Hearing the ominous words from the Primarch of the Eleventh Legion, Malcador's shoulders relaxed.
"I know, this is unfair to you."
The palmer raised his hand.
"Come on, take a walk with me, an old man."
They continued walking along the wall, looking out across the Himalayan plains.
There, to the south, the great spiers of the black office buildings were visible just above the dark horizon, just beyond the light of the spaceport.
Then, the palm-printer stopped.
"Xerxes, do you regret it? If you want to quit now, you can stop immediately. I will explain to the emperor in the future."
The primarch said with a toothy smile.
"O Sealbearer, you always try to... master the truth."
"I think if the past few years have taught us anything, it's that ignorance can still hurt us most profoundly, and that denying it hurts will only lead to more fire. It's better to say less than to say too much. .”
The primarch nodded.
"Be strict and reticent, so that others will forget the truth. This feels a lot like you, Master Seal Holder, and also like my father."
"But I also know very well that never, never underestimate the damage that a plausible truth can do.... The secret of stability is knowing which truths should be buried, which records should be burned, and which announcements should be made. Being denied, preaching falsehood to anyone who opposes you is
In the way of the foolish demagogue, the slightest contradiction is as legitimate and beneficial as the pinch of salt in the gruel that makes the whole meal easier to swallow. "
Xerxes chuckled several times.
"So I have always said that I never regret it. Even if it makes me and my legion doomed, I choose to believe in you and my father."
As he spoke, the original body turned around and put his hands on the guardrail, looking at the distant horizon, feeling lost.
"Master of the Seal, do you think that if I die one day, will my father leave me even a statue?"
"Your father shaped you into immortal beings, but you are too sentimental."
"ha."
The original body chuckled lightly at first, and then let out a long sigh.
"The Milky Way is trillions of years old. How can anyone be immortal?"
"Oh, you-"
Suddenly, the original body turned his head and looked at Malcador with a serious expression.
"Master of the Seal, if one day I really die because of our plan, you must pay attention to Horus, because he will definitely be full of resentment and resentment, and he will take revenge. Although it is difficult to know in what form, he will definitely Will take action.”
Malcador lowered his eyes and remained silent.
In an instant, many pictures were shattered, and the world was also shattered, but it was immediately reorganized at a faster speed.
boom!
The door to the hall was thrown open with such force and fury that even the burly attendants flinched.
"Handprinter!"
A giant roared and strode forward, his footsteps sounding like armored thunder, and the black wolf skin fluttered as he moved - this was the most distinctive feature of Horus, the original body of the Sixteenth Legion's Lunar Wolves.
"You'd better explain!"
Several of the assembled lords and bureaucrats immediately jumped from their positions around the debating table, the Primarch's fury enough to scare almost any mortal to tears of repentance.
However, Malcador still sat on his tall wooden throne, staring calmly.
"Alfaris, you did it, I guess."
Next to Horus came the Lord of the Alpha Legion, his gorgeous blue ceremonial armor radiating radiance. The original body of the 20th Legion did not answer, but sneered at the officers who retreated from their posts on both sides of the gate— —They were the only armed men in the room, and they raised him
The thought of their locked-down laser rifles never crossed their minds.
Horus ignored everything and walked to the far end of the round table, the wolfskin hanging from his huge ceramic pauldrons hanging down as the primarch raised an accusing finger.
"Dear uncle, you have to give me an explanation."
Suddenly, there were shouts in the corridor outside the hall. More warriors in armor were approaching, and several golden shield holders were coming into view.
They paused in the doorway, surveying the room with mild confusion.
"Lord Regent."
one of them shouted, eyeing the three Primarchs warily, one hand on the end of the hilt of his sword.
"Do you need our help?"
Malcador's fingers tapped on the smooth table, never moving away from Horus' cold gaze.
"No, there's nothing I can't handle here. Thank you for your diligence and care. You can go back to duty."
The Imperial Guard raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly.
"As you wish,"
he whispered, beckoning a few of the more obviously embarrassed courtiers out.
The others seized the opportunity as well, and the hall soon emptied, before Malcador shot the third Primarch a pointed glare.
The Khan, primarch of the White Scars, bowed his head respectfully in response, then walked in a wide circle around the edge of the low-ceilinged hall and closed all the doors behind him.
"Same to you, Jaghatai?"
Malcador sighed and pursed his lips.
"What made you rush to the Throne World so quickly, even when even the Astropaths couldn't contact your expeditionary force when we needed it?"
"My brother calls and I answer."
The Khan replied in his slightly accented Gothic, leaning nonchalantly against a marble column.
"That's how you made us, isn't it?"
Their conversation was later interrupted by an impatient growl from Horus, the Primarch gnashing his teeth.
"Now, you have to answer me, Sealbearer! I won't ask you a second time."
"I think."
Malcador answered tiredly.
"You mean the work being done by the Masons' Guild in the Place des Heroes?"
Horus glared.
"You know what I mean! It's an insult! You think we, my other brothers and I, are going to let this go into obscurity? You've overstepped your authority, old man, you can't just... erase history, if my father hears about it In this matter, He will——"
"What makes you think the Emperor doesn't know about this?"
Malcador interrupted the other party. No mortal would dare to interrupt a primarch.
“Just because the command did not come from His own mouth, I cannot act as His loyal servant?”
Horus shook his head, an annoyed smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
"Please don't lie to my face. You and your accomplices are taking great pains to hide this from the War Council and the rest of the Empire. These orders have no Aquila or the Seal of the Throne."
Then the Primarch of the Sixteenth Legion clutched the edge of the table with his iron-fisted hands and leaned on it in boredom, the ancient mahogany wood creaking under the weight.
"Then tell me, convince me, what right do you have to try to remove one of the twenty great statues in the Place of Heroes! You want to erase my beloved brother? This is a monument to our great achievements and an inspiration to all mankind. It means that he also has a share in this glory, no matter what he has done!!"
Malcador suddenly stood up from his seat.
"Glory?"
The palm bearer let out a bitter chuckle. Those words stung him more deeply than everyone present thought, but he couldn't show it.
"I never realized—"
Just as Soshyan was staring at this scene, an old voice suddenly sounded in his ears. He turned his head and was startled.
The person holding the seal was actually standing next to him, and he seemed to be staring at the scene at this moment.
Then a sigh escaped his dry lips.
"The seeds of rebellion took root and sprouted at this moment. Horus's hatred for me became a poisonous thorn in his heart, and turned into hatred for his father, which was eventually used by the evil god."
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