luther, and Lion El’Jonson had barged in with a cold face to drag Luther away, killing the party’s vibe.
“I would sooner believe his loyalty never fades than believe his temper could improve even a fraction,” Horus gave a soft chuckle.
However, that quiet laughter seemed to disturb the sleeper in the corner.
Cullen’s servo-motors emitted a faint whine as he suddenly snapped awake from his light slumber.
The veteran stood up and shook his slightly groggy head.
Under the astonished gazes of Horus and Kaelen, he walked over to Horus, and then— *Thud.* Cullen dropped to one knee, lowering his head deep in an unreserved posture of fealty!
Kaelen: ???
Horus: ???
The air inside the sanctuary froze instantly.
*Wait, bro?* *Before sleeping, weren’t you drawing your sword and screaming ‘arch-traitor’ at the top of your lungs?!
How did you wake up from a nap and immediately pledge loyalty?!* Kaelen screamed internally.
He truly couldn’t follow the old knight’s cliff-jumping brain logic, but a second later, the realization struck him.
To cause such a radical shift in a diehard First Legion veteran, there was only one possibility in the entire galaxy— *The Golden Emperor himself must have paid him a dream visit!* Horus opened his mouth to ask, but Cullen cut him off.
Of course, if one listened closely, a hint of reluctant gritting of molars could still be detected.
“Until my father, Lion El’Jonson, returns, I shall offer my fealty to you, Lord of the Luna Wolves.
I will defend your safety with my life.” “May I ask why you have made this decision, warrior?” Horus asked solemnly.
“A secret.” Cullen didn’t even blink, calmly spitting out the single word.
*There it was!
The classic Dark Angels tradition!
The secrets of the First Legion!* *Oh wait, the First Legion has no secrets!
The honor of the Inner Circle must be defended!* Kaelen nearly died of laughter internally, overwhelmed by the absurdity of it all.
Before he could finish snickering in secret, Cullen’s icy gaze shifted onto him, filled to the brim with vigilance and suspicion.
“I will be watching you as well, mortal,” the veteran warned.
Kaelen pointed at his own nose, thoroughly baffled.
“Me?
What did I do?
I’m loyal!
Don’t go tarnishing an innocent man’s good name for no reason, alright?” “Hmph!” The veteran merely let out a cold grunt, not bothering to offer further explanation.