Bang!
With a thunderous crash echoing through the corridor, the conference room doors, warped by the Primarch's palm strike, slammed shut.
Guilliman had already left the conference room, ending his meeting with the High Lords, but he was still furious.
Caldor, standing outside the conference room, saw his Primarch emerge and sensed that he was in a foul mood. He lowered his head and silently followed behind Guilliman.
But Guilliman was not Perturabo, nor was he Dorn. He would speak his mind to his own sons.
Guilliman told Caldor about the meeting with the High Lords, as well as the revolting matter they had spoken of.
After hearing Guilliman's account, Caldor erupted in fury. "Those damned vermin dared to test your limits!"
Caldor did not mourn too deeply for the people Guilliman had mentioned, those slaughtered as leverage to coerce the Tyranids into withdrawing from an industrial world. Of course, he pitied those unfortunate people, but what he found even more intolerable, what he cared about even more, was that someone had tested his Primarch.
None of the High Lords capable of standing before the Imperial Regent was a fool. Any fool who had happened to rise to the position of High Lord would already have been filtered out and cast aside by the terrifying struggles at the Imperium's highest levels.
The most basic ability a High Lord needed was to discern the mood of Guilliman, the Regent, even when Guilliman did not wish to show it.
The fact that the High Lords had presented the threat against the Tyranids as a serious matter was not because they were too stupid to know that Guilliman hated such things. They were testing him.
Or perhaps it was more likely that this had been a provocation.
Guilliman was hardly universally obeyed, much