42 Reclaiming Hope (I)

The key to conquest was speed.

Ten thousand years ago, when he still sat in the senate chamber facing the elders who had voiced considerable criticism of his reforms, Roboute Guilliman had already understood this truth.

He had treated it as an immutable principle, but it was not until many years later that he remembered the saying: haste makes waste.

He had loved reading since childhood. Books that ordinary people needed weeks or even months to study painstakingly could be grasped in full after only a cursory read in his hands. He had long known that saying—but merely knowing it was not enough.

To remember, to learn, and then to apply—an incomparably long road lay between them. At the time, he had also been an ever-victorious king, perfectly at home in war. Any tactic came readily to hand, and with only the slightest seriousness on his part, he could leave his advisers and staff staring in astonishment.

Failure was a bitter word. Many feared it, treating it as some savage beast or man-eating monster. He had never thought of it that way. When alone, he would simply gaze proudly at the star charts and smile, thinking, At least I have not failed Conno and Euten's teachings.

And so, naturally, he encountered failure.

Then he failed again and again.

It was too painful. The taste of failure was truly too painful, especially for someone like him. Ordinary people would flee from it, but he could not. He would relive it over and over, endlessly dissecting the causes of defeat. He would go without sleep or rest, eyes bloodshot as he threw himself over the tactical table, reviewing casualty lists, defeat reports, and every kind of data sheet.

From them, Roboute Guilliman reached a conclusion countless times—a conclusion that was real, immutable,