New chapter. As always, the next chapter is up on my P-a-t-r-e-o-n, here: h*t*t*p*s :/ w*w*w . p*a*t*r*e*o*n user - ? - u = 52718582 (remove the spaces and stars)
The Emperor appeared in his study with nary a whisper, as if merely stepping out of thin air, a stark contrast to his dramatic departure several weeks ago.
Usually, the Emperor's return from a triumphant conquest would be a grand affair. The Imperial Army would march through the streets of Bai-heng, and the sounds of their footsteps and the cheers would shake the city. There would be reward ceremonies, where medals and promotions would be handed out. The entire capital would celebrate the victory, and the Emperor would make a speech to his subjects.
Today, there was none of that, for the Emperor had more important matters to attend to.
But first, he needed a report. Opening his mind, he reached out to his oldest living friend.
+Revelation+ Malcador replied from his office, his mind and soul feeling like an adamantium blade as always. In his mind's eyes, the Emperor could see the Sigillite bent over his desk, reviewing reports and papers. +Valdor is managing the clean-up, I assume?+
+He is.+ The Emperor replied, transmitting the information that Malcador would need. After destroying the STC, he had only stayed long enough to interrogate Dume and purge the Chaos corrupted aristocracy of Alaris. The rest, Valdor could deal with. +How is Horus?+
Malcador continued his work and absorbed the new information even as he replied. +He is still upset. He was very unhappy when you departed, and has been sulking ever since. I have attempted to placate him, but I confess that my efforts were not very successful.+ The reply was accompanied by several of Malcador's memories of Horus, and the boy's angry behaviour.
The Emperor grimaced. He hadn't expected his son to react well to his departure, but he had hoped Malcador would be able to soothe matters over somewhat.
No matter, he would have to handle that himself.
+What of his companions? Did their presence help?+ Valdor had informed him how his son had refused to be separated from his little gang, and perhaps they would have helped keep him calm.
+It did, a little. I suspect things would have been significantly worse if I had separated them as you instructed. Trying to separate them was a foolish decision.+
Malcador's words held no malice, but the reproach stung nonetheless.
+They are ordinary humans. It is for the best if Horus lets go of his attachment to them quickly.+
+You know that and I know that, but Horus does not.+ Malcador said, a hint of severity bleeding into his tone. +The boy is young, and this sort of thing will only serve to alienate him.+
His friend was right, and Revelation knew it, but he didn't want to admit out that loud.
+Is there anything else I should know about?+ The Emperor said instead of conceding the point. The unamused undercurrent he detached told him that Malcador hadn't been fooled, but fortunately, he didn't press further.
But what he said next might have been worse.
+There is one thing. Horus managed to take advantage of the absence of the Custodes to sneak his way to Isha's labs, and speak with her briefly.+ The message was delivered calmly, but there was a hint of tension underneath, Malcador's uncertainty roiling.
"He did what?" It was only when he heard the windows shatter that the Emperor realized he had spoken out loud.
Malcador's emotions were as unhappy as his own. +He found his way to Isha, yes. She alerted me immediately and kept him occupied until I came to fetch him, but…+
The idea of an Eldar warp-construct, even Isha, interacting with his son was horrifying. There were so many things she might have revealed to him, done to him, and he could hardly bear the thought.
The Emperor strode towards the doors, already reaching out to tighten Bai-heng's wards.
+Revelation, wait-+ Malcador called out, but the Emperor ignored him.
He had to put an end to this, he had to confine Isha, reprimand Horus, he had to prevent them from ever meeting again-
"I will do everything in my power to help your son."
He had to calm down. Forcing himself to stop, the Emperor closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Though it had been a long time since he had needed to breathe, the habit, left over from the era when he had been more fragile, was still useful.
He had to examine the facts, not give in to his paranoia. And the fact Isha had been true to their agreement so far. All evidence suggested she was genuinely as soft-hearted as she seemed. She had alerted Malcador to the presence of Horus immediately.
It was extremely unlikely she had done anything wrong.
And for all that they had only known each other for the blink of an eye, she had done enough to deserve at least a small amount of his trust. She was not his friend, but she could at the very least, be expected to hold to her side of the agreement.
Had he not trusted her to check Horus's mind, body and soul? Yes, he had been present to keep an eye on her, he had still allowed it, asked for it.
It would be counterproductive and foolish to let his paranoia get the better of him and ruin the progress he had made.
Forcing himself to stop, the Emperor focused on Malcador once more.
+What did Isha and Horus discuss?+
+The surveillance devices showed that Horus mostly asked her questions about Cthonia, and the 'machine' that was used in its healing+ Malcador responded, relief pouring him off in waves. +Isha refused to tell him much, merely reminding him that she couldn't show him the machine without your permission. Horus then attempted to press her for lessons, but Isha declined, saying she was far too busy. The boy was getting frustrated with her by the end, just before I arrived.+
The Emperor had a flash of fellow feeling with his son. Talking to Isha could be a very frustrating task indeed.
+Nothing else?+
+No.+
The Emperor considered this for several moments.+Very well. I will go speak with Horus now, then.+
+Be careful,+ Malcador warned. +The boy is young and impetuous, and his loyalty to you is still fragile.+
The Emperor sent him a ripple of acknowledgement through the link. +I will be.+
The mental conversation ended, having taken not even a full minute in real time. That done, the Emperor made his way out of the room.
As he strode through the hallways, the Emperor mulled over what to do. Soothing his son's temper and disciplining him at the same time would take a gentle but firm hand.
But it had been so long since he had dealt with children. And he had already misstepped with Horus once. How should he deal with this?
It was a difficult thing to answer, and even though he had gone slower than he could have to give himself time, the Emperor was uncertain of what he was going to say as he arrived in front of his son's chambers.
"Your Majesty!" The guards saluted, springing to attention at his presence. There were over a dozen of them, patrolling the corridor, with augmentations exceeded only by his own work (or Isha's) and clad in dark grey armour. They were part of Malcador's personal troops, not as powerful as the Emperor's creations, but dangerous and effective nonetheless.
Some might have remarked that over a dozen elite soldiers to guard children was overkill. In truth, it would take far more to deal with Horus even as young and lacking in training as he was, and Malcador had likely only assigned so few for the sake of not provoking his son further.
"Return to your positions." He told them briskly, looking at the door. Inside, he could hear the sounds of children talking, though the soldiers wouldn't have been able to hear through the thick doors, even with their enhancements.
"This is so unfair-"
"Boss is still mad, I wonder when he'll calm down."
"I wish we were back on Cthonia."
"When do you think the Emperor will be back?"
But his son wasn't among them. The Emperor could feel Horus's presence further back, alone in his bedroom.
Steeling himself, the Emperor pushed open the doors and entered, the room falling silent almost immediately.
The children all stared at him, wide-eyed, but the Emperor ignored them, striding straight for his son. At the back were the bedrooms, and at the very end, his son.
When he reached the door, he knocked. "Horus? I have returned, and I want to see you." It took some effort to find the right words to use, even for something as simple as this.
Inside, the Emperor could feel his son freeze in a mixture of shock and resentment, and deeply buried though it was, a spark of happiness.
But the two emotions dominated, and his son's response was as predictable as it was exasperating. "Go away!"
So that was how it was going to be. The Emperor unlocked the door with a psychic nudge, and shut it behind himself, erecting a quick ward to maintain privacy.
"What do you want?" Horus spat at him. He was standing near the open window, and had obviously been brooding.
"Just to talk with you," The Emperor replied as gently as he could, calling upon memories of his many children and grandchildren, and kneeling in front of Horus, ignoring the cool wind that was blowing into the room from outside.
The Emperor couldn't help but be struck by how young Horus looked. His childish features, the long dark hair, the clothing strategically ripped and torn in places for the sake of appearances…it was all so painfully familiar, every trait he had seen before in countless children and grandchildren.
But Horus was different from all of them. His soul was brighter and sharper, a flame that the Emperor had ignited for a reason, a sculpture that he had shaped for a purpose.
"It has been some time, my son."
Horus's lips thinned, his face still a mask of anger even as hurt and distress swirled below. "And is that my fault?"
The Emperor opened his mouth to tell him that it was the fault of Narthan Dume, but one of the memories Malcador had shown him flashed through his mind.
"No, my son, it's mine." The Emperor said instead. "I left abruptly, without speaking to you, and that was a mistake on my part. I…I apologize for that."
Anger was replaced by surprise and Horus stared at him with eyes as wide as that of his compatriots. The boy clearly hadn't expected an apology, and part of the Emperor rebelled against the idea.
The boy was a weapon, a tool he had crafted for reuniting humanity and ensuring its dominance over the galaxy. He was not to be coddled or apologized to.
But the Emperor couldn't help but remember the words he had spoken to Isha, just before they had found Horus. If he could admit that he loved his sons to her, it seemed foolish and cruel to not express that affection when one of his sons was right in front of him.
However, Horus quickly composed himself, though his surprise and confusion were still visible.
"Why did you leave so quickly?" The boy demanded. His temper had cooled, but it wasn't completely quelled yet, hurt and anger still swirling around him.
"Malcador told you of the Pan-Pacific Empire," The Emperor replied carefully. "They had unearthed an ancient superweapon, one that they could have used to destroy this entire planet if they had been able to reactivate it. I needed to stop them before they could do so."
A skeptical expression flickered across his son's face. "What kind of weapon can destroy a planet?"
"There are many such weapons. The Ancients of the Golden Age made weapons of immense power, far beyond anything we have today."
Horus seemed torn between curiosity and disbelief. "But did you have to leave? They hadn't figured out how to use the weapon yet?"
"They had not," The Emperor acknowledged. "But they were dangerously close to doing so. Nevertheless, I should have spoken to you before I left, rather than leaving so rashly."
The words felt strange to say. How long had it been since he had spoken to anyone like this? Even with Malcador, apologizing to him was not something he had done in a very long time.
Barely a decade ago, he would not have spoken like this to anyone, not even his son. But much had changed in a short time, and he had remembered that there was benefit in wielding a gentler hand with people. The growing happiness among the Imperium's populace once not even the lowest of them would ever have to worry about food shortages again, those who had flocked to his banner because he had offered them food and medicines previously unavailable, Terra's slow restoration to the beautiful world it had once been…all of it had made him soft.
Isha was a terrible influence on him, the Emperor thought ruefully.
Or perhaps not so terrible, seeing how his son seemed to be slowly relaxing.
"Will you leave again?" Horus asked finally, his expression wary.
"I will," The Emperor replied. "I cannot promise that I will never leave your side again, for I have many responsibilities and even more enemies." Horus tensed, having predicted the answer but still disappointed by it, before the Emperor added. "But I can promise that I will speak to you before I go."
Horus nodded slowly. "Okay."
It wasn't much. His son was still mistrustful, the hurt hadn't been erased, and building trust between them would be harder than it had been before.
But it was a start. It was a start.
The Emperor stepped out of the chambers, shutting the door behind him. He and Horus had spoken, and he had managed to soothe his son's feelings somewhat. It had been hard, much harder than he had remembered. Being a parent again…he had raised many children and grandchildren in his long life, both directly of his own blood and not, but it had been so long. Those memories almost felt like that of a different person entirely.
But it also felt good. He and Horus had talked for some time, and though Horus clearly hadn't appreciated the gentle reprimand for approaching Isha, he hadn't been angry either, obviously still smarting about Isha brushing him off.
The Emperor would have consider how to best manage that. Merely forbidding Horus to meet Isha hadn't worked, and once his son's annoyance with her faded, he might try again. A different approach was required. For now, though, he had spoken to Horus, promised him a tour of Bai-heng tomorrow and left his son to think for the night. He was unsure if it was the best decision, but Horus had obviously wanted some time to process everything.
Passing through the hallways, he passed several servants, all of whom bowed in greeting but seemed unsurprised to see him. News of his arrival had spread quickly, and in any case, the staff assigned to the fortress were well-trained and familiar with his mysterious comings and goings.
Though apparently their training did require some updates if they were so easily outsmarted by a child. Granted, they were dealing with one of his sons, and there were no Custodes available at the moment, but still. Overhauls would be required.
Now, he needed to speak to Isha herself. Her presence akin to an immensely old yet still strong tree, yet a tree still fundamentally different from any on Terra, in her labs, working on something. Not the new ones, but the indoor farm he had given her years ago, deep in the Imperial palace.
After a moment's consideration, the Emperor stepped out of reality and into the Warp.
Instantly, he was surrounded by an unending ocean of torment that shone with unholy light and rang with the sound of the screams and shrieks of a trillion trillion Neverborn horrors. Nightmare storms raged as they had for millennia, fed by the agony of a galaxy in flames and behind it all the eternal, mocking laughter of the Four continued.
It was enough to drive a normal man utterly mad.
The Emperor ignored it, his aura repelling the daemon hordes and with another step, he was back in reality, now in front of Isha, who was kneeling in the dirt, unconcerned by the stains on her black robe as she tended to the crops.
Most people would have been surprised by his entrance, but Isha didn't even look up from her work until a moment later.
"A little excessive, surely?" She asked dryly. "You were only a few floors away."
The Emperor waved a hand dismissively. "I wished to speak to you, and it was the most expedient option."
"I see." One of her little workers, really an extension of Isha herself, came scurrying to her, and Isha extended a hand to it, the creature dissolving into green light as she reabsorbed it.
The Emperor watched it uneasily. Theoretically, he knew that he could create such extensions of his own being if he wished to, but the fact remained that they were essentially Daemons. It was why he had forbidden Isha to use them anywhere except this inner sanctum, not even in the secondary labs he had assigned her outside.
These creatures were useful, and Isha's creations were ultimately little more than puppets, lacking the malice of even the weakest Daemon of Chaos. But even knowing that, to act as the gods did was not a prospect he much cared for.
Though he did know that the Eldar Pantheon had never boasted daemons of their own. Or at least, not in his lifetime. Isha was creating these spirits now out of necessity, but she had never had commanded anything like legions of Daemons and Daemon Princes as long as he had lived.
He wondered why that was.
A matter for another time, perhaps. Right now, they had other things to discuss. Isha was clearly waiting for him to speak, watching him with a hint of wariness in her eyes.
"I heard you spoke to Horus." He said, and at his words, Isha tensed, the wariness increasing.
Did she expect him to reprimand her for speaking to Horus?
He could hardly blame her for reaching that conclusion, but that wasn't why he was here.
"Thank you for not…encouraging his behaviour," The Emperor said finally. "And for calling Malcador immediately."
"Oh." Surprise flickered across Isha's face. "Of course, I would not do anything to endanger our agreement."
"Of course."
There was an awkward silence for a moment, before Isha cleared her throat. It was a little uncanny, the human mannerisms that she had learned to emulate.
"There is something else we need to talk about."
"Oh?"
Isha's dataslate rose from a table some distance away, floating over to her hand. She deftly flicked through it, opening a file before offering it to him.
"Please take a look," She said quietly, gesturing to the slate and manipulating it to open a specific file.
The Emperor frowned, taking a hold of the slate. His good mood vanished as he processed the data, replaced by quiet fury.
"This is accurate?" He said after several moments, the slate made a creak of protest, his grip tightened, the machine cracking.
"It is." Isha confirmed. "Astarte found it, and I ran several checks on every Space Marine available. The flaw is there. You can check for yourself, but…"
The Emperor silently repaired the slate and handed it back to Isha. "I intend to. I take it Astarte has already spoken to you about her opinions on the usage of the Space Marines and their planned replacement of the Thunder Warriors."
"She has. I realize that it is a controversial proposal, but given what she found here…" Isha trailed off.
The Emperor was silent for a long moment. The idea of having to rely on Isha's perfected design for the Thunder Warriors was not something he relished. But the risks of relying on the Space Marines were undeniable, and he would be a fool to reject them out of hand.
"We will have to discuss it." He said finally. "I will have to run my own tests, and we will talk about it further. But in the mean time, I will suspend the creation of any further Space Marines."
"I told Malcador this, but…I can repair the geneseed, if I have access to it." Isha said cautiously, clearly expecting the suggestion to be rejected but feeling compelled to raise it anyway.
"I know." The Emperor nodded. "I will take it under consideration." He smiled faintly at her surprise. "Now, I am afraid I must go."
"Of course."
The Emperor turned away, his mind already whirling as he considered the possibilities.
There was much work to be done.