76 Oil Cakes

Turn left, go straight, go downstairs, downstairs, downstairs—an endless flight of stairs. Hades was clearly intimately familiar with the routes leading to Old Yellow's golden toilet.

A Custodian Guard opened the door for Hades. Hades nodded and stepped into the throne room.

"What do you want from me now?!"

Hades shouted, narrowing his eyes at Old Yellow atop the steps. At first, he had still climbed the stairs to take a good look at the old man—but now, Hades hoped Old Yellow could install an escalator on the steps before the Golden Throne.

If messages could be conveyed by shouting, Hades saw no need to walk all the way up and then back down. Perhaps winged primarchs found audiences with the Emperor more comfortable; they could simply fly up.

+You may.+

The Emperor's tone was utterly flat.

???

"What do you mean, I may?!"

Hades shouted again. He was already somewhat used to Old Yellow not speaking like a normal person.

+You may follow your heart, departed soul.+

Hades was stunned. He wavered between the Emperor wanting him to carry out Malcador's plan and Old Yellow genuinely knowing what was in his heart—then Hades chose the latter.

"You know what I'm thinking?!"

Hades looked up at the Emperor. Golden sunlight from the throne spilled across his face; within the Null Field, only the Astronomican's surging golden flames could be glimpsed.

+...+

+I believe I do.+

"..."

Hades opened his mouth. He frowned at Old Yellow as though he were about to launch a verbal attack.

But his open mouth wriggled for quite a while, and in the end, he still could not get many words out.

"You..."

...must have something seriously wrong with you.

Hades muttered, but the Emperor interrupted him. The Emperor waved a hand and said firmly,

+I