Gantula of the White Scars was as unconventional as his father, Jaghatai Khan.
It was this proud White Scar warrior who had challenged the Lord of Ultramar's loyalty with sword in hand when he received representatives from the various Legions.
But Guilliman did not blame him. The Imperium had shattered, rebellion ran rampant, and everyone had endured tests of loyalty and betrayal—yet they had also lost their trust in former comrades.
It was a crisis of trust with no clear resolution. The White Scars' actions had undoubtedly brought it into the open, but they had also exposed suspicions that would otherwise have festered slowly, allowing everyone to see whether there were festering sores beneath the scars or flesh that had already healed.
"I know that my brother Jaghatai Khan was never the barbarian the masses imagined him to be. He simply disdained debating with vulgar men like us. Among the primarchs, he was the clearest-minded and the wisest."
"I truly ought to thank you, Gantula. Please keep watch over my conduct."
Guilliman's sincere attitude left even the sharp-tongued White Scar warrior somewhat flattered. He began to wonder whether the rumors he had once heard—that Guilliman was a man consumed by ambition—were truly accurate.
The primarch's gaze swept across the crowd, and suddenly he spotted someone in a corner who should not have been there.
Behind a colonnade, Lox leaned against an exquisite marble pillar with his arms folded, watching the spectacle unfold.
When the primarch's gaze shifted toward him, Lox even raised his right hand and made an amused gesture.
It's the power of Pharos. That bastard is actually standing there watching me make a fool of myself.
He just stood there and watched while that White Scar pup mocked me?
Guilliman immediately understood. At some point, Lox had used