Interlude: Former Brother, Old Friend

Captain Viteria of the destroyer "Sword" was gripped by a strange unease, as were her first mate and the sailors. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't because they were about to go into battle.

It should be noted that the Sword had successfully completed twenty-four routine combat missions, and its merits led to a comprehensive upgrade from the Mechanicum not long ago. Its crew members were also promoted and honored, especially Captain Viteria, who was awarded the "Guardian" medal for a special escort and reconnaissance mission.

Therefore, from any perspective, the crew of the Sword had nothing to fear—after all, if even the perilous Void Sea Battle couldn't make them tremble, stand unsteadily, and constantly pray to the Emperor, then what could?

Of course.

This event is called: The Meeting of Imperial Regent Sanguinius with Roboute Guilliman, Lord of Macragge.

Correction: This meeting was arranged on the Sword, a small boat that is two kilometers long.

What the hell is going on?!

Viteria roared inwardly, but she actually had a vague guess, a guess that could be summed up in a name, or a specific image—a black-robed man standing not far away by a porthole, gazing at the stars.

Among mortals, he was very tall, with unusually broad shoulders. He should have been strong, but his body beneath the black robe was so thin that his skin color and eye color were two other interesting things.

Unfortunately, Viteria is currently allergic to the word "funny." If a doctor were to say that such an allergy doesn't actually exist, she would definitely pull out a gun and press it against the doctor's chin until he admits it's true.

She took a deep breath, walked behind the man, and asked, "Why?"

Karyl turned around, giving a seemingly oblivious smile, "What is it, Captain Viteria?"

"Why—" The female captain took another deep breath. "—It's you, isn't it? It must be you."

"I found it strange last time why Lord Roboute Guilliman would have us escort you to Sotha alone. I initially thought you were a spy or something, but now I think I was probably wrong. You're not a spy, absolutely not."

"And even if you are, you're at least a spy chief, so who are you really? I beg you, sir, the Sword is just a small boat; it can't handle this kind of mission. Please have mercy."

Karyl shook his head regretfully, offering only this reply, "I'm sorry, Captain Viteria, I don't know what you're talking about."

The female captain angrily made a gesture at him, then walked away.

In his Shadow, the voice of Konrad Curze Curze rose again.

"The twenty-fourth mission is interesting. Is this why you wanted to interfere and arrange this meeting place, Karyl? To have two demigods meet on her ship so that the Sword can receive some mystical blessing and thus avoid being sunk in the twenty-fifth mission?"

"How do you know she'll be sunk?" Karyl asked softly.

"I have no idea."

"Then why did you say that?"

"Then why did you choose this location for the meeting?" Curze persisted.

Karyl turned back to gaze out the porthole. Among the stars, a vast fleet was slowly approaching.

Much later, as a shuttle emerged from between the fleet, Karyl finally answered the question.

"Because of her name," he said.

"Name?"

"Yes, the name of the sword is the shortest spell, don't you think, Night Haunter?"

He received a hiss of discontent, not in words, but merely as a threat. Karyl shook his head with a smile, while the bridge of the Sword had become noisy and busy.

The first mate was cursing incoherently, urging his men to hurry up. The female captain, though commanding from her command post, was deathly pale. Sailors, their long-unworn uniform caps tucked under their hands, ran back and forth among the Cogitator, drenched in sweat.

Karyl stared at all of this, then apologetically left the bridge—through the normal means. He didn't even tiptoe, but still no one noticed his departure.

He continued downwards, and after passing through three decks, he saw the livid-faced Ultramarines First Ultramarines, the Invincible Sun, Sol Invictus.

The expression on Company Commander Lieyang's face at this moment could no longer be simply described as "ugly," but he was still, after all, an Ultramarines, able to perfectly control his anger.

Until he saw Karyl.

"Grown ups!"

Karyl stopped and tried to turn around, but to no avail. Konrad Curze Curze began to chuckle.

"My lord! My lord!"

"My lord!" The Invincible Sun roared as it approached him, bowed stiffly, and began to pour out its grievances.

"I beg you! Please, you must persuade the Primarch before Lord Sanguinius arrives. This is utterly disrespectful; how could he possibly schedule such an important meeting on a destroyer? And—"

He raised his arm, and under the watchful eyes of the mere ten Victrix Guards, lowered his voice. "--There isn't even a guard of honor!"

"If I could, I would help you, Company Commander Invictus. However, given the current situation, whether I try to persuade Roboute or not, the outcome won't change. A shuttle is about to dock with the Sword, which means the Lord Regent has probably arrived, so..."

Karyl subtly concealed his true thoughts, put on an expression of helplessness, patted the forearm of the pale-faced Company Commander Lieyang, and then left the deck to continue downwards.

There, at Roboute Guilliman's request, he was alone in Hangar number two of the Sword, waiting for his brother. Under the bright white light, the Lord of Macragge, clad in ceremonial armor, sighed deeply.

"You no longer try to hide your footsteps like you used to," he said, turning Karyl.

Or perhaps, it's simply because I wanted you to realize I was there.

"Yeah?"

"Who knows?" Karyl said, with an ambiguous smile that he rarely used in the past.

Roboute Guilliman glanced at him with slight surprise, but said nothing. He simply lowered his head and began to adjust his ceremonial armor. The various medals hanging on his right breast jingled with his movements, as did the ceremonial sword at his waist.

He frowned, then suddenly reached behind him and grabbed the cloak, gently pulling off the precious blue-gold fabric, which he then began to fold.

There was an obvious sense of irritation on his face, probably for a simple reason: he disliked formal attire, especially the cloak, which was his least favorite part.

Karyl silently counted a few seconds, and sure enough, Roboute Guilliman's complaint came.

"I don't understand. I really don't understand why those excellent fashion designers would all use capes or cloaks in their designs for formal wear."

"Perhaps for aesthetic reasons," Karyl said, his tone cautious, like that of a court butler. Roboute Guilliman looked up and suddenly shoved the folded cloak he was holding into his arms.

The two exchanged a glance and smiled knowingly at the joke.

About ten minutes later, the latest sealed door of the second hangar slowly cracked open from the middle, and through the thick bulletproof glass, amidst the scattered steam, a magnificent shuttle in gold and red gracefully glided into the hangar.

Half a minute later, the inner passage door slowly descended as well.

Roboute Guilliman strode over.

Before the meeting officially began, he probably did intend to strictly adhere to etiquette and regulations. His disciplined side was strictly reminding him not to lose his composure in front of the Imperial Regent.

However, the person who appeared in this hangar was not Lord Regent Sanguinius.

He came without anyone, not a single person; the renowned Sanguinary Guard was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't dressed in ceremonial armor like Roboute Guilliman, but simply in a white robe, without any adornment whatsoever.

Therefore, Roboute Guilliman knew that Sanguinius did not come as Lord Regent.

He walked toward his brother, then ran toward him, and finally embraced him.

"It's so good to see you, Sanguinius."

"Me too, Roboute."

Roboute Guilliman released Sanguinius, and at that moment, his face radiated a simple and pure power that was incredibly infectious. This expression shouldn't have appeared on him, at least not before, but time changes everything, Karyl thought.

He stood there, silently watching this precious scene, observing the two Primarch joking with each other like ordinary brothers, commenting on whether the other had aged, and then smiling at each other.

There must have been very few relaxed moments between them. Even if we go back in time to the Great Crusade, war was still the main theme of that era. They could not shirk their responsibilities, so they could not get along easily.

Karyl suddenly remembered a newspaper he had once read, which featured a Remembrancers on the front page about a meeting of the Primarch.

The Remembrancers meticulously described the nobility and perfection of the Primarch at the banquet in great detail, portraying them as statues crafted from marble and gold, and even devoted some space at the end to describing the events of the banquet.

However, he never wrote about the Primarch eating or drinking. Perhaps he didn't care about such trivial matters, or perhaps he subconsciously believed they didn't need to.

He regarded them as gods and saviors.

But what is the truth?

Karyl lowered his head and lightly tapped the ground with his heel—or rather, his Shadow. Then, a voice that only he could hear began to whisper.

"No"

"What don't you mean?" Karyl asked.

"Don't even think about it."

"I haven't said anything yet, Konrad Curze."

"I know what you're trying to say, you just want me to go out and meet with them—no, I don't want to do that."

"But why?"

The Night Haunter let out a vicious laugh from his throat, "Because I don't want to see that glittering birdman! I'll really go blind, I'm a Nostramo!"

Karyl laughed silently, but said nothing more, not because he didn't want to, but because another voice could do it for him.

The voice said, "Konrad Curze, give yourself some time to rest."

A flash of golden light, and a tall, pale Ghost appeared inside the hangar, bringing with it a ray of moonlight. He looked very reluctant, but still walked towards him under Sanguinius's dazed gaze.

--

"How are you recovering?" Karyl asked.

He was all alone. The Sword had many winding corridors, and most of the time, no one was around. Haunted rumors were common on every ship and never seemed to be stopped.

Considering the smoky, dimly lit environment and the hollow echoes coming from within the walls, this was perfectly normal.

Since ancient times, sailors have generally been very superstitious. And if people were to see his current behavior, it would probably make the word "superstition" a reality.

Imagine a Ghost, deathly pale person sitting in a dark corner, eyes equally black, earnestly conversing with a statue.

However, the effect would probably have been better if the statue had not depicted the Emperor.

"I can't answer you with words like 'very good,' my friend, but it's certainly not bad. The power of hope is far stronger than I imagined; perhaps not as powerful as other forces in terms of killing, but it's special."

Karyl smiled and nodded, "Then that's enough. A power adept at creation is always better than one capable of destruction. In that respect, you are far superior to me."

What does this mean?

Karyl raised his hands and solemnly clenched his fists at the statue. "See? These hands aren't for farming or carpentry; they only know how to hold knives, swords, and fists."

I can't be bothered to argue with you about this.

"Why? Because we always end up inconclusively in this matter, unable to determine a winner?"

"Because Malcador is not here," the statue answered, its trembling calmly. "I've lost an ally."

Karyl suppressed the urge to burst out laughing, slowly exhaling a cold breath, his expression gradually becoming serious.

"So, what's your plan?" he asked.

You'll find out soon enough.

"Oh, all I know is that you thought the name 'Sword' was good and told me beforehand—other than that, I know nothing. I'm not just talking about your plan, there are other things too. I have many things I want to know."

The statue trembled again. "You just want to know if the world has gotten better. I say, we are trying. We still need to try."

Karyl leaned back and squinted against the cold wall.

"That's how it should be," he said in a low voice.