"My foresight has never been particularly sharp."
Within Fulgrim's villa, the golden specter of Sanguinius spoke to his brother. "So I can't give you definitive answers. Something seems to be blocking my abilities to foresee clearly. I once prophesied that Russ and Ryan would battle the Everchosen, but the outcomes never aligned with my visions."
"It's that thing," Fulgrim replied, pointing skyward. "Morrslieb, the Chaos Moon—a massive satellite formed entirely of warpstone. It disrupts the ability to prophesy. Before its appearance, the Old Ones' servants were almost omniscient. But now, their ability to see the future has been severely diminished. The mage-priests of the Moon City have tried countless ways to deal with this nuisance, but every attempt has failed. Each time, it only results in a shower of warpstone falling to the earth, benefiting the Skaven more than anyone else. Morrslieb has cloaked much of the world in uncertainty, and I suspect it has affected you as well, brother."
"Is that so?" Sanguinius's ethereal form nodded slowly, floating to the side with a regretful expression. "I keep wondering how I can truly help you all. Each of you is doing your part, fighting your battles, while I'm stuck watching. It's... frustrating."
"You'll have your chance soon enough, Sanguinius. I've heard from Magnus that Baal is under siege by Hive Fleet Leviathan." Fulgrim chuckled lightly. "Your brilliant Chapter Master, Dante, is rallying all your sons for a last stand in the Cryptus System."
"I know," Sanguinius said with a nod. "Mephiston has already informed me through his dreams. I've even helped him resolve a minor... issue of his. When I return, I will solve the Black Rage. But enough about that—tell me about your plans, Fulgrim. If you can't survive this battle, then everything ends here. Baal's struggle becomes moot. This world's oppressive nature is suffocating; I can barely use any psychic power."
"What plans can I have?" Fulgrim sighed, his eyes fixed on the map before him. "Look here, Sanguinius. Vashnar the World-Breaker's army will march down from the north. We don't know their exact numbers, but it's certainly no less than thirty or forty thousand. The lizardmen may delay them for a while, but we cannot depend on that. Beyond the northern threat, we have undead pirates approaching from the east and a massive Skaven army surging from the south. Each of these threats would require our full strength to counter. Now, all three are converging on us in a coordinated assault."
"I heard your strategy," Sanguinius said, scanning the map. The spiritual essence of the Blood Angel Primarch, now almost fully purged of Chaos's taint, seemed lighter. "You intend to send a detachment to eliminate one of the threats first, regardless of how many enemies approach from the other two directions. Am I right? And if I'm not mistaken, your first target is the Skaven, isn't it?"
"Hah, you know me well." Fulgrim nodded slightly. "The Skaven are easier to deal with. A decapitation strike can throw them into chaos, as they're prone to panic and collapse. At the right moment, I can personally lead the Phoenix Guard into battle to finish them off."
"But have you considered whether the Skaven would even engage you?" Sanguinius shook his head with a faint smile. "What if they avoid direct confrontation? What then?"
"I have the Serpent God's Chosen and the stone-scaled lizards aiding me. They'll help track the Skaven's movements quickly and precisely," Fulgrim asserted confidently. "There's no chance they'll evade us."
"I don't mean they'll evade entirely." Sanguinius shook his head again. "Let's assume you do find an opportunity, and you succeed in routing the Skaven through a decisive battle. What then? You need to understand one critical issue: you lack flexibility. Constantinople is fixed here, and I dare say, the moment your main force moves, the other two armies will strike simultaneously. At the very least, the undead pirates at sea will seize the opportunity to launch an attack. Without your main forces to defend it, the city will fall. Think back to the Siege of Terra—why didn't Dorn prioritize an offensive against Perturabo or yourself back then?"
"Does this mean we're doomed to passively defend?" Fulgrim frowned deeply. Sanguinius's words highlighted a significant issue: his lack of strategic mobility.
Constantinople was a fixed stronghold, and the Ashen Legion's movements were far from covert. How could they outmaneuver subterranean Skaven, nomadic Chaos marauders, and seafaring pirates?
"You need to rely on this city as a defensive bulwark. Let them come. Face the three-way siege head-on, but keep an eye out for openings. When the opportunity arises, call upon your lizardmen allies and lead the Phoenix Guard to strike decisively." Sanguinius pointed to Constantinople on the map. "Force the enemy to attack under the threat of your fortifications and artillery. Be patient and await their mistakes. A three-pronged assault can't possibly be perfectly coordinated. They lack a Guilliman or Jonson to orchestrate their efforts."
"Are you Sanguinius or Dorn?" Fulgrim couldn't help but laugh, lifting his head to look at his brother. "This doesn't sound like the angel I know."
"Save your sarcasm," Sanguinius replied with a chuckle. "I know which battles can be won and which cannot. If you had the Emperor's Children Legion at the height of the Great Crusade, along with their auxilia forces, then by all means, divide your forces into three groups and confront each enemy directly. But the troops under your command now... Fulgrim, let's be honest—when the fighting starts, you'll need to be on the front lines to maintain morale. Mortals can be brave, but they are also fragile."
"I understand." Fulgrim nodded solemnly. "I'll have the defenses strengthened. Constantinople will become the grave of Chaos, Druchii, Skaven, and the undead alike."
With the strategy set, Fulgrim noticed Sanguinius staring at him. Feeling slightly uneasy, he asked, "What is it?"
"I was just thinking... I hope you don't mind my advice." Sanguinius nodded slightly. "I must admit, my suggestions come with my own biases and perspective. Your willingness to accept them doesn't necessarily mean they're the best course of action. Perhaps you're simply being considerate of me."
"Maybe. Maybe not. But does it matter?" Fulgrim was amused by his brother's humility. Taking a bottle of fine wine from a cooling cabinet crafted by the Golden Wizard, he poured himself a glass. "In the end, I chose to follow your advice. The truth is, I want to protect both my people and you. If that's my ambition, so be it—perfection."
"No, even the smallest disagreements can spiral into catastrophe," Sanguinius said, shaking his head. "You've lived with Horus, and so have I. We both sensed something off, even before he fell. Am I right?"
"You're talking about Macado?" Fulgrim set his wineglass down. "Yes, we all felt it. After Macado established the High Lords Council, the tension between him and Horus only deepened. Horus saw the council as a loathsome bureaucratic hindrance to his grand vision—a symbol of insult and disdain. He argued that the Primarchs should have seats on the council or that it should be abolished entirely."
"And Macado believed that all power derived from the Emperor, and that both the council and the Primarchs were tools of the Emperor's will—tools that shouldn't have independent thoughts or agendas. This divide..." Sanguinius hesitated for a moment. "I can't even recall their names now. But the rift was inevitable. Even without Chaos's corruption, the relationship between Horus and Father was bound to fracture. A son might bear the pain of losing his father, but to endure the betrayal of being disinherited? Impossible. Horus believed he was the Emperor's rightful heir, that he was ready to act independently. The title of Warmaster satisfied him, but it also fed his ambitions."
"So what's your point?" Fulgrim frowned. "I know all of this—it's an irreconcilable conflict. I've even heard rumors that Macado deliberately provoked the Primarchs to test their loyalty."
"We're all the same, Fulgrim," Sanguinius said with a faint smile. "As Primarchs, we are inherently arrogant. Our unmatched souls, invincible physiques, and unique abilities predispose us to differences in thought and perspective. Many of us appear open to advice, but deep down, we stubbornly believe our own choices are correct."
"You're not wrong," Fulgrim admitted with a bitter smile. "Not many of us are willing to take advice. Some don't even bother pretending to listen. You know who I'm talking about."
"And I don't care to guess." Sanguinius shook his head. "Recently, I've been reflecting a lot. Do you know why Guilliman chose me to be Emperor of the Second Imperium?"
"Because everyone liked you," Fulgrim replied without hesitation. For a fleeting moment, a hint of jealousy crossed his face. Though Fulgrim was well-liked, many
of the other Primarchs found his flamboyance off-putting.
"No, or at least, not entirely." Sanguinius shook his head. "Guilliman had long been preparing his sons for political, literary, and artistic pursuits. He had plans for the future of the Ultramarines after the Great Crusade. Doesn't that sound familiar? Doesn't it remind you of Father's arrangements? Guilliman made me Emperor and Jonson the Warmaster, just as Father appointed Macado as Regent and Horus as Warmaster."
Fulgrim's eyes widened in realization.
Could it be...?
"Not that sinister," Sanguinius reassured him with a laugh. "If Guilliman had ulterior motives, do you think I wouldn't have noticed? If he truly had ambitions or schemes, I wouldn't have agreed."
"He prefers to work behind the scenes," Fulgrim said, finally understanding. "He enjoys controlling the vast, intricate machinery of Father's Imperium, but he doesn't want to be its figurehead. He finds satisfaction in pulling the strings while avoiding the burdens of responsibility and blame. A true bureaucrat."
"Don't blame Guilliman for that," Sanguinius said, attempting to pick up a feathered silk robe hanging in Fulgrim's villa—a gift hand-sewn by the Wood Elf Princess Carona. But as a spirit, he couldn't grasp it. "It's human nature. Everyone wants just a bit more power, to make things easier. Everyone tests their limits, consciously or not."
"Which is why Horus kept pushing. As long as Father didn't stop him, he would continue to test the boundaries. His fall was inevitable. Chaos might have simply shown him a glimpse of a possible future." Fulgrim finally understood Sanguinius's wisdom. Laughing self-deprecatingly, he said, "And I'm no different. That's what led to my fall. Thank you, brother. I see your point now."
"That's why I admire Sulia so much," Sanguinius said, his attention wandering to Fulgrim's various collectibles. Fulgrim proudly displayed his ukulele and sheet music for Lustrian folk songs. "Surely you noticed the tension between Ryan and Sulia before they went to Ulthuan?"
"Just a minor disagreement," Fulgrim said with a nod. "Sulia wanted to accompany Ryan to Ulthuan and sought Father's approval directly. Superficially, it was a breach of protocol. But at its core, it was a power struggle. Sulia, as Queen, sought to understand the limits of her authority. Ryan, as King, couldn't tolerate her overstepping those boundaries, especially by leveraging Father's influence. The conflict was inevitable."
"The apex of power is a very narrow place," Sanguinius mused. "Don't be fooled by the size of Father's Imperium. Even he, Macado, and Horus couldn't comfortably share its peak. The same applies to Ryan's kingdom. With the Lady of the Lake stepping back from direct governance, the power struggle between King and Queen became all the more pronounced."
Fulgrim thought back to his own ambitions to challenge Guilliman for the Regency of the Imperium. Suddenly, the idea seemed petty and laughable.
"At first, Ryan forced Sulia to yield," Sanguinius continued. "Ryan's dominance left Sulia with no choice but to back down. But if things had ended there, a rift would've remained between them—a wedge that would've driven them further apart over time. You know how narrow the apex is."
Spreading his golden wings once more, Sanguinius smiled brightly, his radiant visage exuding warmth. "But our little brother and his wife didn't disappoint me. In a humble chocolate workshop in Lothern's foreign district, Ryan and Sulia—this once-clashing royal couple—each took a step back. Ryan admitted his selfishness, his possessiveness over both his love and his throne. Sulia, in turn, demonstrated her devotion. Her actions weren't about seizing power but about supporting Ryan's ambitions and dreams. Their mutual concessions illuminated an endless future for their love. It was then that Sulia finally earned my blessing and recognition."
"…" Fulgrim was silent for a long moment before finally nodding. "I understand now, brother."
"Power struggles have their limits, Fulgrim," Sanguinius said gently. "Compared to power, status, or glory, there are far more precious things worth pursuing and cherishing, no matter the cost." His smile, as radiant as the sun, seemed to dispel the villa's shadows. "Righteousness must never fade. For the future we believe in, and for those we love, humanity's courage and conviction sustain us. I firmly believe that together with Father, we can bring justice, order, and peace to the galaxy."
"Ryan and Sulia's actions touched me deeply. From them, I saw true, selfless love." Sanguinius continued, his voice unwavering. "Love, courage, and justice—these were my guiding stars when I chose to confront Horus. For all that I held dear, I was willing to give everything, asking for nothing in return. Tears, sweat, blood, even my life—I would pay any price without regret."
"In this dark and cold universe, I have always believed..."
"Humanity needs heroes!"
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