"Equality does not exist in this world."
Perturabo chose those words as the opening to the banquet—and the infamous tyrant said them with a smile. The long table was covered in white cloth, and all manner of delicacies had already been delivered in an orderly fashion by Central Hub. Leman Russ held a heavy wooden cup in his hand, filled to the brim with liquor, yet he did not drink.
"So?"
The Mage asked with great interest.
He sat at the other end of the long table, directly opposite Perturabo from afar. Frankly speaking, he was indeed very interested in Perturabo's choice to board the ship alone. He had clearly ascended to daemonhood, yet for some unknown reason retained a human form, and during the boarding process he had not raised the slightest objection to Central Hub's scans and searches.
"As you can see, what I truly wish to say is that equality is a word fabricated after the fact."
The Lord of Iron smiled and said, "A rich man and a poor man are unequal from birth. No matter how much effort the rich man spends whitewashing it, he cannot erase the truth, while the poor man will not even think about the question. They have long grown used to looking up at the rich, even treating their casual words as holy decrees."
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
Rogal Dorn asked calmly.
Both his hands were under the table. Perturabo glanced at him, his smile not diminishing in the least. "If you intend to attack me with the Bolter hidden under the table, Rogal Dorn, I recommend you switch to a bigger one. That master-crafted Bolter in your hand cannot harm me at all."
Dorn gave no response to his words. He merely repeated his question.
"What