Chapter 5: Small Flaw!
Why should he be in haste? Magnus felt no urgency at all. If anyone should feel the press of time, surely it was Horus, the favoured son, the Warmaster himself.
Could it be that Horus had somehow disappointed their Father? The thought bothered Magnus more than he cared to admit. The more the Crimson King dwelt upon these implications, the more his irritation grew, and curiosity burned bright within his consciousness.
Suddenly, Magnus recalled that his sons occasionally fraternised with Astartes from other Legions during their rest periods. Perhaps through these casual encounters, he might get the answers he wanted.
With this thought driving him forward, Magnus made his way to a nearby monastery. He had not even reached the entrance when voices from within reached his enhanced hearing—words that caused his jaw to tighten with displeasure.
"Do you think Captain Ahriman and the others will actually make it back? What if the Word Bearers were right? What if we all get purged once the Great Crusade ends?"
"Come on, that's not even funny."
"I heard from the Word Bearers that the Emperor's already replaced the War Council with some Terra High Lords Council, and there isn't a single Primarch on it."
"My Word Bearer contact also said there really are gods in this universe!"
The earlier complaints were merely disheartening, but this last statement hit Magnus like a physical blow. He immediately pushed through the monastery doors, his voice thundering with authority.
"Who spoke those words? This is heresy of the highest order! You must hold fast to the Imperial Truth!"
The Astartes who had been lounging casually immediately snapped to attention, their relaxed postures replaced by rigid military bearing.
"My lord! It was a warrior from the Word Bearers Legion who said that!"
Seeing their honest response, Magnus allowed some of the tension to leave his frame and offered what comfort he could manage.
"Don't fear for your brothers, they'll return safely to us. But tell me, what news do you carry of the Sons of Horus Legion?"
The assembled warriors exchanged confused glances, clearly puzzled by their Primarch's sudden shift in topic, but they answered honestly nonetheless.
"We've heard they're deploying to some world called Davin, my lord."
Magnus felt his hopes deflate like a punctured balloon. "That's all? Nothing more about the Warmaster's activities?"
"Apologies, my lord, but that's all we know."
He had come seeking substantial intelligence about Horus, and this meagre scrap was all they could offer.
"What do you mean 'meager'? This is critical important information!" Francis excitedly grabbed Leman Russ by the arm.
Leman Russ stared at him in bewilderment. "How can you possibly know that?"
If Francis's knowledge of history held true, they were approaching the Great Crusade's most pivotal moment. He needed to accelerate his plans significantly.
The moment Francis stepped out of his cell, a massive wave of pheromones hit him like a physical force.
"Cough cough cough, By Emperor, Russ, how much booze did you drink away? And how much meat?"
The overpowering scent of alcohol mixed with the pungent aroma of what could only be Fenrisian Roaring Cattle.
"Hmph. Just thirty barrels of ale and 20 whole Roaring Cattle," Leman Russ replied with pride.
"Right, you are truly impressive! I heard that when Father first found you, he challenged you to contests of eating, drinking, and fighting, and you—mmph mmph mmph!"
Before Francis could finish his sentence, Leman Russ clapped a massive hand over his mouth, his expression darkening considerably.
"Francis, why don't you just put a blade through my heart instead? Please, I'm begging you, don't say another word about that."
Seeing Francis raise his hands in surrender, Leman Russ cautiously removed his palm.
"Alright, Russ, but now you owe me a favour."
Leman Russ's eyes narrowed warily. "Very well, but it can't contradict Father's will."
"Of course not! He's our mutual Father, after all."
It took them twice as long as necessary to navigate out of the detention levels, mainly because if Leman Russ hadn't been physically restraining him, Francis probably would have opened every door marked with forbidden warning symbols.
Finally, Francis left the dark, oppressive atmosphere of the dungeons and entered the Palace proper.
The interior walls displayed carved prayers from the nascent Imperial Creed interwoven with historical friezes depicting the Imperium's greatest triumphs. At the same time, the Palace atmosphere carried the mingled scents of sacred incense and sterile chemicals.
However, this serene atmosphere was shattered immediately.
"FRANCIS!!! Look at what you've done!"
A Custodian Guard in full auramite power armour bellowed with anguish, abandoning all protocol as he sprinted toward them. Unlike the other Custodians Francis had encountered, this warrior had distinctly green hair visible beneath his ceremonial helmet.
As the figure drew closer, both primarchs recognised him simultaneously - Constantine.
"Francis! You'd better explain to me what in Terra's name happened to my hair!"
Constantine ripped off his helmet, gesturing wildly at what could only be described as a flowing mane of brilliant green hair. Not only was it remarkably thick and abundant, but it cascaded all the way to his waist.
"Hey, that's actually pretty great! No need for dye jobs, green represents vitality and life! Very fashionable!" Francis's eyes darted everywhere except Constantine's increasingly murderous expression.
"Is that so? Then watch this!" Constantine said, with irritation, even when faced against hordes of xenos, he never felt this level of distress.
He took several steps into a patch of natural sunlight streaming through the Palace's crystal dome, and instantly, his hair began growing at a visible rate, reaching the floor within moments.
But that wasn't the worst part, because a series of unmistakable biological sounds emerged from Constantine's armour, accompanied by some rather unfortunate aromas.
Since this was a high-traffic area of the Terra Palace, numerous patrol units and functionaries witnessed the entire spectacle.
Constantine finally approached Francis with frustration in his eyes, speaking through gritted teeth.
"What am I supposed to do about this? Do you have any idea what it's like passing gas in front of the Emperor? This is sacrilege! You have to fix this!"
"This brings stain to the Emperor's grace, if his Spear bore such ridiculous fashion"
Leman Russ positioned himself protectively in front of Francis, though he remained diplomatically silent throughout the exchange.
"Uh, no worry, Russ, Constatine doesn't bite, let me take a look, this really shouldn't be happening."
Francis manoeuvred around Leman Russ, then plucked a single strand from Constantine's green locks and popped it into his mouth for analysis.
Genetic information flowed through his enhanced senses: "Visken gene 35%, Ork genome 47%. Heliotropic response is active. Accelerated regeneration, photosynthetic capabilities. Living follicles, limited lifespan, growth cessation upon cellular death."
Francis raised an eyebrow, just a tiny design flaw, really.
"Hey, don't worry about it. It's living hair, so once the cells die naturally, your normal colour comes back, and the length stops changing too. Worst case scenario? Just shave it all off, you all custodes are bald most of the time anyways."
Hearing Francis's explanation, Constantine felt some measure of relief return. Seeing the pair begin to head left, he quickly interjected, "You should be going to your legion, take the right corridor, you'll find the Soul Drinkers Legion assembled there."
After finishing, Constatine left, covering his head, disappearing in a blink.
Francis, meanwhile, after hearing Constatine's guide, turns his head slowly towards his brother suspiciously.
"...So, Brother Russ, if legion is on the right side, why exactly are you marching to the left with such confidence?" Francis eyed Leman Russ suspiciously.
"Weren't we going to find food first?" Rus said, spreading his hands in confusion.
Francis. "..."
"No, absolutely not"
The two immediately reversed course toward the right corridor, more like Francis half-dragged his wolf brother, who tried to convince him how important food and ale were before any journey.
Of course, they will be eating on the ship too.
Halfway to their destination, Francis suddenly remembered he'd prepared something special for his lupine brother. He retrieved a bottle filled with clear, emerald-green liquid from his storage container and tossed it to Leman Russ.
"What is this?"
"Wine I brewed while waiting for them to disable the psychic barrier. Want to give it a try?"
Faced with Francis's pure and innocent expression, Leman Russ suspiciously twisted off the cap, and a strange yet intoxicating aroma wafted upward.
He took a cautious sip, initially experiencing a cool, sweet sensation, followed by layers of complex and lingering flavours that seemed to warm the very depths of his soul.
The liquid dissolved slowly across his palate, possessing both wine's elegance and a unique, slightly wild undertone with mysterious fishy-sweet notes that made him close his eyes in appreciation.
"This is one exceptional wine!"
Leman Russ's eyes lit up with delight. This was infinitely superior to ale! In comparison, every barrel he'd consumed previously tasted like horse piss.
PPPPPRRRRRRRRR—
Before Leman Russ could continue his praise, an incredibly loud and prolonged biological sound completely stunned the Wolf King.
He looked at his back.
Leman Russ turned toward Francis, but the Eleventh Primarch had already scampered away, his laughter echoing through the corridor.
"Ha-Ha-ha! It's Fun, isn't it, Brother?"
"You little bastard! Don't run—I'll show you what happens when you trick a son of Fenris!" Leman Russ roared, launching into pursuit.
Along the Palace's seemingly endless corridors, countless massive glass windows lined the walls. The two Primarchs raced past them in sequence, their figures flashing between the crystal panes, their smiling faces mirroring murals of smiling little children, both wearing smiles they hadn't experienced in far too long, as if living a childhood they never really did.
Meanwhile, on the world of Davin...
Upon a plateau of crumbling ruins, surrounded by shattered walls beneath skies choked with acrid smoke, destiny prepared to alter the course of human history.
Eugan Temba raised a blade blessed by powers that dwelt beyond the veil of reality. Strange, otherworldly light flowed across its surface, illumination that seemed to devour all brightness it touched, leaving only hungry darkness in its wake.
He moved with deadly grace, launching himself directly at the Imperium's greatest champion.
Horus, Warmaster of humanity's endless armies, showed no trace of panic as the cursed assassin struck. He stood resolute in his battle plate, massive power sword gleaming in his grasp.
As Temba's corrupted dagger sliced through the air, trailing wisps of soul-poison as it sought the Warmaster's heart...
[End of Chapter]