62: Reclaiming Hope (19)

Roboute Guilliman stood calmly before his tactical table, arms folded and legs apart. People constantly passed by him: those coming to report, those hurrying past with documents in their arms, workers laden with repair tools.

They came and went, went and came, while he remained unchanged, standing unmoving amid this churning sea of fury.

His face was bathed in the blue light projected from the tactical table. It rendered his face—capable of warmth or danger—utterly inhuman. A dreadful rationality flowed coldly through every detail, especially his eyes. Those blazing white meteors had now changed color, nearly becoming two black holes capable of destroying every beautiful thing in the world.

—Thus, when Captain Idaeus personally brought them before him, Cato Sicarius, Uriel Ventris, and Pasanius Lysane each felt fear to varying degrees.

Yet their primarch displayed not the slightest anger.

He merely lifted his head from the complex, ever-changing battlefield, then gestured to the Fourth Company's captain. Idaeus immediately stepped to his side.

They exchanged a few words in whispers. At last, Idaeus nodded, then left swiftly with one hand on his sword.

He did not look at the three young battle-brothers as he departed—Sicarius felt an even deeper fear because of it, but not because he feared punishment. He feared disappointing his primarch and captain.

With that thought in mind, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand a little straighter.

Just then, their primarch called to them.

"Come here, three warriors," Roboute Guilliman said in a soft voice laced with calm and mockery. "Let me have a good look at you."

Dejected, they walked over to submit to their primarch's inspection.

Guilliman's attention first settled on Uriel Ventris.

He seized the young man by the chin and turned his head this way and that, examining him as though