Stirring Up Public Fury

Without a moment's hesitation over the golden hunk, the moment they saw Malice dressed in an evening gown, all the Primarchs dropped to their knees and cried, "Mom, love me again!"

Loyalty that isn't absolute is absolute disloyalty.

Leaving aside the Filial Sons Alliance, who had never liked Old Man Yellow, Jonson, the Emperor's die-hard loyal hound, decided it was time to prove his loyalty. He had to be fiercely loyal to Malice.

Hogg had no intention of giving Old Man Yellow the slightest chance at this gathering. All eighteen Primarchs had come to Gria, and he'd even had Rambo secretly bring Guilliman out.

As someone who'd had a mother from childhood, Guilliman's reaction was fairly normal. He didn't do anything indecent, but the corners of his mouth kept curling upward, harder to hold back than a Bolter.

The other Primarchs were considerably more "animated." The Archangel had his eyes fixed entirely on Malice and hadn't looked away once since the banquet began. Stinky Lad was desperately trying to edge closer, hoping to claim the precious maternal love he'd never known.

Only Perturabo and Lorgar managed to keep their composure. One had Martha on the brain and was devoted to Zoffy; the other followed Hogg around, looking for a chance to make a move.

Once the banquet began, all the Primarchs presented their gifts. Malice, in turn, brought out the glass statuettes she'd spent ten thousand years preparing. Even the two who were gorging themselves with Isha in the corner—Goda and his companion—received little gifts of their own.

The gifts were modest, but the affection behind them was priceless. Those glass statuettes might not have been worth a thing, but their mother had made them with her own hands.

It was no exaggeration to say that nearly every Primarch burst