Chapter 378: The Best Time to Plant a Tree Was Ten Years Ago
"How does this arrangement sound?"
Arthur asked.
"If the Ashen Claws have other questions about the process, or have other ideas, please speak freely."
Nev hesitated.
Did the Ashen Claws want to return to the Imperium?
Honestly, yes.
Life in the void wasn't exactly comfortable. There were no stars, only endless emptiness.
The beautiful dream the Emperor wove for all Astartes made these remnants of the Great Crusade still pine for past glory despite their struggle for survival. This was the fundamental reason why the Ashen Claws hadn't chosen to degenerate into a renegade warband over the long years.
But the emptiness in their hearts was hard to fill.
It was just that every time they saw the state of the Imperium, they felt hopeless. Moreover, the Imperium probably wouldn't give them glory, but only treat 'wild' Chapters like them as expendable assets.
The Ashen Claws had confidence. They ruled several planets in the Ghoul Stars and had remained active until now. Except for gene-seed, they were self-sufficient in everything. Even the Sharks often had to come to them for resupply. They never considered themselves traitors.
Nev wanted to speak but stopped.
Frankly, he had to consider if this was their only chance in this lifetime.
What the Ashen Claws sought was glory, for the Chapter's honor to be passed down. Was this request excessive?
Not at all.
And leaving the Imperium aside, the Dawnstar Sector government ruled by Primarchs was really appealing.
But—
After struggling for a long time, Nev couldn't help but complain about the first Chapter Master, Nerat Kirine.
The words spoken back then were too absolute. 'My dad is dead, you are all shit'—how could he walk that back?
"Primarchs inherited different virtues from the Emperor, making them unique, but their flaws are all the same," Ramesses suddenly spoke up, smiling: "They are bad at expressing themselves."
Chuckles rippled through the conference room.
A group of veterans from various Legions nodded in agreement.
After all, the most articulate Primarch was misunderstood by everyone as arrogant. If half of the remaining Primarchs had the eloquence of these two lords, the atmosphere below would be several times more relaxed.
"Doesn't this prove that Primarchs and the Emperor have few flaws?"
Huron was surprised. Compared to the two rebellious sons of the Raven Guard and the inherently rebellious First Legion, he still viewed Primarchs through rose-tinted glasses.
He was still waiting for Lord Guilliman to wake up so he could show his achievements to his gene-father. Maybe he could even get an official title from his gene-father then. He would be satisfied.
Although Lord Ramesses was indeed too—
Too down-to-earth.
"No, it's just that the awkwardness caused by poor expression masks their greater flaws," Ramesses shrugged and said: "Like Corax."
Pfft~
Several Dark Angels couldn't hold back their laughter.
This Primarch raised by workers valued life, so when conquering a planet, he tended to use methods with lower casualties, unlike the efficiency and glory-focused Terran-born Raven Guard.
This reticent Primarch felt these Terran-born were too inhumane. Unhappy, he held it in. The Raven Guard below felt their Primarch was too soft and unglorious. Unhappy, they also held it in. In the end, they disgusted each other.
If he learned from Master Art and said to them: "The wars you experienced might end easily, but I am the leader of the Raven Guard, and I am here to ensure you can still return in triumph from your next battle."
Then explained that he valued mortals because of his upbringing, hoping they would change, and that he could organize commendations and explain his views.
Just see if these guys would listen.
After thinking about it, Ramesses sent a psychological counseling tutorial to the Raven Lord who was still lurking in the warp.
"..."
Nev realized instantly.
After all, he wasn't a Carcharodon. Those gods inheriting from Phall were in a mysterious state of mind, caring about nothing but killing xenos and traitors in the Ghoul Stars by any means necessary.
And if they wanted honor, they had to pay something. They couldn't have their cake and eat it too.
After struggling for a long time, he finally braced himself and spoke.
"...Lord Arthur, if the Ashen Claws want to return to the Imperium, what do we need to do?"
After saying this, he felt as if he had broken some shackle. Even breathing felt easier, exhaling a series of relaxed breaths from his throat.
"Just register. The Ashen Claws need to cooperate with relevant inspections. The First Legion will communicate with you, conducting relevant training for special units including Librarians and Techmarines. The Dawnstar Sector can provide you with supplies including gene-seed, warships, personnel replenishment, and various consumables, and record and compile your Chapter history."
Arthur replied calmly, the corners of his mouth slightly raised.
Clear and organized words always stabilize a person's thoughts and give them more courage.
"What about the planets ruled by us before the return?"
Nev pressed, then explained: "We are not clinging to power, but we must be responsible for the subjects under our rule."
It wasn't that Nev was afraid; the Imperium's violent recovery strategy for lost planets was notorious.
And the Ashen Claws treated their subjects reasonably well. In daily activities, they could eat at the same table with them. Even after capturing renegade Astartes, they would go to the arena with mortals to watch duels.
Even the Sharks had to politely trade for seed and then take away the screened Astartes aspirants.
Truly rare. The Ashen Claws, known for despising mortals in the past, now mingled with them.
"That depends on your wishes."
Arthur replied: "If you plan to continue stationing in the Ghoul Stars, you will maintain your rule, but we will send administrative groups to develop the planets. The above conditions remain unchanged. If you plan to station within the Imperium, the Dawnstar Sector can also be responsible for migrating this population."
The Dawnstar Sector had plenty of experience in large-scale population migration, honed by putting out fires everywhere these years.
"What about the treatment?"
"You can take the Badab sub-sector as a reference."
Arthur replied: "Huron can arrange for you to inspect surrounding systems."
Although Huron was essentially a Great Astartes Chauvinist and ambitious schemer, precisely because of this, he was more dedicated to responding to the Dawnbreakers' strategies.
While massive resources provided blood for the pumping war machine of the Imperium of Man, countless factories and organizations constantly monitored the living standards of local residents.
The Dawnstar Sector had always valued development in this area.
Even extremely valued.
Not just survival needs, but spiritual and cultural construction was also constantly grasped, such as radio stations, broadcasts within planetary regions, art works for the masses, and considerable attention was tilted towards them.
Of course, many would say that the current galactic situation was severe, and administrative capacity and productivity should not be excessively wasted on the living standards of mortals.
Many would say it was not the time yet.
Just as the Emperor always ignored many voices, from Astartes' demands and sons' conflicts to the disastrous living standards of the Imperium and uprisings everywhere.
He ignored them all.
Because it was not time yet.
So the question is, when is the time?
At first, everyone also felt the timing was wrong. This living standard curve looked like a four-color map no matter how you looked at it. Too low led to Nurgle corruption, too high led to Slaanesh corruption, too much political discussion led to Tzeentch corruption, too much fighting led to Khorne corruption. Everyone just endure a bit longer.
But finally thinking about the ultimate goal, didn't they come here hoping these people would live better?
Every rebellion in the Imperium due to separatism actually didn't bring so-called freedom and equality to the struggling people, especially when a planet often could only start a rebellion with the help of Chaos.
Chaos cults became the rulers of a planet, and the resisting people would eventually become slaves to the new masters.
Twisted mutations would appear on the bodies of locals. They would have to torture each other under crueler rules, fighting for limited resources.
The weak were exploited, performing endless labor aimed at making you feel pain until physical death, souls also becoming consumables, while the strong fought each other, sacrificing more weaklings to please their gods for more power.
Chaos is much worse than the Imperium, that is a fact. Rotten is rotten.
But the Imperium is rotten enough. If it weren't, who would turn to Chaos for no reason? People aren't blind.
Just like Calth back then. Facing the threat of Chaos, to defend their lives, everyone from Astartes to mortals erupted with unprecedented power.
It was said that Lorgar and Angron burned a hundred worlds with nine Gloriana-class ships from unknown sources and three Abyss-class battleships, but in fact, two Legions were chased and beaten by furious Ultramarines.
What are we waiting for? Just start working. Even living a good life for one day is good.
So they just slapped their heads and started working.
The best time to plant a tree was ten years ago. The second best time is now.
And soon, they proved the value of these actions.
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