‘I face you at last, my brother,’ said Guilliman. Mortarion chuckled. ‘You make it sound as if you have brought me to heel, and will beat me in combat! After ten thousand years, you remain pompous. Look about you. I have you. I have won.’ ‘You have not won yet.’ ‘If this is not a victory,’ said Mortarion, ‘then I should probably consult one of your tedious manuals to better acquaint myself with the meaning of the term.’
