Under Lady Euten's rebuke, Auguston still looked unconvinced, but he lowered his head in submission.
"I know you are still dissatisfied, Lord Auguston." Lady Euten continued, "Were the palace guards at fault for failing to thoroughly inspect the visitors today? Was it Chief Guard Dobarum's fault for failing to control the situation? As you think, they are all mortals."
"And what of Chief Librarian Titus? Did they foresee this incident? Roboute wished to have a heart-to-heart talk with his old friend, and in a moment of carelessness, he relaxed his guard. Yet none of you, his sons, questioned or corrected such a mistake."
"He made a mistake, but none of you pointed it out."
Dorl the Hero stopped Auguston's instinctive rashness with a look. This warrior, fearless and invincible on the battlefield, was so impulsive and self-centered when dealing with others.
"My lady, have some water. The apothecaries have brought good news. Lord Roboute has awakened."
The Chief Librarian took a glass of water from nearby and handed it to the mistress of the household.
Lady Euten drained the water in one gulp, shot Auguston a glare, then followed Praetor into the emergency room.
Guilliman was leaning against the cushions of his hospital bed. His expression was calm, making him seem nothing like someone who had just endured a harrowing assassination attempt.
"My lady." The primarch called out upon seeing his foster mother stride toward him.
"You always make me worry so much." Lady Euten leaned lightly against the bed, carefully examining the healing wounds on the side of Guilliman's neck and the back of his head.
To help the wounds heal better, the golden hair around them had been shaved away, diminishing some of his extraordinary heroic majesty.
"My sons have made you worry. They are far too thoughtless."