The Stormhawk's hatch hadn't fully opened when Logan Grimnar jumped.

The Great Wolf's wolf-pelt cloak snapped and cracked in the airflow. The servos of his Terminator armor groaned with a low, heavy hum.

Loken, Cullen, and Sharrokin came down behind him, along with several Legion warriors, all of them falling into step as they entered the conference room.

The moment Kardan saw them, his bionic eye flickered red.

"Why are you here, Great Wolf."

Logan bared his teeth. That row of mead-yellowed fangs caught the light.

"For Leman Russ and the Allfather." He paused. "And for the sake of a debt."

He raised a hand and pointed to Loken at his side.

"Glad you didn't immediately put your hands on a respected Primarch, Kardan. If you'd done something to Lord Lupercal that you shouldn't have — the Allfather wouldn't forgive you for it."

Blunt to the point of near-rudeness.

But everyone in the room heard what lay underneath.

Kardan gave a cold snort.

"I know where the line is."

His gaze swept across the arrivals. Wolf Guard of the Space Wolves. Terminator plate of the Luna Wolves. Black armor of the Dark Angels. It moved from one to the next until it landed on the warrior wearing the MK6 Corvus helmet, held there for less than half a second, then moved on.

"You all came because of the attack."

"We did." Loken stepped forward, voice clear and steady. "We've found evidence. The delegation sent in the name of the Iron Hands was not Iron Hands at all. They were warriors of the traitor Twentieth Legion — the Alpha Legion."

Horus sat in his seat and said nothing.

This was Loken's stage. A good chance to let him find his footing.

"My Primarch and I believe this was an attempt to stoke conflict within the Imperium, Lord Kardan."

The Iron Father's bionic eye gave a single flicker.

"Evidence."

Loken didn't waste words. He turned and gestured to the warrior behind him.

The Luna Wolves warrior set a sealed container on the metal conference table. The clasps unlatched, and in that instant a foul reek of the Warp seeped out through the seams.

Every Iron Hands warrior in the room frowned at the same moment. Several company captains' hands moved without thinking toward their weapon mounts.

Inside the container lay the fragments of the dagger.

The Chaos runes on the blade had shattered. But the residual Warp energy still pulsed faintly within them, like a dying heart.

"Is that all."

One shattered Chaos dagger wasn't enough to make Kardan bow his head.

The Iron Father's gaze moved from the container to Loken and waited.

"This is surveillance footage."

Loken stepped aside and gave way to Sharrokin.

"The footage confirms that it was Alpha Legion warriors, disguised as Iron Hands, who opened fire on Lord Horus first."

Sharrokin stepped forward and slid the data-slate across the table.

As Kardan took it, his gaze moved back to that Corvus-helmeted face.

This time, he didn't look away.

"What is your name, warrior."

The Iron Father's voice dropped half a register.

Not a challenge. More like confirming something he'd already half-guessed.

"Nykona Sharrokin."

Kaelen, watching from the side, felt his pupils snap tight.

He knew that name.

He had read that name.

The tension slowly left the corners of his mouth.

There was hope for Horus yet.

"Nykona Sharrokin?"

An Iron Hands clan captain came out of his seat like he'd been struck.

The chair shot back half a meter, its metal legs shrieking across the floor.

He grabbed the Iron Father by the shoulder-plate and shook him.

"Chapter Master — that hero!"

His voice was shaking.

"The Sharrokin who put a blade into the traitor Primarch Fulgrim! A survivor of Istvaan V! The hero who fought alongside our predecessors aboard the Sisypheum!"

Those words hit the conference hall like a depth charge.

Every bionic eye in the room lit up at once.

Company captains turned to look at each other, their expressions cycling from confusion to shock to something beyond disbelief, fast enough that you could watch it happen.

Kardan's body gave a faint shudder.

He steadied himself and drew a slow breath.

That name rang like thunder in the ears of every Iron Hands warrior who had ever walked through the Chapter's halls.

The Chapter records had preserved the story. In the dark years after Istvaan V, a resistance force made up of survivors from three Legions had waged a guerrilla war against the traitors across the vast void. Among them, the Iron Hands warriors aboard the Sisypheum had fought side by side with a single Raven Guard.

His name had been written into the Chapter's honor rolls.

Nykona Sharrokin.

The sons of Ferrus Manus held a reverence for that name that no words could properly measure.

If a hero of Sharrokin's standing, a name known to every warrior of the Chapter, had come in person to speak for Horus, there was no room left for dispute.

The Iron Father drew a long breath, lowered his head, and pressed play on the data-slate.

The footage lasted 2 seconds.

The resolution was poor. Interference warped and twisted every frame.

But 2 seconds was enough. Warriors in Iron Hands livery raising weapons in unison. A figure seated at the conference table. Triggers pulled without a word.

No warning.

No negotiation.

No chance given for the other side to speak.

They had fired first.

The recording ended.

Silence. 3 full seconds of it.

Then the Iron Hands' expressions completed a collapse that took 5 seconds from start to finish. Rage. Dread. Shame. All three rolled across those iron-cast faces, one after the other.

Kardan felt cold to the bone.

If today's visitors had arrived without evidence, if he had stormed at Horus on pure fury, or worse, raised his hand against him, what would have happened?

The Luna Wolves and the Iron Hands would have gone to war.

Three rebuilt Legions would have declared on the Iron Hands Chapter.

Terra would have intervened.

A thousand voices would have condemned them.

And the late Ferrus Manus would have been shamed in his grave.

All of it engineered by an Alpha Legion infiltration. The Iron Hands' own security had failed. The enemy had found the gap and walked through it.

"The evidence is conclusive."

The Iron Father's voice came out heavy, weighted with something that had no clean word for it.

"A severe failure in our Chapter's security allowed the enemy to infiltrate our ranks and nearly bring about a catastrophe."

He stood.

The company captains rose behind him as one.

"On behalf of the entire Iron Hands, we offer our apologies to you and to all present. Lord Lupercal."

The Iron Father bent at the waist.

Kaelen sat at Horus's side and watched it happen. Then he looked over at Horus.

The Wolf God gave him a small nod.

Horus rose. He waved a broad hand, easy and unhurried.

"Chapter Master. Neither side anticipated this. There's no need for guilt."

He paused a beat.

"You showed exactly the composure a leader needs. Faced with a Primarch who might have been your enemy, you didn't reach for your blade, you sat down and talked. That kind of restraint can save a great many lives."

Horus extended his hand, and that familiar smile crossed his face.

"Now that this is resolved, Chapter Master, can we move ahead with the cooperation we were discussing? As soon as possible, if you're willing."

Kardan looked at the outstretched hand.

2 seconds of silence.

Then he took it.

Ceramite against ceramite. The sound echoed through the conference hall, low and solid.

"Of course, my lord."

Kaelen let out a long breath and leaned back in his chair.

The crisis had passed.

➤ Next: Erebus's Commission