Interlude: Wine and Prospects

"Aren't you going to drink?" Roboute Guilliman asked.

The candlelight flickered, casting three long Shadow, one of which was much smaller.

This is the private room of the Lord of Macragge.

For the first time in ten thousand years, the lights here have been turned off, replaced by "holy candles" handmade by devout believers and certified by the Ecclesiarchy.

They were burning steadily away from piles of books, slates, and Dataslate, emitting a fragrance that lingered in the air along with Roboute Guilliman's dislike.

When he refused to hold the banquet in the banquet hall of the Macragge's Honour, some officials began a tug-of-war with him. In the end, they both compromised.

The officials agreed with his disregard for etiquette, and he reluctantly lit the candles to give the "sacred banquet" some of the sacred atmosphere it should have.

However, if you remove these candles and only look at the piles of books, the stacks of stone slabs, and the scattered Dataslate, someone might mistake this place for a study.

But it was neither a study nor a living room; it was simply a private room belonging solely to Roboute Guilliman, and no one else was allowed to enter it.

In other words, this was his private sanctuary, a place where he wrote and vented his emotions on every painful night. And now, this private sanctuary has two new visitors.

One was tall and Radiance, draped in a white robe, with his pure white wings neatly folded behind him. He sat upright on the edge of a chair that did not quite fit his unique physique.

Compared to him, the other was much more comfortable. This person was lying leisurely in another chair, which was much larger than himself and resembled a soft bed, gently engulfing him.

"No," said Sanguinius. "I've given up alcohol."

As he spoke, he casually pushed a glass of wine on the stone tea table in front of him into the distance. The scarlet liquid swayed inside, and an alluring glow shimmered on the transparent glass wall along with the candlelight, slowly releasing a sweet aroma.

This is a cup of blood wine, from Baal. It has been in the storehouse of Roboute Guilliman for about six centuries, and today it has been taken out and presented to Sanguinius, but the archangel has no desire to drink it.

This rare wine from his hometown used to be his favorite. At every banquet, the angel, who usually didn't drink, would ask for one or several glasses. Although he had never gotten drunk, he did really like blood wine. But today, things seemed to be different.

Roboute Guilliman instinctively noticed this situation, and his data analysis instincts and his keen political sense began to work together unconsciously.

Then, he personally banished these two unwelcome and annoying helpers from his mind, and casually took the glass of wine, placing it on a pile of stone slabs behind him, concealing it with his broad back.

"Don't you like blood wine anymore?" Roboute Guilliman asked, trying to change the subject—of course, it was a failed attempt; Sanguinius had already said he had given up drinking, but his questions still revolved around alcohol.

Lord Macragge, annoyed by his own slow reaction, felt a surge of irritation: What? You can't talk to people just because you're not a politician? Can't you even set aside your duties for a moment, act like a normal person, and sit with your brothers to pass the time?

But Sanguinius didn't mind.

The archangel laughed, a genuine, heartfelt laugh, and personally demonstrated how to change the subject for his brother.

"I might prefer Russ's private collection now. As far as I know, he has several barrels of mead buried in the snowy mountains of Fenris. I wonder if his sons have tried to find them. After all these years, if those barrels are still there, they must taste incredibly rich."

"Rich and full-bodied?" Roboute Guilliman uttered the word, his features contorted in a grimace. "I prefer to describe it as highly toxic."

"Alcohol itself is poison."

"A mead that's poisonous to that extent is truly rare—" Roboute Guilliman said, shaking his head. "Most Fenrisian Mead can be used as low-quality engine fuel, but Russ's own..."

"I can't imagine the raw materials for that stuff, or its brewing process. Of course, I know this is just my own prejudice. If Russ were here, he'd probably start mocking Macragge's wines. It's a pity he's gone, and so is Macragge."

A moment of silence fell over the air.

"What am I even saying?" Roboute Guilliman belatedly shut his mouth.

"That's quite a joke." The third person in the room suddenly spoke, his first words since entering the room. His voice was hoarse, but his tone was natural.

Sanguinius turned to look at him, his expression becoming somewhat inscrutable. Roboute Guilliman covered his face with his hands, his shoulders trembling. A few seconds later, he changed the subject in a muffled voice, mimicking Sanguinius's manner.

"So, mare's milk wine?"

He lowered his hand, his expression returning to blank. Sanguinius glanced at him again, finally unable to resist sighing. He propped himself up on his elbow, resting his cheek on his left hand, and spoke with a touch of melancholy.

Roboute

"How about mare's milk wine?" Roboute Guilliman emphasized again.

"Very good." Sanguinius couldn't help but laugh. "Actually, it's excellent."

"Although Jaghatai doesn't like to talk about his hometown, that's all in the past. In recent years, various specialties from Chogoris have become hot commodities among Rogue Trader."

"Mare's milk wine is even called 'drinkable gold,' as are their weapons and modified horses. But if I really had to choose one wine to drink at a banquet, I'd probably still choose Amasec."

Karyl straightened up from the softness of the chair and asked seriously, "Which one?"

"It depends," Sanguinius replied quickly, and for some reason, he seemed quite interested in the topic, launching into a long explanation.

"For private gatherings, like this banquet, I would choose Colin's Type A craft beer, with its unique flavor and sweetness. But for official occasions, it has to be Kamarlak's Victory Goddess."

"It took them a hundred years to find the right recipe to brew this wine. It has a unique taste, but it is also very smooth. When it flows down your throat, it doesn't feel sharp or pungent, only comfortable."

"Furthermore, their bottles are specially designed. To use a standard wine glass as an example, once the glass is half full, a chip at the bottom of the bottle will close the cap, ensuring that people at the banquet don't get drunk and cause any misbehavior."

Listening to his words, Roboute Guilliman couldn't help but feel a little doubtful. In his impression, Sanguinius was not a polymath. What he didn't know was that during his years as Lord Regent, Sanguinius had been forced to learn a lot of new knowledge.

Although this knowledge often made him feel alienated and no longer the same person he used to be, he still managed to find enjoyment in it. For example, he once wrote a book called "Imperium Fine Wine" using a fabricated identity, which became very popular as soon as it was published.

From sailors in the port to farmers in the fields, almost everyone who could read bought this book and tried brewing their own wine by following the chapters. Some succeeded, some failed, and some started new lives because of it.

As the author and Lord Regent, Sanguinius had a report that mentioned the following data: since the release of <Imperium Brews>, twenty-eight new officially certified wines had appeared in the galaxy.

They brought new lists of export products to the world, reaping huge profits and providing jobs for many people, preventing them from ending up on the streets, becoming Hive City, or lying dead on the roadside.

Sanguinius wondered, if he could find a way to help others, what about Karyl Lohars? What would he do? Or rather, what had he done?

When he thought about this, Sanguinius even felt a little expectant; he really wanted to know the answer to this question.

Yes, he genuinely believed that someone like Karyl Lohars would have his own insights into wine.

As for the reason? It goes back to Konrad Curze Curze's brief appearance in the world not long ago, and a joke that came from his mouth that didn't sound like a joke at all.

Facing his expectant gaze, Karyl nodded solemnly.

"I see. Thank you, Sanguinius, these insights are very helpful. Roboute, do you have any paper and pen here that I can use? I'd like to write them down."

Roboute Guilliman stood up, burst into laughter from his chest, and then began looking for paper and pen.

Sanguinius stared at him in astonishment, then at Karyl, and finally couldn't help but ask a question, "You Konrad Curze said you've been back for a long time, and he also said—"

Sanguinius stopped speaking and began to take deep breaths.

Karyl looked at him helplessly and spoke slowly, "To be honest, Sanguinius, even if you count it all, I haven't been 'back' for more than two calendar months."

The angel took a deep breath for a long time before finally asking, "But... why did he do that?"

Karyl lowered his head, seemingly lost in thought. After a few seconds, he looked up and replied, "He said there are two reasons for this."

I'm all ears.

"No need for that," he said. "First, because he's a Nostramo native, he really dislikes anything that's shiny and golden; every time he looks at it, he feels like he's going to go blind."

"Of course, I must say that's complete nonsense. There's probably no light in this world that could blind him. And he's not a true Nostramo; he doesn't have any so-called genetic defects."

"Secondly," he said, "It's a small act of revenge."

"Revenge?" Sanguinius looked puzzled.

Karyl sighed, a sliver of moonlight vanished from his shadow, and a voice rang in Sanguinius' ears on the quiet night breeze.

"Yes, revenge, brother," the Night Haunter whispered quietly to his brother. "I dislike very, very, very much what you're about to do, and the way you've already tried to become that kind of person."

"You'll end up bleeding yourself dry, and maybe even ending up like me, unable to be a human being anymore. But I can't blame you, and I can't help blaming you. But I am, after all, Konrad Curze Curze, and I have to find a way to embarrass you, and in doing so, remind you of something."

"What is it? "Sanguinius asked silently, his lips pressed tightly together.

He received no answer.

Roboute Guilliman walked toward them seemingly oblivious and handed Karyl a pen and paper. His expression wasn't particularly serious, but his hands were already clenched tightly behind his back.

The pen scratched softly across the paper as Karyl leaned intently on the armrest of his chair, meticulously jotting down the key points of Sanguinius' words.

For a moment, no one spoke; only pure silence remained.

This silence shouldn't have been present at this banquet; the guests hadn't seen each other in a long time, and this should have been a good opportunity for them to confide in one another. However, little of that capacity left within them to speak freely remained.

Everyone is trapped in the old prison, unable to escape: a politician, a symbol of Radiance, and a prisoner hiding in the dark, gnawing on his fingers and laughing maniacally.

The banquet will eventually come to an end.

"So, where are you planning to go?" Roboute Guilliman suddenly asked.

"Wander around," Karyl said, head down, still writing. "I can't go to Terra, and I can't go back to Nostramo. Besides, I don't want to ride on Jago Sevatarion's ship and be bothered by his daily complaints."

"While I am indeed an old relic, no one says antiques can't grow legs and walk on their own. Besides, our Emperor has given me a new mission: to explore the Imperium as it stands today—to gather hope."

Sanguinius raised an eyebrow. "He's willing to let you reveal this to us?"

Karyl smiled, looked up, capped the pen, handed it back to Roboute Guilliman, and then began to fold the paper.

Even if he doesn't want to, there's nothing he can do. He has to control me. This place is far from the reach of the central government; how can he possibly manage everything?

The angel smiled and nodded slightly, "It won't be like that for long, Karyl."

"Yes," Roboute Guilliman suddenly scoffed. "What Radiance incarnation will you become?"

Sanguinius looked at him helplessly. "Don't be like that, Roboute. Now is the perfect opportunity. I can bring the Five Hundred Worlds back to the Radiance of the Astronomican. Shouldn't you be happy about that?"

"If that means paying with your blood."

"I've already paid," said Sanguinius. "So, in any case, I will carry out the salvation, and you will come with me, Roboute Guilliman."

"I refuse," Roboute Guilliman said with a forced smile. "How could I possibly associate with the embodiment of Radiance?"

"I refuse your refusal!" the angel cried, rising to his feet and lunging at him.

Outside the porthole, the stars remained dark. Countless light-years away, in the shattered Terra surrounded by countless fortresses, the Radiance of Astronomican began to shine.

Darkness remains, but daylight will eventually come.