Chapter Text
Fyodor Karamazov levelled a glare at his personal secretary. “You mean to tell me that some tzeentchian charlatan created a demon that is passing itself off as the Great Angel Sanguinius, and that Valhalla has fallen for it?”
“Yes, my lord?” said Dominique.
Fyodor sighed. “Tell Captain Cadakh to ready my ship.”
“Where are we going?” asked Dominique.
“To Valhalla, where else? I need to clean up this heresy before it gets completely out of hand.”
“My lord?”
“Yes Dominique?”
“He’s not on Valhalla anymore. The Blood Angels took him to Baal.”
“For the love of... and after they tore themselves apart over the last one too.” He paused. “The Blood Angels did not immediately unmask him as an imposter?”
“No, my lord. The priest said the Blood Angels seemed to believe him to be Sanguinius. Thy took him on board their ship, then left at top speed for Baal.”
Fyodor considered. Dante would quite likely deal with this before it got any worse, but if he didn’t, or worse, fell for it himself, this could spread through the entire sector very rapidly. For a moment, he wondered... what if it were true? The possibilities were marvelous indeed. With the right guidance... but no, it was not possible. Sanguinius soul was shattered to pieces when he died.
And the Emperor would have informed the ecclesiarchy first, if his Great Plan included something so unbelievable as the return of the Angel. This was an imposter, and a dangerous one if he could convince both blood angels and valhallan ecclesiarchy of his veracity.
“Tell Captain Cadakh to ready my forces." If he were going to argue with a First Founding Chapter, he might need more backup than normal. "And call on the locals for reinforcements. We’re going to Baal.” Fyodor toggled a switch, and beneath him, the Throne of Judgement rumbled to life.