Ramesses felt miserable for a while, then pulled himself together.
They were adults, after all. Complaining and venting a little was enough. Good brothers were willing to listen to the pain in your heart, but the problem was that everyone was in prison here. No one had it any better than anyone else.
If he could not sort himself out and ended up dragging the other three into depression too, they would be screwed.
The priority was to figure out how to survive in this world.
"Ahem. Then let this representative meeting of our Imperium Secundus begin under the witness of the Kinship Warband."
Seeing that the atmosphere had grown rather heavy, Romulus coughed and spoke up.
"Why not just call it the Third Imperium? Makes it sound like Ramesses II is an outsider."
Arthur could not help but quip.
"That could work."
"I think so too—munch munch—how about we name our warband that in the future too—munch munch—"
"I think you want to eat a Bolter round."
The four present had not the slightest reverence for the Imperium. After all, the Imperium was now nothing more than a sustainably ruined corpse, with an absurd political system within and Chaos and the Hive Fleet eyeing it from without.
If not for the countless heroes still fighting to the death for humanity's future, and the one seated upon the Golden Throne, the Imperium could have had its coffin nailed shut long ago.
If they had to use one sentence to describe the Imperium and this Milky Way—
"The Imperium is a fermented lump of shit kneaded together from countless dregs, while the Warp is a toilet that can only survive by eating shit."
That was Arthur's scathing assessment.
Even setting aside Chaos meddling, the Imperium itself was a thoroughly rotten political entity. In essence, it was something the Emperor had forcibly cobbled together for one final gamble on humanity's future.
Now that gamble had failed, and he himself was sitting on a toilet, refined by the Ecclesiarchy into an ultimate imperial weapon. The headless corpse he left behind naturally grew more foul-smelling with time.
"As for those bright spots that make people's eyes light up, a cup of clear water poured into a sea of shit does not actually change anything. And the whole process can only be called an utter tragedy."
"And then there are the xenos. Leaving aside the fact that we, with human identities, fundamentally cannot integrate with them, the Orks are a species that lives purely for fun, the Aeldari are being watched by Slaanesh, and even the Necrons, no matter how advanced their technology, still had slavery."
"Then there's the T'au Empire. Well, I'll reserve judgment until I see it for myself. I'm human, not an Ethereal. That species exists only to prove that many of the Imperium's so-called 'necessary evils' were never necessary, making the Imperium look even more garbage by comparison."
"Well said!"
The other three applauded in turn.
"So none of you had any illusions about this universe either."
Ramesses let out a heartfelt sigh of relief. "I'm very glad."
"Since we've given up on illusions, all that's left is struggle."
Seeing that the previously heavy mood had livened up considerably, Romulus took the opportunity to lay out his plan.
"At present, there are three things we need to determine—what era and region we are in, what exactly we are, and what we need to do next."
He then tossed a mechanical plug-in onto the table.
"I found this by digging through the ship's logs. When this vessel entered the Warp, it was July, 740.M41 by the Terran calendar, located in the Piaerde Sector in the northern Ultima Segmentum. You may not be familiar with that name, but you definitely know the Ghoul Stars beside it."
"What a godforsaken backwater."
Ramesses remarked, raising a hand and using his psychic power to drag the Logis Engine inside the sanctuary over. He entered the data Romulus held, and a star map immediately unfolded before them.
"The Piaerde Sector, named after the Rogue Trader Piaerde from the era of the Great Crusade. It contains twelve Imperial civilized worlds. Only Piaerde itself, its core, has any value; it counts as half a Forge World. Let me see—"
"We should still be within this Sector. I'm still sending astropathic messages, but it may take some time for the Imperium to respond."
Anyone who knew the Imperium knew its efficiency. Although this ship used Deathwatch identification codes, restricted by hard conditions, they might have to drift through space for a while.
After all, the ship's bridge had been shoveled clean off by the Orks' metal contraptions. Expecting it to move on its own was probably a little difficult.
"This ship had received a distress call from Piaerde Prime and was heading there to provide support. Apparently, a heretical cult had erupted there. It can basically be confirmed as Chaos, otherwise they would not have been able to call in the Deathwatch and Cadians."
Romulus added.
Everyone nodded to show that they understood.
"Then let's move on to the second question."
Romulus swept his gaze over the other three.
"What exactly are we now?"
"Primaris Space Marines?"
Now that he knew the era they were in, Arthur felt that the Mk X Tacticus Power Armor on his body was rather immersion-breaking.
There were still nearly three hundred years before Abaddon, the "ever-victorious Chaos Warmaster," blew up Cadia. If the four of them PSMs wandered around outside and were spotted by some Adeptus Mechanicus sage, the man would probably let out a shrill binary scream.
"Physically, perhaps. No, not even physically—not entirely, at least. Otherwise, the Rubric Spell would have turned me to ash long ago."
Taking a bite from a chicken drumstick he had picked up, Ramesses noticed that Arthur had not even removed his helmet.
"Why aren't you eating? It's just us brothers here. No need to be so reserved."
"Arthur still has doubts about our abilities. He even taught himself Low Gothic."
Romulus explained on his behalf, leaving Ramesses stunned.
"...Damn."
When Ramesses had figured out his abilities, he had used them immediately without caring about anything else. In his mind, he had already transmigrated into the Warhammer Universe; having fallen to rock bottom, anything afterward had to be upward. Even if Tzeentch was messing with him for amusement, he would accept it.
But the more he used them, the more wrong it felt.
The Chaos God did not seem capable of this.
"That's a good thing. I admire Arthur for staying restrained even at a time like this. Unlike Karna, who gave me two shots the moment we met."
"I was shutting down, and the Black Rage took over—fine, my fault. Sorry."
Romulus stared resentfully at someone who, while everyone else was analyzing the situation, was busy eating as though he had not had a meal in eight lifetimes.
"..."
Arthur, meanwhile, felt a little awkward and did not know how to reply.
Romulus immediately sensed that something was off.
"You weren't thinking of giving your brother a few stabs too, were you?"
"Uh..."
Arthur remained silent, beginning to organize his words.
He really had considered giving his good brothers a couple of stabs. At first, he had suspected Romulus was a Tzeentch Demon sent to fool him, and only relaxed his suspicions somewhat after Romulus pulled out a whole crowd of Astartes from thin air.
If the Emperor had not manifested and given him some idea of whether there was any Chaos God influence on him, he had even considered trapping this ship in the Warp until he uncovered the truth, lest it really be some Chaos God conspiracy that would be brought into the real world to wreak havoc.
If it truly was a conspiracy, then he could only act.
"..."
Looking at the silent Arthur, Romulus could more or less deduce his childhood friend's train of thought.
The resentment that had not yet faded now grew even heavier.
Before you continue