Three Years

004. M31, Nostramo, Low Earth Orbit, Nightfall.

"We must go find the Word Bearers," said Angron Te.

His expression was resolute, and a golden mark left by some kind of trauma gleamed in the center of his forehead—a long, narrow scar that looked like a sharp sword. Only a few people knew that it was merely the trace left by a drop of blood that had shattered it.

"What are you going there for, to die?" Konrad Curze Curze asked.

He held a sword in one hand, a sword that was somewhat short for him. Clearly, this was not a weapon prepared for the Primarch, but it was now in the Night Lords's hand, its movements graceful as it rotated with his fingers and wrist.

"No, sir, we must find evidence." Angron Tey withdrew his gaze from the sword and made a gesture with his right hand. It was resolute and persuasive.

Three years had passed, and he had memorized the gesture. Whenever his remaining brothers had doubts about something, Angron Tei would use this gesture to comfort them. And now, he was using the gesture on himself.

There was no other way; facing the indifferent Konrad Curze Curze, he had to resort to some underhanded tactics to gain enough confidence to say what he was about to say. Otherwise, he might doubt himself before even uttering a word.

"And then?" Curze looked at him and casually put down his sword.

To be precise, he tossed it onto his desk. The metal clanged against the metal, causing a few files piled up in the corner of the desk to fall slightly. The Servitor standing nearby mechanically reached out his left hand and put them back in their original positions.

"Then we will return to Terra with the evidence, and we will expose the corruption, depravity, and rebellion of the Word Bearers to the galaxy. Most importantly, we will find the murderer, and we will skin him alive, in the name of Aurelian."

"Good plan, very clever." Curze nodded, seemingly applauding with admiration. "But how are you going to do this, Angron Tai?"

Angron Tey straightened his chest, pretending not to notice the sarcasm in his words: "We will find a solution, sir."

Curze watched him expressionlessly, without laughing at the performance.

"You're a dead man now. The Word Bearers have declared you lost in the Warp. If you try to find them in a ship, you won't even have a chance to get close before being turned into space junk by a salvo."

Angron Tai lowered his head, then raised it again after a moment. "We will find a solution, sir."

Curze smiled, took a step forward, stood in front of Angron Tei, and reached out to put his hand around the back of his head. He smiled and spoke affectionately.

"Let me make this clear to you, Angron Te. Even if you miraculously board their ship and obtain the evidence you need, you won't come back alive. Do you understand?"

Angron Tey nodded stiffly.

"Very well, so let's talk about the second thing—after obtaining the evidence? You, a missing Word Bearers, are heading to Terra with your brother and a whole ship full of evidence of his crimes?"

"I hope you don't forget that there are ambassadors from various legions stationed on Terra. If you really show up on Terra in such a grand manner, then that ambassador will definitely be there. And he will have ample and legitimate reasons."

Curze chuckled, raised his left hand, spread his fingers, and made an explosive gesture, his voice becoming shrill.

"Boom! Commander Angron Tai of the 7th Assault Company, who disappeared for three years, has returned from the Warp with his troops! Ah, as the Word Bearers's ambassador to Terra, I absolutely must be there! And what do you think he'll do?"

Angron Ty opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Curze was one step ahead. The Primarch raised his hand and closed his chin. The movement was gentle, but his eyes were extremely cold.

"We'll find a solution," you'd better not say that out loud, I don't want to hear it again.

"But we have no face to wait any longer, my lord," Angron Te said, his voice laced with pleading. "We have been living in anonymity in Nostramo for three years."

"Then, what's wrong with waiting another three years?"

Curze released him, waving his right hand lazily. "Nostramo can afford the armor, weapons, and supplies for eight hundred and twenty-four men. What do you take this place for? Huh? Angron Tai? Do you think I can't even afford this much?"

"I had no such intention, my lord," Angron Te said with a wry smile. "Everyone can see how wealthy Nostramo is now."

"Wealthy." Curze chuckled to himself.

He put his hands behind his back and walked to the desk. The Servitor faithfully moved its head, awaiting his next possible command. Its wait was not in vain; the Night Lords picked up the documents and handed them to the Servitor with both hands.

"Please hand this over to the instructor's office," he said. "Consider it an expedited dispatch. Thank you for your help, A-103."

The Servitor, designated A-103, nodded stiffly, bowed once, and left the Night Lords's office with the documents in his arms. Angron Tai watched it leave with him, and just as the door slid shut, Konrad Curze Curze's voice rang out again.

"Alright, alright," he sighed, shaking his head with a helpless expression. "I understand your anxiety, and I know you don't want to trouble us anymore, but I hope you understand one thing."

"Please speak," Angron Te said, straightening his back once more.

Maintaining a calm and unhurried tone, Konrad Curze Curze began his narration slowly.

"Within Night Lords, there are two unwritten rules. For ordinary war missions, if the intensity does not reach a certain level, the mission briefing afterward will not indicate the danger level."

"In Void Wars, we only engage in melee boarding maneuvers after carefully assessing the risks and probability of death. Over the years, Night Lords's boarding death rate has consistently been kept below five percent. You were once the company commander of an assault unit; you should know what that number means."

Angron Tai nodded silently—how could he not know? The number was nothing short of miraculous.

"So you can probably see a certain tradition in us from these two things. Yes, the Eighth Legion is a legion that conducts risk assessments before a mission begins; we're just a bunch of oddballs."

Konrad Curze Curze chuckled, but there was no real smile in his eyes.

Angron thought silently, it was strikingly similar—he and Karyl Lohars both liked to mask their true emotions with laughter in similar moments.

"And this task you've given me... do you know, from my perspective, what is the level of danger and the probability of death for you?"

"I hope you will remain silent on this matter; courage is still very important to me," Angron replied without looking up. "I cannot be a coward now."

"But I can't just stand by and watch you go to your deaths." The Night Lords looked at him solemnly. "That's why I'm telling you something else. You remember Ullanor, don't you?"

"My lord, the most memorable events of the year I was in a coma were the Council of Nikaea Ullanor triumphal ceremony, which I was present at."

"I know, just confirming." Curze nodded at him with a forced smile. "Three years have passed, and the Warmaster has perfectly fulfilled the responsibilities of this position. We brothers are also willing to serve him."

"He recently issued a new order, hoping that the Ultramarines and Word Bearers would unite, assemble in Calth, and launch an attack on an Ork Empire called Galask, to eliminate this threat once and for all."

"Sounds alright?" Angron Tai frowned. "Teaming up against Orks is a classic strategy; those beasts are worth any extreme tactics."

"No, there's a problem. Actually, the biggest problem is that there's no problem." Konrad Curze Curze crossed his arms and shook his head with a sneer.

"Calth is located in the southeast of the Ultima Segmentum, very close to the Nostramo world cluster. My brother Roboute's knowledge of the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar is astonishing; he can receive news of any slightest movement immediately."

"Thanks to him, I've also implemented his systems in my little town. So I can tell you this: there are absolutely no Orks around Angron Tai Calth."

Angron Tei's eye twitched. He didn't reply immediately, but instead took several deep breaths. Astartes' three lungs began to work at full capacity, and the Night Lords looked at him, finally showing a hint of pity at this moment.

"Yes, that's exactly what you think," he said gently. "Something's really wrong."

--

Karyl tapped his temple thoughtfully, looked down at a briefing on the table in front of him, and only looked up a few minutes later to speak to his legion commander.

"The Davin Campaign?" He chose to begin the conversation with a question. "Military reports sent back to Terra say that Horus was wounded in the battle, poisoned by some kind of poison—a very rare poison that can bring down Primarch."

"Then he recovered his health through treatment by the local natives." The Night Lords smiled, tapping the word "cured" on the document with his right index finger. "What a coincidence."

"And now he's choosing to have the Ultramarines and the Word Bearers join forces against a non-existent Ork Empire." Karyl frowned, finally revealing a hint of worry.

"Let's assume Horus is alright for now," Curze said, crossing his arms and offering another conjecture. "But would our Wolf God really do something like getting the Word Bearers, who are already mortal Ultramarines, to cooperate once again?"

Karyl silently raised his head and put away the briefing. He went to the porthole and observed the view of Nostramo from his most familiar and favorite spot.

"Stop looking. What's the point of you just sitting here? You never want to go down for a walk," Konrad Curze Curze sighed, ending his complaints and getting down to business.

"My idea is to send four large teams to support Roboute Guilliman. Angron Ty can also take this opportunity with his brothers to gather the evidence he wants."

"So you've already admitted that there's a problem on Horus's side?" Karyl asked without turning his head.

"You know, Father, I'm a pessimist."

"Alright," Karyl said. "Then I need to go to Terra. Also..."

"What else?"

"I'd like to explore Nostramo first," Karyl said, turning around in Nostraman, a most serene smile spreading across his face. "Would I be so honored to have you accompany me?"

The Night Lords rolled his eyes and grumbled as he stepped into the darkness, "Why didn't you say so sooner? You annoying old man, I still have work to do."

Yes, there is a code.