Clone Guilliman had long learned through the Apostle Magnus that the original had quite a few arrangements for him, so he was not surprised.
What choice did he have? He was a clone. If the original gave an order, all he could do was accept it.
Still, being a clone had its advantages. No matter how one looked at it, the original's current power and status were beyond a clone's reach, so he was not especially worried that the original would dump a mountain of work on him.
Guilliman himself might be at ease, but could the rest of the Imperium be?
A cloned primarch born in the depths of the Eye of Terror and created by Fabius Bile's blasphemous biotech inherently carried unknown risks and hidden dangers. Such a person could never be placed in the lofty position of Imperial Regent.
As for the other primarchs, they went to visit various places across Terra according to their own wishes, temporarily scattering once more.
Only clone Horus heard the Emperor's voice by his ear. Somewhat puzzled, he looked around at his other brothers and found nothing unusual about them. It seemed he alone had heard it.
Without drawing attention, Horus temporarily parted from his brothers and followed the Emperor's guidance toward the private garden near the Throne Room, painstakingly crafted by Malcador.
Horus vaguely guessed that the Emperor had something to tell him alone, perhaps even something to conceal from the other primarchs. But he said nothing. Whatever the Emperor wanted him to do, he would do. That was all.
The moment Horus crossed the threshold, the room that appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary office from outside suddenly became extraordinarily vast. Fresh grass and babbling streams lay everywhere, while sunlight was refracted into the chamber through psychic