~The Unconquerable Sun~
~797. M30~
~Segmentum Tempestus~
~Charnac's Pride~
~Roboute Guilliman, Lord Commander of the Imperium and Imperial Regent~
"So when am I to receive my assurances?" Asarnil spoke as he popped another chilled fruit slice into his mouth, chewing lightly as he stared at Roboute in an unimpressed manner. He hummed at the taste, and nodded briefly to the red-haired maid behind him.
"Assurances?" Guilliman pretended to not know what he was speaking of, himself working his way through a slice of salted meat. He let his gaze fall upwards and hummed for a moment. In truth, he had a suspicion as to what Asarnil was speaking of, but as the dragonlord started this conversation with that statement alone, it was only polite for him to complete the thought. Words were used for a reason, and Guilliman was getting nostalgic for human bluntness again.
"I was intending on sending a scouting group with you to retrieve your sister. Imagine my shock when my ally decides to jump away as soon as he exits the gate, leaving my soldiers in the awkward position of being too slow to catch up. Poor Tenglas didn't know what to do with your helmet." Asarnil let his head rest on his fist, swallowing another fruit slice. "I knew you would want to retrieve her, I was intending on sending you aid, but you ran off before I could finish arranging that."
Guilliman shook his head. "I barely made it in time as it was. If I had delayed any longer, Morrigan might be dead. I couldn't risk that."
"Indeed, which is why I'm not asking you to swear to have an accompaniment at all times." Asarnil finished the fruit slices, quickly leaning back for a moment for the red-haired maid to place a tray with a small cake and utensils upon the table. "The cunning general changes his strategies to suit the battle, as will I."
"Oh? What are you intending I promise then?" Guilliman stopped eating for a moment to look at the Dragonlord. The Dragonlord sliced through his tiny, fruit-smelling, pink-frosted cake, and brought up a tiny bite to his mouth. Eating it while staring at Guilliman with a stony expression, he swallowed, rolled his tongue for a moment, and spoke.
With a glance down at the cake he got distracted. "Oh, this is delicious." Asarnil muttered, before dismissing the thought and refocusing on the amused Guilliman. "I cannot ensure that you won't run off like that again, despite your absolute critical importance to this entire effort. Therefore I shall make sure you are mighty enough to defend yourself. This is my insistence."
Guilliman raised a brow. "Didn't we determine my sword-arm was superior to many of your stormcloaks at once?"
Asarnil waved his fork dismissively. "No, your sword arm is mighty indeed. But you lack any education in wielding your mind. We will correct this."
Guilliman scratched at his cheek. "...You speak of psykery? I was under the impression that you had to be born with the talent, and I was not. That was the domain of my brothers."
Asarnil looked at him as if he had just said something incredibly foolish. Guilliman frowned as he tried to determine what it was. Asarnil put both of his utensils down so he could gesture with both hands at Guilliman.
"Guilliman. You have a potent weapon. It is gold and sharp. Can you remind me what it is?"
"The sarcasm is unnecessary. It is the sword of my creator."
"Indeed. Now. That sword has an ability beyond the cutting and stabbing standard to swords. Can you remind me what that is?"
Guilliman frowned, getting a hint of where this conversation was going. "...It can produce flame, and the wounds it inflicts are more potent on things of Chaos."
"Remarkable. Please tell me Guilliman, as it is flame it produces, it requires a fuel. What fuel is used to produce the flame of your father's sword?"
"...I understand." Guilliman leaned back and looked elsewhere to spare himself the need to look at Asarnil's expression. He supposed it was rather obvious in retrospect, but it was never something he dwelt upon for any length of time.
"Truly you are my greatest student." Asarnil spoke, changing his tone of voice in an attempt to sound older and withered. Guilliman decided to escalate the battle by picking up a cracker from the table and flicking it at him. Soaring as the shell of an artillery cannon, the cracker smashed into Asarnil's face, bouncing off and rolling on the table for a moment.
Asarnil looked down at it for a moment, before turning back to look at Guilliman. "A red sun rises upon this world. Blood longs to be shed here."
Victory was his. Guilliman finished off his salted meat, the meal of a champion. He and Asarnil exchanged amused glances as they heard one of the maids around them unable to contain the entirety of their laughter. Flickering ears, wobbling limbs, and face tinted red as she struggled to contain her laughter.
It was something of a game they started playing. 'How fast can they make the maids lose composure through antics?' This incident was a new record of theirs. It was particularly amusing because the jokes weren't even particularly funny this time.
The scene was quietly completed by the severe expression the red-haired maid was giving the one that made the noise, a desperate, wheezing exhale as quietly as possible. She attempted to stop her laughter, which of course only made it harder on the poor woman.
The cycle was self-fulfilling now, Guilliman and Asarnil stayed completely silent and unreactive, staring at the maid in question as she slowly self-destructed into laughter and tears. A factory melting down from excessive heat build-up and the inability to vent it properly. It was actually somewhat concerning at this point.
It had reached the point that stealthy concealment of the situation was impossible, and the poor pink-haired maid currently doing a grand impression of a convulsing hyena was practically dragged away from the scene by two other maids. There was silence on the balcony for a moment afterwards, before Asarnil reached up to scratch at his chin in contemplation.
"Elowyn, what was that one's name?"
"Briaca, Dragonlord." The maid with red-hair answered.
"I like that one. Keep her on my rotation." He ordered. "I, the cruel and capricious Dragonlord of Charnac, shall delight myself with tormenting her."
"Yes, Dragonlord." She nodded curtly. "You shall be pleased to know that she baked the smallcake you praised earlier."
Asarnil gave a mighty and put-upon sigh, raising his arms in defeat. "Well, that settles it. It seems I must wed her in the spring. Guilliman, you are obliged to attend the ceremony, and If you do not I shall be so heartbroken that I may die."
Guilliman snorted. "I'll be sure to attend."
—
Wraithbone sticks clashed in the center of a wide chamber. Four against one. The pace of the combat was rapid as it was unforgiving. Strictly non-lethal, of course, but still entirely exhausting were the participants normal men.
The attackers had one objective, work as a unit in order to land three clear strikes on their enemy, before the enemy landed three clear strikes on all of them. This situation was clearly stacked in their favor, outnumbering their enemy by four to one, and therefore requiring four times as many large mistakes in order to be defeated.
Unfortunately for the four sisters, their opponent was their older brother, and he had dueled against his brothers entirely too many times to be defeated by younger, far less experienced equivalents to them.
Among the Primarchs, Roboute considered himself rather poor as a duelist, all things considered. He was merely a man writ large, after all, having none of the unique powers that his brothers were gifted with to leverage. He was strong, his endurance was superb, and his reflexes honed.
Unfortunately for his sisters, he has been battling against a large variety of opponents for more than five hundred years, and he has gotten quite skilled at it.
Avoid the sweeping blow from Morrigan by stepping backwards. Block the stabbing thrust from Petra by smacking the blow upwards. Her arms intercept Kassandra, who isn't good enough to predict secondary effects with her foresight yet. Aurelia attempts a hammer-blow from behind, step backwards and elbow her hands as the attack is at its highest point.
A solid thud tells him his prediction was correct. Swing sword to tap her on the thigh. Push her back by palm-striking the sternum. Two solid strikes. Three in total. Aurelia is no longer in the match. She slides backwards for several feet, stumbling in place.
Lorgar was never the best warrior.
Use the space granted by her elimination to step back again. Morrigan's swing misses his head. Smile proudly to prevent the others from getting mad about the 'cheap shot'. Tap her hip as she attempts to recover. One more strike. One more to go on her.
Petra attempts a sweep of his feet, pull leg back and balance on the back foot. Use raised leg lift her into the air, being careful to not kick, that would kill her. She is propelled a dozen feet up with a slightly panicked expression, he has a few seconds to deal with the other two.
Block the flurry of blows from Kassandra. She's the most dangerous of his sisters by far at the moment. One, two, three, four…
Force her to retreat with a thrust of his own. Her foresight will allow her to weave around it to make an attack…
But it's not good enough for the secondary effects, still. Gently smack her shoulder with the blade, twisting it in his hand the moment she deflects it upwards. The moment she figures out that part, she'll be a nightmare to fight against. Eventually she'll reach a point that he can't defeat with conventional and honorable tactics, perhaps in a few decades at most.
Konrad was always one of the most lethal of his brothers.
Swipe at her to make her back away. Knowing that he would miss, however, he let the blow carry into a block against Morrigan again.
He smiled hearing Petra crash down on top of Kassandra, a few feet away. They would take a few moments to untangle themselves, letting him focus on Morrigan for that time. Judging by the sudden widening of her eyes, she knew that too.
Superior speed let him slip past her guard to tap her on the sternum with a thrust. She staggered back with the gentle blow. He turned his attention towards his last two sisters. Petra looked as sullen as ever, and Kassandra's face had long turned blank in absolute concentration. He smiled at the two of them, and went on the attack.
A sweeping cut that Kassandra avoided, but Petra was then forced to block. Kassandra lunged forwards to stab him in that same moment, but again didn't see him using Petra's block to bounce his stick off faster than normal, tapping her in her side and pushing hard enough to make her roll across the floor. Again, not a hit, that might kill her. He gently touched them, then pushed.
One more hit for Kassandra. He fell upon Petra, who blocked a thrust with another upwards deflection, but was unprepared for a grapple. Grabbing her wrists and raising her off the ground, he tapped her flailing form twice, signaling her defeat.
He made sure to smile at her as he let her down again, she got grumpy if she wasn't given positive reinforcement from time to time. He turned towards the last…
Two quick jabs against his torso, causing him to wheeze as he fell back into a hasty block. Kassandra's eyes shined as she fell upon him in a relentless assault. Block, block, block…
Unfortunately, Konrad was much faster when Guilliman last fought him. This wasn't enough to overwhelm his defense. A twist into a tap against her chest caused her to slump, folding against his stick in defeat. He smiled as he lifted her up entirely, using the stick as a pole to hold her up like drying linens.
"Bleh." She muttered emotionlessly.
Turning towards the other defeated girls, he began the second part of the lesson, discussion. "You all lasted around thirty seconds longer than normal this time. Morrigan's addition has dramatically increased your consistency in landing blows. What did you learn?"
They glared at him in varying degrees of dissatisfaction. Even Kassandra's purple eyes glowing from behind a curtain of pitch black hair. He almost reveled in it. Exhaling in a slightly amused manner, he waved Kassandra slightly and tried again, adding a little more flattery. "Come now, I'm certain something must have occurred to each of you. You're exceptionally quick learners."
"I'm bad at fighting." Petra grouched out. To which he shook his head. "That's not what I hear from the stormcloaks. Each of you is very talented. It's just that I'm very good at fighting."
"...Still got hurt." Kassandra muttered. He turned towards her. She wasn't looking at him. "Not good enough." Glancing at the other three, it seemed like they all agreed with that statement.
He sighed, it seems they weren't over Barbarus. He lowered himself into a seated position, then Kassandra into his lap like food is lowered off into a stone oven. Much like a large feline, Kassandra melted into a draped position, a clingy habit that had yet to leave her from her initial rescue. Physical contact made them more willing to listen to him, as he found out. He patted the floor, bringing the other three to sit down as well.
"None of those injuries were from fighting. I had done something very foolish, and didn't bring appropriate equipment with me to protect against the environment. If I had done so, I would've been uninjured. And even now, I am fine, am I not?"
"...You mean Morrigan did something foolish." Petra corrected sullenly. Aurelia pursed her lips, Morrigan cast her gaze to the floor, and Kassandra didn't so much as twitch. He turned a scolding look to Petra, who looked defiant for a moment, before her gaze dropped as well.
Sighing, he replied. "Morrigan felt she had to do so. Yes. It was not wise. But she's young, as all of you are." He let his eyes roam across all his sisters, wondering if this was how Konor felt at any point. "All of you are going to make mistakes. Everyone is going to make mistakes. No one is exempt from this. What's important is having allies that can help you through those mistakes. Who can warn you of the danger, and assist you against it."
He smiled at them. "Failure is inevitable, what's critical are the lessons you take from failure, and who you have to help you when you fail. That's what I'm here for, to help you get better, to fail here so that later failures are not so damaging."
He raised a hand to stroke through Kassandra's hair, which she leaned into. "That's why these spars are as a team. I want you all to learn to work together, so you can rely on each-other when I'm not around. I want the best for you all."
"...You're not allowed to die." Aurelia declared, staring at him with golden pupils. The other three were also tense, staring at him.
He quirked his lip. "Who said anything about death? No, I mean my duties. I'll be away and working most of the time once we return to Charnac."
"Almost died on Barbarus." Morrigan spoke up, slightly challenging. "You say you could have killed that thing? The thing that rotted my world?"
Guilliman was silent for a moment, rolling the thought over in his mind, before finally speaking. "That was a creature known as a Greater Daemon. In my life, I have killed four. But I do not think I could've battled it and ensured your safety at the same time, and there was nothing to be gained by battling it at that point either. Retreat was the best option."
"It killed half the people on my world!" Morrigan stood up, waving her hands in frustration. "What do you mean?!"
…Mortarion always had a very strong sense for vengeance, of righted wrongs and due punishments. He supposed it was true for Morrigan as well. Slowly, he began to explain his reasoning again.
"I could have stayed and fought. That is true. It's possible I could have killed that creature and extracted vengeance for those people. But what if I fail? But what of my duty to everyone else? Of my oaths to Carnac? Of my duty to my sisters who I love?"
Morrigan froze, considering it. Guilliman continued. "In the end, I value saving who I can over avenging who I have already failed. I would like to kill that daemon one day, and if the opportunity comes I will most likely take it. But I refuse to bring suffering to those who rely on me for something of that nature. There will be another chance to settle that grudge, but my sisters only have one me."
He smiled gently, locking eyes with her. "Saving you was more important than killing some villain. Killing him wouldn't get you off the planet, nor would it save all those who were already dead."
Morrigan staggered back, and turned to flee the room. "Lesson isn't over Morrigan."
She froze again, and turned to sit down again. He chuckled, and tried to remember where he had left off.
A sudden set of yells came from all the Eldar also present in the room. Namely the guards along the perimeter. He frowned in small panic, before running the calculations on the date again.
Ah.
The Eldar rubbed against their eyes, as if they had just been blinded by a great flash of light, and were trying to adjust to the new brightness. The room was still as well-lit as it was before.
However, the date told him what he needed to know.
"What's going on…?" Aurelia asked, eyes darting about. Guilliman sat relaxed, and idly commentated.
"If my judgment is correct, they are trying to adjust to the new light. The Astronomicon has just been lit."