In silence, Fulgrim placed his right hand on the handle of a wooden door.
Its surface was covered in intricate reliefs. Some craftsman whose name he had never learned had etched fine patterns into it with silver, giving it a very unusual feel.
"."
Silence, silence, silence.
The man from Chemos closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and took a deep breath.
He wore a pale purple long-sleeved shirt, his long hair tied neatly behind his head. He carried himself with utmost seriousness, and held a black book in his arms.
Compared to the silk and off-the-shoulder robes he usually preferred, this outfit hardly looked like him at all.
Calm down, Fulgrim. You're just here to teach a class. You're only here to tell your brother the things he needs to know. So you don't need to worry. You don't need to be afraid.
He opened his eyes, then pushed open the wooden door.
Konrad Curze, dressed in his black robe, sat quietly at a desk, waiting.
"Good day, Mr. Fulgrim," he greeted him calmly. "Did you sleep well last night?"
". Konrad, you—"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Fulgrim realized just how weak he sounded—not like someone arriving to teach a class, but more like someone coming to apologize.
Taking a deep breath, he quickly changed his demeanor. Fulgrim had once spent a long time studying the art of acting, so he could become anyone he wanted to be.
Calmness came over him at once, casting a composed shadow across his face. The man from Chemos lifted his head, appearing unruffled as he discreetly raised his right hand and casually patted the right pocket of his shirt.
There was a pendant in there.
"--I slept very well last night," Fulgrim said calmly.
I didn't sleep at all.
"Is that so? Good."
Konrad Curze nodded gently, then stood and made room for Fulgrim. The Emperor's Dream had no such thing as a "classroom," and since this lesson had been arranged on short notice, Konrad Curze's bedroom had been chosen for the time being.
There was only one desk.
Fulgrim narrowed his eyes and walked over without the slightest fear, then sat down calmly. His back was ramrod straight, and his silver ponytail swayed behind him.
"Today is the first day of your lessons," the man from Chemos said. "So I'll teach you some of the most basic facts about the Imperium."
He paused and glanced at Konrad Curze, who stood there with an expressionless face, then asked inquisitively, "Do you have any questions?"
"No."
"Good."
Pressing his lips together, Fulgrim placed the book in his arms on the desk. It had no title, its cover bore clear signs of being handmade, and it was very old.
"This is my own compilation and summary."
The man from Chemos blinked.
"It's been with me for a long time. Sixty-six years ago, I wrapped these soft pages in the hide of a beast with my own hands. Ever since, I've carried it with me, adding new knowledge, new pages, new words, and new insights."
He turned and looked at Konrad Curze. "Now, I'm giving it to you, Konrad."
"..."
"Konrad?"
"...How long did you spend thinking up that speech?"
Fulgrim was startled.
"What?" he asked rapidly. "How long did I spend on what?"
"You drew out every final syllable when you were saying it."
Konrad Curze spoke without expression. "It didn't sound like normal conversation, so I guessed you must have rehearsed it over and over."
What the hell?!
How is he so perceptive?!
The man from Chemos pressed his lips together in frustration. "No, Konrad. Although I did mean what I said, I didn't rehearse it over and over the way you think."
He paused, gazing into a pair of pitch-black eyes, and said sincerely, "That wasn't necessary, was it?"
"...Perhaps not."
Konrad Curze looked away and glanced at the book. "Didn't you give it a name?"
"...No."
"Why?"
"Because I don't—wait, Konrad. I'm here to teach you. Come sit down. We're short on time."
Fulgrim cleared his throat. "Your Legion will arrive at Nostramo in two weeks. You need to learn this before then."
"What if I don't want to learn?" Konrad Curze asked.
The man from Chemos stiffly turned his head.
From those dark eyes, he realized Konrad Curze was probably asking the question in earnest.
"...Why wouldn't you want to learn?"
"Because I've never even met them."
The pale giant furrowed his brow. "I was suddenly told that I had a group of sons by blood. But I don't even know them, Mr. Fulgrim. How am I supposed to face them?"
Slowly, a deep furrow appeared between the man from Chemos's brows, just as it had between his brother's.
For a while, he didn't say a word.
"...Drop the 'Mr.' after my name, and I'll give you a little advice. How does that sound, Konrad?"
"..."
Konrad Curze turned his head away and muttered under his breath, "You're cheating."
At last, Fulgrim openly sneered.
"I am cheating," he said bluntly. "Anyway, if you don't drop those two damn words, I won't tell you."
"...Fulgrim," the pale giant said reluctantly. "Is that good enough?"
Ha.
A small step—an important first step!
Fulgrim nodded enthusiastically. "Excellent!"
But then, without warning, he fell silent.
He didn't know how to tell his brother about that past.
Before he was reunited with them, his Legion had been called the Third Legion. Fulgrim had met them on Terra, and unlike what the word "Legion" usually meant, the Third Legion had only two hundred men left.
Two hundred men.
A tragic scene came to mind. Just thinking of it nearly took Fulgrim's breath away. Two hundred people, two hundred people he had never met.
Two hundred men.
His two hundred sons.
The man from Chemos lowered his head. His once operatically elegant voice turned low, like a lament at a funeral.
"...Face them with an open mind, Konrad," Fulgrim said in a low voice. "It's true that you've never met, yes, that's beyond question. But you don't need to worry about it."
"Why?"
Because—
Fulgrim raised his head solemnly.
"Because you are their Primarch."
"Every Legion is waiting, my brother. They were given numbers by our father, not names, because the only ones truly worthy of naming them are their own Primarchs."
"They were selected, trained, altered, and infused with our blood. We've never met, yet we're already connected by blood. That bond is pure, clear, and impossible to refuse."
"Once you see them with your own eyes, you'll understand."
"...But what if I'm not worthy?" Konrad Curze asked quietly.
The question made the man from Chemos look at him in disbelief.
"I can't do anything right," the pale giant said with his head lowered. "I haven't made Nostramo a better place. Karyl has been the one doing that."
"I didn't save Karyl. If not for him, Karyl would be dead."
"I failed to complete my first solo mission. I was chased halfway across the district, then shot in the back with a hunting rifle. I collapsed in an alley like some kind of animal."
Fulgrim opened his mouth, but found himself at a loss for words.
Is this your past, Konrad?
"...And I ruined last night's banquet, too."
Curze's voice was low, and his dejection was clear. "I didn't mean to do that, but I couldn't stop myself. I shouldn't have thrown that pendant in front of you. And Lorgar, he—"
"He deserved that beating," Fulgrim said suddenly, his voice cold.
Konrad Curze looked up in surprise at his words.
"He spouted off to someone he didn't even know. He may have done it out of love, with good intentions, but people who do something wrong deserve to be punished."
Fulgrim shook his head.
"And besides, Konrad, you're not the failure you think you are."
The pale giant waited tensely for Fulgrim's next words, without realizing it. Before Fulgrim had walked through the door, he'd told himself countless times to ignore him, but in the end, he hadn't been able to.
He was still wearing the clothes Fulgrim had given him.
"You saved Karyl Lohars," Fulgrim said calmly. "If not for you, he would probably have burned himself to death with the very fire he lit."
Wraith stared at him blankly.
"You're an anchor."
Fulgrim explained patiently. "He clearly has a lot of secrets, doesn't he? His power, his vast knowledge, and his beliefs, so completely unlike those of the people of Nostramo. It's all obvious, isn't it?"
Wraith considered it carefully, then widened his eyes in shock and nodded.
"I don't know who he really is, but he's clearly a good person. He's already desperate over the state of Nostramo. You're the only reason he can still stay sane and keep his composure, Konrad. Otherwise, why do you think he—"
Fulgrim stopped and said no more.
"Why does he what?" Wraith pressed urgently.
He'd ignored Lorgar's insults. He'd ignored the taunts, too. But when it came to you—when Lorgar described you as a child who knew nothing—
Fulgrim shook his head calmly, a scene rising in his mind: two icy blue points of light.
And a giant whose face was twisted with rage.
"It's nothing, Konrad," the man from Chemos said leisurely.
"You can't do that!"
"Do what?"
"You can't—you can't— I, I want to hear the answer to that question!"
Fulgrim smiled faintly, touching the pendant in his pocket again, his eyes gentle.
"Shall we continue the lesson?" he asked softly. "I'll tell you the answer once today's lesson is over."
Konrad Curze watched him for a long while, then quickly brought over a second chair and sat beside him at the desk.
Before you continue