Emperor, I'm about to meet my son, what should I do? Waiting online, urgent.

Giava System, Mandeville Point.

A violent Warp surge swept through the vicinity of Mandeville Point, and a massive Imperial fleet emerged from the Warp into realspace as if breaking through a blockade on the other side of a mirror.

Mandeville Point is the minimum distance position in Imperial Warp travel where ships can safely enter or exit the Warp without interference from the gravity of stars or other celestial bodies.

At this point, starships can make Warp jumps relatively safely, avoiding disaster for the ship or surrounding worlds due to entering or exiting the Warp too early or too late.

"My Lord, we have arrived at a system not yet reclaimed by the Imperium. According to ancient star charts, this is a planet called Giava. While exiting the Warp, the flagship detected a powerful nuclear explosion on Giava. This planet should have rebelled," reported the Captain of the Adeptus Custodes, Constantin Valdor, to his master.

"Seal off this system. Send a summons to Horus in the name of the War Council. Bring the 19th Legion here and reinforce him with the 8th Legion," the tall, golden figure on the flagship's throne relayed his orders to his loyal guards.

"Yes, my Lord." Valdor faithfully carried out the Emperor's command.

However, the Captain of the Adeptus Custodes did not sense the slightest hint of panic in his master's tone.

"Malcador, you've gotten me into trouble. How am I supposed to handle this 19th? I have so many other sons waiting online..." After Valdor retreated, the somewhat flustered Emperor hurriedly made a Psionic call to Malcador on Terra. As he exited the Warp, he had felt that primal stirring and confirmed the other's identity.

"It's all the Elda's fault. If it weren't for her, the Primarchs would have grown up under my tutelage. Now, except for Alpharius, whom I raised myself, they've all grown into adults by the time they returned. Malcador, pick up the damn phone..." The Emperor became anxious as the Psionic call wouldn't connect, constantly urging Malcador to answer. Even the air began to exude an impatient aura.

Fortunately, the anxious Emperor did not have to wait long. Although Psionic communication experiences delays in the Warp, it depends on who is making the call.

"My Lord, what do you require of me..." Malcador's voice, without any delay, reached the Emperor through the Psionic communication.

"Malcador, I can sense the 19th's presence. What should I do? Hurry and come here," the Emperor said anxiously before Malcador could finish.

In the past, Malcador had always advised him when it came to retrieving the Primarchs. Currently, Horus, Ferrus of the Iron Hands, and Russ of the Space Wolves had good relationships with the Emperor.

"My Lord, they are your sons, not mere tools with codenames," Malcador said wearily from Holy Terra. The Emperor always referred to his powerful genetic offspring by codenames when he was stressed.

"It's actually similar to when you retrieved the other Primarchs. Give your son a gift, then ask for his views on governing a planet, and tell him about the current state of the human race. Trust me, there won't be any major issues," Malcador re-explained the previous steps to the Emperor.

He was already contemplating whether he should write a separate guide for the Emperor, so that every time the Emperor retrieved one of his gene-sons, he wouldn't have to call him in a panic and delay meeting his own son.

The galaxy was so chaotic; what if the Primarch was killed due to the Emperor's hesitation?

"No, I'll write the guide as soon as I hang up!" Malcador resolved internally, gripping the quill he was signing with tightly!

"Oh, oh, yes, yes, hearing you say that reminds me. You should come out with me from now on." The Emperor suddenly felt capable again, then added somewhat guiltily.

"Your Majesty, there are still many administrative matters to handle on Terra. Why don't you handle them, and I'll go find the lost Primarchs?" Malcador suggested.

"No need for that. I'll go find them myself. I'm familiar with this. You get busy," the Emperor quickly ended the call, as if any delay would result in him being drowned by a mountain of administrative tasks.

Handling administrative tasks was the most annoying thing!

"Heh..." Malcador, far away on Terra, clenched his fist as the Psionic communication was cut off.

He didn't want to handle administrative tasks either! As the Great Crusade progressed and more worlds were reclaimed, Malcador had less and less time to rest.

"Hurry up and find the Primarchs who are good at handling administrative matters..." Malcador looked at the files that had once again piled up on his desk, falling into a state of despair.

Unfortunately, he was an Immortal; he couldn't die. Even if he died, he would revive, and revival took time, which would only lead to more administrative tasks piling up.

It was unsolvable...

Unfortunately, Malcador looked around but couldn't find any Legion that excelled at administrative matters. These Legions had all sorts of preferences: some liked keeping secrets, building fortresses, forging metal, engaging in the Iron Tide, or specializing in stealth and infiltration. Other than that, they were all just savages who knew how to hack and slash. None of them impressed Malcador in terms of management.

What Malcador didn't know was that this was just the beginning. A Legion that openly opposed the Emperor's "Imperial Truth" and enjoyed chanting scriptures would soon await him.

"Damn it, there can't possibly be no Legion skilled in management, right?" Malcador doubted the Emperor's confident assurance.

The Astartes Legions were modeled after their Primarchs. From them, one could more or less discern the strengths of their gene-father. Although this was not absolute, it still caused Malcador great distress.

What if the Emperor deceived him as he had before? Then it would truly be over.

Giava System, Mandeville Point.

"Let me think, the 19th... no, Korax inherited my talent for stealth. His essence is the *** in the Warp. What should I give as a welcome gift?" The Emperor's Psionic energy swept through the minds of Lycaeus and the other Miners like a gentle rain, retrieving his son's name and appearance.

Malcador was right; he couldn't keep calling them by numbers. Although, deep down, the Emperor had always used them as tools.

"Valdor, go to the warehouse and pick out a gift. We're going on a trip," the Emperor knew there was nothing suitable for Korax on the 'Emperor's Dream' and instructed the Captain of the Adeptus Custodes to choose something. He couldn't give the Claws of the Emperor to Korax; he still needed them himself.

Gifts were a minor matter anyway. He had other plans that would surely satisfy his son, who had been raised by Miners. A Legion and a star system as a gift should be substantial enough.

If Malcador knew the Emperor's intentions, he would probably explode...

Damn it, aren't these the basic rights of a Primarch? Don't you understand the value of a Primarch in the Imperium!!!!