Chapter 69 Courage and Glory
The Primarch's intellect taught Guilliman how to rule.
The love of Konor Guilliman and Tarasha Euten taught him how to be human.
Macragge — A World That Endures
Macragge, jewel of the Eastern Fringe, had endured the Age of Strife with rare resilience. Unlike many human worlds, its people preserved a functioning industrial base, disciplined civic institutions, and stable governance. Limited warp-capable craft allowed cautious contact with nearby systems, enabling trade and mutual defense even during Old Night.
It was into this rare pocket of order that the Primarch's gestation capsule descended.
Konor Guilliman later confessed that before the child's arrival he had dreamed of a golden figure and a radiant infant bathed in light. Guided by that vision, he discovered the child and named him Roboute — an ancient name signifying greatness.
Konor was a statesman of austere virtue, devoted to civic duty and the welfare of the people. Though unmarried, he understood the importance of maternal guidance. He entrusted the child's upbringing to his most trusted adviser and chamberlain:
Tarasha Euten.
She would become the moral anchor of the Primarch's youth.
A Child Who Was Not a Child
Roboute grew at an astonishing rate. By ten standard years he had mastered the accumulated scholarship of Macragge's academies. His aptitude for logistics, governance, and warfare bordered on the uncanny.
Yet Konor and Tarasha refused to treat him as a weapon.
When the young giant informed Konor that he could lead armies into battle, Konor replied:
"You may do so when you are grown."
"I am already grown."
"No," Konor said gently. "You are still my son."
Though Roboute's mind processed the world with machine-like precision, his parents insisted he experience childhood — friendship, duty, compassion, restraint.
Gradually, the cold perfection of logic yielded to empathy.
He learned to love.
He learned to admire.
He learned to serve.
First Victory — First Loss
When Roboute finally led troops into battle, he achieved victory with astonishing speed and minimal casualties. His tactical discipline saved thousands.
He returned in triumph.
He found his father dying.
A rival consul, Gallan, enraged by Konor's reforms — which curtailed aristocratic privilege and redistributed wealth and land — had staged a coup. Konor Guilliman was assassinated.
For the first time in his life, Roboute confronted helplessness.
He crushed the rebellion with precision and restraint. Despite grief and righteous fury, he subjected the conspirators to trial rather than slaughter.
Justice, not vengeance.
He completed Konor's reforms, redistributing land and wealth to the citizenry. With the people's support, he became Lord of Macragge.
Under his rule, the realm flourished.
Order became strength.
Strength became prosperity.
Prosperity became loyalty.
Then the Imperium arrived.
A Meeting of Giants
"…Are we related?"
Yuki rubbed her forehead.
Of all possible first words, the Thirteenth Primarch had chosen the most literal.
Normally, even the faintest psychic sensitivity revealed the Emperor's nature instantly. Guilliman, however, possessed little psychic resonance.
He evaluated reality through observation and logic.
And at present, reality included multiple giants claiming kinship.
It seemed reasonable to ask.
After a thorough explanation — primarily delivered by the Emperor, while Yuki silently recovered from the shock — Guilliman accepted the truth with characteristic composure.
He then invited them to his residence.
Information first.
Decisions second.
Tarasha Euten
While the Emperor briefed Guilliman on the Imperium, Yuki sought another audience.
Tarasha Euten sat by a window, reading. Age had etched fine lines around her eyes, yet dignity and quiet strength remained undiminished.
"May I sit, Madam?" Yuki asked.
Tarasha looked up, calm and composed.
"Please."
With a small gesture, Yuki enlarged the chair to accommodate her wings and sat opposite.
Sunlight warmed the room.
"Thank you," Yuki said softly, "for raising him."
Tarasha closed her book.
"Where are you taking him?" she asked. "What awaits him?"
Yuki was silent a moment.
"…I do not know. But I promise you this: he will remain the Guilliman you raised."
Tarasha studied her, then smiled faintly.
"I hope so."
"…May I offer you a gift?"
"Of course."
Yuki tied several luminous strands of her own hair around Tarasha's wrist — a protective charm woven with subtle psychic resonance.
Tarasha looked at it, understanding more than she said.
"Thank you, child."
Yuki did not correct her.
Allegiance
Guilliman swore loyalty to the Emperor without hesitation. Their ideals aligned: unity, order, and the elevation of humanity.
Yet in his heart, Konor Guilliman remained his father.
The Emperor was his sovereign.
Strategy and Spectacle
During the journey to Terra, Guilliman and Yuki played chess.
"Do the return parades serve a purpose?" Yuki asked.
Guilliman studied the board.
"Yes. Public ceremony strengthens morale and unity. Symbols matter."
He made his move.
Yuki smiled. "You win."
At first he had lost every match. Now he adapted rapidly, analyzing patterns and counter-strategies with relentless precision.
He explained his tactics.
Yuki listened.
Then she said:
"Guilliman, speak less like a statesman when addressing your brothers."
"…Why?"
"You sound like you're negotiating compliance, not greeting family."
He scratched his head awkwardly.
"I will attempt adjustments."
First Impressions on Terra
Fulgrim tapped Ferrus Manus's metal arm idly, listening to the resonance beneath the cheering crowds.
Yuki closed her eyes in resignation.
Despite repeated warnings, Guilliman spoke exactly as he did during diplomatic negotiations.
"You must be Horus," he said with formal courtesy. "Your achievements are commendable."
Horus felt as if he were being evaluated by an auditor.
Guilliman, meanwhile, believed the interaction entirely successful.
The welcoming party included:
Horus
Fulgrim
Ferrus Manus
Mordecai
Most found the new brother excessively political.
Mordecai, however, felt a strange kinship.
A fellow administrator, he thought.
The Macragge Lecture
At the palace, Fulgrim politely asked about Guilliman's homeworld.
Guilliman responded.
For two hours.
Yuki slowly collapsed onto the table.
"Sister?" Horus whispered.
"…It's fine," she muttered. "No profit lost."
Guilliman spoke with pride — not arrogance — about Macragge's civic order, meritocratic administration, and public welfare.
"The former governor was my father, Konor. Everything I achieved comes from his teachings."
Yuki snorted into her tea.
"…continue," she said weakly.
After the Banquet
"Sister… did I say too much?"
Guilliman looked genuinely concerned as Yuki led him through Terra.
She sighed.
"Next time, be more concise."
He had intended to share governance experience, not boast.
She believed him.
The Ministry of State
"This is where I work," Yuki said, leading him into the Imperial administrative complex.
Guilliman's curiosity sharpened immediately.
He examined files.
Logistics records.
Tax systems.
Compliance reports.
Planetary governance protocols.
After several minutes, he closed the folder slowly.
"This… is administrative hell."
He could not comprehend how an empire of such scale functioned with such inefficient systems.
Yuki poured tea.
"You see the problem," she said softly. "I have done everything I can. Focus on the Crusade. I will manage Terra."
Guilliman looked at her for a long moment.
Then:
"Sister… allow me to help."
Her eyes widened.
"Truly?"
"Truly."
She smiled.
"Then thank you, Guilliman."
Inside her mind:
Plan Complete.
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