'They look like wolves,' said Horus. He thought of his own Legion's badge, and his warriors' lupine affectations. They seemed trite and false by comparison to the men below. They were human wolves, walking on two feet. 'They live with wolves?' he said.

'They believe themselves kin to them. Wolves are important to their culture,' said the Emperor.

'These men are primitives,' said Horus guardedly. He tried to look past his prejudice to their potential. They were strong, and if they were as proficient in combat as they looked, would make excellent recruits for the Legions. At the same time, the idea of these brutes let loose in the stars appalled him. He tried to smother the emotion, but it squirmed in his mental grip and would not die. Of course his father read his mind. Of course.

The Emperor smiled, an expression felt more than seen. 'Are the gangs of Cthonia more civilised than these men? Are the techno-barbarians of Terra who fight in my name?'

One of the warriors was tapping at a decanter with a dirty fingernail, puzzled by the glass. A roar of laughter went up from his fellows as he accidentally pushed it from the table and it shattered on the marble floor. Glass skittered across the hall. Priceless purple amasec soaked into irreplaceable rugs.

'They know of war with guns,' said Horus. 'The Cthonians know technology. The stars were no mystery to us. These men carry swords of plain steel.' He avoided saying the word savages aloud, only just.

'Their highest art is the forging of steel,' admitted the Emperor. 'Their world has regressed to a pre-technological state, and if you saw it you would not be surprised why. It is a beautiful, savage place of ice, fire and monsters. A charming experiment in reconstructed mythologies.'

'What do you mean?'

'Fenris is a relic from the days before Old Night.'

Rarely did the Emperor refer to the past, even so obliquely as that. 'Are they fit to serve you, my lord?' asked Horus. He hurried on before the Emperor could reply. 'They will take much training. Think of the acclimatisation period. We have wiped out cultures more sophisticated than theirs. We should do the same to them.' It was a plausible lie. His objections to these wolf-kin were rooted elsewhere entirely, and he was ashamed of that.

'We have killed many similar societies, but we have welcomed hundreds more worlds like theirs into the Imperium. Fenris has complied. There will be no purge.'

Horus was bereft. He was no longer alone. He should not care, but he did. He was embarrassing himself.

Sensing his son's resentment the Emperor rested a hand on Horus' shoulder. The touch sent shivers into Horus' soul. Loving devotion welled in his hearts that he could not deny, try as he might.