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the many species the Legion had destroyed. The figure he had seen was another Astartes, and Loken recognized the colours of the World Eaters upon his armour.
    Loken and Torgaddon rounded the corner of a tall, walnut-framed cabinet, seeing a scarred Astartes warrior peering intently at an immense battle-glaive that had been wrested from the hands of a xenos praetorian by the Warmaster himself.
    ‘Welcome to the Vengeful Spirit ,’ said Loken.
    The World Eater looked up from the weapon and turned to face them. His face was deeply bronzed, long and noble, contrasting with the bone white and blue of his Legion’s colours.
    ‘Greetings,’ he said, bringing his forearm across his armoured chest in a martial salute.
    ‘Kharn, Eighth Assault Company of the World Eaters.’
    ‘Loken of the Tenth,’ replied Loken. ‘Torgaddon of the Second,’ nodded Torgaddon. ‘Impressive, this,’ said Kharn, looking around him.
    ‘Thank you,’ said Loken. ‘The Warmaster always believed we should remember our enemies. If we forget them, we shall never learn.’
    He pointed at the weapon Kharn had been admiring. ‘We have the preserved corpse of the creature that carried this weapon somewhere around here. It’s the size of a tank.’
    ‘Angron has his share of trophies too,’ said Kharn, ‘but only from foes that deserve to be remembered.’
    ‘Should we not remember them all?’
    ‘No,’ said Kharn firmly. ‘There is nothing to gain from knowing your enemy. The only thing that matters is that they are to be destroyed. Everything else is just a distraction.’
    ‘Spoken like a true World Eater,’ said Torgaddon.
    Kharn looked up from the weapon with an amused sneer. ‘You seek to provoke me, Captain Torgaddon, but I already know what other Legions think of the World Eaters.’
    ‘We were on Aureus,’ said Loken. ‘You are butchers.’
    Kharn smiled. ‘Hah! Honesty is rare these days, Captain Loken. Yes, we are and we are proud because we are good at it. My primarch is not ashamed of what he does best, so neither am I.’
    ‘I trust you’re here for the conclave?’ asked Loken, wishing to change the subject.
    ‘Yes. I serve as my primarch’s equerry.’
    Torgaddon raised an eyebrow. ‘Tough job.’
    ‘Sometimes,’ admitted Kharn. ‘Angron cares little for diplomacy.’
    ‘The Warmaster believes it is important.’
    ‘So I see, but all Legions do things differently,’ laughed Kharn, clapping Loken on his shoulder guard. ‘As one honest man to another, your own Legion has as many detractors as admirers. Too damn superior, the lot of you.’
    ‘The Warmaster has high standards,’ said Loken.
    ‘So does Angron, I assure you,’ said Kharn, and Loken was surprised to hear a note of weariness in Kharn’s voice. ‘The Emperor knew that sometimes the best course of action is to let the World Eaters do what we do best. The Warmaster knows it too; otherwise we would not be here. It may be distasteful to you, captain, but if it were not for warriors like mine, the Great Crusade would have foundered long ago.’
    ‘There we must agree to disagree,’ said Loken. ‘I could not do what you do.’
    Kharn shook his head. ‘You’re a warrior of the Astartes, captain. If you had to kill every living thing in a city to ensure victory, you would do it. We must always be prepared to go further than our enemy. All the Legions know it; the World Eaters just preach it openly,’
    ‘Let us hope it never comes to that,’
    ‘Do not pin too much on that hope. I hear tell that Isstvan III will be difficult to break.’
    ‘What do you know of it?’ asked Torgaddon. Kharn shrugged. ‘Nothing specific, just rumors really; something religious, they say, witches and warlocks, skies turning red and monsters from the warp, all the usual hyperbole. Not that the Sons of Horus would believe such things.’
    ‘The galaxy is a complicated place,’ replied Loken carefully. ‘We don’t know the half of what goes on in