Primarchs Go Shopping

"This is your badly wounded brother? He looks all right, like a normal person." Oedmeir took a sip of coffee. Guilliman and the other Primarchs sat across from her.

"Don't we look like normal people?" Perturabo muttered quietly. Oedmeir heard him, but did not point it out.

These so-called gene-Primarchs and sons of The Emperor were nothing particularly worthy of Oedmeir's admiration once their halos had been stripped away.

"Ultramar is your territory, right? Let's get straight to discussing the union of the sectors: the Big Canteen Sector, the T'au Empire Sector, and the Ultramar Sector as a trinity."

"And the transit regulations for T'au trade fleets. I don't want your people slaughtering ours over some leftover Imperium issues."

"These are the detailed production regulations, mainly covering how long factory workers can work under low-output Gellar Fields."

Paper documents and electronic files were piled in front of Guilliman. He merely weighed them lightly in his hand, yet fully felt the weight of knowledge.

"Do you have any other questions? If so, ask quickly. In half an hour, I need to go to the Golden Core to oversee the reconstruction work."

"Uh... I don't have any questions at the moment."

"Good. Talk to the Strong Logic System first if anything comes up. We'll meet next Sunday."

Oedmeir clapped her hands and left. Guilliman blinked twice, then asked whether Miss Oedmeir was normally always in such a hurry.

"She's always been pretty busy." Perturabo shrugged.

Guilliman nodded. His first impression of Oedmeir had been quite favorable.

Her hair was unkempt, and her clothes were full of wrinkles and stains, but it was the vigor radiating from her that drew Guilliman's attention most strongly.

Over the following days, Guilliman read through the documents Oedmeir had given him while taking Calgar and the others