The giant in a white robe edged with gold walked calmly. This was his palace, his ship, and one of the many cages he had built for himself with his own hands.
Not a soul remained in the resplendent corridor. The Adeptus Custodes had evacuated everyone in advance, lest they witness a Primarch storming out of the banquet hall and cause unnecessary trouble.
The giant knew that Konrad Curze meant no harm to mortals, and that his emotions were relatively stable at the moment. Besides, even if he lost control, he probably wouldn't hurt anyone innocent.
But he was a Primarch, after all.
And he was Konrad Curze. The moment ordinary people laid eyes on him, the instinctive fear born of blood and flesh would make them tremble. There was no changing that.
Wearing his mask, the giant walked silently down the corridor.
The mirror-like ceiling had been carved with intricate, exquisite patterns using peerless craftsmanship. He didn't need to look up to know that his laurel wreath would reflect a dazzling, brilliant light as he walked.
The corridor had been designed by a woman named Mildred. Both she and her family had felt immensely honored by the distinction. Once the corridor was complete, Mildred even swore she would never sculpt, build, or paint for anyone else again.
"My hands will dance only for the Emperor of mankind," she had said.
The giant still remembered those words. He would remember them forever.
At the time, he had worn his mask and stood expressionless on the dais. Amid the cheers of the crowd, he had thanked Mildred as she knelt, weeping and choking on her sobs.
"I thank you, Mildred."
But what had he really wanted to say?
"No. Don't waste your talent. It isn't worth it."
He hadn't been able to say it.
All he could do was watch as the gifted artist died in the final years of her life, consumed by a frenzied, joyless grief as her faith clashed with her instincts.
Her family had burned her bones to ashes, mixed them into paint, and used it to make his portrait. Then they had treasured it forever, worshipping it from generation to generation.
They had treated him as a god—once again.
Was it human nature to gather around a god, whether that god was false or not?
He didn't want to think about it anymore. He stopped before a door.
Like the rest of the ship, the door followed a uniform design. A massive Aquila adorned it, staring out coldly and mercilessly.
The giant closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was dark. A shadow lurked in the corner. It was spacious enough to be called excessively large, and fully furnished, yet the shadow had still chosen to crouch in the corner.
"Wraith," Neos hissed. "Please don't leave."
".You speak Nostraman?"
"I do."
"How?"
"I've learned many languages, including this one."
"You learned Nostraman?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever been to Nostramo?"
"No."
"Then how did you learn it?"
"Long ago, humanity was a fairly closely connected whole across the Milky Way."
Neos shut the door and stood before it, calmly answering Wraith's questions. He didn't look at him, but he knew Wraith was watching him.
"Humanity settled on many worlds, where unique cultures developed and evolved. They differed from those of their homeworld, but I thought that was a good thing, so I learned many languages."
"Long ago?"
"Yes, long ago."
"Have you lived a long time?"
"I—"
Neos fell silent for a moment, then shook his head. "No. I've died many times."
"I don't understand."
"Not understanding is the right response, Wraith. It's an abstract concept. It isn't something you're meant to understand."
"Then why did you come to see me?" Wraith asked, his voice hissing with a note of urgency.
Hearing that urgency finally stirred Neos's memories of Nostraman. It couldn't be helped. His memories were simply too intricate, too vast.
His memory was a great cemetery, where many people and events that only he remembered slept together.
As Neos remembered it, Nostraman was usually a poetic language. Those who had created it and once spoken it were passionate and brimming with confidence. They were born poets, romantic and upright.
But it wasn't that way anymore.
Now it hissed, its tones sharp. Its poetry remained, but it had become a cruel poetry. And those who spoke it had changed from decent people into murderers, unwitting enemies of humanity, and workers barely surviving amid their suffering.
How tragic.
He fell silent, then answered Wraith. He knew that silence would make the questions more pressing, but he had no choice—his memories were surging over him.
".I'm trying to apologize," Neos said.
"Apologize again?"
Wraith's voice grew even sharper. "I don't need an apology."
"Then at least you need an explanation?"
".No, I don't," Wraith replied stiffly.
Neos finally sighed.
"I didn't speak with you because you no longer needed me to teach you. He did everything he could to tell you all you needed to know."
A distant, pained father gazed at his unfamiliar son and spoke softly.
"You already have a father. You don't need me."
Silence, and then silence again. When it descended once more, Wraith realized he had grown somewhat used to it. This time, he had to be the one to break it.
".Konrad Curze," Wraith said quietly, asking abruptly, "Why did you give me a name?"
Neos didn't answer.
His gaze was freezing over, freezing with pain.
"Quintus has many Gargoyles. I've seen a lot of them. I gave them numbers in order, but I didn't name them."
"Karyl said names are extremely important. If you give something, or someone, a name, then you have to take responsibility for caring for them. Because they'll be changed forever by the name you give them."
"I didn't name the Gargoyles because I knew I couldn't care for them. I couldn't do it. Karyl didn't give me a name either. He called me the Night Haunter. I asked him why, but he only said he couldn't."
"I don't know why he couldn't."
"And you gave me this name. I don't like it, but if you want me to, I'll accept it. I may dislike Lorgar, but he was right about one thing. I can feel the blood bond between us."
"But if—if you don't want to..."
In the darkness, Wraith tried with all his might to ask in the calmest voice he could manage, ".Then why did you give me a name?"
Because I once wanted to. Because once, I could have.
Neos closed his eyes. His voice rose like a whisper on the wind. ".Because of responsibility."
"Responsibility?"
"I'm responsible for you all," Neos said.
He kept his eyes closed, unwilling to open them. But as he had said, responsibility was calling to him. Not a father's responsibility, but another kind.
The mask murmured calmly in his heart, trying to cover his bloodied face once more. Neos refused. He still needed a little more time.
Just a little longer, he told himself.
"I don't know whether that responsibility includes the love a normal father feels for his children. My emotions and thoughts are divided, Wraith. You can't understand. No one can, except me."
"So I bind myself with responsibility. I have to give you names—they're anchors, Wraith. They can call up my emotions."
In the darkness, someone spoke in High Gothic. "I need you."
There was no other answer.
Neos lowered his head.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "Thank you, Wraith."
"You can call me Konrad Curze," the figure in the darkness said.
--
Karyl clearly heard the roar.
If he hadn't seen Lorgar Aurelian with his own eyes, if he hadn't been one of those present at the dinner party, perhaps he wouldn't have recognized it as a human voice.
But he had seen him. More than that, he was the one who had provoked that roar.
How interesting, he thought.
A demigod's strength, a demigod's body, and a noble spirit that ordinary people couldn't look upon—yet it was so frail that words like these could tear it apart with ease.
Faith?
A true fanatic wouldn't care about the rumors of nonbelievers.
He turned around.
The banquet hall doors crashed open as a giant slammed into them. His skin was golden, characters dancing brightly across it, while his face was twisted into something terrifying.
"Apologize to me!" he shouted. "Or I'll make you pay, even if you are Konrad's adoptive father!"
"I'm not his adoptive father."
Karyl replied calmly, seemingly unmoved by the giant's fury. Anyone watching probably wouldn't have found it strange; after all, he was a giant now, too.
"I've said it many times. We're just partners."
"You insulted my faith!"
Lorgar roared, utterly unmoved by Karyl's explanation, as though he hadn't even heard it.
"You know nothing about me! You have no idea what kind of radiance I see! You're nothing but a mere—"
He abruptly stopped, forcing the words back.
"Mortal?"
Karyl smiled and supplied the word for him. He didn't mind.
"You always say that word with a hint of condescending pity and self-righteous arrogance, as if mortals were beneath you. But now, when I'm taller than you, you've fallen silent."
"I do pity them!"
Lorgar shouted again. "But I've never thought they were beneath me! They're lost lambs in desperate need of salvation!"
Karyl sighed in weary exasperation. He didn't want to keep arguing with this so-called demigod.
There was no point. He had plenty to deal with on Nostramo. The man who was the Emperor had given him and Wraith a great deal of support, including an entire Legion that was on its way.
A Legion, he thought. An interesting way to put it.
Images of the towering, armored warriors flashed before Karyl's eyes.
So that was the kind of Legion he meant. An entire one—it seemed a little excessive for Nostramo.
"Lorgar, calm down! You've said enough for today!"
A voice sounded beside the doorway, tinged with unmistakable irritation, interrupting his thoughts.
Karyl looked up, surprised.
He had expected Rogal Dorn to come, but he hadn't thought it would be the giant who had quietly supported Fulgrim throughout the dinner.
Ferrus Manus? He silently repeated the name.
Iron Hand. Did the first part describe his temperament, and the second mean he reached out to help many people? Or did it simply refer to those silver arms?
Karyl quietly prepared to watch and see what happened. He hadn't expected Ferrus Manus to turn his attention on him the very next second.
"And you, Mr. Karyl Lohars. I ask that you calm down, too. Please don't use that power again."
The giant called Iron Hand spread his arms sincerely. They gleamed. "It makes me uncomfortable."
"Is that so? I'm sorry, but I only use it when necessary."
"You just used it to immobilize all of us. I knew from the beginning that you couldn't be an ordinary person, but I didn't expect you to be this powerful."
As Ferrus spoke, deep furrows appeared between his brows.
To Karyl, his expression now seemed quite similar to Rogal Dorn's. But while the other giant was coldly direct, Ferrus Manus still left himself some room to maneuver.
"Powerful is a false adjective."
Karyl replied without committing himself. "No one is truly powerful, because what that word means doesn't exist in the real world."
".On that point, I reserve judgment," Ferrus said slowly. "But please forgive Lorgar for his rudeness—"
"—Rudeness?!"
Lorgar roared again. The fury of a Primarch was astonishing, and the golden characters on his skin blazed fiercely.
He had thought Ferrus would support him, but he hadn't expected his brother to say something like that!
"He's the one who was rude, Ferrus! He disregarded Father's goodwill, and despite having such great power, he let our brother live in a place like that!"
Lorgar turned to his brother, trembling with anger, disappointment, and hurt.
"How can you call me rude?! I love our brother! I only spoke up for him! He's suffered enough on Nostramo, and this man is clearly to blame!"
"We haven't even known Konrad for a full day, Lorgar. We know nothing about what's happened on Nostramo. Why are you jumping to conclusions?"
The deep furrow between Ferrus's brows grew more pronounced, more severe. His expression was stern, but Karyl glimpsed the concealed anger in the heart of the giant named after iron.
Ah. Another one with psychological issues.
Looking around, there was only one who could be considered normal, Karyl thought helplessly.
"We already know enough!"
Lorgar raised his voice. He stopped roaring and began gesturing like an orator, trying to persuade his brother. His movements were polished and practiced, and he had a real talent for it.
He used that talent so naturally that he didn't even realize he was using it.
"We know Konrad suffered. He's obviously malnourished, isn't he? We know he only has one tattered set of clothes to wear. And we know he trusts this man completely!"
He turned and glared at Karyl, anger burning in his eyes.
"Karyl Lohars! Do you dare deny that you deliberately manipulated our brother, making him think you were such a kind and loving father? You're just trying to use him for your own gain!"
"You have such great power, yet you let him live in a place like that, in such a terrible environment! He's the Emperor's son! You hypocritical, shameless man!"
Lorgar flung his arms wide, posing like a martyred saint.
"Are you satisfied now?! You came to the Emperor's Dream, you set foot here in person. Countless people across the Milky Way long for such an honor, and you! You despicable little man, you're standing here only because of our brother!"
"If you have a conscience, you should go confess to him now! Tell him your real intentions, your true thoughts! Then beg him to forgive you!"
Ferrus Manus slowly clenched his fists, the metal creaking.
He couldn't take it anymore. He didn't understand why Lorgar had to do this right now—and what was more, his subjective assumptions were glaringly obvious.
If Karyl Lohars really were that kind of person, wouldn't their father have seen it?
And if he really were that kind of person, would their father truly have spoken with him alone? Would he have specifically told them to resolve things when he left the banquet hall?
He took a deep breath, ready to offer some advice—and already prepared to intervene physically.
Lorgar had made more than enough mistakes today. He couldn't let him keep going.
However, someone else was faster.
"I'm sorry," Karyl said sincerely.
Ferrus stopped short, stunned. Lorgar let out a loud laugh, not realizing that the apology had been meant for Ferrus.
Then—
"—I really can't take this anymore. I thought I could, but what you said is just too much. It makes me..."
Karyl sighed. Blue light descended once more, and this time, he held nothing back.
"...furious."
The blue light flashed and vanished.
—
In the magnificent hall, two giants stood facing each other in conversation.
"I'm sorry your son got hurt," Karyl said. "I owe you an apology."
"Everyone has moments when they're ruled by their emotions."
Neos replied noncommittally. "Lorgar was ruled by his, and flew into an unjustified rage. He blindly saw the truth he wanted to see and said all kinds of things to you—he deserved to be punished."
"Then I deserve it too," Karyl said calmly. "I was ruled by my emotions as well."
"...Are you testing me?" Neos frowned. "You know my stance perfectly well, and you know I wouldn't care about something like this."
"You should care."
Karyl shook his head solemnly. "An outsider injured one of your sons aboard your ship. Are you really going to remain indifferent?"
"He did something wrong. He made a mistake—"
"—From his perspective, he was right, and his love for his brothers was genuine. Also, sorry for interrupting you, but I couldn't help myself."
Karyl took a deep breath.
He spoke rapidly. "You can't focus only on your grand goals and plans. I bet you've never shared any of these ideas with your sons, not even once. Am I right?"
"They wouldn't understand."
"You think they wouldn't understand without even telling them?"
"They're just children."
"Children?!"
Karyl's voice suddenly rose, anger appearing on his face. "You gave them tremendous power and lofty status, and then you call them children?!"
"From our perspective, aren't they?"
"What about from everyone else's?"
Karyl shook his head. "What are they to everyone else—to those far beneath them?"
"You hide the purpose behind everything, then stand off to the side as a father who speaks to only a select few. Do you think that's all right? Isn't Lorgar Aurelian's problem obvious enough?"
"He cut off one side of you and kept it in his heart, worshipping it as a god and his own savior! Once he discovers that you're nothing like that image, what do you think he'll do?"
"...He'll understand on his own. I can't change his will."
Karyl silently raised a hand, closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Suddenly, he felt so tired.
After a long while, he finally spoke again.
"...I thought someone like you would be a conscientious pragmatist, a realist. I never imagined you were an idealist."
Karyl tilted his head back wearily.
"You don't want to change everyone with your own words because you think those words would be like orders to them. You think they can figure it out on their own, don't you?"
"They can," Neos said firmly. "I believe in them. They possess every virtue I've ever seen in humanity."
"Yes, and every flaw humanity possesses, too."
Karyl spoke without expression. "Like the stubbornness they inherited from you. You brought four sons into the world, and every one of them has this problem. What about the others? Will they be any better—or worse?"
"..."
"Let's talk business," Karyl said, keeping his face impassive. "For instance, the specifics of that Legion and what my work will look like going forward. There must be plenty of planets waiting to be reclaimed, right?"
Neos nodded. All he could do was nod.
A sneak attack!
Writing this made my blood pressure spike.
Before you continue