14. A Chair That Wasn't Comfortable

With extraordinary control, Karyl restrained his facial muscles, successfully keeping them stiff; he didn't even blink.

He sat in one of the chairs in the conference room, his face expressionless.

This chair is of "Primarch Size," so it can also accommodate him. The chair is also very luxurious, and like everything on the Emperor's Dream, it has a quality that would make the Nostramo' eyes hurt.

But what else?

Does it feel comfortable as a chair?

The answer is no.

Sitting on it felt like torture, but fortunately, Karyl had already experienced far worse chairs, so he was able to remain expressionless as he listened to the Emperor and his sons' conversation, one after another.

"I'm so glad to see the three of you together again without any barriers," The Emperor said. "Even after many years apart, brothers are still brothers."

Sanguinius responded with an unusually serious expression.

Horus smiled, though it seemed somewhat forced.

Corax was the calmest, but he raised his shoulders a little too high, making him look as if he were sinking into the back of the chair.

Such behavior from the Primarch is certainly incomprehensible, especially from Sanguinius.

Baal's angel always gave the right answer at the right time; his words were always appropriate, whether to Astartes or to a commoner. But at this moment, he said nothing.

The Emperor remained unmoved, and two hour, thirty-one minutes, and seventeen seconds after he entered the meeting room, he announced the meeting was over.

During those two and a half hours, he and his sons discussed stars, the universe, warships, and legions. He described in detail some of the ancient creatures that had once existed on Terra and their modern-day relatives.

He talked about poetry, stories, myths, literary works, and paintings. He also talked about the night sky and the dawn, and about the tasks a farmer does during the day. He had never appeared so "close" before.

That's why his sons were somewhat bewildered.

So, after they left, he turned his gaze to the other person who remained, a person who didn't blink at all.

"Did I do a bad job?" The Emperor asked in a tone that didn't belong to an "The Emperor".

"No, Your Majesty," Karyl replied.

At the same time, he finally blinked slowly. His left eyelid drooped first, followed by his right eye.

This deliberate act made the Emperor sigh. He raised his right hand and rubbed his fingers against the golden bracer on his left wrist. "This is not funny."

"I didn't laugh."

"Yes," The Emperor said. "If you insist on saying so."

Karyl grinned, a slow laugh. It was a naked, undisguised mockery. It was startling enough just to appear on his face, let alone the object of his ridicule.

However, despite this, the Emperor appeared more relaxed. He leaned back in his chair and then frowned.

"It seems you've realized they're not very comfortable," Karyl said with a smile. "They're too luxurious, every detail is meticulously crafted, the carvings are surprisingly fine, which is why they've been digging into your back."

"This is the first time I've used it." The Emperor turned to the side and began to stroke the back of the chair with his fingers.

He observed the even larger, gilded chair, and a genuine, undisguised emotion suddenly appeared on his face, which was not yet masked. This feeling should not have appeared in the Master of Mankind; it was too human, almost a fragile collection of emotions.

It's so... unpleasant to look at.

Karyl shifted his gaze to the oil paintings on the conference room walls. "You have a few more minutes to display that expression, Your Majesty."

The "The Emperor" chose to remain silent.

His gaze wandered aimlessly, roaming the room. He was lost in the kind of contemplation he often found himself in, the laurel wreath on his forehead still gleaming, his body tall and strong to the point of perfection.

But this was just a lie. Karyl stared at the Radiance, using his gaze to dispel it, and then he saw the true face beneath the light.

An irresponsible father, a tormented friend, a self-reproaching prophet.

Karyl sighed softly.

"Why did it have to come to this?" he said, almost complaining.

"Time is too short." The Emperor stood up, voluntarily ending his "few minutes," and put on that half-real, half-fake mask once more.

His ambition and the ruthlessness he forced himself to embody were intertwined, making the mask a terrifying symbol. He gently moved the chair aside, placed his fingers on its back, and slowly clenched them, as if holding a sword.

"And I have so much to do," the Master of Mankind said slowly. "There will always be people in the galaxy waiting for a salvation they don't want, but they have no choice. I will not give them a choice."

"So—" He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the light had gathered once more.

"--So?" Karyl cast a glance his way.

"I want you to speak with Corax; I need him to lead his legions into the Great Crusade as soon as possible. Preferably willingly."

"Why don't you do it yourself?" Karyl frowned. "I'm tired of dealing with the Primarch."

"Because I can't truly be ruthless towards him," The Emperor said. "If I were to go, his homeworld would become an industrial hub, a transit point. I would ignore the oppressed people, and I would have the Mechanicum completely transform it into the form I need. But you are different; you haven't reached that point yet."

Are you subtly implying that I'm somewhat weak?

"No, I'm subtly expressing my envy," the Master of Mankind said calmly. "Humanity is something that cannot be restored, Karyl. Cherish what you still have."

--

Karyl slowly boarded the shuttle, and as he landed, it suddenly sank.

The Emperor's Dream holds a special position within the Imperium, a position manifested in many ways. Its immense size, potentially causing tidal effects, is one aspect, as is its unique appearance, unlike any other warship.

However, at this moment, there is only one thing that can truly affect Karyl.

--Her security clearance level was too high, so high that even the Servitor couldn't board any of her shuttles. It was a difficult task, but fortunately, he hadn't come alone.

Yes, I did not come alone.

Jago Sevatarion reached out and grasped the controller. His pale fingers completely enveloped its edges; the mainstream design of the shuttle was ultimately not intended for use by the Astartes.

If Karyl allowed it, many servants on the Emperor's Dream would be willing to pilot the ship for him, considering it an honor, but he didn't want to do so.

He didn't want to at all; it was too much trouble—the fact that he had a room on the Emperor's Dream was known to all the crew members, and the respect they showed him made Karyl almost uncomfortable.

He can accept flattery and insincere enthusiasm, but he cannot ignore genuine feelings that arise naturally.

Therefore, Sevatar will have to suffer for the time being.

He had been hypnotized and instilled with a wealth of experience and knowledge that would normally take years to acquire, as is the case with any Legion soldier. This knowledge included piloting Jetbike, gunboats, gliders, and even Thunderhawk. Shuttles were naturally no exception.

Sevatar skillfully maneuvered it, making the shuttle, with its golden wings and glass-like body, soar into the dark vacuum.

Their destination was a satellite called Lycaeus. It had no atmosphere and a harsh environment, where people spent their days and nights engaged in arduous and arduous mining work to provide raw materials for the giant corporations on their home planet Kiavahr.

A very classic system.

Karyl silently made a judgment in his mind as he pondered how to approach Corax.

He wasn't a particularly good conversationalist; he was just good at making things seem easy. In reality, he would carefully consider his words before speaking, especially in a situation like this.

To allow a leader who spearheaded an uprising to abandon his comrades and flee across the galaxy, becoming a bloodthirsty murderer who waged war.

How cruel, he thought. At the same time, he silently turned his gaze to the rear of the cabin.

His weight was not enough to cause the shuttle to sink that much during landing.

Karyl stared at the corner without speaking. His eyes were dull and lifeless; the dark eyes characteristic of the Nostramo people were always very distinctive. Sevatar stood half-bent over in the cockpit behind him, intently piloting the shuttle.

For a moment, only the faint sound of the engine could be heard.

The shuttle exclusively supplied to the Emperor's Dream is so well soundproofed that its interior is perfectly decorated, luxurious yet not ostentatious, taking care of everyone who might board the shuttle in every way.

It even has a built-in wine cabinet, located at the rear of the cabin.

Karyl walked slowly over, his arms swinging, a glint of cold light flashing in and out of the cuff of his suit—a deliberate act. He reached the liquor cabinet, and before he could even look for the biometric device, it opened by itself.

The heavy black armor plates automatically opened, and a pleasant synthesized voice immediately followed. "Welcome to the fine wines, Lord Karyl Lohars. Please enjoy the hundreds of delicacies served here."

Karyl did not answer the pre-programmed voice, but silently observed the six rows of bottles of liquor that were placed steadily on the shelves, where cool air was spreading and rising from the bottles of different materials.

Karyl saw Kharash, a specialty of Baal, a favorite of the Blood Angels. A fine brew, but also highly poisonous, it was usually mixed with blood.

He also saw six wines from Ultramar, all of which tasted good, but Karyl wasn't a big drinker.

His gaze swept casually, occasionally lingering, but never truly revealing any interest. Until a certain moment, he raised his right hand, seemingly slowly but actually quickly.

The cold light flashed instantly, bursting into a sharp wail in the air. Sevatar was slightly taken aback, then quickly released the control stick and turned around, two short knives sliding out of his sleeves.

However, he did not see the enemy.

In fact.

Kolus Corax slowly averted his gaze, avoiding Karyl's eyes. He lowered his head and softly expressed his apology. "I'm sorry."

Sevatar frowned deeply, not daring to speak rashly.

He wisely chose to retrieve his weapons and continue piloting the shuttle. He even pressed a button on the control panel, raising an iron door at the connection between the cabin and the cockpit, completely isolating the sounds behind him.

He always knows what to do and when.

Karyl released his grip, letting the straight, sharp blade vanish into thin air.

"Psionic power," Karyl explained. "A convenient, but dangerous, force. It can be used for many things, such as crafting weapons, hiding corpses, or creating temporary darkness to conceal oneself."

Corax nodded and took a small step back. Karyl stared into Corax's eyes, catching a lingering look of shock in the latter's not-so-dark eyes.

How did you find me?

"Darkness, though never forgiving, is not so stingy as to forbid me from observing it," Karyl replied. "As for how I discovered your answer was weight, Lord Corax..."

Corax nodded slowly, crossing his arms and placing his bony hands on his forearms. His clothing was peculiar, resembling a robe, but with very wide and short sleeves.

Karyl narrowed his eyes, sensing what lay behind this posture. He shifted his stance, stepping his left foot back slightly. His gaze followed suit, becoming anatomically sharp as he stared at Corax's arm.

Every muscle fiber was completely dismantled in his imagination, and a non-existent blade was gently slicing across the Primarch's skin.

Kolus Corax's Adam's apple bobbed, and finally, he chose to speak.

"You are going to Lycaeus," he said, his tone indistinguishable from a statement.

"Yes," Karyl said. He didn't want to hide it, nor did he bother to. Lies were meaningless to someone like Kolus Corax. "And you were going there on a mission, but you shouldn't be here, Lord Corax."

"He told me to go back down there, but I don't want to have any contact with those people for now." Corax pursed his lips, offering a rather weak excuse. "The way they look at me is too strange; I don't like it."

"Indeed." Karyl smiled slightly, turned around and walked to a porthole. He completely exposed his back to Corax, but seemed completely unconcerned.

"However, this is for the best, Lord Corax," he said softly. "Perhaps we can resolve this completely before we reach Lycaeus's orbit."

Corax remained silent for a moment.

"What's up?"

"You'll find out," Karyl replied, his back to him.

Only one update today. My fever has subsided, so I'll take a break. I'll start updating in bulk tomorrow to make up for the missed updates.