Time would not pause for anyone's wishes. It treated everyone equally; even those capable of extending their lives by replacing body parts still had to endure its merciless yet impartial passage.
They might live longer than ordinary people, but their skin would still wrinkle, and their replacement organs would still age. Yet Konrad Curze now wished time could stretch on a little longer.
He was not asking for much—only that one minute could become 180 seconds. That way, he would have more time to choose what to wear for the meeting.
"Is this a little too frivolous?" he asked his First Captain with some concern. "Fulgrim said this formal suit was for banquets."
Van Cleef did not answer immediately. He looked at the black formal suit, with its tails and silver trim gleaming along its edges, then coughed. "It is indeed suitable for a banquet, Primarch."
Konrad Curze naturally understood the implication.
"Then what about this one?"
He picked up another outfit instead. This jacket possessed the typical air of a consul: a high collar, clean lines, and an efficiency so stark it had become a style of its own. If Van Cleef were choosing, he would naturally select this one without hesitation.
But he was not the main figure in the meeting twenty minutes from now.
And even if he were, there were certain things that would make him hold his nose and choose that almost extravagantly luxurious formal suit.
So he merely nodded. "It is not suitable for a banquet, Primarch."
"What banquet?"
Curze turned around with an exasperated smile. "What begins in twenty minutes is a meeting, a conference, Van Cleef. Haven't they already made contact with us? You were the one who told me so."
"Mm."
The First Captain let out a somewhat dry murmur from