Burning of Five Hundred Worlds (13)

Tarasha Youton put down a stack of papers and rubbed her sore wrist.🍭💜  🐜★

Prolonged desk work is not a good thing for an elderly person; it doesn't even qualify as part of the life experience. Fortunately, she has gotten used to fighting her arthritis, just as she has gotten used to tilting her head back to talk to Astartes and the Primarch.

Interestingly, Roboute Guilliman was already taller than an adult in the first few years of his life, so her habit of looking up at him during conversations began at that time, just like her arthritis.

This damned chronic illness flares up in the rain, and it also hurts after long hours of desk work. She even finds it hard to sleep on a soft bed.

She picked up her cane and struggled to her feet. This simple movement caused her back and knees to protest, the surging pain and weakness making her quite sad—would she be in a wheelchair in a few years?

She firmly rejected the question.

She began to walk, striding straight toward a long tactical table piled high with documents. The two Iron Warriors noticed her, but neither tried to stop her. One of them even called out in advance, clearing a path for her.

"Thank you, Lord Forrix." Euten thanked him politely as he passed by, and the latter nodded somewhat awkwardly.

As the footsteps drew closer, Perturabo finally looked up from behind the long table and glanced at her. Three days of non-stop work was nothing for a Primarch, and judging from his expression, he wasn't tired.

"What is it?" he asked, staring at Euten.

"I've come to ask a question, Lord Perturabo."

"Just say what you need to say. Don't waste each other's time with these honorifics and roundabout greetings." Perturabo frowned, two thick sheets of paper hanging comically from his shoulder armor.

Both documents bear the Ultramarines' mark personally stamped by Roboute Guilliman in the upper right corner—it may seem absurd, but these two documents are actually legally binding.

These are contingency plans that Roboute Guilliman devised for potential emergencies, enabling certain individuals to be granted equal power to him at certain times.

Of course, the Lord of Iron could have easily chosen not to wear them on his right shoulder armor, but who would dare ask him why?

"Was such a thorough modification to the Crown of Hera really necessary?" Hearing his words, Euten cut straight to the point. Her brows were furrowed just as deeply as Perturabo's.

"It's already a heavily fortified fortress; I don't see the need for such drastic modifications."

"You can't tell because you haven't seen Horus in person." Perturabo lowered his head and issued several orders to the Iron Warriors he had deployed outside the city.

His fingers slid and clicked across the holographic projection, constantly switching between different viewing angles of the construction drawings at a dizzying speed. Euten could barely make out his expression through the changing light screen.

"I know he betrayed me," she said, feeling a deep, visceral hatred for the word.

"No, more than that." Perturabo stared intently at the holographic projection in front of him, and only answered Euten's question after a while.

"What he did was more than just betrayal. Usually, rebels are merely seeking power. But he was different. You'd understand as soon as you met him that what he wanted was no longer power. Furthermore, the war he instigated in the galaxy cannot be simply summarized as betrayal."

He paused, then finally flicked his finger, sinking the holographic projection.

"It's a rebellion," he told Euten. "His number of warships, his arrogance, and the Word Bearers who are his accomplices all point to one thing: Horus Lupercal is rebelling against the Imperium with many others."

"This means that countless planets beyond our reach are already engulfed in flames," Perturabo declared mercilessly. "This means that war has spread throughout the galaxy; in fact, considering how little most people know about this, I would prefer to describe what he has done as a natural disaster."

Euten swayed; she still couldn't quite bear the terror that Perturabo had unleashed.

"Therefore, we must be fully prepared." Ignoring her shock, Perturabo continued, "The changes to be made are not limited to the Crown of Hera; I will bring many more changes."

"For example, the reporting schedule at your orbital weapon outposts, which is only once every ten minutes, is far too inefficient. I need to keep the servo engineers busy. Starting today, their reporting time will be reduced to once every two minutes."

"This will drastically increase the amount of redundant data, but that's alright, because I'm going to add more Cogitator arrays, deploying them inside each ground weapon platform. This will effectively shorten the distance required for signal transmission."

"Then there are the ancient sites that you Macragge people are so proud of—" He paused for a moment, giving Euten time to process it, and was pleased to see the change in her expression.

He wouldn't admit it, but he was indeed somewhat pleased. He would attribute his current mood to the fact that his cultivated nature was coming in handy again; in short, he wouldn't admit the real reason.

"--What are you going to do to them now? For the sake of the Throne, they are nothing but bricks and mortar." The steward tried to resist, but asked helplessly.

"Do nothing, because, as you said, they're just bricks and mortar," Perturabo said. "These things aren't even worth using for reinforcement or as bunkers, but I'm issuing a recruitment notice to your society."

Euten sighed and began to prepare to remember what he was about to say.

"I need artists, historians, architects, craftsmen, and a large number of experienced workers. I need them to make changes to these historical sites so that they retain their ancient charm while also functioning as modern buildings. But it doesn't have to be too in-depth; just make them look presentable on the outside."

"Excuse me, there might be something wrong with my hearing. What do you need me to do?"

"Then, I'll plant bombs inside them," Perturabo said to himself.

"You're insane." Euten remained silent for a long time, then slammed her cane on the ground, beginning her fifth argument with Perturabo that day. Her voice was harsh and she showed no sign of backing down.

Forrix sighed and pulled Dantioch to the other side. They went around behind two pillars and chatted with the two Ultramarines Victrix Guard for Euten's personal safety, about their mutual frustrations.

Frankly, they don't know how many more times this will happen.

"I see no reason why we should waste so much manpower and resources on adding more bombs on the eve of war! If you just need some bait, why not use the existing buildings?!"

"No," the Lord of Iron patiently retorted, even stepping out from behind the long table. "My plan is based on my understanding of the Word Bearers; they've always been like this, especially fond of raiding local landmarks."

"So what? They've degenerated into beasts!" Euten shouted, almost roaring.

"Let me finish. They usually do this after peace talks break down, and I understand that for them now, peace talks have probably become a thing of the past. But let's consider a hypothetical scenario."

He looked at Euten until the latter calmed down before speaking again. Forrix, behind the pillar, looked away and shook his head at the Victrix Guard: "I've never seen him so patient."

The Victrix Guard patted him on the shoulder sympathetically and replied in a low voice, "We've never seen Ms. Euten roar like that either."

"What's the situation?" the housekeeper asked, his chest heaving rapidly.

Instead of getting straight to the point when faced with her question, Perturabo first warned Euten.

"You'd better calm down. I don't want to see you in the hospital. Our efficiency will drop by at least twenty-one percent because of your absence. Have some responsibility, Roboute Guilliman's housekeeper."

"In short, let's assume that before the war began, they managed to disable the orbital weapon defense platforms, ground weapon launch platforms, and starports, and then somehow tied down the patrolling fleet of warships, successfully dropping drop pods or other equipment into the atmosphere of Macragge."

"Do you think that, under these circumstances, these traitors might continue their bloody tradition and launch a surprise attack on Macragge's landmarks?"

"Let me add two more conditions. I believe you haven't forgotten what Roboute Guilliman did for the Perfect City of the Word Bearers."

"Regardless of the reason, your lords, with their legions, destroyed the 'Perfect City' that the Word Bearers had painstakingly built over many years. So, do you think they'll let go of such a 'perfect' opportunity for revenge?"

"But how could they possibly do that?" Euten asked incredulously. "Unless it's a miracle, how could they possibly do what you're saying? Forgive my bluntness, but your words sound like—"

"--The ramblings of a madman?"

Perturabo uttered the words nonchalantly, nodded calmly, and returned to the back of the long table.

"Yes, unless a miracle occurs. And behind them happens to stand a god—a false god, an evil god, a wicked god—I don't care, they're still gods," he said calmly. "And that's the second additional condition."

"First, they will retaliate at all costs, causing you suffering. Second, an evil god stands behind them," the Lord of Iron said.

Update complete. Just one chapter today. I'll take a break and update with 10,000 words tomorrow.

Incidentally, many readers have probably noticed the issue of chapter numbers.

Yes, it was my fault for thinking 90 was followed by 100. This must be due to Tzeentch's influence. Changing the chapter title requires contacting an editor, which is a hassle. I suggest we pretend nothing happened.