8: Prelude to War (II)

Karyl tapped his fingers on the conference table, his expression calm; only those who knew him well could tell what he was thinking.

For those who were not familiar with him, or who had only seen him a few times, his expression at that moment was still quite intimidating.

At least, Marius Gage and Baron Benson had no idea what the Eighth Legion instructor was really thinking at that moment.

The Ultramarines' First Chapter Master and the current First Company Commander of the War Hounds sat comfortably in their chairs, engaging in the tedious and monotonous task of "waiting" with Karyl.

Gage was very good at this, which was probably related to the numerous paperwork tasks performed by the Ultramarines. People who lacked patience and couldn't focus couldn't sustain this kind of work. The Chapter Master's expression was calm, as if he had entered another dimension and was completely at ease.

Baron Benson was a different story; the War Hounds arm had been replaced with a mechanical one, looked somewhat distressed.

War Hounds are never good at waiting; they are more accustomed to bloodshed, smoke, and the faces of the dead. They are not quiet people, never have been.

The War Hounds were notorious in this regard within the Imperium, which even forced them to maintain extremely strict military discipline during wartime. Even so, it was still inevitable that some young brothers would rush into the enemy ranks and die needlessly in the heat of battle.

Moreover, if only Marius Gage were sitting here, or if Karyl were replaced by a company commander from the Eighth Legion, Baron Benson might not seem so uneasy.

But

The company commander of the War Hounds lowered his head, began to stare at the conference table, and started to mutter a name in his mind. The company commander of the eighth War Hounds, far away on the Firm Resolve, naturally couldn't hear him, but that didn't stop Baron Benson from finding a way to vent his embarrassment.

He did want to speak directly to Karyl Lohars and apologize for the misunderstanding they had caused—but how could he begin?

Furthermore, Baron Benson was not stupid; he knew how terrible the War Hounds' experiences were and could roughly guess the role Karyl Lohars played in them.

He knew that this whole matter absolutely could not be publicized. Marius Gage and he had reached a consensus, and all that was needed was to report it to the Primarch so that the matter could be definitively classified.

His thoughts were dismissed five minutes later as the door slid open and three giants entered.

A company commander from the Eighth Legion followed behind them, exchanging silent glances with the three men who had already stood up in the conference room. Greetings followed, seemingly normal, yet somewhat strange. After the pleasantries, they took their seats.

Konrad Curze Curze sat next to Karyl, while Van Cleef sat between the two company commanders at the end of the long table. Angron and Roboute Guilliman sat opposite Konrad Curze Curze.

"Long time no see, Instructor Karyl."

Roboute Guilliman spoke first, greeting with a smile, completely erasing what had happened in that room on the Emperor's Dream the day before.

Is everything as usual?

"Of course, Lord Roboute Guilliman." Karyl nodded, raising his hand with impeccable poise, and made a gesture.

Konrad Curze Curze gave him a strange look, and didn't speak immediately. Only after making sure no one else would speak did he ask the question he had been holding back all the way.

"You didn't discuss this meeting with me," Konrad Curze Curze said. "What's wrong?"

"I apologize for not informing you, Commander, but this was not my idea; it was the Emperor's request," Karyl replied.

Roboute Guilliman's eyes narrowed, and he exchanged a glance with Angron, who nodded slightly in response to his doubts. But the Nuceria never kept their questions hidden, and he spoke directly afterward.

"Is this how you usually communicate?" Angron asked. "Excuse my bluntness, but it really sounds strange how you talk."

"It's working hours now, and I usually don't leave work," Karyl replied. Curze sighed, not loudly, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

Van Cleef blinked calmly, lowering his guess about the Primarch's age once again. Some things couldn't be hidden. Konrad Curze Curze was indeed very mature, even to the point of inspiring instinctive trust, but some of his habits were just too obvious.

It is clear that the Eighth Legion has now split into two factions.

One faction consists of the emotional group who firmly believe that the Primarch is older than them, while the other faction consists of the rational group who try to guess Konrad Curze Curze's true age based on countless pieces of evidence.

As for Van Cleef, he is sometimes the former and sometimes the latter.

Okay, he's the latter now.

"What is it, Commander?" Karyl glanced at him slightly. "Do you have a question? If not, I'd like to get to the point as soon as possible."

"Of course not."

"Okay." Karyl nodded and pressed a button on a device located on the table.

The wall in front of them suddenly cracked open, the clatter of machinery filling the air, exposed cables tangled in pipes, and a rumbling sound emanating from within. The mist dissipated again, even beginning to rise above the Primarch's ankles.

"This meeting room hasn't been used for a long time and is in disrepair. I'm sorry," Karyl said without changing his expression. Van Cleef's eye began to twitch, and Baron Benson gave him a sympathetic look.

The War Hounds truly empathized, after all, their ships weren't in much better shape either.

After a brief buzzing sound, a pale blue projection rose up. Roboute Guilliman, with his knowledge, discerned the truth of the projection: it was a pre-recorded video, not a real-time conversation. The image blurred and flickered for a moment before revealing its true form.

That is the Master of Mankind, the Emperor.

"No need to get up," he said to them as if he had known it all along. "Sit down, and then listen to me."

The Emperor paused for a moment, deliberately giving them time to react. In the image, he wore a white robe, and a laurel wreath shone brightly on his head. He stood with his hands behind his back, and then slowly spoke.

"."

--

"Harkosus"

The Emperor murmured the name, his expression serious. He was clearly in thought.

Karyl didn't interrupt him, but waited silently. He swung his arm, and blue light immediately responded from the gaps in his armor, turning a target made of solid alloy into twisted scrap metal.

Two Adeptus Custodes stepped forward and took it away. One of them was recognized by Karyl; he was La Endymion.

Is it really appropriate to have the Adeptus Custodes do this kind of thing? Karyl shook his head, ultimately not voicing the question and interrupting the Emperor's thoughts.

The Emperor, however, did not speak until a full three minutes later.

"Destruction." He said, his brows furrowed. "No, not just destruction—there's much more hidden within this planet."

Can't you see clearly?

"I've never been able to see the future." The Emperor shook his head. "It's obscured, obscured by that thing's withered claws and putrid feathers, and I can only glimpse a sliver of light. That's the problem."

"You're not sure if what you're seeing is something it made up, are you?"

"Yes." The Master of Mankind narrowed his eyes. "But that's alright. I've grown accustomed to illusions and the lies He weaves; they can be severed with a sword. Besides, with three Primarch gathered, this world can serve as a gift of witness."

Karyl sighed, "Every time I hear you in that tone, I find it hard to get used to."

"You'll get used to it," The Emperor said in a low voice, a fleeting golden glint in his eyes. "We'll all get used to it."

I know there haven't been many updates yet, but I'll update three more tomorrow.

Let me take a nap to recharge first.