13 Red Sand (I)
Once—or rather, a month and a half ago— Roboute Guilliman still believed in Imperial Truth and science.
Now, however, a slight change has occurred. He still believes in the latter, but inevitably develops deep doubts about the former. He can't help but doubt, after all, he has now observed the world he lives in every day in a different way.
After that, he became deeply aware of one thing—the essence of Imperial Truth.
In essence, it was just a lie. Nothing more. Logically, Roboute Guilliman should have exposed it immediately, but the one who fabricated this lie was the Emperor, his father.
He didn't understand why the Emperor would fabricate such a lie, but he trusted the Emperor, so he was still willing to let the lie protect others. Out of trust, he wouldn't expose it.
However, Roboute Guilliman must admit that he never imagined that one day he would develop a vague skepticism about science.
At 8:11 a. m., two reports were placed on Nuceria's desk. One concerned the mass deaths in Nuceria, and the other concerned the health of his brother, Angron.
He was currently examining the latter intently, his brow furrowed.
Valentius Dollo's handwriting stood out prominently among the machine-printed characters on the documents, even still bearing traces of wet ink. The medical officers' usual shifts were from 7:30 a. m. to 5:30 p. m., with overtime paid separately.
A complete medical examination takes about 35 minutes, which means that the report was urgently sent over shortly after the examination was completed.
A few minutes later, Roboute Guilliman finished reading it for the thirteenth time.
He put down the file, looked up at Valentius Dollo with an inscrutable expression, and asked, "You mean those nails lost their vitality?"
"Literal meaning, Primarch."
Dollo answered with difficulty, every detail of his face revealing his doubt about his own knowledge. "According to the information gathered by Second Company Miro, these machines will not stop until they have completely replaced the victim's brain and spinal cord, unless their host has died."
"But did they stop torturing my brother?"
"Yes, Primarch."
"What's the reason?"
"I don't know, Primarch."
"Okay, is he still in the medical bay?"
Roboute Guilliman rubbed his temples, his head aching. Combining what had happened yesterday, he roughly knew who was behind it. However, he hadn't expected that Karyl, while still on Nuceria, could still have an impact on Angron.
What exactly did you do, Karyl?
"Yes, Primarch."
Roboute Guilliman nodded, sighed, stood up, and reached for the blue coat draped over the back of his chair. He hadn't slept all night, busy with paperwork, preparing to hand over Nuceria to the War Hounds as quickly as possible once they arrived.
"Then," said the Lord of Macragge, dressed in his robes, a complex and strange joy on his face, "Let me go see my brother."
"Understood, Primarch."
--
Roboute Guilliman slowly walked into the medical room, and as before, the medical officer and medical staff all went out.
The Primarch's conversations are considered sacred in some places, but for the people of Macragge's Honour, they do so simply because of Roboute Guilliman's orders.
Angron had his back to him and, constrained by some instruments, did not turn around to greet him, but still offered a polite gesture.
"Good morning," Roboute Guilliman heard Angron say.
His brother's voice was still broken; the effects of those seven months of torture had not faded, and his voice was one piece of evidence of that.
Roboute Guilliman approached slowly, his hands behind his back to make his posture appear more natural—he came to Angron and saw a weak face. The muscles in the face still twitched from time to time, but it was much better than before.
"Good morning, brother," Roboute Guilliman greeted in Nuceria. "How are you?"
Angron smiled, not in a ferocious way, nor did his muscles twitch to reveal his canine teeth. The smile was quiet and peaceful— Roboute Guilliman didn't know what changes had occurred in him, but he was pleased to see Angron display such a gentle smile.
So he smiled too.
"I'm fine," Angron replied in his broken voice. "Except for being a little hungry, everything is fine."
Roboute Guilliman breathed a sigh of relief; he had gleaned some answers from Angron's response. However, he still had a few questions to ask.
"Alright, Angron, I have to ask you something about—"
Roboute Guilliman pursed his lips and raised his right hand in a gesture.
"--The problem with those things is that this morning's examination showed they had lost their activity, but we don't know enough about them, and nobody knows if this is just temporary. Besides, they were injected into a Primarch after all."
Angron listened patiently; thinking was finally no longer a torment for him. He nodded and said, "I'll tell you everything I know about those nails, but I also have a few questions for you, Roboute Guilliman."
"Then, would you like to go first?" Roboute Guilliman asked tentatively.
Angron did not yield; he nodded slowly again, his gaze binding Roboute Guilliman like a heavy iron chain. Lord Macragge felt uncomfortable with this, but instinctively felt that his brother did not mean any harm.
The pain inflicted on him during those seven hellish months was so profound that a part of him was forever altered.
"You—no, you all, where do you come from?"
"Very good," Roboute Guilliman thought. "The first question was so simple and direct, yet so difficult to handle. Now that his suffering has been relieved, I can finally understand his character."
Roboute Guilliman gave a genuine smile at this.
"My Legion and I come from Macragge, a planet not too far from Nuceria. As for Karyl, he comes from Nostramo," he answered softly. "He is an instructor in the Eighth Legion and the adoptive father of Konrad Curze Curze, the Eighth Legion Primarch."
Angron nodded thoughtfully and remained silent for a while.
"I'd like to ask you about a few more people," he said in a low voice.
Are they gladiators?
Angron was taken aback, a look of delight appearing on his face. "They're still alive?"
"Most of them are alive." Roboute Guilliman smiled and nodded. "Some are injured, but I assure you, the Ultramarines will do everything in their power to heal them."
Angron lowered his head and let out a long sigh.
His breathing became extremely calm at that moment, almost as if it had disappeared. Roboute Guilliman suddenly had a strange feeling. He didn't understand where the feeling came from, but he felt that many of the emotions he had been suppressing in his heart had disappeared.
He glanced sharply at his brother, and then saw again Angron's twisted face.
"Brother—!" Roboute Guilliman was startled and immediately wanted to call the medical officer in to check on him, but his brother raised his hand to stop him.
"No, no, I'm fine," Angron whispered, drops of blood dripping from his nose. Roboute Guilliman looked at him worriedly, but respected his wishes and did not call for the medical officers.
After a while, Angron finally raised his head again. He pursed his lips and apologetically wiped the blood from under his nose.
"I'm sorry, I didn't expect this. I just wanted to express my gratitude and make you feel better."
"What?" Roboute Guilliman frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about—no, what just happened, you did it?"
His eyes widened.
Angron nodded slowly, smiling slightly, his expression revealing the utmost kindness despite still being in pain. "I've always been able to do this."
Before.
Roboute Guilliman keenly caught the word in his words, and a heavy emotion welled up again, which Roboute Guilliman did not try to hide. He frowned, wanting to say many things, but uttered nothing.
"It's alright," Angron said.
He gave a broken laugh, tapping the steel cable behind his head with his finger. A fleeting look of pain crossed his face, but he still smiled stubbornly, "We've already beaten them."
"."
After a brief silence, Roboute Guilliman abruptly changed the subject, something rarely done by a politician like himself, but which was exactly what had happened.
"Do those nails still hurt?"
"Sometimes," Angron replied thoughtfully. "If I do what I just did, they will. And other times too, but not as intensely as before; I can bear it."
"They lost their activity," Roboute Guilliman said. "And my medical team was completely baffled by it; we had absolutely no idea why it would change like this overnight."
Is this a bad thing?
"Perhaps," Roboute Guilliman replied cautiously, then sighed and complained.
"Those damn things are some kind of technology we've never seen before. Even the Techmarine who returned from training on Mars couldn't figure out how they worked. We know nothing about them except what effects they have on the host. Damn it."
Angron nodded thoughtfully again, gleaning some noteworthy points from Roboute Guilliman's words, but he didn't bring them up immediately, instead asking about something else.
Or rather, a person.
"And what about Karyl?" he said. "I want to thank him in person; I have four hundred and seventy-two expressions of gratitude to tell him in person."
Roboute Guilliman wore a bewildered expression again. "He's still on the surface of Nuceria."
Angron frowned; this time, it was his turn to be bewildered.
"Wait, the surface?"
This chapter is 3k words long.
Okay, buddy, I'm completely drained. I'll pay you back tomorrow.
By the way, please leave more book reviews or comments. I'm aiming for a breakout index of 3. Thanks!