Fulgrim admitted that he had indeed been prejudiced against Mordred before coming here, but after talking with him, he realized that his own level of purity was still far too low.
As he gradually came to understand this elder brother, Fulgrim felt that Mordred was not only fond of strange things but also incredibly twisted. He was always convinced that someone was out to get him—a walking abstract composite, practically a textbook case of persecutory delusions.
His moral standards were also inconsistent. One moment, he claimed that he had given the people of Serenity stable lives and wanted them to live well, with everyone having access to books and earning money from work.
The next, he would say that the Emperor had not killed enough people and suggest carrying out an eleven-to-one purge of the nobles so that more promising new blood could rise...
The entire conversation was full of bizarre theories and nonsensical ramblings. If they really killed all the nobles, how were they supposed to manage the Empire without its ruling class?
Mordred had even prophesied that he would suffer a great calamity in the future and spend the rest of his life tormented by love, just like those miserable third-rate knights beloved by noble ladies. Most absurd of all, he was apparently the heroine himself. What on earth was going on in his head?
"Mordred."
"Call me Second Brother!" Fulgrim felt a surge of exhaustion, but finally spoke anyway:
"Second Brother, aren't you being a little too extreme? Father only sent me here to help you. You don't need to tell me about your ideals and ambitions. I only want to restore my legion. Can you lend me a hand?
"Also, why is all the food on our table so strange? Are you sure this isn't human corpses?"
Mordred snorted coldly. This country bumpkin really knows nothing. These are Super Mushrooms unique to our Serene World. Other people can't even get their hands on them.
"Third Sister! There's something you don't know. Don't be fooled by the fact that I managed to make Serenity flourish in only three years. The moment I open my eyes, countless mouths are waiting for me to feed them.
"Don't laugh, but the Second Legion only managed to develop because we were frugal and diligent. Do you think we wanted to pick up the trash other people didn't want? We were simply too poor for too long!"
Fulgrim had to admit that he was inferior to this brother when it came to making fraud and deception sound inspirational. At the very least, he could never plaster a flattering image of himself over his face without changing expression in front of the victim.
"I don't care. Father told me to come find you, so I'm sticking with you."
The best way to deal with someone who spouted endless nonsense was not to argue with him. Fulgrim simply refused to leave and instead began sampling the strange dishes.
"Do you have any alcohol? I want wine."
"No. Don't even think about it. We only have orange juice and coconut milk here. Pick one!"
Mordred knew very well that Fulgrim was trouble. Once they entered the logistics system, there was no way to hide his own embezzlement and kickbacks.
To say nothing of the fact that he liked conducting little experiments, every one of which violated the Imperial Truth. Yet he could not drive Fulgrim away. It seemed he would have to pay a price.
"How about this? I'll give you a piece of land. You can go there and focus on recovering. I'll provide whatever supplies you need. I'll also find a way to cure the Wasting afflicting the Sons of the Emperor, as long as you..."
"Are you offering me charity?"
That short sentence left Mordred unable to continue. Seeing Fulgrim suddenly sink into a foul mood, he hurriedly changed his wording:
"Of course not. You're overthinking it. I just... I just—fine! I admit that I simply don't want you involved in transportation. But aren't you at fault too?"
Perhaps because of his previous experiences, the Phoenix thought Mordred was a weirdo. And weirdos made excellent emotional trash cans. Regardless of whether Mordred wanted to listen, after downing two cups of coconut milk, he began pouring out his grievances:
"You naturally wouldn't understand. To protect the legion's honor, I had no choice but to bring my gene-sons along on diplomatic conquests, minimizing armed conflict as much as possible.
"Even so, because we had too few personnel, the legion was assessed by the Council of Terra as unsuitable for participating in the Great Crusade. Even Father was disappointed in me, and I was ultimately dumped here with you.
"We are the only legion to use the Aquila Symbol as our legion insignia, yet now we can't even participate in the Great Crusade.
"We are equals. Ever since I arrived in Serenity, you've been stringing me along. Now you even want to erase the last bit of glory I have left.
"I don't want charity. I want a measure of dignity. The Third Legion isn't a decorative vase. Even if I have to manage logistics after falling this far, I will make Father understand that I am the best. Do you understand?"
"Uh..."
After listening to this heartfelt monologue, Mordred felt numb. Why is this person so fussy? And he's my brother, too. Why do you care so much about that ranking? You'll only distort the meaning of all your efforts.
I kindly offered you tens of billions in subsidies. If it were me, I'd be laughing in my sleep. Now I even have to worry about your feelings.
"All right, fine! I'll send someone to coordinate with you. But let me make this clear first: since you've come here, the Sons of the Emperor must follow Serenity's rules."
"Of course."
The Phoenix immediately agreed once he received equal treatment. His wretched attitude from moments ago vanished completely, replaced by the haughty Purple Phoenix.
The smoothness of the transformation made Mordred realize that he might have been played. His political acumen, on par with that of the Dog-men, really was no match for the seasoned operators outside.
"Then the aid is gone too. We Atlasian people are poor and narrow-minded. We don't have anything to support you with. Figure it out yourself."
This time, Fulgrim hesitated. His expression changed several times before he unexpectedly proposed taking out a loan, leaving Mordred utterly bewildered.
"Wait, you really are so poor that you have only one ship left? How did you manage to become this useless? You just said you conquered several planets through political diplomacy. Are you messing with me?"
"I had no choice!"
After Fulgrim explained everything, Mordred quickly understood the reason. He also understood why the Third Brother before him differed from the one in his memories.
According to Fulgrim, he had not unified his homeworld as in the original history. Instead, he had only just occupied a factory when the Emperor descended like a divine soldier and directly unified Chemos.
At this point in time, even the least accomplished of his other brothers had already unified a planet. This left eight-year-old Fulgrim deeply anxious.
That was right. Perhaps because Mordred had intruded into this timeline, the Phoenix was only eight years old! He had been just five when the Emperor discovered him.
The Golden Giant raised the unlucky five-year-old for half a year before abandoning him entirely and tossing him to Horus to raise. Then the Emperor discovered Mordred.
And that was not the end of it. Since Chemos had not been conquered by Fulgrim himself, combined with the Emperor's absurd approach to child-rearing, he had surely been subjected to a barrage of psychological manipulation and empty promises. Fulgrim lived in constant fear, terrified that someone would accuse him of incompetence.
At that point, the immature Fulgrim began trying to look impressive despite his weakness, producing flashy but impractical things every day. His sole military conquest had even failed because Atlas had left without warning.
As for the worlds he obtained through negotiations, he had given them all to Horus, who had guided him, even though Horus had no desire to snatch snacks from a child.
In the end, aside from an impressive reputation, the Third Legion possessed only a single ship and control of Chemos. It had nothing else worth mentioning.
"No wonder I always felt something was off about you. It wasn't a problem with my eyes—you really are short. How tall are you?"
"Three and a half meters." The proud Phoenix raised his chin and stared at the giant before him.
"You're talking nonsense. You're three meters one at most, barely taller than that second-degree cripple, A-Fa."
After being mocked, Fulgrim's excessively strong pride began acting up again. He immediately declared that Vulkan was only four years old and must certainly be shorter than him.
Mordred confirmed another fact: this little thing was not politically experienced at all. He was simply a stubborn child who refused to admit defeat.
"Are you stupid? Nightfall Star takes one orbit for every fifteen of Terra's. That black guy is damn well taller than me."
"Forget it, forget it. You don't even know that. I can't expect you to support a legion. I'll point you toward a way forward. I guarantee that your seven hundred or so people won't starve, and I'll even help you build a reputation."
Fulgrim was thrilled. That was exactly what he wanted, and he hurriedly asked:
"What is it?"
"Good question!" Mordred spread his lips into a grin, his eyes roaming over Fulgrim's body before lingering for quite some time on that flowing silver hair.
"Fulgrim, debut as an Imperial idol! I've even thought of your stage name. How does Snow White sound?"
Before you continue