The Primarch of Liberty

Chapter 29: The Eagle and the Wolf



The Sweet Liberty cruised through the void, its sleek form a stark contrast to the more Gothic architecture of the Imperium's typical vessels. In one of its many recreational areas, two demigods sat across from each other, drinking from ornate goblets.

Franklin watched with barely concealed amusement as his brother, Leman Russ, awkwardly manipulated a set of utensils. The Wolf King's frustration was evident as he attempted to spear a morsel of food with a fork.

"Damn these tiny spears," Leman growled. "What's wrong with using our hands?"

Franklin chuckled. "Civility, brother. Sometimes, the battles we fight are won with forks and knives rather than chainswords and bolters."

Leman grunted but persevered. Over the weeks of what Franklin had dubbed "Primarch's Probationary Training," the Wolf King had made progress. He could now, albeit savagely, use utensils without breaking them or the plate beneath.

"You're doing well, Leman," Franklin encouraged. "Remember, in diplomacy, how you eat can be as important as what you say."

Leman's blue eyes met Franklin's brown ones. "I still don't see why all this matters. My wolves and I are warriors, not politicians."

Franklin leaned back, swirling the liquid in his goblet. "And yet, brother, sometimes the greatest victories are won without spilling a drop of blood. The Emperor didn't just create us to be weapons, but leaders."

As if on cue, a group of Space Wolves entered the chamber, their boisterous laughter filling the air. They were accompanied by several Liberty Eagles, the two groups seeming to have formed an unlikely friendship.

The Wolf King's eyes roamed the vast chamber, taking in the various amenities and entertainment options available to the Liberty Eagles.

"Brother," Leman growled, a hint of annoyance in his voice, "why is it that your ship has all these... comforts, while mine feels like a floating monastery?"

Franklin couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, my furry friend, that's because Sweet Liberty was built in the Independence Cluster. We have certain... advantages when it comes to ship design and amenities."

Leman's eyebrows rose. "The Independence Cluster? You mean to say your homeworld produced this vessel?"

"Not just my homeworld," Franklin explained, leaning forward. "The entire system. We've got production capabilities that would make a Magos weep with envy. Or rage. Probably both."

The Wolf King slammed his mug down, causing nearby Astartes to glance their way before quickly returning to their own conversations. "This won't do. My Wolves deserve a proper den, not some sterile halls of metal and prayer."

Franklin raised an eyebrow, an idea forming in his mind. "Well, brother, perhaps we could arrange some modifications to the Hrafnkel. Make it more... wolfish."

Leman's eyes lit up. "You would do that?"

"I might," Franklin grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "But first, you have to pass a little test."

Leman straightened, his warrior's pride coming to the fore. "Name it, brother. Whatever challenge you set, I shall overcome it."

Franklin leaned in close, his voice low and serious. "Your test, Leman Russ, is this: bring a world into compliance... without shedding a single drop of blood."

The look of shock on Leman's face was priceless. Franklin wished he had a pict-capture device to immortalize the moment.

"Without... without bloodshed?" Leman sputtered. "But... how? We are warriors, not diplomats!"

Franklin clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the challenge, brother. Show me that you and your Wolves can be more than just fighters. Show me you can be leaders, diplomats, bringers of civilization. Do that, and I'll personally oversee the refit of the Hrafnkel."

Leman sat back, his face a storm of conflicting emotions. Pride warred with practicality, the warrior's instinct clashing with the newfound understanding of imperial politics that Franklin had been instilling in him.

Finally, the Wolf King nodded. "Very well, brother. I accept your challenge. The Space Wolves will show the galaxy that we are more than mere barbarians."

Over the next few weeks, Franklin watched with a mixture of amusement and pride as Leman and his Space Wolves threw themselves into the task of becoming "civilized." It was a sight to behold - fierce warriors of Fenris awkwardly attempting small talk, trying to master the intricacies of diplomatic protocol, and practicing their most winning smiles.

The target was a world on the fringes of Imperial space, a planet that had thus far resisted peaceful integration into the Imperium. As the Space Wolves' fleet approached, Franklin half- expected Leman to give up and resort to his usual tactics.

But the Wolf King surprised him. Instead of immediately deploying drop pods full of bloodthirsty Astartes, Leman sent a diplomatic envoy. The sight of Space Wolves in formal attire, presenting themselves as ambassadors rather than conquerors, was almost too much for Franklin to bear without laughing.

Yet, against all odds, it seemed to be working. The planetary leaders, so used to facing threats and ultimatums, were caught off guard by this unexpected approach. Negotiations began, with Leman himself taking a leading role.

Despite the awkwardness, or perhaps because of it, the planetary leaders seemed more amused than threatened. Negotiations progressed, and to everyone's surprise, including Leman's, the world agreed to join the Imperium without a single shot being fired.

As Leman's shuttle docked with Sweet Liberty, Franklin was there to greet him, slow clapping with a wide grin on his face.

Leman collapsed into a chair, exhaustion evident on his face. "Never again," he growled. "I'd rather face a thousand orks than go through that again."

Franklin signaled the bartender for drinks. "Oh, I don't know. I think you and your Wolves showed a hidden talent for diplomacy. Perhaps we should make this a regular thing?"

The look of horror on Leman's face sent Franklin into another fit of laughter.

"You promised," Leman said, accepting a large mug of Fenrisian ale. "The Hrafnkel. Make it a proper home for my Wolves."

Franklin nodded, still chuckling. "A deal's a deal. We'll start the refit as soon as we rendezvous with the Independence Cluster. Your ship will be the envy of the fleet... well, except for Sweet Liberty, of course."

The Eagle's Nest was relatively quiet, with only a few off-duty Astartes scattered about. Franklin and Leman sat at the bar, nursing their drinks after celebrating the Wolf King's successful diplomatic mission.

Franklin couldn't contain his grin any longer. He turned to Leman, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know, brother, I have to admit something."

Leman raised an eyebrow, his enhanced senses picking up on Franklin's barely suppressed laughter. "What is it?"

"That whole test? The bloodless compliance? Me promising to refit the Hrafnkel?" Franklin paused for dramatic effect. "I was just fucking with you."

For a moment, silence reigned. Leman's face went through a series of expressions - confusion, realization, and finally, indignation.

"You... what?" Leman growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Franklin burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer. "Oh man, you should see your face! I can't believe you actually went through with it! I half expected you to tell me to shove

it and go conquer the planet anyway!"

Leman's eye twitched. "You mean to tell me," he said slowly, "that I spent weeks teaching my Wolves how to use forks and spoons, how to bow without breaking furniture, and how to sing

Imperial hymns without howling... for a jest?"

Franklin wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Pretty much, yeah. Though I have to say, watching you lot try to be diplomatic was the best entertainment I've had in years." Leman stood up slowly, his massive frame looming over Franklin. "Brother," he said, his voice eerily calm, "I believe it's time for you to, as they say on your world, 'square up'."

Franklin's grin widened. "Oh? And what are you going to do, little brother? Throw a tantru-" He didn't get to finish the sentence as Leman's fist connected with his jaw, sending him flying off his stool and crashing into a nearby table.

The few Astartes present quickly vacated the area, knowing better than to get between two Primarchs, even if they were just horsing around.

Franklin picked himself up, rubbing his jaw but still grinning. "Not bad, puppy. But you'll

have to do better than that."

With a roar that was half anger, half laughter, Leman charged at Franklin. The two Primarchs grappled, crashing through tables and chairs, each trying to get the upper hand.

"I'll teach you to make a fool of the Wolves of Fenris!" Leman growled, attempting to put Franklin in a headlock.

Franklin slipped out of the hold, countering with a leg sweep that sent Leman stumbling. "Come on, it was just a little brotherly teasing! Don't tell me the big bad Wolf King can't take

a joke?"

Their brawl continued, neither truly trying to hurt the other, but both unwilling to back down. They crashed into the bar, sending bottles and glasses flying.

With a roar that shook the rafters of the Eagle's Nest, Leman lunged at Franklin. The Liberator ducked under the wild swing, dancing away with a laugh.

"Too slow, furball!" Franklin taunted, dodging another punch. "Maybe if you spent more time training and less time howling at the moon, you'd be faster!"

Leman, his face red with a mix of exertion and embarrassment, charged at Franklin like an enraged grox. "Stand still and fight like a man!"

Franklin leapt over a table, sending drinks flying. "Now, now, brother. Didn't all those etiquette lessons teach you anything? This is hardly proper behavior for a gentleman of the

Imperium!"

This only served to enrage Leman further. He grabbed a nearby chair and hurled it at Franklin, who ducked just in time. The chair shattered against the wall behind him.

"Ooh, temper, temper," Franklin chided playfully. "What would Father say if he saw you now? So much for the diplomatic approach!"

Leman paused for a moment, chest heaving. "You... you're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Franklin approached cautiously, hands raised in a gesture of peace. "This is what brothers do. We prank each other, we fight, we laugh about it later. It's all part of the bonding process."

Leman snorted. "Bonding process? Is that what you call this?" "Absolutely," Franklin nodded sagely. "In fact, I'd say this little scuffle has brought us closer together. Don't you feel the brotherly love?"

Leman's response was to grab Franklin in a headlock, rubbing his knuckles vigorously against his brother's scalp. "Oh, I'll show you brotherly love, you overgrown eagle!" Franklin struggled, laughing despite the noogie he was receiving. "Hey, watch the hair! Do

you know how long it takes to get it this perfectly disheveled?" They wrestled for a few more minutes, overturning tables and leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. Finally, both Primarchs collapsed onto a miraculously intact couch, breathing

heavily but grinning like schoolboys.

"You know," Leman said after catching his breath, "I'm still angry about that prank."

Franklin chuckled. "No, you're not. You're just upset that you didn't think of it first."

Leman was quiet for a moment, then let out a bark of laughter. "Perhaps you're right. It was... quite amusing, in retrospect."

Franklin clapped him on the shoulder. "See? And hey, look on the bright side. You proved that

you and your Wolves are capable of more than just warfare. That's got to count for

something."

Leman nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose so. Though if you ever tell anyone about the etiquette lessons, I'll deny it to my dying breath."

"Your secret's safe with me, brother," Franklin grinned. "Now, how about we get this place

cleaned up before the next shift arrives? I'd hate to have to explain to Father why the Eagle's Nest looks like it was hit by a Warp storm."

As they began to right overturned tables and sweep up broken glass, Leman glanced at Franklin. "You're still going to refit the Hrafnkel, right?"

Franklin laughed. "Of course. A deal's a deal, even if it was part of a prank. Besides, I can't

have my little brother's ship looking like a floating monastery, can I? What would that say about me as a big brother?"

Leman growled playfully. "Call me 'little brother' again, and we'll have round two right

here."

Franklin's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Is that a promise... little brother?"

As Leman lunged for him again, Franklin darted away, laughing.

The skies of Heli-459 burned with the fury of orbital bombardment. Drop pods and gunships

from both the Liberty Eagles and the Space Wolves streaked through the atmosphere, leaving trails of fire in their wake. On the bridge of the Sweet Liberty, Franklin Valorian and Leman

Russ stood side by side, watching the battle unfold. "Remember, brother," Franklin said, his usual grin replaced by a look of stern concentration. "This is your final test. Show me how well you can work with others."

Leman nodded, his eyes fixed on the tactical display. "The Wolves of Fenris will not

disappoint. We shall bring ruin to these xenos scum."

As the first wave of drop pods slammed into the planet's surface, Franklin opened a vox

channel to all forces. "Liberty Eagles, Space Wolves, hear me! Today we fight as one! Eagles, form the anvil. Wolves, be our hammer. For the Emperor and for mankind!"

A thunderous roar of acknowledgment echoed across the channel.

On the ground, the battle began in earnest. The Liberty Eagles deployed in perfect formation,

their ranks a sea of blue and crimson red and white Stars. Heavy weapons teams set up, their

massive guns trained on the xenos defensive lines.

1st Captain Denzel Washington, leading the Eagle's vanguard, raised his Hyperphase Sword. "Eagles! Create the killing ground! Let no xenos pass!"

With practiced precision, the Liberty Eagles unleashed a storm of firepower. Disintegration

rifles, plasma cannons, and bolt weapons of every caliber lit up the battlefield. The air itself seemed to ignite as energy weapons crisscrossed the no-man's land between the Imperial forces and the xenos defenders.

The xenos, bipedal creatures with thick, leathery skin and multiple eyes, returned fire with

their own plasma weapons. But where their technology was formidable, it paled in comparison to the relentless barrage of the Liberty Eagles.

As the Eagles held the line, the Space Wolves made their move. Drop pods crashed down

behind the xenos lines, disgorging packs of howling warriors. Leman Russ himself led the charge, his massive frame easily recognizable even from orbit. "Wolves of Fenris!" Leman's voice boomed across the battlefield. "The Eagles have given us

our opening! Now, show these xenos the fury of Fenris!"

The Space Wolves tore into the xenos rear with savage glee. Chainswords roared to life,

tearing through alien flesh. Power axes cleaved through makeshift barricades. The Wolves moved like a force of nature, unstoppable and merciless.

On the ground, the xenos found themselves caught between the implacable advance of the

Liberty Eagles and the savage onslaught of the Space Wolves. Their lines began to crumble under the dual assault.

Wolf Lord Gunnar Gunnhild, his armor splattered with xenos ichor, acknowledged. "Understood, Eagle. Wolves, to me! We hunt together!"

The two forces met at the xenos' central stronghold, a massive structure of alien design that

pulsed with strange energies. The Liberty Eagles laid down a withering barrage of fire, keeping the xenos pinned while the Space Wolves closed in for the kill. Franklin Valorian landed on the battlefield with earth-shattering force, his armor absorbing

the impact that would have shattered the bones of a lesser being. As the dust settled around him, he rose to his full height, the Deathsword pulsing with eldritch energy in his grip. His eyes quickly found Leman Russ amidst the chaos. The Wolf King was a blur of motion, his

frost blade cleaving through xenos warriors with brutal efficiency. Alien ichor sprayed in wide

arcs as Leman tore through their ranks, his Space Wolves following in his wake like a pack of vengeful spirits.

Franklin grinned, feeling the battle-lust rising within him. The voice of Khaine, the Aeldari God of War, roared in his mind.

"Yes! Show these primitives the true meaning of war! Let them taste oblivion!" Responding to both the god's urging and his own warrior spirit, Franklin raised the

Deathsword high. The blade seemed to drink in the light around it, growing darker and yet more radiant at the same time. With a mighty swing, he brought it down in a diagonal

arc.

The effect was instantaneous and terrifying.

A wave of pure death erupted from the blade, a ripple of annihilation that spread outward in a

wide cone. Xenos caught in its path didn't even have time to scream. Their bodies simply...

ceased. Flesh, bone, and even their crude armor dried up in an instant, crumbling to dust before they could register what was happening.

Where moments before there had been a horde of alien warriors, now there was only a field of ash drifting in the wind.

"More! The battle is not yet won! Show them the full might of a god of war!" Franklin felt the sword pulse in his hand, eager for more carnage. He looked to Leman, seeing

the mix of awe and competitive spirit in his brother's eyes.

The effect on both Legions was electrifying. Seeing their Primarchs join the fray, the Astartesn/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

fought with renewed vigor. Franklin moved with fluid grace, the Deathsword singing as it cleaved through xenos warriors. Leman was a whirlwind of destruction, each swing of his blade ending multiple alien lives.

"I got 657" Franklin called out as they fought back-to-back. Leman laughed, a sound that sent nearby xenos fleeing in terror. "I have 658!" As the battle reached its climax, the xenos leader emerged from the central stronghold. It was

a massive creature, easily twice the size of a normal Astartes, wielding a weapon that crackled

with plasma energy.

Franklin struck first, the Deathsword parrying the xenos leader's plasma weapon. The alien stumbled, off-balance, directly into Leman's waiting Frost Sword. The Frost Sword punched through the creature's thick hide, ending its life in a spray of alien blood.

With their leader fallen, the remaining xenos' resistance crumbled. The Liberty Eagles and

Space Wolves swept through the rest of the planet, purging every last trace of the alien infestation.

Hours later, as the two Legions began the process of securing the planet for Imperial colonization, Franklin and Leman stood atop the conquered xenos stronghold. "Well, brother," Franklin said, clapping Leman on the shoulder, "I'd say you passed the test with flying colors. Your Wolves worked perfectly with my Eagles."

Leman nodded, a rare smile crossing his features. "Aye, it was a good battle. Your Eagles are

formidable warriors, for all their fancy technology."

Franklin laughed. "And your Wolves are surprisingly adaptable, for all their wild ways. I think

Father will be pleased with our progress."

The vast expanse of space stretched out before them, a canvas of infinite darkness punctuated

by the brilliant light of distant stars. On the observation deck of the Sweet Liberty, Franklin

Valorian stood with his brother, Leman Russ, watching as the Space Wolves' fleet prepared to

depart.

"Well, brother," Franklin said, his usual grin tinged with a hint of melancholy, "I suppose this is where we part ways for now."

Leman nodded, his wild mane of hair framing a face that had grown more contemplative over

their time together. "Aye, it is. The galaxy won't conquer itself, after all." Franklin chuckled. "True enough. Just try not to conquer it all before I get my share, alright?"

The Wolf King's laughter rumbled like distant thunder. "No promises, brother. The Wolves of Fenris are hungry for glory."

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching as the last of the supply ships docked with the Hrafnkel. The Gloriana-class battleship, now refitted by the skilled engineers of the Independence Cluster, was a sight to behold. Its exterior maintained the original Gothic design, a nod to Imperial tradition, but Franklin knew that inside, it now boasted amenities that would make even the most stoic Space Wolf howl with joy.

"You know," Leman said, breaking the silence, "when we first met, I thought you were just

another soft southlander. Too much talk, not enough action." Franklin raised an eyebrow. "And now?"

Leman turned to face him, his ice-blue eyes meeting Franklin's warm brown ones. "Now I see

that you're a warrior worthy of respect. Your methods may be different from mine, but they're no less effective.

Franklin felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the temperature-controlled environment of the Sweet Liberty. "High praise indeed, coming from the Wolf King. And for what it's worth, you've proven yourself to be more than just a savage barbarian. Don't let it go

to your head, though. I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve that would make your fur stand on end." Leman grinned, showing his canines. "I look forward to seeing them in action, brother. Perhaps next time we meet, we can have a friendly competition. See whose Legion can bring

more worlds into compliance."

"You're on," Franklin laughed. "Though I warn you, the Liberty Eagles are hard to beat when

it comes to efficient world-taking."

A chime sounded, indicating that the Space Wolves' fleet was ready for departure. Leman

straightened, his posture becoming more formal. "Until we meet again, Franklin Valorian," he said, extending his arm. Franklin clasped it in a warrior's grip. "May your hunts be plentiful and your victories glorious, Leman Russ."

With a final nod, Leman turned and strode towards the teleportarium, his massive form soon

disappearing around a corner. Franklin remained on the observation deck, watching as the Space Wolves' fleet slowly pulled

away from Battlefleet Liberty. The Hrafnkel led the procession, its newly refurbished hull

gleaming in the light of a nearby star.

"The wolf has grown," Khaine's voice whispered in Franklin's mind. "He shows promise now.

Perhaps there is hope for him yet."

Franklin's lips quirked in a small smile. "High praise from you, old friend. I thought you

found him too brutish for your tastes."

"He is still brutish," Khaine replied, a hint of amusement coloring his otherworldly voice.

"But there is a cunning beneath the fur now. You have taught him well." "We taught each other," Franklin murmured, watching as the Space Wolves' ships winked

into the Warp, one by one. "That's what brothers do."

As the last ship disappeared, Franklin turned away from the viewport. He could almost imagine the raucous celebration that must be taking place on the Hrafnkel right now. The Space Wolves, discovering their new feast halls and training arenas, would be howling with

joy and drinking themselves into a stupor.

The thought brought a grin to Franklin's face. Let them celebrate. They had earned it, and the

challenges ahead would require all the strength and unity they could muster. "Sovereign," Franklin called out as he strode onto the bridge of the Sweet Liberty. "Set a

course for the next unconquered system. We have worlds to liberate and a Crusade to continue."