Aftermath (Two-in-One)

Chapter 44: Aftermath (Two-in-One)

The Eighth Legion

At the broad, splendid desk, Kael leafed through the papers before him, his expression grave. He sat in a chair that looked exceptionally comfortable, yet his back remained naturally straight.

After his conversation with Neos, the Emperor had used his authority to grant Kael an extraordinary degree of freedom within the palace.

He was free to enter every sealed chamber and peruse every forbidden scroll of parchment. Even the Emperor's sons had never enjoyed such freedom.

But Kael wasn't tempted by it, and he hadn't used it for anything.

He had simply endured the cold stares of the warriors in golden armor, retrieved some documents he needed from the Emperor's study, and left it at that.

As for now, he was grateful that the documents were made of paper rather than ancient parchment. The feel of the latter would remind him of unpleasant things.

"The Offspring of Prisoners."

Kael narrowed his eyes, a complicated look passing over his somber, pale face.

"Are you displeased with them?" a voice asked.

"No." Kael shook his head. "The sins of the fathers shouldn't be visited upon their children, unless the children follow the same path."

"But you're frowning, Kael," Konrad Curze said.

He still wore the same black robe, but his hair had come loose again. Now he stood behind Kael, reading the documents along with him.

He didn't need to know how to read. He understood them by nature.

"Yes."

Kael acknowledged his feelings without hiding them. He had never lied to the Wraith—not in the past, not now, and perhaps not ever.

"Then why?"

"Because they came from the prisons beneath Terra."

Kael gave a brief explanation. "From these descriptions, that prison might be better described as an underground city."

Terra.

Earth.

Something complicated flickered across his face. The room was brightly lit, and he hadn't left any room for gloomy shadows to linger on his features. Yet it happened all the same.

Konrad Curze nodded. "Quintus?"

"No."

Kael leaned back slightly in his chair, relaxing for the first time. "Their situation is somewhat better than Quintus's."

The pale giant considered this for a while, then murmured, "Then that's a good thing."

"Yes, Konrad. It is—why don't you decide what to do about them?"

Kael turned toward him and smiled slowly. "They're your Legion."

"I don't think I'm capable of doing that," Konrad Curze said after a hesitant silence.

He had clearly matured a great deal. Just a day and a half had been enough to transform him this much.

Truly inhuman, Kael thought in amazement, then felt a pang of sorrow for him. But he didn't stop the process, nor would he.

Some things were necessary.

"Why?" Kael asked, meeting the giant's eyes. It was a conversational technique, as well as a courtesy.

Then he waited patiently.

Half a minute later, Konrad Curze looked away and answered quietly, "Because I haven't the faintest idea what to do, Kael. An hour ago, I didn't even know I had a Legion. And that it was a Legion made from my genes."

His expression finally shifted into the familiar look of bewilderment.

"That means... they're my sons?"

Kael couldn't help laughing. "Yes, by blood, they are. But considering you're only a year and a half old..."

He laughed and shook his head, saying nothing more.

Curze lowered his head in dismay and muttered something, the words hissing and clearly spoken in Nostraman. Kael sighed helplessly.

"By my estimate, they'll arrive in about two weeks. So you have two weeks to prepare yourself, Konrad."

"Can't you call me Wraith at a time like this?" the pale giant hissed.

"We're discussing serious matters, Konrad," Kael said calmly. "And speak High Gothic."

"I have an accent," came the hiss.

"What accent could make those four words in High Gothic sound exactly like Nostraman?"

"A Nostraman accent." His High Gothic was flawless, utterly accentless, and noble.

Kael raised an eyebrow.

"Are you joking with me?"

"Don't you like it?"

"This is a serious discussion, Konrad. Let's get back to the point. You can learn a lot aboard this ship in two weeks."

"What about you?" Konrad Curze asked sharply. "What are you going to do?"

"That's none of your business, Lord of the Eighth Legion."

Kael burst out laughing. "I have plenty to do, but none of it has anything to do with you."

"...Was that a joke?"

"Don't you like it?" Kael winked at him. "After all, I hate humor."

"..."

The pale giant shook his head in frustration. "He's in pain, Kael."

The subject came up abruptly, without warning, but it didn't surprise Kael. He would have been more surprised if Konrad Curze hadn't brought it up.

"Why do you think that?" he asked.

Then he waited—as always, patiently.

"...A divide."

Frowning, Konrad Curze said, "He's a ruthless ruler, an ambitious general, but... somehow, he also isn't."

"How strange."

He nodded, using that word to sum it up. "Why would someone be like that?"

"A person's actions are determined by their goals," Kael said calmly. "And a person's goals are determined by their character. If you think he's strange, divided, then consider his purpose."

He lifted his head and gazed at the ornate ceiling.

"Reclaiming lost lands, unifying the galaxy, making humanity whole again. These things require him to be a ruthless ruler and an ambitious general. And the part you find strange is the way he speaks to you, isn't it?"

Konrad Curze nodded again, his expression complicated.

He didn't understand. One day, he would, but not now.

Kael smiled faintly, then abruptly spoke in Nostraman. "Wraith."

"Hm?" The Wraith stared back at him in confusion.

"Nothing."

Kael rose with a smile and switched back to High Gothic. "Get some rest, Lord of the Eighth Legion. Starting tomorrow, you'll be studying with Fulgrim."

"Him?!"

"Who else?"

"Why can't you teach me?"

"I know nothing about the current state of this Imperium, which the Emperor founded himself."

Kael walked to the door, turned around, and leaned against it with a smile. "So even if I wanted to teach you, I couldn't. Besides..."

Looking at Konrad Curze's expression, Kael stopped himself and said no more.

He raised a hand and extinguished the lights, returning the room to the familiar darkness of both Konrad Curze and the Night Haunter. Then he opened the door and left.

What could truly come between brothers?

He sighed.

Pride was only natural.

How could a demigod not be arrogant?

--

Kael didn't stay aboard the ship called the Emperor's Dream. He left and returned to Nostramo.

But rather than take one of the imposing aircraft, he chose another way.

He stepped out slowly into a deep blue light.

Frost formed from frozen mist covered the ground, shattering slowly beneath his feet as he walked. Though he had been gone for a day and a half, Sanctuary had hardly changed—except that the door he had made himself was gone.

And...

Kael turned in surprise. He truly hadn't expected this.

"Mr. Rogal Dorn?"

"Rogal, or Dorn—I've realized that the word 'Mr.' carries a sense of distance between you and Konrad. I don't want you to call me that."

Kael laughed despite himself.

Once again, he was delighted by the giant's frankness. After all the cryptic exchanges and allusions, meeting someone who spoke plainly was always a pleasure.

Rogal Dorn frowned.

"Why are you laughing?" he asked, his tone calm.

"Because there aren't many people like you left, people who simply say what they mean. I'm pleasantly surprised."

But even after Kael explained, Dorn's frown only deepened. "I simply dislike inefficiency."

He shook his head candidly.

"Right is right, wrong is wrong. There may be a little ambiguity in between, but not much. Rather than conceal your true intentions behind a string of metaphors, it's better to state them plainly from the start."

"So," the gray-haired giant said seriously, making a gesture, "I don't think your surprise is necessary. I've always been this way."

"Well, inefficiency is certainly irritating, whether in conversation or anything else."

Kael nodded thoughtfully, then asked a different question.

"By the way, Dorn, where's my door?"

"It doesn't count as a door, by my definition."

Rogal Dorn frowned again.

"It was rusted through, a shoddy construction of rotten wood and metal. It could neither keep out the wind and rain nor protect the property and the person inside. So I took the liberty of bringing in some metal to reinforce it and give it a new life."

He paused, glanced at Kael's expression, and continued. "...If you don't think that's appropriate, I can stop."

"You don't need to stop. It was only something I made out of desperation, after all. Still, I assume you didn't come all the way to Nostramo alone just to fix a door?"

"I also repaired a chair."

Dorn spoke calmly. "Its structure was flawed, so I used metal salvaged from an old water purifier to improve it. But you're right. That's not the only reason I came."

"You want to ask me some questions, don't you?"

"Yes. I thought you'd come back."

Rogal Dorn nodded. "I want to know why your psychic power is so strong, how you can change your size, and how you were able to stop us from moving. And... I'm sorry about Lorgar."

"Sorry?"

"I didn't realize he would mistake those terrible suspicions and imaginings for the truth. In my experience, he's usually passionate and intelligent."

"Usually?"

Dorn fell silent for a moment before answering. "...At certain times, his faith can make him unreasonable."

Kael couldn't help laughing. "That's true. I agree with you."

"Then can you answer my questions? If they involve anything private, just say so, and I won't ask again."

"I can't answer your questions, Rogal Dorn."

Kael spoke gently. "Not because I don't want to, but because I can't. I'm still searching for the answers myself. I barely understand them. How could I explain them to you?"

Dorn considered this for a while.

Foul, cold wind blew against them, while chaotic shouts rose from the street below.

In terms of environment alone, Nostramo couldn't compare to even the least remarkable corner aboard the Emperor's Dream. Yet Rogal Dorn stood there calmly, a noble demigod with a rare kind of heart.

What an ironic contrast, Kael thought.

One was skilled at wielding language as a weapon, so adept at the art of it that it had become instinctive, yet so feeble inside that a few words full of holes could bring him down.

The other had discarded every useless flourish, speaking and acting straight to the heart of the matter. His spirit was incredibly resilient; even in the face of the unbelievable, he could remain calm.

That was rare.

"I understand."

Rogal Dorn spoke slowly. "In that case, I won't press you. It would be difficult to uncover the truth anyway. But Father believes you, so I'll believe you too, Kael Lohars."

"What if he didn't?"

"Then I'd find the truth myself and decide whether you were worthy of my trust."

Dorn answered calmly. "That is, unless Father stopped me, or ordered us to oppose you."

Kael nodded in appreciation.

He had a mind of his own, but he wasn't bound by convention or blind obedience.

How unusual.

"It's been a pleasure talking with you." Kael smiled faintly. "But since you've asked me so many questions..."

He made an inviting gesture.

"Of course." Dorn nodded calmly. "I can answer anything I'm able to."

"Then what do you think of Nostramo?"

"A hopeless place." Dorn frowned at once.

He didn't conceal his real thoughts in the slightest.

"Konrad took us on a walk around this hive city. Judging by it, I don't think Nostramo can be improved at all."

He shook his head in disgust.

"Cannibalism, murder, crimes against humanity, an exceptionally high crime rate, and a wretched environment. The only thing of value here is the adamantium, and the people of Nostramo aren't needed to mine it."

"Indeed. Anything else?" Karyl asked calmly.

He didn't deny Rogal Dorn's opinion—why would he deny the truth?

Though the latter's words were unpleasant, every sentence was true.

The truth was often hard to hear.

"Why do you ask?" Dorn frowned.

"Because I want to know what you think."

"My opinion has no value to you."

The giant shook his head. At that moment, his clothes looked more like a uniform, and his expression made him seem like an Archon—or perhaps a stern king.

"You've already made up your mind to save it. I can see that."

"And our brother Konrad Curze is the same. It's hard for me to believe he hasn't been influenced by you."

"But in the long run, that influence is a good thing. A compassionate hero who wants to save people is better than a destroyer who uses violence to wipe out all darkness."

"Besides, even if he really intends to destroy everything, what use would my opinion be?"

"You could share your opinion with him."

"He doesn't yet have the ability to fully distinguish right from wrong," Dorn said solemnly.

The cold wind stirred his short hair, which stuck out at odd angles. Beneath it, his face was stern. "So if I shared my opinion, given my manner, it would only trouble him."

"You think it would trouble him?"

"Why wouldn't it?"

Dorn countered. "A child of eighteen months, whose attitude toward the world changes every day, but whose foundation was laid by you. I'm glad he met you. Otherwise, the darkness of this filthy world would have completely consumed him."

"Don't you think it's shameful of me to imprint my own views upon his will?"

Dorn shook his head calmly.

"I know what kind of person you are, Kael Lohars."

Rogal Dorn, son of the Emperor of the Imperium of Man, demigod, and revered Primarch, spoke amid the stench of the cold wind and the darkness. His voice was low, yet sounded like a proclamation.

"A truly shameless person wouldn't be troubled by instilling his opinions in others. Nor would a truly shameless person teach our brother compassion and the meaning of salvation."

"He said that the suffering in this world pains you terribly. I admire anyone capable of that. I've lived a very long life and met many people, yet very few could do such a thing. Every one of them could be called a hero."

"You think I'm a hero?"

Karyl gave a baffled laugh. "Rogal Dorn. Is that a joke?"

"I never joke."

Dorn answered calmly. "We've talked long enough. If you have no more questions, I'm going to repair that door."

He raised a hand and pointed behind Sanctuary.

Karyl couldn't help but burst out laughing.

How interesting. How very interesting.

"Then, thank you," he said softly.

Dorn didn't answer.

The reason was simple—he didn't know whether Karyl was thanking him for repairing the door or for calling him a hero.

But either way, he didn't think it was worth thanking him for.

Fulgrim clenched his right hand, then felt a sharp pang.

He pressed his lips together.

Then he opened his palm, revealing a pendant. The Chemosian stared at it, his expression rather melancholy. In truth, that melancholy was the result of all his efforts to conceal it.

After all, Ferrus Manus was nearby, clanging away as he hammered something with his right hand.

Closing his eyes, Fulgrim clenched his right hand again. Pain shot through him, yet he exhaled as if relieved.

"If I were you, I'd get some rest as soon as possible."

Ferrus spoke without looking up. "You're wearing yourself out emotionally. That won't help with what you have to do tomorrow."

"But how am I supposed to sleep, Gorgon?"

"You can figure that out yourself."

Ferrus Manus replied without the slightest sympathy. "Watching me forge weapons isn't a good option."

Fulgrim couldn't help giving him a worried smile. "But I want to watch."

"Then watch."

The giant known as Gorgon looked up and stole a glance at his brother amid his busy work. "You won't stop until you learn the hard way. I know you too well."

"Oh—and what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you have to hit something with that handsome forehead of yours before you'll know what pain feels like."

"My forehead isn't handsome. It's just one part of what makes me handsome!"

"Mm."

"Mm? What does that mean?"

"You don't seem tired now."

Ferrus shook his head. "But I'll still advise you to rest early. Otherwise, you'll stand in front of Konrad Curze tomorrow looking haggard and completely lacking in composure."

"I haven't had any composure left where he's concerned for a long time."

The Chemosian turned over sadly and lay facedown on the sofa, letting out a sigh. "He must hate me now."

"Mm."

"What are you 'mm'-ing for?!"

"I don't know how to answer you, but ignoring you didn't seem right either, since you're not yourself right now."

The blacksmith, who had a pair of metal arms, paused his work and turned to rummage through the workbench behind him. At the same time, he didn't forget to keep answering Fulgrim.

"But since you brought up hate—would you like to hear what I think of it?"

"Of course," Fulgrim said, without much enthusiasm. "Gorgon's hatred is the most intense."

"Konrad Curze doesn't hate you at all."

Ferrus Manus stopped what he was doing with a grave expression and glanced at him. "If he hated you, he'd have despised you. He'd have scorned you. But when he walked out that door today, what he felt was disappointment, not either of those things."

"How can you tell so clearly?"

"I'm an outside observer," Ferrus replied calmly. "Of course I can see clearly."

"But—"

"No more buts, Fulgrim. If you don't want me calling you Fulgrim, get out, go back to your room and rest, then face tomorrow's lesson with our brother with a fresh mind."

"But—"

Ferrus glared at him menacingly. "If you say one more word, I'll say it right now."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a statement of fact," Ferrus said gravely. "Get out. Now."

The Chemosian reluctantly reached the doorway of his brother's room and slowly left. The Gorgon, with his cold expression, sighed after the door closed.

It was a simple question, one that only needed a simple answer to get the right result—why couldn't you see it, Fulgrim?

Konrad Curze didn't hate you at all. If he hated you, he wouldn't have been so disappointed in you.

Sighing, he resumed his work, forging the weapon he intended to give as a gift.

A sneak attack.

That's just how the Night Lords are.

(Well, the truth is, I had something to do during the day, so I kept writing until now and updated early.)

Also, what do you all think of the pacing? Is it dragging, or is it normal? I've considered skipping straight to the killing, but after thinking it over, I decided to write things in more detail.

After all, these people are so emotionally tangled up that if I don't write things in detail, I can't make their changes seem believable.