First Lesson (Part 1)

Silence. Fulgrim placed his right hand upon the handle of a wooden door.

Its surface featured intricate reliefs; craftsmen whose names he would never know had etched fine patterns into the silver, giving it a peculiar texture to the touch.

"."

Silence, silence, silence.

The man from Chemos closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and took a deep breath.

He was dressed in a long-sleeved, pale purple tunic, his long hair tied back meticulously. His posture was entirely serious, and he cradled a black book in his arms.

Compared to the silk and off-the-shoulder robes he usually favored, this attire felt like he was someone else entirely.

Calm down, Fulgrim. You are only here to teach a lesson; you are only here to impart the knowledge your brother must know. So you do not need to worry, you do not need to be afraid.

He opened his eyes and pushed open the wooden door.

Konrad Curze, wearing his black robes, sat at a desk, waiting quietly.

"Good day, Mr. Fulgrim," he greeted calmly. "Did you sleep well last night?"

".Konrad, you--"

The words had barely left his lips before Fulgrim realized how weak his tone sounded—he didn't sound like a teacher, but rather someone coming to apologize.

Taking a deep breath, he quickly shifted his posture. Fulgrim had once spent a great deal of time studying the craft of performance; therefore, he could become anyone he wished.

Composure surfaced instantly, casting a shadow of ease across his face. The man from Chemos lifted his chin, appearing unruffled, while subtly tapping the right pocket of his tunic as if by accident.

Inside lay a pendant.

"--I slept very well last night," Fulgrim said calmly.

I didn't sleep at all.

"Is that so? That is good."

Konrad Curze nodded gently and stood up, yielding his seat to Fulgrim. There were no designated "classrooms" on The Emperor's Dream, and since this had been decided on a whim, the classroom was temporarily set as Konrad Curze's bedroom.

There was only one desk here.

Fulgrim narrowed his eyes, walked over without a hint of fear, and sat down calmly. His spine was held straight, the ponytail of silver hair swaying behind him.

"Today is the first day of your lessons," the man from Chemos said. "Therefore, I will teach you some of the most fundamental knowledge regarding the Imperium."

He paused, turned his head to look at the expressionless Konrad Curze standing nearby, and couldn't help but ask inquisitively: "Do you have any questions?"

"No."

"Very well."

Pressing his lips together, Fulgrim placed the book he had been holding onto the desk. It had no title, the cover showed clear signs of being handmade, and it was quite old.

"This is a summary and compilation I made myself."

The man from Chemos blinked.

"It has accompanied me for a long time. Sixty-six years ago, I personally wrapped these soft pages in the hide of a beast. Since then, I have carried it with me, adding new knowledge, new pages, new words, and new reflections."

He turned his head to look at Konrad Curze: "Now, I am going to entrust it to you, Konrad."

"."

"Konrad?"

".How long did you spend thinking about those words?"

Fulgrim was startled.

"What?" he asked, his speech rapid. "What do you mean, how long?"

"You elongated every trailing syllable while you were saying that."

Konrad Curze said, his face devoid of expression. "It did not sound like a normal conversation, so I suspect you must have rehearsed that passage many times."

—What the hell?!

How is he so sharp?!

The man from Chemos pursed his lips in annoyance: "No, Konrad. Although those words were indeed spoken from the heart, I certainly did not rehearse them many times as you suggest."

He paused for a moment, staring into those pitch-black eyes, and said sincerely: "There is no need for that, is there?"

".Perhaps."

Konrad Curze shifted his gaze, looking at the book: "Did you not give it a name?"

".No."

"Why?"

"Because I don't—wait, Konrad, I am here to teach you. Now, come and sit down; our time is very tight."

Fulgrim cleared his throat: "In two weeks, your Legion will arrive at Nostramo. You must learn this knowledge before then."

"And if I do not wish to learn?" Konrad Curze asked.

The man from Chemos turned his head stiffly.

From those pitch-black eyes, he realized that Konrad Curze was likely asking this question in all seriousness.

"Why would you not want to learn?"

"Because I have never even met them."

The pale giant's brow furrowed deeply. "I was suddenly told that I have a group of sons by blood. But I don't know them at all, Mr. Fulgrim. How am I supposed to face them?"

Slowly, the same deep crease appeared between Fulgrim's brows as had appeared on his brother's.

For a time, he did not even speak.

"First, drop the 'Mr.' after my name, and I will give you a little advice. How about that, Konrad?"

"..."

Konrad Curze turned his head away and muttered under his breath, "You are cheating."

Finally—Fulgrim let out a blatant, cold laugh.

"I am cheating," he said bluntly. "In any case, if you don't drop those two damned words, I won't tell you."

"...Fulgrim." The pale giant said reluctantly. "Is that acceptable?"

Ha.

A small step—an important first step!

Fulgrim nodded vigorously, heartened: "Very good!"

However, after that, he fell abruptly silent.

He did not know how to speak to his brother about that past.

Before he had returned, his legion was known as the Third Legion. Fulgrim had met them on Terra, and unlike what the concept of a legion implied, there were only two hundred men left in the Third Legion.

Two hundred men.

A harrowing scene surfaced before his eyes; just thinking of it made it difficult for Fulgrim to breathe. Two hundred people, two hundred people he had never met before—

Two hundred men.

His two hundred sons.

The man from Chemos lowered his head, his voice, usually as elegant as an opera, now becoming deeply somber, like a funeral dirge.

"Face it with a calm heart, Konrad," Fulgrim said in a low voice. "You have indeed never met, yes, that is certain. But you need not worry about this."

"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 person truly qualified to bestow a name upon them is their own Primarch."

"They were selected, trained, modified, and infused with our blood—they have never met us, yet they are already linked to us by blood. This connection is pure, clear, and impossible to refuse."

"As soon as you see them with your own eyes, you will understand."

"...But what if I am not worthy?" Konrad Curze asked softly.

His question made the man from Chemos look over in disbelief.

"I cannot do anything well," the pale giant said, head bowed. "I did not make Nostramo a better place; it was Kael who was always doing that."

"I did not save Kael; if not for him, then Kael would already be dead."

"I did not complete my first solo operation; I was chased through half a district, then shot in the back by hunting rifles, and I collapsed in an alleyway like some kind of animal."

Fulgrim opened his mouth, only to find himself speechless.

Is this your past, Konrad?

"...And I ruined the banquet last night, too."

Curze said in a low voice, the frustration in his tone obvious. "I didn't want to do that, but I couldn't help myself. I shouldn't have thrown that pendant in front of you. And Lorgar, he—"

"He deserved that beating," Fulgrim said suddenly and coldly.

His words made Konrad Curze look up in surprise.

"He was spouting nonsense about someone he didn't understand at all, even if it came from love, from a good heart. But those who do wrong should be punished."

Fulgrim shook his head.

"And, Konrad. You are by no means as accomplished at nothing as you claim."

Unconsciously, the pale giant waited nervously for Fulgrim's next words—he had told himself countless times to ignore the other before he pushed the door open and entered, but in the end, he had failed to do so.

He was still wearing the clothes Fulgrim had gifted him.

"You saved Kael Lohars," Fulgrim said calmly. "If not for you, he likely would have burned himself to death with the very flames he ignited."

The Wraith stared at him blankly.

"You are an anchor."

Fulgrim explained patiently. "He clearly harbors many secrets, does he not? His power, his profound knowledge, and his creed—which is so starkly different and incompatible with the people of Nostramo. These things are all very obvious, are they not?"

Wraith pondered this carefully, then his eyes widened in shock, and he nodded.

"I do not know exactly who he is, but he is clearly a kind soul. He has already grown desperate with the environment of Nostramo, and you are the only reason he can still remain normal and sane, Konrad. Otherwise, why do you think he would—"

Fulgrim paused, leaving the sentence unfinished.

"He would what?" Wraith pressed urgently.

Lorgar's insults, he had ignored. The provocations, he had also pretended not to hear. Only when it concerned you, only when Lorgar described you as an ignorant child.

Fulgrim shook his head calmly, an image surfacing in his mind, along with two points of chilling blue light.

And a giant, his expression twisted in fury.

"It is nothing, Konrad," the man from Chemos said languidly.

"You cannot do this!"

"Do what?"

"You cannot—you cannot, I, I want to hear the answer to that question!"

Fulgrim smiled slightly, touching the pendant in his pocket once more, his gaze gentle.

"Shall we continue our lesson?" he asked softly. "After today's session is over, I will tell you the answer."

Konrad Curze stared at him for a long while, then finally pulled over a second chair and sat down with him at the desk.

Who says I got bent over? I just threw out my back! Night Lords, seize these traitors!