What I Take Pride In

Guilliman had once imagined this moment, but when it truly came, he realized that words would always be pale and powerless.

Aeonid Thiel—his first Second Captain, the warrior who had followed him through Hell without complaint or regret. Now he stood before him, alive and in the flesh.

After a long while, Guilliman was the first to speak.

"...I thought you would be taller, Aeonid. It seems my memory embellished you a little."

A smile was forced onto Aeonid's taut face. Anyone could see how nervous he was, but that smile was absolutely heartfelt. "Primarch, perhaps you have grown a little taller yourself."

"I passed the age for growing long ago. It is good to see you again, my friend."

Guilliman raised his hand and placed it on Aeonid's shoulder.

Mortals could scarcely imagine how long ten thousand years was. In truth, even he found it difficult to imagine. Aeonid had only entered the Dreadnought in M37, which meant he had fought for more than seven thousand years after Guilliman entered the stasis field.

To Guilliman's senses, he had merely drifted for a short while through a dark realm filled with pain. He had not known that the world had undergone such drastic changes—but even if he had known, what could he have done?

That was the cruelest part. Even if he had known, it would only have added to his grief. He could only watch the people he had known walk step by step toward death, powerless to stop it, watch the Imperium collapse step by step, rot step by step, while he could do nothing at all.

Aeonid was one of those people who "knew, yet could do nothing."

He had witnessed the Great Crusade. He had set foot upon Holy Terra. He knew The Emperor's ideals and