The Emperor and His Sons (III)

When Angron and Konrad Curze Curze met Roboute Guilliman again, the latter had already changed out of his ceremonial armor.

It vanished completely, as if it had never existed.

Now, Roboute Guilliman is dressed in the Macragge Archon's uniform—blue, white, and gold. He is not wearing a laurel wreath, but the Macragge emblem shines brightly on his collar, while the emblem representing the Ultramarines flashes steadily on his left breast.

He looked formal and serious, and finally no longer seemed out of place with his brothers.

Angron was here for the first time, as was Roboute Guilliman. His meeting with the Emperor took place on the tracks of the Macragge, not on this ship that belonged to their father; only Konrad Curze Curze was familiar with this place.

In fact, it's far more than just familiarity—he revealed a few more things.

"You have a room here?" Roboute Guilliman asked in surprise.

"Yes."

But I don't really want it.

"But I don't really like its decor," Konrad Curze Curze said calmly. "Everything is gold, filled with intricate details that make me feel like I'm living in an exhibition hall."

Roboute Guilliman laughed. "That's definitely Father's style."

Angron remained silent as the gladiator walked thoughtfully with his brothers through the palatial corridors of the Emperor's Dream, observing every detail.

He took everything in stride, offering no judgment, yet he memorized every name that appeared in the smallest details.

The builder was allowed by the Emperor to leave his own name on this immortal masterpiece. No one could refuse such an honor, but they also did not want to ruin their hard work. So these names were often cleverly integrated into places that were not noticeable unless you looked closely.

Angron was so engrossed in observing them that the nails vibrated clearly within their skulls. The three Primarch continued their walk for a while, and then, more than ten minutes after boarding, they finally encountered their guide.

Constantine Valdor, Marshal of the Adeptus Custodes Guard.

He stared blankly at the three demigods, showing not a trace of respect whatsoever.

"Come with me," he said. "My lord is waiting."

Angron's expression subtly changed at that moment— Konrad Curze Curze and Roboute Guilliman ultimately didn't understand their brother well enough. If one of those gladiators were standing here, they would surely be able to discern Angron's true emotions at that moment.

"No." The Nuceria shook his head. "I won't follow you until you tell us who you really are."

"He is Constantine Valdor, brother," Roboute Guilliman quickly interjected, trying to smooth things over. "He is the Grand Marshal of the Adeptus Custodes Guard, Father's personal guard."

"I don't care who he is; I only know that a person should have basic respect for others," Angron said expressionlessly. "Isn't that a valid request?"

Konrad Curze Curze remained silent. Roboute Guilliman was pleading with his eyes for help, but he didn't want to—he certainly knew Constantine Valdor, and therefore he would stand firmly on Angron's side.

The Adeptus Custodes Guard Marshal smiled, a fleeting smile that everyone could see. What followed was a smile that could only be described as contempt.

"A naive child."

Constantine Valdor tilted his head back and spoke in a seemingly lighthearted tone, "You are wasting his goodwill, and you have no idea how precious this Radiance truly is."

"Can you speak human language?" Angron replied coldly.

His talent was coming into play; the nails began to move again, and the gladiator grinned, the muscles on his rough face lifting his leathery skin, making the smile seem unrelated to any positive emotion.

His malice towards the Grand Marshal of the Adeptus Custodes Guard was not unfounded. In his perception, Constantine Valdor's mind was as impenetrable as a fortress, but that was the problem.

The fortress's owner revealed its inner splendor to him, throwing out sentences that were nothing short of insults against Angron's two brothers.

That's what angered the gladiators.

"Don't be too arrogant, Primarch."

The Adeptus Custodes Guard Marshal spoke slowly in what was arguably his gentlest tone.

"You have no idea how exhausted he was, nor what price he paid to get here. You know nothing about him, you're just squandering the last bit of his gentleness."

Roboute Guilliman finally frowned; he couldn't understand why Constantine Valdor would show such obvious hostility towards them upon their first meeting.

If this hostility were only directed at him, the Lord of Macragge could, with his statesmanlike awareness, simply put it aside. However, this hostility was directed at all of them.

Therefore, he could no longer remain silent.

"So, would you be willing to explain it to us?"

Roboute Guilliman stepped forward, his words sharp and incisive.

"You appear to be talking to us, but you're actually just talking to yourself. Constantine Valdor, my brother's request is entirely justified, and you should indeed show us the most basic respect."

"Oh, Roboute Guilliman."

The Adeptus Custodes Guard Marshal glanced at the Lord of Macragge with his dark eyes, a look that sent a surge of intense anger through the latter. "I will, but only after you realize who you truly are."

Deep wrinkles appeared between Roboute Guilliman's brows as he prepared to speak again, but Konrad Curze Curze had already found that power before him.

The pale man with a gloomy face shook his head, and what he said next was like a bomb exploding in the air, and this bomb exploded directly in the face of the Adeptus Custodes Guard Marshal.

"Are you jealous, Constantine Valdor? Because of the dinner party last night that you weren't invited to?"

The Adeptus Custodes Guard Marshal laughed again, but it wasn't a gentle laugh.

He spoke softly, "Konrad Curze Curze, I thought you would be different from them."

"For example?"

"For example, you should know some of the truth. Therefore, you shouldn't have said that foolish thing."

"I don't like playing riddles, so either tell me what this so-called truth you've been deliberately obscuring is, or I'll go back to my ship with my brothers."

After those words, Constantine Valdor suddenly revealed a subtle anger. Konrad Curze Curze smiled slightly, feeling a moment of satisfaction at what he had done for the Grand Marshal of the Adeptus Custodes.

He looked at the Adeptus Custodes with his dark eyes, offering a silent invitation—come on, I know you want to continue, so let's see who can hurt the other more. Anyway, I don't like you, just as you don't like us.

Constantine Valdor refused.

"I lost my temper," he said calmly. "I apologize to you all; I shouldn't have let myself become as childish as you."

Angron narrowed his eyes, Roboute Guilliman slowly shook his head, and Konrad Curze Curze raised the corners of his mouth without a smile—the next second, a bolt of lightning struck the corridor.

That's enough.

The master of lightning walked slowly from the far end of the corridor. He was tall and imposing, wearing a gray robe. The muscles on his arms were bulging, and calluses stubbornly remained on his knuckles and palms. The two golden wristbands were still on his wrists, and they were now gleaming.

A divine craftsman.

Roboute Guilliman couldn't help but feel a sense of absurdity about his own thoughts—how could I have thought that?

He asked himself the question, but found no answer, and his thoughts were abruptly cut off the next second.

"My guards." The Master of Mankind slowly shook his head at the Adeptus Custodes who was already kneeling on one knee. "I only ordered you to bring them here, not to try and provoke a conflict with them."

"I have failed your trust," the Adeptus Custodes Guard Marshal replied in a low voice, seemingly trembling.

Angron stared at his completely hunched back, his anger dissipating. He had realized Constantine Valdor's true nature. Like them, he was also a weapon in the Emperor's hands, but there was a difference.

They— the Primarch —still retained their humanity, but Constantine Valdor did not. He was a broken machine, his humanity being shredded back and forth in sharp gears.

He is already broken, and that will only get deeper.

These words echoed in the heart of Nuceria, causing him to shake his head silently.

"You didn't," The Emperor replied calmly. "Stand up and go about your business—I want to walk alone with my sons."

"Yes, my lord."

Constantine Valdor left swiftly, without hesitation, not even glancing back at the Primarch. The Master of Mankind nodded slightly to them. "I apologize for what just happened."

He's changed again, Roboute Guilliman thought. He's completely different from how he was at the banquet yesterday.

Lord Macragge pondered, trying to find a balance, a possible pattern or trace—he wouldn't admit it, but he did want to be closer to his father.

"I hope you won't take Constantine's words to heart," said the crowned giant. "After all, he spoke without thinking, and remembering those words won't help us with what we're about to do."

"What are we going to do, Father?" Roboute Guilliman asked. His other two brothers remained silent.

"A meeting—like I said yesterday. But if you want to know more details..."

The Master of Mankind turned and began to lead the way for them, his voice still clearly reaching their ears. "I will call it a warning."

Two more chapters to go, please vote!