28. Work Meeting

Orks.

And a family capable of placing someone within the Legiones Astartes as Auxilia.

Karyl tapped his desk lightly with his fingers, his expression indifferent. The lightning bolt pattern still flickered erratically, like breathing. In a way, it had actually helped.

At least we don't need to turn on the lights in the office anymore.

He silently tapped on the table, turning this monotonous and tedious task into a persistent job. He didn't add rhythm or more fingers to the tapping; only his index finger kept tapping.

Raise, lower. Raise, lower. Repeating endlessly, as precise as a clock. Eight flags fluttered around the room, and a dazzling light flashed past the porthole.

A massive nebula swirls in the distance, surrounded by countless other scattered stars, like a giant canvas. The room is silent except for the monotonous tapping sound.

Until a certain point, until an ancient scent emanating from books filled the entire room.

A chair was dragged along, and an old man in a dark green robe, holding his scepter, sat down opposite Karyl, pulling a chair the size of a mortal. His expression was serious, but there was a strange look in his eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Malcador?" Karyl asked without looking up.

"It's nothing, Lord Karyl." The old man leaned his staff against the wall and shook his head solemnly. "It's just that I'm very puzzled by the fact that you managed to stumble upon a roaming Orks tribe on just one mission."

"Don't forget who issued this mission." Karyl finally looked up at Malcador. "Given your psionic abilities, it's hard for me not to see this as a glimpse into the future."

"I can't see the future," Malcador replied sternly. "Like him, we are all blind, and blind without even a guide cane, groping our way forward in the dark."

Karyl didn't answer, but only looked at the scepter leaning against the wall. Malcador sighed, reached out and grabbed it, then threw it away as if it were something to be tossed. The scepter vanished, as if it had never existed.

The Night Lords' instructors smiled.

"How is it?" he asked with a smile. "Should this be taken seriously? Those Orks are clearly trained; they can even defy their own instinct to roar in battle. This isn't something that can be explained in a few words."

"Someone else will take over this," Malcador said. "I suggest you focus your energy on the present. You have at most five years before you officially join the Great Crusade. I spent a lot of time buying you this time, so make sure you make good use of it."

"Unless you send me a Roboute Guilliman, I don't think our numbers will increase much in five years." Karyl shook his head. "Five years. Time is always too short, and the enemy is too many."

"That's what makes it interesting," Malcador replied calmly. "The most ambitious man in the Milky Way should accomplish the greatest feats in human history in such an environment. That's good, that's how it should be."

He'll probably disagree with you.

"I don't care what he thinks anymore." Malcador said with a gloomy face, in a voice that was quite unlike his usual tone.

"His laissez-faire attitude has almost turned his sons into monsters that give me sleepless nights for months on end, like Perturabo. Do you know how many complaints I've received about him and his legion?"

Karyl couldn't help but laugh, "No, I don't know."

"Yes, that's why you can laugh," Malcador replied expressionlessly. "Anyway, my job isn't simple. Yours isn't either. Although the Orks problem is solved, the issue of the Dark Angels's Auxilia still exists."

Karyl raised his right hand and made a gesture. He didn't ask a question, nor did he need to.

Every word spoken by the Sigillites of the seal is inevitably pointed; this is an unavoidable characteristic of such people. Since Malcador brought this up, it means he certainly won't let the matter remain at the level of "talking about it."

"The Dark Angels are a massive legion, and due to the nature of their work, they wield considerable influence within the Imperium. I won't even mention the weapons and technology they've confiscated, since I'm not worried about any problems arising among the Dark Angels' members."

"But I worry that the more special the job, the more power those who cooperate with them wield. Not everyone can resist the temptation of money, and besides, our Supermen probably don't care much about what's going on inside the Auxilia."

Malcador spoke, a rather cold smile suddenly appeared on his face, "After all, their Gene-Father, Lion Aljonsen, wasn't someone who cared much about these things."

"I still have reservations about your assessment of them," Karyl sighed. "I still believe in seeing is believing."

Even after you've seen Perturabo with your own eyes?

"You're very perceptive, like a debater." Karyl shook his head, still appearing calm.

"I know your assessments are mostly accurate, but I won't let them influence my judgment. These superhumans possess terrifying power, but so far, I haven't met a single one without psychological issues."

Even Rogal Dorn?

"Even Rogal Dorn —always honest, always upright—do you not think that in itself is a kind of self-sacrificing plot?"

"I won't comment. I really like Rogal. He's different from most of his brothers, especially that red-skinned kid."

Malcador's face hardened again. His aged yet dignified features, even when expressionless, didn't appear relaxed; instead, they gave off an unsettling feeling. Karyl raised an eyebrow. "Is it Magnus?"

"Yes," the Sigillites replied with a tone of exasperation. "I have never seen a Primarch as naive about the world as he is."

"Naive?" Karyl retorted, incredulous. "I've considered many assessments, but I never expected you to describe him like this."

"You'll understand when you see him." Malcador lowered his head slightly, letting his hood obscure most of his expression, but his voice remained clear. There was an obvious aversion in his voice, however, it wasn't directed at Magnus.

"What I can't understand is why he's so lenient with Magnus. A legion entirely composed of Psyker, and a naive boy who's obsessed with studying the Warp and ancient mystical texts."

Malcador looked at Karyl and asked seriously, "Doesn't he see the potential consequences? But he's going to let them run wild."

Karyl did not answer, but simply listened.

Malcador, and when he looked up again, his expression had returned to normal.

"No, perhaps I'm wrong—he wasn't just lenient with Magnus; he was lenient with them all. So lenient that even when he saw problems, he didn't want to seriously correct them, preferring to let his sons discover them themselves. What an indulgent father."

The Sigillites snorted coldly, "And then make our work more difficult."

Karyl looked at him sympathetically and sighed, "Does he know all about your many complaints?"

"Of course he knows, but I'm someone he works with." Malcador suddenly sneered. "So we basically never talk about these overly human things."

"Perhaps you should talk to him," Karyl suggested tactfully.

No, there's no need for that; this is for the best.

"But have you ever thought about something, Malcador?"

"What?"

"Your attitude is the root cause of his decision not to discuss these things with you."

Karyl spoke slowly, his voice calm.

"You and I both know that the Emperor of all mankind is essentially a person of a thousand faces, capable of putting on a different face for anyone. In other words, he will face you with the version of himself you are used to. And if he only talks to you about business, could it be because..."

The Sigillites the seal visibly twitched, then abruptly stood up and left without a word. The scent of books vanished instantly, and the room returned to silence. A moment later, a soft chuckle rang out.

"Work," Karyl chuckled, then sighed and rubbed his cheek. "Work."

He stood up, walked to the porthole, and began to gaze into the distance with a blank expression.