Emperor's Bane

Chapter 636: Great Rebellion, but the Emperor Appointed

＋She had nothing to say. ＋
+ She had to admit, even though she was extremely reluctant, that I was right, and our debate was like countless other times before, with no surprises: She eventually contributed every bit of information she had, including the first draft that we had lost in the chaos of the Thunder Warriors and her subsequent research over the years. +
+Her progress in some cutting-edge fields has even left me far behind: There is no doubt, my old friend, she is still the genius she once was, the genius who created the Astartes warriors with her own hands. The peaceful years have not dulled her brilliance, and many of her suggestions are still refreshing to me. +
"I never doubted it."

The Sigillite coughed softly, his voice sounding thick and fuzzy, as if there was stubborn phlegm stuck in his throat: this matched the old, thin body of Malcador, who could not even support a simple brown and yellow long-distance running suit: no one would believe that such an old man was the master of the entire human empire, and his reputation spread wantonly under the shadow of the Sky Eagle.

But on the other hand, the Sigillite never seems to truly stand in the light.

The reason is simple. Whoever stands before the Lord of Mankind can only survive in the shadow cast by the Emperor: this powerful man who has never appeared in the world possesses a brilliance far greater than that of the sun. He can easily illuminate the entire civilization, the entire world, the entire palace, or even the most mysterious and strict prison in this palace.

Whirlpool room.

That's what people call this place.

This infamous chamber is buried deep in the heart of the Corona Spire in the Terran Palace. It has eight walls carved with runes and is completely isolated from the outside world: only the Lord of Mankind and his closest Sigillites can use this unstable realm between the real universe and the warp. They are accustomed to peeking into the mysteries of the Soul Sea here, or whispering about the most secret news.

But despite this, the Emperor would only visit when necessary, because on many important matters, the Lord of Mankind was not used to listening to the opinions of others, and preferred to make decisions on his own, or completely leave it to Malcador to deal with.

Therefore, the basalt throne in the vortex chamber actually belongs to the Sigillite, a relic from ancient Terra, and the most important gift the Emperor has given to Malcador: when the Sigillite is surrounded by spiral patterns made of gold, steel and brass, and memorizes every hexagonal rune on the wall, his mind will be extremely close to the door of the dimension, and he can even communicate with the Emperor in the realm of the soul at the speed of his brain.

Then, they would use leaps of thought that even the Primarchs would find difficult to do, and communicate in the rifts between dimensions, in order to maximize the confidentiality of important information and shield themselves from interference from outsiders or even evil gods: the last crisis that was worthy of such seriousness from the Emperor and the Sigillite was the Unrecognized Person who nearly dragged the entire Great Crusade into purgatory.

And now, they talked about a former comrade with this attitude.

"Amaar-Astarte."

Malcador could hear himself sighing as he spoke the name, and at the same time he caught a fleeting glimpse of regret on the Emperor's face, which seemed always to retain the solemnity of a rock: the Lord of Mankind had undoubtedly tried, but yet another of his friends had resolutely left him.

Maybe he's already used to it.

"She was the smartest person. When our team only had five or six people, she was your most loyal follower. If you had been more cautious at the time, maybe she wouldn't have gotten involved with the Thunder Warriors' rebellion. Although we saved her life, we also lost her wisdom."

＋I know, I'm sorry too. ＋
＋Besides, we have lost only her wisdom, not her loyalty.＋
The Emperor looked away, not wanting anyone to see him weak for even a moment.

+But I could not convince her, this was the only point where I lost the debate: she had joined the Thunder Warriors' rebellion because she believed that after losing their Primarch, the Astartes would be as uncontrollable as the Thunder Warriors, and I had indeed lost all my children at that time.

"She's right."

The Sigillite frowned slightly, and in the blink of an eye, he extended his thoughts to the entire history of the Great Crusade: the countless deeds that occurred in various Astartes Legions forced him to agree with his old friend's words, and even doubled them down.

"But she was wrong about one thing."

"It is precisely because of the existence of the Primarch that these Astartes warriors are doubly uncontrollable, because they will gather under a banner. Without the banner of the Primarch, even the most outstanding among their peers like Sigismund, Akudona or Abaddon will never be able to unite the power of the legion level."

"At that time, they are not dangerous."

"For a unified Empire, an Astartes without a Primarch and a legion system is only a tolerable crisis even if they gather tens of thousands of people. If the number is only a few hundred or a few thousand, then what is the essential difference between an Astartes and bandits?"

"Without the Primarch and the Legion, their combat effectiveness will be reduced by at least half."

"And now, these Astartes warriors have both Primarchs and Legions."

"That's why they appear deadly."

＋It’s no use saying this now. ＋
＋The only thing to be thankful for is that no legion has gone out of control yet. ＋
+My offspring aren't perfect, but they're more or less acceptable. +
The Emperor seemed to be proud, sighing, and quietly swallowing the luck in his throat. As he strolled in front of the basalt throne of Malcador, shaking his head and sighing for the past grudges and the current stability, the Lord of Mankind seemed to have thought of something in a trance: he quickly stopped and nodded to his seal bearer with a serious face.

+You know what, Malcador. +
+ When I saw Ms. Astarte enjoying her old age peacefully, I couldn't help but feel fortunate. I was fortunate that the mutation of the second individual occurred: the gods bet on her too early, which disturbed me and made me instinctively strengthen the defense measures of the original laboratory. Moreover, I concealed this matter from everyone, including you. +
+Coincidentally, when Ms. Astarte was about to take advantage of the turmoil of the Thunder Warriors to destroy the entire laboratory, it was precisely these unknown defensive measures that stopped her foolish behavior in time and saved her life in disguise, allowing us to discuss her later life here now: this is a living butterfly wings. +
"..."

"How was her later life?"

+It's pretty good: a country villa, a well-maintained garden and forest, occasionally teaching a few nominal disciples, or visiting a few other old guys... +
Before he knew it, even the Lord of Mankind had stopped his pace.

The next few minutes were exceptionally long, dead silent, and unbearable, until the Emperor somewhat boredly dispelled the gloom around him, and the Sigillite then whispered with a hint of regret.

"Individual No. 2...Morgan..."

The wrinkled skin on Malcador's face twitched with his breathing, like a rag being pulled at random.

"I remembered."

"Over the years, I have been in correspondence with Lady Astarte. She once talked to me about her views on various legions. You know, she is the most authoritative expert in this area. All the legions were created by her. She was particularly sorry about the 11th Legion. That legion could have become a reliable force on par with the Dark Angels, but their overly straightforward and rude loyalty eventually dragged them into destruction."

"However, the Second Legion's deeds surprised Lady Astarte. She had a very good opinion of Morgan, mainly focusing on the various measures your daughter took to revitalize the Legion. She recognized this effort to turn the tide, but she was not optimistic about the Second Legion's future and was even very pessimistic."

"According to Ms. Astarte, if the Primarchs leave again, all the legions will fall into decline and decay. Only a few legions will be able to survive, such as the Dark Angels and the Ultramarines. But the Dawnbreakers will definitely be the one in the worst situation. It is the legion most likely to self-destruct."

+Death from lack of stamina? +

"Yes, Morgan is essentially extending the life of something that should have died. This is a move that goes against the will of heaven: she is just like you now, Apocalypse. Your daughter made the same choice as you. She left their [Human Empire] to the Dawnbreakers, which at least ensured their continuation."

"But Ms. Astartes still cannot guarantee this. After all, when it comes to the topic of overall continuation and destruction, the Astartes Legion is such a fragile creature. Several legions have been on the brink of destruction. The Dawnbreakers are not the ones in the most dangerous situation."

＋I'm not surprised by this. ＋
The Emperor nodded, his thoughts drawn to Morgan's topic.

＋Where is she now? ＋
Faced with this question, the Sigillite Master did not answer immediately, but pressed his dry back against the basalt behind him as much as possible, and moved his creaking neck hard to drive his aging body to move: Although he was already six thousand years old, Malcador was certainly not so weak.

The reason why he was so exhausted was that he had put most of his energy into the vast and distant ocean.

The basalt throne and the runes on the walls multiplied the spiritual power of the bearer. In this secret room, all the shackles of meditation would disappear. Malcador's soul was like a steady ship, passing through the never-ending storm in the warp space, constantly thinking, searching, checking and dispatching. Before answering the Lord of Mankind's questions, he also checked the situation on other [fronts].

His third eye saw more Malcador in the cracks of the warp, each of them was himself, each of them was his authentic clone and mental carrier, they could think, speak and remember like him, to deal with those necessary meetings, inspections, or audiences with the subjects of the empire: this vulgar, ancient but effective method was the core means by which the Sigillite could hold the power of the empire.

People always suspect that Malcador, the Sigillite, does not need to rest. This idea is of course completely wrong: even the immortals need to rest. It is just that his vigorous vitality and spiritual will allow Malcador to rest only part of his soul at a time, while the other part still needs to be dedicated to his work.

After routinely checking whether a dozen of himself were as dedicated to their work as he was, the Sigillite calmly withdrew his will in the Warp and turned to look at his Lord of Apocalypse: The Emperor was not angry because of Malcador's slackness, but instead took the time to think about another problem. This was a common way of getting along between this monarch and his subject.

+See? +
"Yes. If there is no trouble in Avalon, Morgan's fleet should have already set out in the direction of Ullanor. Conrad will go with her. They will wait for Guilliman's fleet in the Maelstrom, and maybe Vulkan and Angron. That will delay the trip for about half a month."

＋Acceptable. ＋
The Lord of Mankind nodded.

＋But this combination makes me uneasy. ＋
"There's no need to be anxious. With Guilliman and Vulkan here, I'm sure Morgan wouldn't dare discuss anything too...adult."

＋What about Angron? ＋
“At this point, you still want to fight for Angron?”

"You finally have two heads?" +... +
The Emperor stopped talking.
Malcador grinned, feeling the strength gradually returning to his body.

"Apocalypse, you should really consider the situation on Ullanor. Most of the dignitaries from all over the Empire have already arrived, and all the Primarchs have promised that they will come to attend the ceremony of enthroning the Warmaster. So, where are you going to hold this grand ceremony? Ullanor is still a ruin."

+Right here in Ullanor: There is no place better for handover than this world. +
“Who will be responsible for the construction of the venue?”

+Dorn and his Imperial Fists are now stationed near Ullanor... +
"Are you sure?"

The rhetorical question uttered by the Sigillite was a rare one: so rare that it made the Emperor stop in his tracks.

+What do you mean, my friend? +
"Don't ignore it, Apocalypse. We all know that when the matter on Ullanor just ended, when your daughter was on her way back to her country, she had already written you more than one letter. In the letter, Morgan clearly mentioned that she hoped to let Perturabo and the Fourth Legion be responsible for the construction of the next conference venue."

+What does this have to do with her? +
“Maybe it’s a personal hobby.”

The seal bearer spread out his hands.

"You know: your daughter always likes to give her brothers the credit they deserve."

"Every time there is a reason."

The Emperor seemed to waver.

+This is just a suggestion: and Dorn can definitely do better. I need him to make a brilliant enough achievement to convince everyone and make people believe that it is right to appoint the Seventh Legion as the Terran Guard. +
"A legion that could be questioned should not have served as Terra's personal guard."

"Don't worry about Dorn's abilities."

The seal holder's eyelids twitched.

"Besides, when Morgan wrote this letter, her opinion was of no importance, but now she is holding your cherished treasure in her hand: before the map of Comoros is placed on our desk, you'd better carefully consider Morgan's suggestion."

"What's more, Perturabo's ability is not necessarily worse than Dorn's. I think the Olympians are better in terms of fine arts and giant buildings. As long as Perturabo can calm down and devote all his energy and creativity, his works will surely highlight the supreme majesty of the human empire."

"Adopt Morgan's proposal. Both she and Perturabo will be satisfied."

“It’s a pretty good deal.”

+Trade? +

The Emperor frowned. He disliked this word very much, especially when others brought it up to him: After all, no one understood better than the Emperor how huge the operating space could be under the necessary conditions using the word "transaction". The Lord of Mankind was an expert in this area, so he was particularly wary.

Finally, he smiled, a laugh mixed with a heavy hum.

+Since when did the relationship between father and son have to be summed up as a transaction? +
"From the moment you decided to grant them the land of the galaxy."

The Sigillite raised his head, and his straightforward words pierced the Emperor's majesty.

"If they were just your generals, you could indeed focus on the father-son relationship to confuse the audience. But after the Ullanor Conference, they are not only your generals, but also the masters of their respective lands and your vassals. The relationship between the monarch and his subjects under the feudal fiefdom system is based on mutually beneficial transactions. Involving the relationship between father and son is actually a bad thing."

The Emperor was silent for a moment.

+Are you asking me to reconsider the necessity of dividing the Primarchs? +
"of course not."

Malcador did not hesitate.

"Temporarily enfeoffing the various Primarchs is a necessary measure to maintain the long-term stability of the Empire. We are expanding too fast. Holy Terra is simply not enough to supply the galaxy with the number of bureaucrats that can maintain the normal operation of the Empire. The connection between a large number of marginal areas in the galaxy and the Empire is still extremely weak: we need to enfeoff, we need to use the iron grip of the Primarchs and the Legions to firmly hold these lands in the hands of the Empire."

"The most important task at hand is to plant the Empire's double-headed eagle flag on every vital world. As for who is responsible for planting the flag, it is actually irrelevant: after the Great Crusade, we will have plenty of time to manipulate and rewrite these details. That will be hundreds of years later."

+...+
The Lord of Mankind's thick, dark brown lips pressed together, his brows raised, and he took slow steps, casting a long shadow on the eight walls, and the shadow enveloped Malcador's torso: the king and his subject fell into silence at this moment, until the Lord of Mankind waved his hand casually, and it seemed that he had decided not to dwell on this issue anymore.

＋Okay, I'll do as you say. ＋
+Putting Perturabo in charge of construction: where are his legions now? +
"In the Maelstrom."

The seal bearer answered fluently.

"The Iron Warriors are one of the most successful legions in the past decade. They seem to have found the rhythm they had at the beginning of the Great Crusade. Although the legion's casualty rate is still high, everyone thinks it is acceptable because they are responsible for those key battlefields that are so important that casualties must not be counted. In comparison, the number of casualties in the Fourth Legion is often lower than we expected."

+Are they all important battlefields? +
"Yes, this steel beast has finally come to its senses. At least it knows that it should squander human lives on necessary battlefields. Just look at the Fourth Legion's achievements in recent years. Every world that their blood has stained can affect the situation of the Great Crusade, and they are the ones who turn the tide. The Legion's medals of honor and monuments are equally high."

＋…very good…＋
The Emperor was silent for a long moment: it seemed that this was all he knew about Perturabo.

+ Perhaps I should find a time to summon my Olympians. My daughter once told me that if I wanted to give Perturabo a seemingly important position, I should quietly reveal it to him in private, and then give him the epaulettes in public. +
"indeed so."

The seal holder raised one eyebrow.

"But what office will you give Perturabo at the Ullanor Congress?"

The Emperor smiled.

＋It's simple: I plan to have him work with Jonson, and to separate the First and Fourth Legions from the Great Crusade's command structure in a sense, and make them forces directly under the Imperial Palace. The Lion and the Iron will be my right-hand men, and their legions will be independent of Horus' authority system, but their status will not be clearly higher than that of the Wolf God. ＋
"..."

The other brow furrowed as well.

"No one of the three will be satisfied."

＋Yes, that is why this arrangement is relatively fair. ＋
The emperor nodded somewhat arrogantly.

+ Although Horus's supremacy as Warmaster was slightly damaged, his authority was not shaken. Instead, he lacked two fatal internal factors. Although Jonson and Perturabo did not get the positions they wanted, they did not have to bow to Horus: they could just consider themselves equals to the Warmaster, as long as they did not show it in public. +
+ As the Great Crusade's military duties separate their respective legions again, the remaining dissatisfaction and friction will gradually disappear. It may be difficult for them to cooperate sincerely, which will affect the overall efficiency after the Great Crusade, but most of the galaxy has fallen into our control, and the remaining forces are of no concern. +
＋This is acceptable. ＋
+ On the other hand, since he is now my right-hand man, Perturabo naturally has no reason to hate Dorn: at least not as much as before. Since Morgan has laid a good foundation for them, I hope to see the day when they reconcile, which will be good for the Empire. +
"It's hard."

+I know. +
The Emperor looked away, rather than meeting Malcador's gaze sternly, which meant that his point was irrefutable at this point.

＋But we have plenty of time. ＋
+After I leave, the Great Crusade will continue for at least another fifty years. As long as we have laid a solid foundation in Ullanor, the long time will be enough to dispel the previous unpleasantness and in turn strengthen the foundation of the empire. +
"It could also be the opposite: time will create new frictions."

The Sigillite thought for a moment, then shook his head and denied the Emperor's dream. He was not a naive child: rather than the Primarchs understanding each other over a long period of time and grinding away their mutual hatred, he would rather believe that these demigods, in the absence of the Emperor, would accumulate more conflicts and hatred, and that many of the legions today had already shown similar signs.

＋Yes. ＋
The Emperor nodded.

+I know. +
+The Great Crusade was too fast, leaving behind countless hidden contradictions, piled up haphazardly under the banner of the double-headed eagle, and even we cannot pick them all out: that is why we need an opportunity, an opportunity that cannot be lost. +
+ Before the Great Crusade lands, we must eliminate the fatal unstable factors to ensure a soft landing: the biggest unstable factors are the contradictions accumulated during the Great Crusade. Without detonating them, the Great Crusade will not be able to land safely. +
+So, my friend Malcador. +
The Emperor took a deep breath, he seemed to have realized what he had said.

+We fear rebellion. +
+We are on guard against rebellion. +
+We hate rebellion. +
＋But……＋
＋We also need: a rebellion. ＋
＋A rebellion as big as possible.＋
(End of this chapter)