751. The Loyal Have Their Rewards

As usual, Guilliman was handling government affairs.

He had already gotten used to it—frankly, ever since he had awakened, there had not been a single day when he was not dealing with this stuff. Even an Ogryn, by now, could probably grip a pen in those short, stubby fingers of theirs and write the words "approved."

With a sigh, he scrolled through his Personal Terminal. The orders he had pushed through some time ago had already borne fruit. When handling matters on Terra, he no longer needed parchment and quills, but could instead swipe and tap quickly and conveniently.

"Smuggling wine and attempting to bribe the guards? A huge sum involved? What is wrong with this man? What Terra needs most right now is human resources. What use is smuggling wine here? There are barely any High Lords left alive. Who can still afford to drink that stuff?"

Guilliman frowned and sentenced the Rogue Trader to the confiscation of half his fortune. As for the wine, he did not take a single drop of it, and ordered the fellow to carry it back wherever he had brought it from.

"Does wine taste good, Guilliman?" Little Horus, sitting beside him, asked.

"Ah, that. It depends on whether you like it," Guilliman answered, raising an eyebrow.

Today was Saturday—of course, for Guilliman, Saturday did not exist at all. He had no such thing as rest. But Little Horus did. On Saturdays and Sundays, he did not have to study and could move about freely. His decision was to come and observe how Guilliman handled government affairs.

His Highness the Regent felt somewhat strange about this decision of his brother's, but he said nothing. He was even a little secretly delighted—if I could get him a bit interested in handling government affairs, wouldn't