Editing The Tales of the Emperasque: Part Twelve (section)

==4-097-001-M42==
After a good night’s sleep, Leman Russ felt like a new man. The Wolf Father had taken the opportunity to go for a stroll on the roof of the Fang, where the laser cupola arrays stood vigilant for the enemies of the Space Wolves, the Inquisition, or both. Russ had found a few empty food wrappers and even some contraband porno slates in the drifts when he arrived; clearly this was someone else’s favorite hangout too.<br>
He stood on the edge of the Fang, watching the snow drift from the roof down the edge of the mountain, and reveled in the freezing wind on his bare face. He was home. After too many thousands of years, endlessly fighting his evil, sorcerous brothers Lorgar and Magnus, he was home.<br>
The tears in his eyes were not from the wind chill.<br>
A sudden scuffling noise behind him alerted him to the presence of others. Russ quickly stepped behind a narrow chimney and listened.
“Russ! Russ himself! Can you believe it?” one surprisingly young voice asked.<br>
“I know! I half-expected old man Throlga to pitch a bitch when he saw him,” another said excitedly.<br>
“Of course, half the Rune Priests are convinced this means the Wolf Time is here, and the end has come,” one said, much closer.<br>
“Oh, don’t be a stick, they’re never right,” the first said derisively.<br>
“They successfully predicted which of us would survive the Cup of the Wulfen, brother,” the second said.<br>
“You should listen to the Rune Priests, my sons,” Russ said, stepping around the chimney and leaning on it casually. Three Blood Claws stood stupefied, watching agape. “They’re even better at eavesdropping than I am.”

The Claws recovered quickly. “My Lord Russ, our apologies. We did not mean to intrude,” the first said, kneeling. The others followed suit, dropping in reverence.<br>
Russ turned his back on them and stared out at the glacier field. “Lads, the view up here stretches for a very great distance. Do you come up here to look at it, in awe and wonder…to scout out potential enemies…or to find solitude?”<br>
“Uh...” none of the men answered, and Russ closed his eyes in frustration.<br>
“Do not think of the answer I want, give me the answer you have.”<br>
“My Lord…for solitude. It is peaceful up here,” the second said.<br>
“Indeed. See those basalt pillars over there?” Russ asked, pointing at a very distant spike of grey rock on the far-off plateaus of the mountain range.<br>
The Claws hesitantly stood and walked over to Russ, staring out at where he was pointing. “I do, my Lord.”<br>
“Good. Look upon it now, and listen.” Russ crossed his arms. “Ten thousand years ago, a palace stood there. It was a grand thing, by the standards of our forefathers. Four levels, a well, two fields under a shelter to keep out the ice storms, a fence of metal – metal! – for the wolf pens. I was a king. A god. I ruled this world, or at least all I could reach on foot.” He turned and skewered the young men with a cold glare. “And I was brought low. My father came to me dressed as a merchant, and challenged me.”

“He challenged me to a battle of feasting and drinking. Naturally, I won without effort. I was quite proud of myself.” Russ cracked a thin smile at the memory. The Blood Claws looked at each other askance. “I was so boastful, so full of arrogance. My father, the Emperor, then called me a glutton and a drunk. He called me shallow and vainglorious. I called him a bitch.”<br>
“You called the All Father a bitch?” one of the Claws asked, completely astounded.<br>
“Yep, sure did. So, he put on a metal glove and smacked me so hard my ears rang. Well, that was THAT. I dragged his ass out to the proving ring and we beat the shit out of each other for…oh, twelve hours or so? Finally, he got me with a cheap shot. Ran a charge through that glove of his and put me in a coma. When I woke up, he had shed his disguise. He was standing there, radiating his true power. He had held back the whole time, letting me wear myself out.” Russ grimaced. “So, when I woke up, I decided that this guy probably had his shit together better than I did, and swore fealty to him.”

“If I may, sir, why did that change your mind?” one of the Claws asked, completely confused.<br>
Russ stared at him for a long moment, before smiling faintly. “Why did I decide to follow the Emperor? Isn’t it obvious? The man held back and let me win a few challenges, let me think I had a chance of beating him fair and square. That’s why the Rune Priests let Initiates and Short Fangs die in the initiation. It’s one thing to mold a man into a killer, to make him a soldier. It’s quite another to make a soldier into a Space Marine.” He took a step forward and stared at the Blood Claws, levity gone from him completely. “There’s no room for doubt, weakness, or hesitation in my pack, Blood Claws. The Emperor beat the pride out of me. The Rune Priests let Initiates die because it shows you your own, inevitable fate, should you let pride replace common sense.”<br>
“So what sin of pride did you commit, my Lord Father? All you did was challenge someone prideful enough to challenge you first,” one of the Claws observed. Russ nodded.<br>
“I did. His challenge to me was grounded in the certainty that I was who he knew me to be: his son. He knew what I had in me, what I could do. I thought his challenges amusing, not something I should take seriously. I think, in hindsight, that if I had thrown everything I had at him from the get-go, challenged him to battle right away, instead of fucking around with food and drink, he would have taken it easy on me. Tell me, how many Initiates and Short Fangs died in your batch because they let their newfound strength cloud their judgment?”
“Four,” one said.<br>
Russ nodded slowly. “You lost four brothers. I lost twelve brothers, and a kingdom. Reflect on that.”