Chapter 319: When Mortarion Was Trapped in the Tunnel…
Hades' hand paused slightly as he held the battle report. He blinked in confusion—the ornate words of victory on the Ultramarines' report seemed to stare back at him questioningly.
"What's wrong?"
The Emperor asked casually from beside him, still reading through the documents Malcador had delivered.
"Nothing… maybe someone's cursing me behind my back."
The Emperor looked up at Hades with a knowing glance, but gave no explanation. Instead, after a brief pause, he asked, "Hades, what do you think of the Primarchs?"
Hades opened his mouth, unsure where to even begin. Trying to make a definitive judgment on nineteen wildly different personalities was not something that could be done in a day.
Even Mortarion, his "big brother," had taken him years to understand, and even then Hades still marveled at the man's bizarre way of thinking.
And considering who was asking the question, this was very much a trap.
Fortunately, Hades had a universal answer ready for situations like this.
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
"Well… I'd say they're all a lot like you."
Then Hades watched in shock as a faintly radiant smile spread across the Emperor's face.
The Emperor seemed quite pleased with that answer.
"They do have many shortcomings, but they are indeed reflections of me—not perfect mirrors, of course, for their essence was not wholly of my making."
Hades' reply seemed to have piqued the Emperor's interest. He leaned forward, asking with renewed curiosity,
"Hades, you've spent much time with my son Mortarion. What sort of Primarch do you think he is?"
The Emperor had noticed that when Hades read the various Legions' reports, he lingered especially long on those of the Ultramarines, Blood Angels, and White Scars.
Although Hades also spent considerable time studying the Iron Warriors and Iron Hands' documents, there was a clear difference between staring at strategy maps and data projections—and gazing blankly at the pictures of the Astartes themselves.
Hades looked at the Emperor and set the report down—this was another death sentence of a question, even sharper than the last.
He steadied his tone, speaking carefully,
"Mortarion is an excellent Legion Commander. Under his leadership, the Death Guard possesses immense cohesion. His personal convictions are also firm—Mortarion is fiercely loyal to pure humanity, and utterly rejects psykers, the Warp, and xenos. Both he and the Death Guard are extremely loyal and stable. Therefore, I personally recommend increasing material support for them."
The Emperor smiled faintly and asked, almost offhandedly, "Why are you getting nervous, Hades?"
If his inner thoughts could take form, Hades would have looked like that sweating emoji right now.
Yeah, good question—why, Neoth?
"Hades, I merely…"
The Emperor spoke slowly, "…wish to have a casual conversation. I'm quite pleased with Mortarion, though I am aware of his friction with Malcador."
Hades stared at him, choosing his words with extreme care.
"I need to be sure you won't… adjust Mortarion's or the Death Guard's future negatively because of something I say."
The Emperor shook his head.
"You worry too much. I am not perfect, and neither are my sons. Lion El'Jonson is aloof, Perturabo is obstinate and bitter, Horus is proud and deceitful, and Roboute Guilliman—for all his thoughtfulness—can be impulsive. The so-called demi-gods have flaws; that is fact."
"Since you already know this, Neoth," Hades pressed gently, "why don't you guide them a little?"
The Emperor fell silent.
"I am not omnipotent," he finally said. "How could I make Guilliman stop his overactive mind? I cannot. The Primarchs are my miracles—their growth is destined to be intertwined with pain and hardship. If I were to interfere too much, it would consume resources and manpower beyond reckoning."
"There are no walls that never crumble, no steel that never rusts. So long as one is human, the possibility of falling into the abyss of corruption will always exist."
"Moreover—"
The Emperor raised his cup of tea and took a slow sip.
"Even if they have not yet truly grown, as commanders of the Great Crusade—as tools—they are already adequate."
He looked at Hades. Hades silently met his gaze. Though Hades' warp-projection always filled the Emperor with distaste, even from that revulsion he could not fully discern Hades' emotions.
But Hades would understand his words, the Emperor thought.
Indeed, Hades scratched his head in resignation and began rummaging through the box of snacks before him.
"All right, Neoth, I still suggest you pay more attention to Fulgrim, Perturabo, and Horus."
The Emperor nodded.
"Now answer my question, Hades—what kind of Primarch is Mortarion?"
Hades' gaze drifted from the Macragge pastries back to the Emperor. He sighed deeply before replying,
"This feels like tattling to a parent, Neoth."
The Emperor was unmoved, staring at him expressionlessly—as though to say that Hades must now offer something of equal weight to the words the Emperor had just spoken.
Hades could practically feel the Emperor's eyes saying: If you keep dodging the question, I'll call Malcador over to deal with you.
He waved a hand helplessly.
"Uh… Mortarion… I think, by nature, he's someone who genuinely likes humanity. After all, he let us lure him away the very first time he saw humans. His hatred of psykers and oppression, though—that was learned later, and solidified during the liberation of Barbarus."
"As for why he doesn't talk much—well, that's just Barbarus. You know how it is, Neoth. People there speak as little as possible. I'm the only one who can't seem to sit still. Still, Mortarion does have a sense of humor—though honestly, I think he'd be better off without it."
Hades paused, as if debating whether to continue—but finally did.
"Actually…"
He said softly, "I can feel that, in the beginning, most of Mortarion's motivations came from fear. He always seems to expect things to go wrong, so he either prepares in advance or sinks into melancholy. It also makes him reluctant to trust others."
"And then… after meeting humanity, and later the Death Guard, his motivation slowly changed into wanting to protect something. That's why he likes spending time with the people of Barbarus, or wandering around the Death Guard training halls."
That could be an admirable quality—as long as he finishes his work before wandering around.
"He doesn't want to lose them… but at the same time, he doesn't have a strong desire to make things better. Unless the situation grows dire enough to threaten what he values, Mortarion prefers to keep everything as it is—whether on Barbarus or within the Death Guard."
"Sometimes that's a good thing, sometimes it's baffling. But at least I managed to talk him out of it."
Hades fell silent for a moment.
"…I hope I talked him out of it."
He shifted his gaze—and saw the Emperor watching him with clear amusement, evidently pleased by what he'd heard.
"I'm very glad," the Emperor said. Hades listened wordlessly, feeling that the Emperor told him 'I'm very glad' so often it had practically become a catchphrase.
"You truly are a friend who cares for Mortarion—not just someone bewitched by a Primarch's aura. You see the real him."
Hades grinned, a hint of cockiness curling his lips.
"I'm a Blank, Neoth. When have I ever been dazzled by a Primarch's aura? Their charm field doesn't work on me."
The Emperor smiled faintly but said nothing—his eyes drifting toward the Ultramarines' battle report that Hades had set aside earlier.
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