Hades Decides to Take Charge

Hades fell silent.

Neos fell silent, and Malcador fell silent as well.

"So,"

Hades clapped his hands,

"the conclusion is that Neos keeps sitting on the th—no, the Golden Throne, while Old Mal, the Ultramarines, and I handle Imperium administration?"

"What throne?" "The Ultramarines can only interfere with low- and mid-level authority!"

The two remarks rang out at once. Hades laughed awkwardly and cheerfully ignored them both.

"Anything else you want to add? Or should I just do my thing?"

"A single Legion must not govern the Imperium," Malcador said darkly. "That is taboo."

"The Death Guard and Sons of the Lord of the Underworld will help too," Hades said. "Old Mal, don't worry. With me here, they won't mess around."

Malcador breathed heavily, while the Emperor skipped over his own earlier question and looked at Hades approvingly.

"I'm afraid you're the one who'll mess around."

Malcador said,

"You and Neos can keep an eye on me too," Hades said. "Isn't there still you? Old Mal, I'm just afraid you'll wear yourself out managing everything alone."

Malcador gave a cold laugh.

"As you wish."

Hades smiled. He looked at Neos, and the Emperor spoke, glancing at the Magnus Stone at Hades's waist.

"It is fine. I am already tired, Underking. The rest is yours... and the primarchs'... command them as you please."

Hades's smile turned bitter.

"Primarchs?" he said. "There isn't a single one left besides you and Old Mal. Where are we supposed to find workhorses for us to order around?... How about Guilliman—"

Malcador extended a hand, and a perfectly sized scepter grew from it.

"Guilliman needs rest," Malcador said. "Wraith... sometimes I truly suspect you were a Macraggean in your past life."

Hades smiled.

"Barbarus," he said. "I still can't forget my roots."

Mortarion, still in