Chapter 207: Wait Until You've Grown
In the magnificent hall, a stasis field pulsed with a faint blue light, freezing time into an eternal moment.
To be honest, when Ramesses had first seen Roboute Guilliman, he hadn't felt much of anything. The Primarch was not particularly imposing, nor did he possess the expected aura of majesty. And he certainly didn't speak. What Ramesses saw was more like a corpse.
The Primarch on his throne had been arranged by the Ultramarines in a rather dignified pose. The armour on his body cleverly concealed the wound on his neck, making him appear flawless. But in the warp, the thick aura of death was inescapable. This was a "dead man," his throat slit by Fulgrim, trapped by a warp-poison, his death frozen in this single moment by a stasis field.
Ramesses didn't even dare let Arthur get too close, for fear that under Arthur's influence, the Primarch would actually die. The number of souls in their possession would probably see a major increase, though. A dark joke popped into his head.
"According to my analysis, the Armour of Fate's efficacy is insufficient," Archmagos Cawl sighed from beside the field. "It can only preserve the physical body. It cannot prevent the decay of the Primarch's soul."
"It seems the power of the Death God is a must, then. Cawl, you'll have to invest more in us. The Regent's resurrection is at stake," Ramesses said, patting the Archmagos's bulky chassis. He had been studying Primarch physiology, trying to piece together a functional Primarch body for them, while Cawl had been researching how to resurrect Guilliman.
Of the loyalist Primarchs, some were dead, some were comatose, and some were missing. If you compared them to gym members, Guilliman was probably the only one still lifting. Lord Romulus didn't want to lift anymore; he just wanted to deal with the Imperium, get his smurf account up and running, and then pass the torch. For now, all hope rested on the Regent.
"I will. As soon as your rit—plan is complete," Cawl's mechanical voice hesitated slightly on the word "ritual." He intentionally paused. Not to mention the rather suspicious title of "Regent," Ramesses's methods were a bit... unconventional.
"Bring more military strength when the time comes," he added, a mechadendrite unconsciously waving and projecting a deployment map of the Macraggean Guard.
Their cooperation had indeed become more transparent as the crusade progressed. The plan to resurrect the Primarch had become something of an open secret. After all, getting the big blue guy back on his feet was a consensus among many factions. Even Chaos itself seemed to hope for a re-run of the old primarch pool. It was just that Ramesses's plan was a bit... overly reliant on the warp.
To use a weapon imbued with the power of the Aeldari Death God to kill Guilliman before the warp-poison could, then use the Death God's power to bring his soul back, relying on the Armour of Fate to protect his body, and thus complete his resurrection in the material universe.
It sounded familiar. Very familiar. A certain favorite son of the Emperor, lying in a temple on Davin, had something to say about that.
"Relax. I'm a psyker. Numbers mean nothing to me. We'll get it done in one go," Ramesses said with a dismissive wave.
"..." Cawl looked at Ramesses as if he were looking at Erebus.
The Primarchs of the Ultramarines, the Dark Angels, and the Blood Angels had all been to the temple on Davin. The records in their Legions were clear on the reasons for Horus's corruption. This method of resurrection, which involved stabbing the Primarch... we'll see if the Ultramarines agree to it.
"..." Cawl's silence was deafening.
"Lord Romulus," Drakus's voice came from behind. Ramesses turned his head. These ancient Invictarus Suzerains had been standing here ever since their return to Macragge. They had made no attempt to take over the command of the Ultramarines, even though Calgar had welcomed it. It wasn't for some secret reason. It was simply that their resurrection was... strange. Very warp-y. So much so that it was hard not to suspect it was a Chaos plot. It was not suitable for them to be too involved with a contemporary Chapter. Even the resurrected members of the Sons of Dorn did not interfere in the internal affairs of their successor Chapters.
"Is it done?" Ramesses asked, seeing the Invictarus Suzerain retreat back into their self-imposed silence. The meeting had been going on for two days.
"?" Romulus looked surprised. "Do you have some misunderstanding of the Imperium's efficiency?" He handed a thick document to Cawl. The original parchment was almost completely obscured by dense annotations and seals. The military recovery of Ultramar would require the Mechanicus's assistance. Considering the importance of Guilliman, Cawl was unlikely to refuse.
"Based on past precedents," Cawl said, silently accepting the plan for Ultramar's military recovery, "the conference has probably only just finished discussing the tax items and a basic preliminary plan for one sector. And that's with Lord Romulus's assistance." With Guilliman's resurrection as a major prerequisite, he really had no reason to refuse. Especially after the Tyranid invasion, he had come to a profound realization: entrusting an important task to the Imperium was a recipe for disaster.
"Er, I underestimated the Imperium," Ramesses said, immediately surrendering at the sight of the dense text in the document Romulus had sent him. He had lost all desire to read it. The Sub-Proposal on the Adjustment of Food Rations for Fortress Worlds in the Segmentum Obscurus alone had over seven hundred pages of appendices.
He glanced at the Invictarus Suzerain, who had dutifully gathered around Romulus upon his arrival. "So," he said, "first we sort out Ultramar and the Maelstrom, and use that as a base." He paused meaningfully. "We can still build a third Imperium, right?"
Drakus, who had automatically stepped forward to await Romulus's orders, nearly lost his sorrowful expression.
"Mm," Romulus, however, nodded seriously, converting a series of tasks into physical documents and distributing them to the Invictarus Suzerain. "The Phalanx system is also a possibility. We need another backup region in the galactic west."
Although he was dissatisfied with the current state of the Imperium, he had to admit that before 999.M41, the Dawnbreakers had to maintain a relative degree of restraint. They needed to build their strength, to deal with the events that had brought great losses to humanity before their arrival, to create a more attractive model than the Imperium of Man, until that day came. The Thirteenth Black Crusade. Of course, whether it would even happen was another question. In fact, if you just looked at Abaddon's military strength, Romulus was confident he could prevent the destruction of Cadia. And with Ramesses tormenting Vashtorr, it was doubtful if the Arkifane's fleet would be as large as it was in the original timeline.
The problem was that the forces of Chaos, and perhaps even the Emperor himself, might tacitly support tearing Cadia off the board. And after Abaddon had destroyed a series of Blackstone Fortresses in his previous twelve crusades, relying on Cadia alone to plug the Eye of Terror was no longer realistic. Romulus had to consider that the Thirteenth Black Crusade might be even larger than he remembered.
Thinking of this, he couldn't help but sigh. There were still over two hundred years until then. His most pressing concern now was to quickly secure a piece of territory and rebuild a sector according to his own ideas. At the same time, he had to be more proactive, to quickly build a complete talent development system and intervene in the construction of various worlds. The Imperium had always had a hands-off approach to its planets, but at this point in time, there was no time to wait for them to develop slowly. Central intervention was imperative. He would also use this opportunity to instill the idea of centralized power throughout the sector.
"Look, it's Lord Romulus!" a suppressed gasp came from outside the psychic barrier.
"Quiet, Rafael. Don't disturb them," a girl named Seraphina chided. She didn't understand why her new companion, who had just completed the Astartes augmentation, was so excited. Didn't they see the Primarchs every day?
Romulus recognized the familiar voice and looked up. The warp was always so convenient. Outsiders could not hear their conversation, but they could easily capture information from the outside. This was a sanctum, but it was usually open to Imperial citizens, even allowing pict-captures. It was usually much livelier. It was just that recently, there had been a lot of Astartes visiting, which had made the atmosphere unusually solemn. Because everyone was on a tight schedule, Calgar, who had been on his deathbed, had made a miraculous recovery and had, at the last minute, left the medicae bay to organize the various Chapters to come and pay their respects to the Primarch. Even now, after the celebration, a steady stream of Space Marines came to pay their respects to Roboute Guilliman.
And among them, of course, was a group of young men and women. They were touring the Fortress of Hera under the guidance of Canoness Arabella of the Order of the Sacred Rose, who had now been sainted. Though, from Arabella's expression, she hadn't wanted the sainthood. After realizing the true nature of the Emperor, the sister had gradually given up on analyzing so-called doctrine and instead treated it as a personal code of conduct, dedicating herself to the work of education.
From a distance, Karna waved at him. Arthur was silently following at the back of the group, watching over the vibrant children. Romulus couldn't help but smile. As what was possibly the most culturally advanced planet in the galaxy, Macragge was worthy of this. Romulus himself was also reading Guilliman's administrative plans, analyzing Macragge's system of governance. So, after the Dawnbreakers had completed their initial handover with the Ultramarines, the first thing they had done was to organize a tour for these students, mainly to study Macragge's administrative system and understand the local culture.
Although he used to complain about how the more educationally developed regions always got to go on tours, that was a problem of unequal resource distribution. Now that they had the means, they would naturally provide a better environment for these children. Even for those who were already working, he would organize similar activities in the future. After all, the conference would be long.
"Lord Romulus!" Outside the sanctum, Seraphina, who had grown into a young woman, pulled on the arm of her friend, Elara, and waved excitedly. Her heterochromatic hair was striking in the crowd.
"Hello," Romulus waved back warmly.
"My Lord, when can we truly start working?" Seraphina asked eagerly. Her friends had either entered technical or combat roles, but the assignment of the most outstanding students, like herself, was being delayed again and again. Occasionally, under Arabella's arrangement, she would participate in various tasks, but it was, at best, just for familiarization.
Romulus chuckled, his worries easing slightly. "What, is the administrative system no longer a match for your intellect?"
"No, no!" Seraphina quickly waved her hands, afraid Romulus would think she was arrogant. "I just want to help more. Ciel and the others are already working, and I'm still studying. I... I feel a little anxious." She knew that Romulus wanted her to continue her studies so she could take on greater responsibilities. But she was young, and seeing her peers already contributing, she couldn't help but feel a little impatient.
"Yes, we all want to help you," many of the other youths chimed in. These past few days, they had toured Macragge's administrative system, read its history, and learned of the Primarchs' expectations for them. Their young hearts were growing more and more eager.
"Haha, wait until you've grown a little older," Romulus said with a laugh, reassuring the children. "Study. During this time of peace, all you need to do is study diligently and enrich yourselves." He placed a hand gently on the girl's trembling shoulder, feeling the vibrant life force through the thin uniform. He looked at the light shining in their eyes.
"You are the future of humanity."
The words rang like a morning bell in every heart. He spoke, and the restless youths fell silent. They were surprised to see an almost devout hope in the Primarch's eyes as he said this.
Children are the future.
Romulus looked warmly at the boys and girls. And that future was growing strong under their protection.
"The last time there were three Gloriana-class battleships and five Primarchs here was... the last time," Ramesses said, studying Guilliman with Cawl. "That vibrant, flourishing state is still fresh in my mind." The感慨 came again, and a group of Ultramarines broke into a cold sweat. Please, uncle, please stop talking.
"Don't put so much pressure on them," Romulus said, returning from his chat with the children. He handed a document to Ramesses. "We are going to build our own army. For the sake of the Primarchs' face, we will nominally adhere to the Codex Astartes. Get a final design for that Dawnbreakers sigil you've been wanting, and the accompanying set of markings. We need to file it with Terra."
"Already done," Ramesses said, psychically conjuring a physical model. A solar crown, a blood drop, four wings. The armour was a general gold and red, with a silver and crimson trim on the left pauldron to commemorate the Order of the Sacred Rose and the 43rd Cadian 'Broken Swords' they had first met. Black, red, and gold. It looked good, and had all the elements.
But was something missing? Romulus stroked his chin. Did you three forget about me when you were designing the logo? He pointed to the sigil.
"The Blood Angels?"
"This blood drop."
"The Dark Angels?"
"This wing."
"The Thousand Sons?"
"This solar crown."
"And the Ultramarines?" Romulus asked, surprised.
"That element is on its way. ETA nine hours," Ramesses said, deadpan.
"..." Drakus covered his face and turned to the wall to begin his penance. The other Invictarus Suzerain, who had been moping just a moment before, did the same.
"A pity. It seems the Primarchs do not intend to separate," the Ecclesiarchy representative, Eos Ritellur, sighed softly among the gathered delegates outside the conference hall. If there was anyone who truly wished for the four Primarchs to go their separate ways, it was undoubtedly, aside from the Administratum representative, Itu-Hamathelion, Eos Ritellur.
It was a great pity that the four Primarchs were together. With the Church of the Dawn, which had already spread to Armageddon, and the aura of the Primarchs, the Ecclesiarchy could have developed at least four major branches, further expanding its influence within the Imperium.
"As officials of Holy Terra, we must think long-term, we must see the bigger picture. Bishop Eos, you cannot just focus on the Ecclesiarchy's little plot of land," the Munitorum representative, Violeta, chided. She felt the Primarchs had brought far more good than harm. They had not only helped the Munitorum reorganize the defense line of the Ultima Segmentum, but had also trained over a hundred million artillery support and heavy armour troops for the Astra Militarum. And they had paid for the wargear themselves. Now, everyone was trying to figure out if the four Primarchs had already secured a forge world.
"It is precisely because I have never focused only on the Ecclesiarchy's little plot of land," Bishop Eos said. He had been looking forward to reform for a long time. The current Ecclesiarchy, though it still possessed the strongest grassroots mobilization capability in the Imperium—a fact even the Primarchs acknowledged—was also a breeding ground for corruption and decay under the Imperium's bloated system.
He and Hamathelion had been able to reach a consensus precisely because their views on the future of the Imperium were in conflict. One was extremely conservative, the other sought reform.
"We must march forward with this new force," Hamathelion said reluctantly. He did not like the idea of new blood at all. It represented instability. But since the Primarch did not intend to extend his hand into the Segmentum Solar, he could accept it for now. He then left the group with his staff.
"Are you going to meet with the other Chapter Masters?" the Navigator emissary, Kadak Mir, asked, noticing Hamathelion's departure. He was only here to help the Astra Telepathica and the Navis Nobilite investigate why the Dawnlight Fleet's communications were so much more stable. He was still clueless, and could only attribute it to the Emperor's blessing.
"Yes. Lord Romulus encourages communication. I believe I should explain my thoughts to the various Chapter representatives," he replied, and then left under the guidance of an Ultramarine.
Hamathelion had never given up on the idea of weakening the Primarchs' political power. It was a matter of principle.
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