Some words are destined to be forgotten by history.
Destined to be distorted, hated, targeted, deliberately buried and smeared, changed by those with blades in their hearts, using new lies and curses, into the form the world wants to see, with blood and tears hidden, leaving behind only an exquisite legend as dreamy as a fairy tale.
And the Thunder Warriors were just that.
A long time ago, Horus, like millions of ordinary Imperium citizens, believed in these pioneers of the Imperium, the first warriors loyal to the Emperor, who, in the Great Unification Wars of Terra, shed their last drop of blood for the cause of humanity, for the dream of unity.
The Hymn of Loyalty, formed by lightning, eagles, and the hands of thunder, ultimately laid the foundation for the Imperium of Man and the Great Crusade, becoming a glorious page in human history that could never be erased.
Horus once believed this so strongly, until one day, in the deepest reaches of the Imperial Palace on Terra, he saw something different—a discordant note.
At the time, he was guiding Mortarion, who had just returned to the Imperium, on a tour of the absolute core of the Imperium of Man. While Mortarion searched for interesting things in the palace rooms and corridors according to his own wishes, Horus's gaze was drawn to a mysterious book in a hidden room.
It was a record of a bloody suppression of a rebellion that occurred before the Great Crusade, after the Unification Wars. Among those suppressed rebels, Horus saw some names he had once been extremely familiar with.
Usotan. He had heard of this powerful warrior, this Iron Lord and his Thunder Warriors Fourth Legion, who had left records of their strength and loyalty in countless accounts of the Unification Wars on Terra. Their victories and honors far surpassed any of their comrades.
And when Horus learned when, where, and by whom he had been executed, for what reason, in that moment, certain fairytale illusions were shattered, just like an imperceptible crack appearing in a flawless treasure.
Some things were no longer priceless.
Usotan, Lord of the Thunder Warriors Fourth Legion, was personally executed by Valdor, Chief of the Custodian Guard, on the steps of the Imperial Palace on Terra for participating in a rebellion organized by Departmento Regio Arbiter Uwoma-Kandavir (1).
In the time that followed, Horus constantly urged himself to forget all this. He had ample reason to believe that Usotan's end was self-inflicted; after all, betrayal could never be forgiven, no matter what.
Regardless of past achievements, regardless of past loyalty, a traitor was unforgivable.
But even so, in the darkness of his heart, Horus harbored some different thoughts: some worries, some complaints, some fears of a certain future possibility that he had selectively forgotten.
Relatively speaking, Horus wasn't actually too concerned about the bloody end of the Thunder Warriors, or that they were merely disbanded and shelved. The Warmaster, born on Cthonia, was not a pure and flawless Snow Lotus; he knew how many dirty tricks were needed to rule an Imperium and understood the necessity of such deception.
He was concerned about something else.
Why had no one told him the truth?
He didn't care how bloody the true reality was, nor did he care what dark connections these truths had with himself and his sons. He was confident in his loyalty to the Emperor, confident that his Legion would never meet such an end.
He merely held the most genuine question deep in his heart.
Why hadn't they told him the truth?
Was he not the Emperor's most trusted son and kin?
Was he not the Emperor's greatest commander and deputy?
Should he not be the most reliable figure to stand with the Emperor and share these secrets and darkness?
He and the Emperor, his gene-father, had fought side-by-side, intimately, for thirty years! That was half his life so far!
Even after his other brothers gradually returned, he remained confident that he was the Emperor's most valued son, and he would do everything to fulfill any of the Emperor's commands.
Just like now, even though he knew Randan's strength was considerable, and understood the immense casualties the Luna Wolves would suffer if they joined this war—which was why he was unwilling to join this war.
But as long as the Emperor issued the order, as long as his father sent even a single word from Holy Terra, he would lead his Legion to the hell in the northern Milky Way, fighting to the death.
Only he, Horus, was the Human Lord's confidant, closest friend, most trusted person, and most beloved subordinate.
In what way was he inferior to Malcador, or those arrogant, haughty Golden Corn People?
Neither the Sigillite nor Valdor were anything more than mortal flesh and blood; their lives were as fragile as sand, while he was the one who could stand shoulder to shoulder with the Emperor, eternally guarding these great endeavors.
Horus believed this, and he believed the Emperor thought the same.
If so, why was he not privy to the truth? Why was he treated the same as everyone else?
He was Horus, the Emperor's most beloved.
There was no doubt about that.
So... where had things gone wrong?
First, the Human Emperor, his gene-father, was absolutely faultless. The Lord of Terra loved him; Horus had absolute confidence in that.
So the problem must lie with...
——————
A tiny blade, unnoticed by anyone, thus pierced the Warmaster's heart: not even the Warmaster himself felt it.
After all, Horus's complaints remained in his heart, and his thoughts lingered on his lips; no one knew any of it, and even Horus himself often selectively forgot these things.
The Great Crusade continued, with endless commendations from Terra and the Emperor. There were always worlds to conquer, always honors to gain, and always relationships with other brothers, with mortals, and with more interest groups that he needed to manage one by one.
Horus always had more important things to do, and in the face of these more immediate concerns, even the Warmaster himself was convinced that his small grievances were harmless.
After all, his father loved him.
As long as that remained true, Horus believed he would always stand invincible.
——————
When Horus left the battlefield, which had become a ruin, and returned to the surface, he also heard from Sejanus about the horrifying storm unleashed by the Soul Drinker on the other side of this world.
Horus did not say much. Deep in the Warmaster's heart, he was constantly considering whether and how to win over this seemingly terrifying lady, and at the same time, he was thinking about her identity.
A female Primarch seemed like a somewhat absurd yet perfectly reasonable answer, but Horus distinctly remembered that his gene-father had never told him he had a blood sister.
On the other hand, the Warmaster was also very clear that he seemed to have no more bargaining chips to make this lady stand on his side.
So, he temporarily put this matter aside, along with other important but not urgent matters. Horus was not worried; after all, time was still long, and he believed that if his Calibanite brother continued to adhere to certain almost苛刻demanding requirements, not many people would be willing to stay by his side.
Thinking of this, Horus even felt a flicker of pleasure.
But soon, he felt ashamed of this schadenfreude towards his brother.
In this shame, Horus concluded his campaigns in the Drune Sector.
——————
"We lost three warriors on the surface and in the fortresses of Drune, and twelve more suffered injuries of varying degrees. Casualties for the White Scars Legion are initially confirmed to be within eight hundred, while Death Guard Legion casualties are still being further tallied."
Deep within the Steadfast, Horus sat on the throne his Barbarus brother had prepared for him, listening to Sejanus report the trivialities of the war.
"Preliminary indications are that the victory in this war has already begun to have an impact. The remaining storms surrounding this sector have also just begun to show signs of dissipation. Soon, the Imperial fleet will be able to pass through here unhindered, and we can then seek the next target for Imperial conquest in the galaxy, my Lord."
"The next one..."
Horus slowly chewed on these words, as if placing thousands of bloody worlds between his lips and teeth.
"Any other news from Randan?"
"The latest batch of frontline intelligence has not yet been relayed back, my Lord, but there is one thing I would like to remind you of."
"Lady Morgana and Zahariel contacted me immediately after this war concluded. They hope we will fulfill our promise; they are eager for a new warship to transport them back to the front lines against Randan, as their own vessel sustained severe damage while traversing the Warp storm."
The Warmaster waved his hand, signaling his son to remain silent.
He rested his chin in his hand, seemingly lost in profound thought. After a long while, the Warmaster almost to himself, posed a question to his most trusted son.
"She is very strong, isn't she?"
"Sejanus, my son, that Lady Morgana, she seems even more powerful than rumored, and also more... loyal to my brother."
"This is just the tip of the iceberg that we've stumbled upon. Besides, there's the First Legion, and other things we don't even know about. My brother, he is so favored, so many secrets, so many exclusive privileges... and I have none."
Horus tilted his head back, his voice very slow, and Sejanus could neither see his expression nor immediately fathom what his gene-father wanted to convey.
He even heard a hint of bitterness?
Perhaps it was an illusion.
"Sometimes, Sejanus, I even suspect Jaghatai's view is correct: this Lady Morgana is indeed a creation of my gene-father, a gift from him to my brother, Lion El'Jonson."
"A Malcador, just for him."
"How favored he is..."
And Horus's words continued.
"What do you think, Sejanus?"
"When she returns to the First Legion, when such a powerful psyker stands by my brother's side, as long as he's not an idiot, he will surely win this war. He will become a victor, a winner, a rising star of war, an even more favored figure..."
Horus murmured, his voice trailing off at the end. Sejanus, head bowed, remained silent: he knew his gene-father was deep in thought. At such times, Horus needed not advice, but a quiet environment.
The Warmaster narrowed his eyes.
He remembered that he actually had the opportunity to participate in the Randan War.
At the very beginning of this war, the Emperor had hesitated, wondering which Legion to dispatch to bear the banner against Randan.
At that time, Horus had volunteered, but the Emperor refused his request, ordering the Luna Wolves to continue fighting in the western galaxy, preparing for the Imperium's next round of territorial expansion.
Horus was quite certain that if he had insisted then, perhaps he would have been the overall commander against Randan.
But he didn't.
Horus knew very well the price of confronting such a formidable opponent. Without the Emperor's direct order, he would not willingly lead his Legion into such a desperate situation. Of course, if the Emperor had commanded it, Horus would not hesitate to face any adversary with his Legion.
And on the other hand, the Warmaster was also arrogant enough to believe that, besides himself, no one else could carry this banner.
Until the Emperor brought back a taciturn knight from the deep forests of Caliban.
Despite the distance of countless stars, Horus, through various intelligence and private connections, clearly learned everything happening on the front line. He almost personally witnessed how Lion El'Jonson led his Legion to block the unstoppable tide, stabilize the front, and even slowly push back.
He felt genuine pride for his brother and joy for the Imperium's victory.
But as this pride and joy gradually cooled, he fell into a certain unease and worry.
It turned out he wasn't indispensable.
It turned out there truly was a brother who could do all this, besides him.
Horus even felt a pang of jealousy; he even had a faint desire for Lion El'Jonson's progress not to be smooth, a desire for his brother to suffer a little.
But this desire was like an incredibly fleeting and absurd dream, from which he would awaken in the next moment and despise his own thoughts.
Thus, as the fires of war against Randan ignited across the northern Milky Way, the Warmaster and his Legion remained securely in the western galaxy, battling with the countless conflicting emotions within himself.
He wanted to join this war, to shed his blood for the cause of humanity.
But he also didn't want to join this war, to subject his Legion to unimaginable, enormous damage, potentially crippling them.
He felt joy for the Imperium's and his brother's victory, experiencing the simplest pride as a brother, a human.
But he was also not entirely joyful; a constant thought of being replaced and having his status threatened tormented him.
He harbored some dark thoughts about his brother, thoughts concerning status and power.
He knew these thoughts were wrong, but he couldn't stop them.
Horus was thinking.
Horus was conflicted.
Horus was in pain.
The Warmaster even privately envisioned a scenario he could most accept:
His brother would fight heroically, achieving countless glorious victories, but still fail to achieve a complete triumph over Randan.
His gene-father would still need the strongest Legion, an irreplaceable and greatest commander, to end this powerful and foul adversary.
He would fight alongside his brother, supporting each other in the most difficult circumstances, but he would also be the greatest among them, the most trusted. Of course, he would be the greatest and most trusted among them.
This was self-evident; he merely wanted to prove this point, to prove a fact.
Horus always thought this way, and Horus also knew that such thoughts should not be revealed to anyone, not even his sons, his most trusted sons.
And so, he once again fell into conflict.
This conflict lasted until the silent Sejanus delivered a new message from the front lines to him: this was not an official document; it came from some private connections Horus had cultivated earlier.
So what it contained was precisely what Horus needed.
——————
[Three Terra Standard Days ago, the last Fortress World north of the Sol Sector fell. The garrison and fleet stationed in that system did not fire a single shot.]
[Surrendered without a fight.]
——————
(1):
Kandavir's rebellion was not out of ambition. This idealistic Departmento Regio Marshal believed that the Imperium violated its own laws in dealing with the Thunder Warriors and other issues. Due to limited information, she ultimately concluded that the Emperor had been misled,
and thus questioned the Custodian Guard and decided to seek justice for the Thunder Warriors. However, due to the actions of the Emperor, the Sister of Silence, and the Thunder Warriors themselves, things ultimately spiraled into a rebellion. Afterward, she was not prosecuted but voluntarily resigned and retired to a rural life.
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