Hmmph. . . Of course the Night Lord would be one of the first to arrive. . . So eager to please his master like any of the other fools in the Eye that would do anything to please the Dark Gods. He pranced around like a good little show dog before his master and only Lucian beating him none the less. It was as though the Captain of the Third came forth from the shadows and was one with them.
A rather mundane mission really. No spoils to be had save for the blood of those wolf loving spits. Their unimaginative adherence to names a child could conjur forth, their preference to look like savage barbarians. He opened and closed his fists with a grinding the ceramite together in anticipation. It was always a pleasure to bathe in the blood of the Emperor's Executioners.
There was however a situation that brought great fury to him and it took a degree of self-control to not openly bark in the meeting like some damned fool of a World Eater. Despite his position as master of arms, the Mechanized Fist of the XIXth company and the obliterator of worlds Pelegon had seen fit to distribute a machine of war not to him but to the Master of the Forge. The more he thought about the insult the more it infuriated him. What was the Warsmith trying to accomplish with this? Did he want to test the strength of the Second Captain? Did he want to wound his honour so some aspiring champion would seek to overthrow him? He repressed it for the time being so they could focus on the meeting.
While externally there was no great show inside Kunzhardt was both joyous and enraged. The opportunity to spill Wolf blood brought him a degree of satisfaction he would not deny. However the events to come did not please him. He would need to speak with the Warsmith, and most assuredly to the Tech Marine, and to put down any insurrectionist that might have aspirations a bit too lofty. He eyed every individual in the room illuminated by the dull glow of the the lumoglobes dotting the room and upon dismissal slammed the heavy powerfist into the open palm of his left hand in a traditional salute and wordlessly left the room with zeal.
Walking down the hallway Kunzhardt briefly entertained the idea of taking the Night Lord now, there was the slightest possibility that the two bodyguards would honor blood above all but he quickly extinguished the idea and pressed on. There would be no advantage gained from so foolish a task. He returned to his own lair to the large hangar like expanse that was essentially a colossal shooting range and combat simulator. Helmets on at all times and live ammunition used. They would train the way they fight. His subordinate ran up to him through the zone where two squads were engaging one another and saluted to him as a bolter round pinged off his pauldron.
The boiling silence ended in a thunderclap.
The voice carried over everything else in the room like a krak grenade detonation.
"Everything is proceeding efficiently Kunzhardt. Three wounded, no fatalities. What did the Warsmith desire?"". . .Pelegon wishes us to deal with a pack of wild dogs and the babes that they're safe guarding. . . No glory to be had but the opportunity to shed loyalist blood is always enticing. I wish to remind the Imperium of how foolhardy protecting weaklings is; let us bring tox weaponry to scorch the soil."
"Of course! Wolf blood is fine I shall make ready for our leave"
"Very good, I must have a word with our Master of the Forge."
With that he turned and left leaving his adjutant to run things in his stead. Vhalos was a loyal capable soldier without too much aspiration it was a good combination for him and he was efficient enough to manage to not garner Kunzhardt's wrath too often. No that was reserved for another this time as heavy boots summoned him to the Factorum.