Emperor's Bane

Chapter 759 Bitter Loser

"You all get out."

"Let me speak to Guilliman, Primarch of the Ultramarines Legion, alone."

These were the only words that Malcador the Sigillite gave to the attendants beside him as he waited for his most distinguished guest.

As the actual controller of Imperial power and Terra's government for one hundred and fifty years, this hunchbacked old man's control over the country he governs even exceeds that of most Primarchs over their legions.

With just one sentence, the officials, servants and guards surrounding the Sigillite gave up their posts without question: it was not so easy for ordinary Primarchs to convince the Primarch guards of their own choice.

After the last bodyguard who had been guarding in secret left quietly, the precious tranquility embraced Malcador warmly like an old friend who had been reunited after a long separation: the Sigillator's brain, which had long been exhausted, could finally take a short rest.

In the extremely luxurious parliament hall of the Bucephalus, the flawless works created by the best sculptors in the galaxy with their life's work did not attract Malcador's attention. His gaze only lingered for a moment in front of a lifelike statue of the Emperor.

"I hope these things are also included in your never-ending plan."

The Sigillite muttered to himself, and slowly walked to the front of the Emperor's statue, and stroked the dimension of the laurel wreath with his dry palm: he looked at this impeccable work of art as if he was looking at the previous six thousand years of his life.

After a moment of silence, he began to complain about Badab and Guilliman.

"I thought there would be a conflict, but I didn't expect it to be with him at the beginning."

"But thinking about it now, Guilliman is indeed the most likely one."

"Of all your territorial endeavors, he was the most brilliant and ambitious. Whoever sits on Holy Terra will never tolerate your child as I have."

"But even I have to make him swallow the bitter fruit of failure now."

"I will push Macragge away: away from us and from our ranks."

“It doesn’t hurt.”

"After all, from the very beginning, we never counted on the power of Guilliman and the Five Hundred Worlds."

"They are only fit for their own amusement: this is not yet the age when Guilliman can be of any use."

"Besides, you promised me that."

"You believe that your son of vengeance will not stand against us and become our enemy."

"..."

"You better be confident, Apocalypse."

The seal holder shook his head. He lost interest in talking to himself here.

But before leaving, Malcador looked the sculpture up and down again.

"The craftsmanship is really good, and it looks lifelike."

"But the problem is that it's too lifelike."

"I only look for the good, but I don't have the courage to admit the bad."

"Instead, it becomes a spiritually devoid of purpose."

"In the end, I am only a very accomplished sculptor: I am definitely not an artist."

The seal bearer came closer: the name of the owner of the work was on the base.

"Is it really Fulgrim?"

"That kid: he and his army will suffer a great loss because of this sooner or later."

"But then again..."

"Why every time I peer into the thread of Fulgrim's fate."

"I always see Luo Jia..."

The Sigillite's voice faded away and drifted to the other end of the room: his own Thinker was placed there. As the only servant who did not leave, it faithfully fulfilled its long-standing responsibility and sent more information from the outside world to Malcador.

That ancient reminder of the letter, as if it were a telegraph, was exactly what Malcador wanted to hear most right now: outside his sight, his servants were faithfully reporting.

"Guilliman will be arriving soon."

"Horus is already on board."

------

"I hope that I can be a pure and neutral witness, representing the piety of future historians when they write this history, and witness everything that happens next: because human history is worth remembering, and forgetting is the cruelest form of execution in the galaxy, and it should not be imposed on our compatriots."

"That is what the Emperor taught us when we first set out on this Great Crusade: was it not so, you two?"

The Warmaster spread his arms, his eyes focused on the Sigillite's face.

But the result disappointed him: Malcador did not even open his eyelids, and huddled in his position like an old monk in meditation, as if everything in the galaxy had nothing to do with him: as if there were not two powerful Primarchs in front of him.

But the Wolf God was not angry. He knew the occasion, and he also knew that the Primarch's anger would have no effect on the Sigillite: the past conflict on Terra was still vivid in their minds, and if it had not been for the help of Morgan and Sanguinius, Horus might not have escaped from the Palace that day, even though he was the Emperor's favorite son.

But on the other hand: isn’t Malcador the Emperor’s most favored servant?

The Wolf Shepherd God kept smiling, patiently waiting for the seal bearer to respond.

He only waited for a minute.

"You are the Primarch."

"If you want to: who am I to kick you out of here?"

"This is your father's ship, after all."

Finally, as if he had just realized it, Malcador's voice sounded so dry and weak, and the tattered black robe hung on his frail torso. Compared with the two tall and strong Primarchs, it seemed as if he was the one who was forced to swallow the defeat.

What a veteran actor.

The War Marshal snorted disdainfully in his heart.

But on the surface, he just turned calmly to his brothers: Guilliman and Malcador responded to each other, each sitting at the two ends of a mahogany round table, and the space between them was enough to sit twenty people.

And with the Primarch's machine-like efficient brain, Horus sat evenly between the two men. He did not become too estranged from Malcador, nor did he appear too close to Guilliman. When the Warmaster looked around the large hall and did not find the fourth person besides them, his pupils flashed with thought.

"Guilliman, my brother."

The Warmaster smiled at Macragge.

"You agree with what I just said, right?"

"..."

Guilliman's expression did not look good, but he still maintained proper manners.

"Every Ultramarines disdains to hide any part of his past."

"And as you said, Horus: any ritual requires a witness."

The Primarch's gaze turned to the Sigillite: as Guilliman carefully examined the man who actually controlled the power of the Empire and was also the source of humiliation for the Five Hundred Worlds, he looked neither at the hatred of a war enemy nor at the respect of an Imperial Chancellor; in the Primarch's pupils, it was like a pool of stagnant water.

"Even though it is full of arrogance and misfortune."

Neither negotiator said anything else. The air was filled with only Horus's polite warm-up remarks, which made the Warmaster seem more like the real owner: the Wolf God's ability was indeed excellent. Although his two listeners were as dull as stones, with just his smile and on-the-spot reactions, after several minutes of monologue, the Warmaster finally made the negotiations seem more formal.

Future historians will thank him.

Horus muttered quietly in his heart.

Just as he was thinking about how to get these two gentlemen to speak next, the seal holder had already stood up. Invisible majesty enveloped him like psychic energy. The old aura from a few minutes ago was long gone. When his gaze shot out from the shadow under the black robe, even Horus straightened his spine unconsciously.

Then, Malcador waved his hand, and there was a sound from the mahogany table. The original tabletop receded like a tide, and was replaced by a huge star map. The azure light illuminated the pupils of the two Primarchs, and they saw clearly that this was the border of the empire.

Terra, Macragge, Badab and Baimon: the new capital that Horus had chosen for himself not long ago were all accurately marked on the star map, along with the borders of the various Primarch states and the territory of the so-called [Terra Sky Territory].

And in the east of Terra's Sky Territory, a large star region that highly overlaps with the Great Vortex area was highlighted, and names such as Badab and Betangamon were prominently listed: Obviously, this was the [Badab Hegemony Area] that had been repeatedly fought over by Holy Terra and the Five Hundred Worlds in the previous few months.

It is also the territory that Guilliman will have to cede after his [defeat].

"You don't want to waste time, do you, Primarch?"

Malcador asked, and was answered by Guilliman's somewhat gloomy eyes.

"Master: I don't want to stay on this battleship for even a second."

"very good."

Malcador nodded.

"Then let's cut to the chase: I'm tired of red tape."

After that, he pointed to the star map.

"Everything we need to discuss is on this star map: I have marked it."

"have a look."

Hearing this, Guilliman and Horus raised their heads at the same time.

The two Primarchs simultaneously noticed the boundaries of the Five Hundred Worlds first: in the middle area between Badab and Ultramar, a rough line was marked out, to the east of which was Guilliman's undisputed territory, and to the west was Badab's disputed airspace.

The attitude of the Seal Bearer is self-evident: this line will be the border between Macragge and the Five Hundred Worlds from now on.

The land west of this line is no longer a treasure that they can touch.

"My explorers have been working overtime in the past few months to clearly mark this border. I can assure you that this border will not affect any world in Ultramar. You are only giving up something you cannot control, and your own property will not be damaged."

He's right.

Horus thought to himself.

Because at the edge of this line, he could see several familiar names, and the Wolf Shepherd God knew that these worlds were the westernmost end of Ultramar in the traditional sense: and in the cosmic realms beyond them, Guilliman's claims and rule were less tenable.

However, this also means that this line is indeed drawn exactly along the core territory of the Five Hundred Worlds: that is, it also deprives Ultramar of all its buffer zones in the west, exposing their borders directly to the forefront of the conflict.

For a behemoth of the size of the Five Hundred Worlds, depriving them of all buffer zones near their core territories seems to be no different from invading their core territories: no major country will remain indifferent to this, unless they have just lost the war.

“Fair, but also harsh.”

Guilliman stared at the line. He spent three minutes patrolling back and forth, confirming every inch of detail on it: just as Malcador had said before, this border line did not infringe on the territory of the Five Hundred Worlds.

But it offends something much worse.

"Are you planning to have Terra Territory directly border the Five Hundred Worlds?"

After a short silence, Guilliman asked doubtfully: He didn't believe that Malcador would be so stupid.

"Do not."

Sure enough, as the seal holder waved his hand again, there were new changes on the star map in front of the three people.

In the western territories that Guilliman was forced to give up, a series of independent regimes of varying sizes were established, while the remaining lands were generously divided among several neighboring Primarch states.

The White Scars and the Emperor's Children received the largest and richest areas respectively, the Salamanders also expanded silently, and even the territory of the World Eaters grew: these smaller Primarch realms became the new neighbors of the Five Hundred Worlds in the west.

Behind them were the dozens of small regimes that Holy Terra had dissected from the body of Badab’s hegemony: it was easy to imagine that these more independent small states were absolutely unable to resist Terra’s orders, and they were placed at the fingertips of the high lords.

And behind them was the new frontier that Holy Terra had drawn for itself: if compared with the period before the Badab Crisis, this frontier was actually not too new, and its main body was still stagnant in the Betangamon area. It seemed that the elders on Holy Terra had no interest in taking advantage of this great victory to expand their territory.

If we really want to say, the biggest territorial change is that Prospero, which originally belonged to the Thousand Sons, completely disappeared from the star map and became a new piece of land acquired by Terra. However, considering the special nature of Magnus, the three people present tacitly ignored this point.

"I noticed one thing."

While Guilliman remained silent, Horus smiled at the Sigillite, seemingly unconsciously.

"Doesn't Terra intend to place the Maelstrom under its more powerful protection?"

"The Emperor chose Fulgrim of the Emperor's Sons as Governor of the Turmoil for the Maelstrom."

Malcador simply replied.

"And Holy Terra will protect the rights of the Great Vortex in its own way."

"How to protect?"

Horus demanded.

"You don't even plan to further expand the territory of Terra?"

"The Sky Territory is a territory set by the Emperor. Terra has no right to change it at will."

"But they..."

The Sigillite stretched out his hand and pointed at the vortex that was once again breaking into pieces: Because of his angle, Horus could not see clearly what Malcador was pointing at.

Was he pointing at those small nations that were drifting like duckweed, or at those Primarch nations that seemed to have reaped huge benefits from the Badab crisis? Or was he pointing at all of them with great ambition?

"They will become the Terrafar District."

"Legal district?"

This time, it was Guilliman who asked.

"What do you mean?"

"The general scope of Terra's Sky Territory will not exceed the rules set by the Emperor, but Terra's scope of responsibility goes far beyond that: the newly emerging nations in the Maelstrom will not accept Terra's direct leadership, but they will act according to the laws made by Terra and have the right to receive Terra's direct military protection."

That's it...

Horus leaned back again.

He thought it was so fresh...

Terrafar: These High Lords have coined a new term for their sphere of influence.

"According to Terra's laws..."

The Macragge chewed on these words: after a while, he suddenly raised his head and stared at the seal bearer with sharp eyes.

"Does it also include my five hundred worlds?"

After these words were spoken, even the temperature around the round table seemed to drop a lot.

"of course not."

The seal bearer looked calm and his tone seemed to soften a little.

"After the treaty is signed, all previous conflicts and disputes will be written off: since the Five Hundred Worlds have proven their loyalty, Terra will respect the rights of the Five Hundred Worlds. Everything the Emperor promised you will no longer be questioned by anyone."

"The newly established Terrafa District is obliged to pay its tithe to Terra, but the issue of the Five Hundred Worlds is put aside for now: even if we discuss the tax issue in the future, it will be based on communication and negotiation. Without the permission of you, the local vassal king, Holy Terra will not collect taxes from any of the Five Hundred Worlds in a narrow sense."

“Is this a promise?”

Guilliman pressed his fingers to the tabletop.

The seal bearer just smiled and turned his gaze to Horus standing aside.

“No: this is history that will be recorded.”

"……very good."

At this moment, even the momentum of the Makulago people seemed to have weakened a lot.

Horus knew that his brother had lost the courage to continue fighting after being assured of his inner bottom line: a lamentable capitulation, but he had no right to condemn Guilliman for his weakness.

but……

Looking at the fight between dragons and tigers in front of him, the Wolf God suddenly felt inspired.

A ray of light, a ray of light that seemed to have never appeared in his nearly two hundred years of life, a ray of light that seemed to belong only to people like Morgan, at this moment, kissed the dry mind of the Wolf God.

He knocked on the table, signaling the seal holder to pay attention to his words.

"In other words, the Five Hundred Worlds are no longer allowed to expand their territory westward?"

"Yes."

The palm bearer nodded.

"And at the same time, Terra's tax collectors are not allowed to visit Ultramar without reason?"

"That's it."

Nod again.

"What is it, Warmaster?"

"Nothing, I'm just curious..."

The wolf shepherd god grinned.

"Did we miss something?"

"Since this is a gentleman's agreement that needs to be signed by both of you, then naturally a third party is needed: someone who has no interest in this agreement at all, to assume the responsibility of supervisor from now on."

"what do you mean……"

"Yes."

Horus smiled.

"If you don't mind."

"Please leave a few worlds on the edge of the so-called Terrafar Zone and the Five Hundred Worlds for the Luna Wolves to build outposts or small military bases. If that doesn't work, a few asteroids will also work."

"I will send a Luna Wolves team to be stationed there to monitor the implementation of the treaty by both parties and the attitude of Badab Prime. Don't worry, I will only send a few dozen people. Their most powerful weapons are their tongues and eyes."

"Let me, the warlord, do my part to achieve this peace."

"..."

Malcador was silent for a moment.

He instinctively felt that Horus must have other intentions behind this suggestion.

But what could it be?

He couldn't think of it.

Unconsciously, the way Malcador looked at the Wolf God had changed.

He locked eyes with the Primarch, but Horus revealed nothing more than a signal smile: the Warmaster was undoubtedly much more mature now than when the two had last confronted each other on Holy Terra.

It's barely worthy of this position.

Makado sighed in his heart like a true elder.

Then he put it all aside and turned to look at the silent Guilliman.

"What do you think of this, Primarch?"

"No."

Guilliman was succinct: At this moment, even his soul was gray.

But Malcador had no mercy. He simply took out the treaty he had prepared in private. The specific content was of course more detailed than what he had just said. The main purpose of the text was to confuse the public, soften the crisis into a conflict, and try to erase the humiliation suffered by the Five Hundred Worlds as much as possible on paper.

Of course, all of this cannot be truly erased, and the seal holder is just deceiving himself.

But he no longer had the energy to waste on this matter or this Primarch.

"Then sign it."

(End of this chapter)