19. Phoenix Falls from the Sky (II)

The banquet ended smoothly without any major incident. Lorgar didn't say anything inappropriate, Fulgrim even sang a song from Chemos to liven things up. Curze understood his good intentions, as did Karyl.

Fulgrim's actions weren't entirely unnecessary, but it's hard to say they had any effect. At least, Karyl knew very well that Konrad Curze Curze still didn't really like Lorgar.

Or perhaps, he never had any particular feelings for Lorgar from the beginning—in that sense, Fulgrim seemed to be wasting his time.

But who can really blame him?

At least Curze cannot.

"The Laer?" The Night Lords frowned. "A technologically advanced Xenos race, and located in the far east of the Ultima Segmentum? Is this information accurate, Fulgrim?"

"It's Fulgrim."

"Is this information accurate, Fulgrim?"

Phoenix nodded solemnly. "The news brought back by the scouts of the 28th Expeditionary Fleet is absolutely certain. In that respect, it's nothing short of a miracle that the ships traveling between Nostramo and Macragge haven't been plundered by them."

Curze nodded, agreeing with Fulgrim's assessment, "It truly is a miracle."

"It's not over yet, brother. This Xenos race isn't just technologically advanced; they're also highly socialized, and the entire race is exceptionally united. Conquering their world will definitely be a tough battle."

Fulgrim raised his right hand and placed it on his left shoulder, then sat down in a bow. "That's why I brought Lorgar to find you, Konrad Curze. I need the help of the Midnight Blade."

The Night Lords did not answer; instead, his brow furrowed even deeper.

Does Fulgrim's statement sound believable? Well, if we disregard his past behavior, it sounds quite sincere. But that's precisely the problem.

The Chemos did not like others interfering in his conquests, nor did he like receiving "help." In fact, in the wars experienced by the Emperor's Children, they were usually the ones who helped other legions unless their partners were Ferrus and his sons.

And now, he's traveled all the way to Nostramo just to seek help? He could have easily gone to Roboute Guilliman and the Ultramarines.

Konrad Curze Curze could have made things simpler, but he wasn't willing to.

"Is it because of Lorgar?" he asked suddenly.

Fulgrim stared at him, a wry smile suddenly appearing on his face, "Have I taught you too well? Or is it all thanks to Instructor Karyl?"

Curze chuckled softly but did not answer the question.

Fulgrim sighed and continued the conversation himself. He didn't want the topic to end there; was there still a chance? At least, he believed so.

"Yes, just as you think, I hope the rift between you and Lorgar can be bridged in this war. I don't want to see either of us develop a rift with each other. It would be too tragic if brothers couldn't even trust one another."

"I have no problem with participating in the war," Konrad Curze Curze said bluntly. "But I want to correct one of your misconceptions, Fulgrim. I don't have the hatred or disgust you might imagine for Lorgar; I have absolutely no feelings for him."

Fulgrim was speechless. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. He simply shut his mouth and remained silent, carefully crafting more cautious and sincere words.

But what should I say?

Looking into those completely black eyes, Fulgrim realized for the first time that his language skills were still lacking.

Konrad Curze Curze, however, did not allow the silence to continue.

"I don't reject cultural exchange between legions, nor do I reject forging bonds of friendship between them through war. But I myself am different, Fulgrim."

"What's the difference?" Fulgrim countered. "Aren't we both Primarch?"

"Your description is idealistic, but I'll use a colder approach." Curze leaned back in his chair. His gaze was incredibly deep, like that of a dead man in the darkness, casting a fleeting glance at the living.

"When Father designed us in his lab, he deliberately made the differences between us so vast. You are eloquent and beautiful. Some worlds would probably surrender on the spot just by seeing your figure. I am different, look closely at me, brother."

The Night Lords slowly rose from his chair, leaning closer to Fulgrim so that the latter could see his reflection through his dark eyes.

At this distance, Phoenix could feel his brother's breath perfectly—a breath that had no warmth whatsoever.

As lifeless as the eyes of the Night Lords.

"I am a monster," he said softly. "Can anyone deny that? No. Let me be clearer, Fulgrim, lest you misunderstand me. Long before I was Night Haunter, I possessed a sense of justice."

He chuckled softly, as if mocking himself.

"I hate those flesh-eating, blood-drinking nobles and their henchmen. Every night I kill many with bloody methods. Have you ever tried breaking a person's collarbone and then shoving it into their head?"

Curze resumed his normal standing posture, extended his right hand, and made a gesture. The meaning behind that gesture made Fulgrim's eyes suddenly become solemn and sorrowful.

"Or perhaps, dissecting someone's muscles with your fingernails to torture them until they reveal the information you need? You certainly haven't done that, dear Fulgrim. You are skilled in killing, but your method is to wield a sword—an elegant swordsmanship."

"No, I killed with my fingers and nails, I bit with my teeth, and sometimes I even tore them apart like a wild beast. My father gave me this sense of justice, but I ended up in a pit of sinners."

Konrad Curze Curze gave a cold laugh, staring at Fulgrim and using his eyes to make the latter withdraw the pity he had shown before continuing.

"What would I be like if I hadn't met Karyl? That's why I won't forgive him, Fulgrim, never. But, like you said, he and I are brothers after all, so I won't hate him."

Konrad Curze Curze smiled, seemingly gently, but sharp teeth protruded from his lips, making his smile look incredibly terrifying. A noble face belonging to the Primarch had been transformed into such a horrifying one under the master's control.

He smiled and waited for Fulgrim's reply.

Phoenix remained silent for a full five minutes before giving its answer.

"I seem to be doing the wrong thing with good intentions," he sighed. "Don't you think I'm being a bit presumptuous, brother?"

"You have a heart of gold." The Night Lords sat down. "Even a monster like me can see that. So, let's get back to the point— Night Lords will participate in this war, but my legion will not cooperate with the Word Bearers."

"Do you want me to pass on his message?" Fulgrim pursed his lips.

"I'll come by myself. I won't put you in a difficult position, Fulgrim," Curze said softly.

"Hmm," Fulgrim sighed and nodded, but his expression changed again after a brief silence. Curze frowned, instinctively sensing that something was wrong, but Fulgrim was already one step ahead of him.

"You're addressing me incorrectly, brother," the Chemos man said with a smile. "You're addressing me incorrectly, Konrad Curze."

"."

Why aren't you saying anything, dear Konrad Curze?

The Night Lords raised his right hand, covered his forehead, and hissed out several Nostraman. Fulgrim finally burst into laughter.

--

Unlike his brother Fulgrim, who spent the night on Nostramo, Lorgar Aurelian chose to return to the flagship. He traveled back to the Fidelitas Lex in a shuttle.

This ship was quite different from the Gloriana-class warships that people imagined. Its interior was not clean; in fact, it could be described as dirty and messy.

A large number of fanatical believers and followers of the Emperor lived here, and due to the sheer number of people and the asceticism required by their faith, the environment naturally became filthy. Fortunately, the Word Bearers did not care about this; they followed the teachings of Lorgar.

The Great Word Bearers smiled as he stepped off the boarding deck, and servants in ascetic robes bowed reverently before him. Lorgar accepted, accepting on behalf of the Emperor —after all, he was the Son of God and naturally entitled to accept on behalf of his father.

However, while doing this, a corner of his heart was anticipating something else.

He hoped that one day his father would also be able to accept the devout faith and worship of these pilgrims. With this expectation in mind, Lorgar returned to his residence. His room was neither luxurious nor large.

For a Primarch, living in such a room would be considered a humiliation, but Lorgar didn't feel anything was wrong. He had been undergoing ascetic training recently, and his food, clothing, and daily necessities were very simple.

He walked to his desk and slowly sat down, beginning to read the reflections he had written down recently. He was in a good mood today, so he would probably write a little more before resting.

The Primarch sat alone in his room, contemplating the future and his relationship with his brother. He still harbored a beautiful fantasy, hoping to be as close as brothers with Konrad Curze Curze.

In the countless future cycles of dying, dark days and nights, he will eternally look back on this day.

He will bitterly and vehemently denounce his past self, rising to his feet and walking toward the other side of the Fidelitas Lex.

But he couldn't.

No one can change the past from the future; no one can. You can only stand in the past and change the future.

--Erebus, the lieutenant of the Word Bearers, the Dark Apostle, the Hand of Fate, said with a loud laugh.

Update complete. To be continued tomorrow.