Interlude 32: A Precious Future (II, 7K)

When the short sword swung at him, Illyan Natase did not dodge.

Instead, he remained standing rigidly where he was, seeming intent on taking the blow with his own flesh and blood. The sword ultimately stopped against his neck, touching his skin intimately without drawing so much as a trace of blood.

That speed, that strength, combined with the terrifying weight and sharpness of this instrument of slaughter... And yet, with all those factors combined, it had failed to harm me?

Illyan Natase could not help silently marveling at this before immediately raising his head to meet the swordsman's eyes and slowly answering his question.

"He is not here at present, my lord."

Roboute Guilliman studied him for a while longer before slowly sheathing his sword. With his hands clasped behind his back, he walked to the only window in the Eldar advisor's study-prison and raised his head to gaze at a painting above.

Its brushwork was exquisite, its colors incomparably gorgeous, yet the qualities that truly made it unique and eye-catching had nothing to do with either.

"An interesting perspective," Guilliman said calmly. "How long did it take you to paint this?"

Still seated, Illyan Natase rubbed his neck and answered in an almost meek tone, "Nearly two months. But how could you tell it was painted by me at a glance?"

"I do not believe a human could look upon the present-day Sol System with the utterly detached and extremely impartial perspective this painting displays."

Guilliman turned around, his expression still blank, but the hostility from before had vanished. There was even the faintest smile on his face, as though nothing tense had ever occurred within this finely decorated prison.

"It is very well painted," he praised. "I hope you will be able to take it back and