'Lord Toramino,' answered Honsou. 'You honour me with your presence. And you also, Lord Berossus. It has been many years since the walls of Khalan-Ghol shook to the tread of your steps.'

The floor cracked under the weight of Lord Berossus, a hulking monster of dark iron and bronze with a leering skull face. Fully twice the height of Toramino, the living remains of Warsmith Berossus had been fused within the defiled sarcophagus of a dreadnought many thousands of years ago.

The grotesque machine hissed and a grating voice, muffled and distorted by a bronze vox-unit, said, 'Aye, it has, though I feel sullied to stand within its walls knowing a bastard mongrel like you is its new lord.'

Augmented and extensively engineered since his interment, Berossus's mechanical form towered above the other dreadnoughts of his grand company, his leg assemblies strengthened and widened to allow him to carry heavier and heavier breaching equipment. The dreadnought's upper body was scarred and pitted, the testament of uncounted sieges engraved on its adamantium shell. One arm bore a mighty, piston-driven siege hammer, the other a monstrous drill ringed with heavy calibre cannons.

Four thick, iron arms ending in vicious picks, blades, claws and heavy gauge breachers sprouted from behind Berossus's sarcophagus and hung ready for use over his armoured carapace.

Toramino saw Honsou bite back a retort and his soulless, golden eyes sparkled with amusement at the directness of Berossus. Honsou must already know what had brought them both here. There was only one thing that would make both him and Berossus deign to step within the walls of the half-breed's lair and he smiled, easily able to imagine Honsou's chagrin at having to share what his former master had won.

'You must forgive Berossus, Lord Honsou,' said Toramino smoothly, stepping forward and extending his hands before him. Unlike the rest of his armour, his gauntlets were fashioned from a brutal, dark iron, pitted and scarred with innumerable battles. Steeped in carnage, Toramino had long ago vowed never to clean a death from his hands and his gauntlets were gnarled with aeons of blood and suffering. As his armoured gauntlets came into view, the Iron Warriors behind Honsou snapped their bolters upright, every one aiming his weapon at Toramino's head.

Toramino grinned, exposing teeth of gleaming silver, and said, 'I come before you to offer my congratulations on the victory at Hydra Cordatus. Your former master executed a masterful campaign: to carry the walls of such a formidable stronghold was a truly great achievement. And your fellow captains, Forrix and Kroeger? Where are they that I might fete them with honours also?'

'They are dead,' snapped Honsou, and Toramino took pleasure in the vexation the half-breed took from his exclusion from the honours of victory. He scented the mongrel's pathetic desire to be accepted by them and closed on the true purpose of their journey here.

'A pity,' said Toramino, 'but their deaths served a greater purpose, yes? You were successful in capturing the prize that lay beneath the citadel?'

'A pity?' repeated Honsou. 'It is only a pity that I was not able kill them myself, though I did have the pleasure of watching Forrix die. And yes, we took the spoils of war from the cryo-facility beneath the mountains - what the Imperials hadn't managed to destroy at least.'

'Stable gene-seed?' breathed Toramino, unable to keep the hunger from his voice.

'Aye,' agreed Honsou. 'Biologically stable and without mutation. And all of it for the Despoiler. You know that, Toramino.'

Lord Berossus laughed, a grainy wash of feedback-laced static, his massive armoured body leaning down as he said, 'Do not think us fools, half-breed. We know you kept some for yourself. You would be foolish not to have.'

'And if I did, what business is it of yours, Berossus?' snarled Honsou.

'Whelp!' roared the dreadnought, taking a crashing step forward as the clawed servo-arms on his back snapped to life. 'You dare speak in such tones to your betters!'

Before Honsou could reply, Toramino said, 'Though he speaks bluntly, Lord Berossus also speaks true. I know you kept some gene-seed for yourself. So listen well, half-breed: your former master was a sworn ally of Berossus and myself, and we expect you, as his successor, to honour these oaths and share the spoils of victory.'

Honsou said nothing for long seconds then laughed in their faces. Toramino felt his hatred for this insolent half-breed burn hotter than ever.

'Share?' said Honsou, turning and receiving a long, broad-bladed axe from an Iron Warrior behind him and nodding to another, who bent to lift a heavy iron cryo-chest from behind the throne as scores of warriors from Honsou's grand company marched into the hall from behind them.

The Iron Warrior with the cryo-chest held it out before Toramino as Honsou said, 'In that cryo-chest is all that I am willing to share. It is my only offer so I advise you to take it and leave.'

Toramino's eyes narrowed as he reached a battered gauntlet out to lift the lid, wisps of condensing air ghosting from within the chest. His every instinct told him that this was a trap, but he could not show weakness before the half-breed.

He opened the container and stiffened as he saw that it was empty.

'Is this some pathetic attempt at a jest, half-breed?' hissed Toramino. 'You turn your back on your master's oaths?'

Honsou took a step towards Toramino and spat on the warsmith's gleaming breastplate. 'I spit on those oaths as I spit on you,' he said. 'You and your idiot monster. And no, it is no jest. Understand this, Toramino, you will get nothing from me. None of you will. What I took from the Imperials on Hydra Cordatus I fought and bled for, and neither you or any one else, is going to take from me.'

Toramino seethed with anger, but bit it back. The muscles of his neck bunched, and it was all he could do to quell the rage boiling within him. He snarled an oath and nodded to Berossus, who roared and slammed his mighty siege hammer down upon the Iron Warrior carrying the cryo-chest, obliterating him in an explosion of flesh and armour. A blazing corona of electrical discharge flared around the cratered floor and gory matter drooled from the crackling hammer.

Incredulous that this vile half-breed had the nerve to behave in this manner before one such as he, Toramino bellowed, 'You dare insult me like this?'

'I do, and you are no longer welcome in my halls. I give you leave to depart as befits warsmiths of your station, but you will never set foot within this fortress again while I draw breath.'

'To defy me means death,' promised Toramino. 'My armies will tear this place down stone by stone, girder by girder, and I will feed you to the Unfleshed.'

'We shall see,' said Honsou, gripping his axe tightly. 'Send your armies here, Toramino, they will find only death before my walls.'

Without deigning to reply, Lord Toramino spun on his heel and marched from the chamber, his retinue and Lord Berossus following close behind.

If the half-breed wanted war, then Toramino would give him war.

A war that would stir the mighty Perturabo himself from his bitter reveries.