Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 597: There are always surprises when checking accounts -
"Alas! I think I am becoming a god." - Last words of the Roman Emperor Vespasian
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"Well, let's assume that you were smart enough not to fall into the trap that the Thirst has set for you this time... then what's next? If I'm not mistaken... Guilliman, the green fat man will spread some lovely religious blind plague in your beloved little kingdom of Ultramar in seven months, so that you can take a step further in becoming a god, and at the same time harvest more suffering souls and potential believers for him."

Thanks to the prestige of the Grey Knights and the obvious unanimous support of the two Guillimans, this grand parade was able to end in a relatively normal manner.

Now that Robouti Guilliman has returned to his loyal Hera Fortress, he has spent a lot of time one-on-one with senior officers, including Calgar, and others for very personal conversations with him.

The Primarch's charm and beauty were unmatched, and everyone he spoke to felt (once again, so familiar) like a breeze.

His just right tone, manner, expression, guidance, comfort, or conversations that revealed the side that the other party wanted to see most quickly calmed the turbulent hearts - even though the senior officers who were also fed a set of sweet talk by Julius at the time all cried and knelt on the ground in the end, begging the Primarch to forgive their sins. They only wanted to get the punishment they deserved from the true Gene Father, punishing them for not being able to protect their father's body, punishing them for being careless, and because they wanted to keep their father so much that they were blinded and actually recognized others as the manifestation of their father.

Although Guilliman was mentally prepared for the situation where his offspring would be more or less influenced by the thinking style of the state religion, when he really faced this moment in person, the operation of the chapter he was familiar with had long been distorted into another seemingly plausible appearance in the passage of time. He found that this made him so aggrieved that he almost roared, and the feeling could no longer be described as a lump in his throat.

But in order to avoid causing more problems later, he could only try his best to twist his facial muscles into a kind and majestic smile, and at the same time try to appease everyone with words and tone that would not cause misunderstandings, and explain Julius' existence with "the matter with Sanguinor" and "the conspiracy of the dark gods of the warp" - otherwise, how to explain to them that Julius is actually the son of Dorn? And he also serves Perturabo? Let the misunderstanding exist for a while, and when he regains full control of his Ultramar, his actual actions will naturally speak for him.

And after listening to Julius' report (which was very much to Guilliman's liking), he decided to have Julius put on his priest's black armor again and keep him by his side. After a while, there would be no need to explain, and no one would have any objections - but doesn't the practice of the Primarch often having an offspring who looks very similar to himself and can give advice seem a little familiar...?
But among the hundreds of thoughts going on at the same time, this insignificant little thought was quickly overshadowed by the anger caused by the shameless face of the shameless person sitting in front of him.

"... Let's not talk about what's next. First of all, I cannot accept that you are now acting freely on Macragge without any supervision. Konrad Curze, you are a notorious criminal, lunatic and killer. Why are you sitting in this office? Explain. Otherwise, I will have you thrown into prison. That's where anti-human murderers like you belong."

The Ultramarines Primarch's baby blue eyes looked at the black-haired, white-skinned young man in a robe who looked very comfortable under a pair of eyebrows full of doubt and scruples - yes, damn it, why did even Konrad Curze look younger than when he knew him?

He couldn't help but touch his cheek again.

"Unacceptable? Oh, oh, dear Guilliman, you are so rude! Don't you accept that your citizens live in your ideal country? Are all the principles and justice you always talk about lies?"

"What do you mean?" The Primarch frowned even more tightly, making his face look serious and the corners of his mouth began to droop. At the same time, his eyes moved back and forth over Conrad Curze's apparently energetic body. An indescribable sense of incongruity became stronger as the time he and his brother spent together again after an unspeakable period of time grew longer.

"I mean, I am a citizen of Ma-Ku-La-G. My dear Guilliman."

"What……"

"Your beloved people spontaneously united and recommended him to the Hera Fortress."

“…What…a ghost?!”

"Oh, by the way, although a number of your agricultural worlds will become battlefields for a long time to come, don't worry too much. The pressure on our agricultural worlds has been greatly reduced recently. This is because my agricultural and shipping dynasty now owns more than 60% of Ultramar's shipping routes and supplies of food, agricultural and sideline products, and processed foods. Now even the poorest people in Macragge can comfortably feed themselves after get off work."

The displeasure of not being able to witness Guilliman's discovery of his actual division of the empire on Macragge was fully compensated by the stunned and distorted expression of this annoying brother in front of him.

In view of this, the Midnight Haunter's smile widened on his young and handsome face until eight neat white teeth were exposed.

"By the way, when Calgar and his men couldn't do much, it was me, your brother, Conrad Curze, who took my sons to complete Macragge's defense, daily combat readiness, mission issuance, and city security management for you and your son during this period," he nodded proudly. "The efficiency has been improved, the strikes have been accurate, and the reviews have been rave reviews. Even the big incident at the parade didn't cause any trampling or too many rumors."

"...I... thank you... and your offspring... for your efforts." It seemed as if all of Guilliman's self-discipline had been exhausted just to squeeze out those few words.

"Thank you for more than just words, Guilliman."

"Then how do you want me to thank you?"

"Here. Sign it."

A data slate filled with expense lists was thrust under Guilliman's nose, and with a cursory glance he exclaimed in amazement at the total amount displayed below the bill.

"Employment fee?! Overtime pay?! Insurance?! What is this?! Haven't you realized your past mistakes and planned to fulfill your duties again after being resurrected and following Perturabo?! Why do the Astartes under your command have salaries?"

"They are called military pay, Guilliman. Just because no one mentions them and no one claims them doesn't mean they shouldn't exist. An army that can only be sustained by equipment, training, medicine, surgery, and endless fighting can be said to have an unshakable will and extremely devout faith, but I think that is not normal for a human being."

"It's really crazy. I heard Curze commenting on other people's abnormalities. - Well, you are right. We should provide soldiers with salaries in addition to armor, weapons, medicine and training. Then why should the salaries of your men be paid by Macragge's treasury?!"

"Literally," the Eighth Primarch said, with an air of "you are really old-fashioned," "I am long dead. I have no legions under my command. There is no formal Astartes organization in the Night Lords in the Imperial sense. My descendants work in the form of hired labor. Is it reasonable for you not to provide wages for your employees?"

"What are these combatants then?! What are your offspring?!"

"Of course my offspring are still my offspring. My offspring can also be employees of my merchant dynasty. The defense of Macragge has recently hired a large number of our plantation guards as mercenaries, so of course they have to be paid! Don't want to owe me money, Robert. I have to remind you that the phrase 'we come for you' can be applied anywhere. Even if you die, I can rush into the warp to demand payment." "I'm really crazy. I heard Konrad Curze say that the Night Lords helped me and my offspring guard Macragge, and he talked to me about employees, wages, and asking for wages."

"Oh, and since you're here, I took a look and thought that today is the best day to sign this document as well. It doesn't matter if you sign one copy or two copies."

Following these brazen remarks, another exquisitely ornate parchment document was pressed into Guilliman's hands.

"What?!!! You?" Guilliman glanced at it and asked unhappily again, "You want a planet?"

"What's wrong?" Curze glanced at him. "What do you mean by asking for a planet? Thessaguarza doesn't belong to the Ultramar sector in the usual sense. You are a wealthy man with 500 worlds. You wouldn't be so stingy as to not agree to confirm a death world outside the flight path for me. You should also know that after the Salamas expedition, the jurisdiction of this place has been meaningless to the Empire, and there are no residents here for a long time."

"In that case, what do you want with this rock ball?"

"Opening up the wasteland," Koz answered simply. "As a person with a legitimate job, I must have a formal residence of my own. I can't always live in my brother's house. Of course, if you are willing to build an equally magnificent fortress for me next to the Hera Fortress as my palace and a gift to your brother, I will not refuse it."

"You mean, you will open up new land here? Plant? Build? Urban planning? Instead of capturing more slaves and innocent people and making them into living bricks and floors for the city walls?"

Guilliman stared at him with a look of extreme suspicion. "But you are speaking more coherently and calmly now... Can you swear to that?"

"That's easy. I can swear on all the hair of Perturabo right now..."

"another."

"Well, I swear on the value of my home planet, Nostramo."

"Are you serious?"

"You are really boring. I completely agree with the purple eel on this point. You don't understand the true value of Nostramo at all!" Curz shrugged. "Well, what do you want me to swear to make you believe it?"

The muscles on the Thirteenth Primarch's face twitched. "Only if you swear on the peace of the past, present, and future soul of Yago Sevitarion, will I be willing to sign for you and confirm the 'employment salary' and the sovereignty of Thessaguarsa and its surrounding airspace with you."

The careless and cynical smile gradually expanded on Curze's pale and thin face, and the smile became hideous and distorted. Just when Guilliman began to regret that he should not be alone in a room with this dangerous and unpredictable brother, the smile from the boy ten thousand years ago disappeared like an illusion.

"Okay." Curze said, "I swear by the soul of Yago Sevitarion in the past, present, and future that I will take over Tessaguarza and its surroundings today. I will not kill any innocent life there, nor will I enslave any innocent people. I will open up wasteland, plant, build, develop, establish cities, and prosper the people. If I break my oath, the soul of Yago Sevitarion will be forever immersed in pain and will not have peace."

In the orbit of Macragge, in a secret place on the Enterprise that no one knew about, the machine spirit in the iron coffin let out a snicker.

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Later, during another handover operation that lasted for several days, Guilliman was extremely shocked to find that once the mind of his brother, who was once considered an abandoned pawn, the most vicious criminal, and the most scumbag perverted lunatic, was controlled by reason, the innate ability he displayed was a power that a ruler would dream of.

“This is so convenient…”

After watching how Curze processed all the cases that needed to be judged in the world within a few hours, Guilliman said sincerely, "I can't believe that he would let you go crazy helplessly like this ten thousand years ago! If we had you at that time, how many unnecessary steps could be saved, and how many people would have survived because of your power - instead of dying!"

"Oh, this is not omnipotent, Guilliman." Curze pushed the black hair in front of his eyes behind his ears, threw himself into the sofa that Julius had customized earlier, rubbing his eyes. The strange sense of disharmony once again appeared in the senses of the Primarch of the Ultramarines.

"First, certain conditions must be met before I can use my talent to determine the truth of a case. Secondly, one of my mentors and friends has long suggested that ordinary cases should be handled through ordinary channels, and my ability should only be used to deal with situations that ordinary people cannot handle."

"So what are you doing today..."

"A lot of cultists and demon seeds were brought in before and after the parade. Since I charge for it, of course I will make the employer feel that it is worth the money." Koz lay on the sofa, crossed his legs and stretched his limbs, "This is true even if the employer is you."

His appearance and posture were so relaxed, natural and familiar that in a flash, Robert Guilliman suddenly realized the source of the sense of disharmony.

He had once gotten along so easily with another recently found brother during the Great Crusade ten thousand years ago.

"... Clarks...?"

(End of this chapter)