Even as Roboute Guilliman returned to Terra and Dante began the muster of the Sons of Sanguinius, the Wrath of Fenris led a fleet of six warships toward the Heart of the Forge, which remained anchored near the debris of Cadia.
Upon learning the news that Jaghatai Khan intended to pierce the veil of the Eye of Terror to "find their father," the Great Wolf Logan Grimnar felt the deep, burning loyalty and concern for his Primarch ignite within him. Without a moment's hesitation, he rallied his elite. After awakening the ancient Great Wolf, Bjorn the Fell-Handed, and receiving the blessing of his ancestral wisdom, Logan scraped together every soul he could muster.
He managed to gather only two thousand Sons of Russ.
The Wolves were a diminished breed; those two thousand souls represented nearly an eighth of their total strength across the entire galaxy. And this was only after the reinforcements from the Primaris influx, otherwise, Logan might not have been able to assemble even that many. But even so, the Great Wolf set forth with his kin.
Ever since Axion had completed the comprehensive blockade of the Eye of Terror, the Heart of the Forge had held its position near the ruins of Cadia. This site, once the beacon of the Cadian Gate, was the designated rendezvous point for the Iron Men and the White Scars.
When the copy of the Macragge's Honour, bearing the heraldry of the Space Wolves, emerged from the warp, Axion immediately discerned their intent. It concerned their Primarch; it was no surprise these sons had come. To the Iron Men, a group of liabilities and a massive horde of liabilities were functionally the same. Axion feared that a flat refusal would only see these desperate, father-seeking wolves stir up trouble and squander precious time.
After a moment's calculation, Axion opened a comms channel to the Space Wolves' flagship.
On the spacious bridge of the Wrath of Fenris, bright lights illuminated the chamber, where bulkheads were draped in decorative beast-skulls and ancient, weathered banners, suffusing the air with an aura of primordial, untamed savagery. Logan sat upon his command throne, draped in the hide of a gargantuan beast.
The comms-screen flickered to life, and the distinctive, hyper-precise mechanical voice of the Iron Men resonated through the bridge.
"Logan Grimnar, Great Wolf of the Space Wolves. I am aware of the purpose of your arrival."
Logan rose, stepping forward to fix his gaze upon the screen. He harbored no doubt that the Iron Men would identify him instantly.
"We mean to join the Crusade of Retribution. Whether it be to hunt the abominations of Chaos or to search for our Primarch, this is a burden we must bear."
His words rang out, laden with an unshakeable, ironclad conviction. Around the bridge, the other Space Wolves clenched their fists, letting out low, guttural growls, a chorus of affirmation for their Wolf King's declaration.
Axion was silent for a fleeting moment.
"So be it. The star-ports of the Heart of the Forge shall be open to you. Once you have made landfall, mechanical constructs will guide you to update your wargear."
With that, a massive metal bulkhead on the flank of the Heart of the Forge groaned open, revealing the cavernous depths of the star-port. Logan paused, caught off guard. He had expected a grueling negotiation, yet the Iron Men had been surprisingly succinct. A flicker of suspicion remained.
"Update our gear? We are already prepared for war."
"If you do not wish to be a liability on the battlefield, I suggest you heed my counsel."
Axion's words were devoid of tact. In the Iron Men's cold calculus, if these "liabilities" could not be refused, they must be optimized to extract their maximum value. Logan prepared to retort, but Arjac Rockfist, the Great Wolf's personal champion and a master Iron Priest, laid a hand on his shoulder and pointed toward the deck beneath them.
Seeing Arjac's gesture, Logan's realization dawned, and his expression shifted toward one of guarded anticipation. The minds of the Wolves worked faster than any.
"Notify the fleet. Prepare for docking and disembarkation. All hands off-ship."
Massive gravitational tractors groaned into action, locking the Wolves' fleet in a crushing grip and drawing them directly into the hull. Logan cut the transmission, signaling his fleet to stand silent. Pulled by the relentless gravity, the Space Wolves' vessels were hauled into the docks without so much as firing their engines. Massive magnetic clamps secured the ships with ease.
The airlocks cycled. A company of Space Wolves, clad in Mk VIII and Mk X power armour, poured out. Their armour was distinct, adorned with wolf-skull motifs and brutal, angular lines that accentuated the savage nature of the VI Legion. Unlike the patchwork suits common to Astartes across the galaxy, these wolves were clad in pristine, complete sets.
Yet, Axion could discern their true origin. The gear possessed the unmistakable hallmark of Iron-wrought precision manufacture. It was almost certainly the result of the STC data Axion had replicated from the armory of the Macragge's Honour. These suits were of the same material as standard patterns, but the reserves held aboard the Wrath of Fenris offered a defensive threshold 10–15% greater than standard-issue gear from any Forge World.
The Wolves had provided their warriors with the finest gear available, yet Axion could sense the desperate strain of the Chapter's logistics; he had seen the inventory of the Ultramarines, and the contrast was stark.
Towering automatons stood at attention in the star-port as the Wolves gathered. Suddenly, a holographic projection materialized before every single warrior, displaying a comprehensive supply manifest.
"By the Allfather... this... this is a vault of god-forged weapons!" a young Space Wolf gasped. Logan surveyed the list, his heart thundering in his chest, though he forced himself to maintain his composure. The gear enumerated there was enough to stagger any warrior, enough to breed both shock and wild excitement. They collectively turned their gaze toward their Iron Priests.
Even the Great Wolf Logan was no exception.
The list contained specially designed power armour for the Wolves, fully sealed, utilizing multi-spectral sensor suites instead of visual apertures, and composed of advanced, super-dense alloys. Beyond the baseline defensive benefits, the suits integrated countermeasures against warp-energies, creating an effect akin to artificial null-fields (an efficiency measure once applied to the containment of unsanctioned psykers). Furthermore, advanced electronic muscle fibers promised to drastically enhance the wearer's strength and reaction speed.
Most strikingly, the Iron Men had designed the external geometry of the armour to be monolithic, featuring customizable, wolf-themed aesthetics that could be molded into the plates upon fabrication.
Beyond the armour, the manifest contained vast quantities of esoteric machinery whose very names were unknown to them. The Iron Priests were paralyzed by the sheer scope of the offerings.
"Logan," Arjac murmured, his voice heavy with caution. "We have no concept of the true efficacy of what the Iron Men have provided. Rather than making a rash choice, perhaps we should secure a testing range and put this steel to the trial?"