"Father, we can give it a try."
Perturabo proposed cautiously. "Since I was able to come to Inwit, perhaps my gene-sons can also travel to Olympia in the same way."
After multiple experiments, he had confirmed that as long as he and Caelan were in the same room while sleeping, they could synchronize their traversal even if not in the same bed.
However, further attempts regarding the specific number and range of people had not yet been made.
Because Perturabo had always preferred to keep this to himself. He had never wanted to try it before, especially with Calliphone.
Now, he had no choice but to do so.
Caelan, "We can try, but we'll need a spacious enough venue."
Regardless of the outcome, it was worth a try. The worst-case scenario was simply maintaining the status quo.
Dorn said, "The forward deck could work. If we close the doors, it can be considered a room."
Perturabo said , "I'll give the order immediately to assemble the Legion's warriors."
Dorn nodded, "Along with my Legion and me."
Perturabo frowned. "Dorn, you should stay aboard the Phalanx and command from there!"
Dorn's gaze was firm. "The Imperium Fleet is sufficient to protect Inwit. They don't need me here. But your world needs you, brother."
"You have constantly fought to protect my world. Now, it's my turn to defend your home!"
The Imperium Fleet and the Inwit Fleet had already joined forces. Reinforcements from across the galaxy were streaming towards Inwit.
These undoubtedly included fleets commanded by other Primarchs. They would not sit idly by while one of their brothers returned.
Even facing the threat of the Ork Empire, victory in this defensive battle was already assured.
If Inwit could be destroyed by Orks while under the Empire's protection, then the Empire might as well abandon the Great Crusade and stay on Terra.
Since a Primarch's command was no longer needed here, it was only natural that they should go to a world that needed them more.
Perturabo had to return to Olympia as soon as possible. That world also faced the danger of invasion by the Black Judges.
Though he had only been away from Olympia for a few days, if the Black Judges descended during that time, the Olympians would have no chance without a Primarch. All his efforts to date would be ruined.
Although the Black Judges wouldn't completely exterminate the Olympians, they raided Olympia regularly, presumably to maintain the sustainability of their plunder, if he couldn't protect his people from the invaders, leaving Olympia in ruins, how could he ever convince the Olympians to join the Imperium's Great Crusade?
Perturabo never pursued honor. He just didn't want to lose.
Dorn also understood that even if the Black Judges didn't invade Olympia, Perturabo had taken a huge risk by coming here.
He and his gene-sons owed Perturabo a debt in return. They had to fight to defend Olympia!
...
The forward deck of the Phalanx was incredibly vast, spacious enough to accommodate over a dozen large warships without feeling cramped, let alone hundreds of thousands of Astartes.
Under the orders of the two Primarchs, veteran Astartes from three Legions quickly assembled there.
"Sigismund, what's our mission?" Gage strode towards an Imperial Fist.
They had fought side-by-side in the battle for the Phalanx a few days prior and were deeply impressed by the warrior's exquisite swordsmanship.
Sigismund frowned slightly. "Chapter Master Gage, the Primarch doesn't seem to have notified the War-Born."
Gage responded gravely, "That may be so, but the Primarch has decreed that this duty falls to any loyal Astarte."
"Even if the Primarch hasn't summoned us, the War-Born will not stand aside."
Gage wouldn't tell anyone the real reason: they had been waiting far too long for their own Primarch's return!
The 13th Legion had meticulously summarized the patterns of the Primarchs' returns. They understood deeply that only after the current Primarch's crisis was completely resolved would the Mentor set out to find the next lost genetic forefather.
Though the War-Born had received the Mentor's guidance, if they wanted the Mentor to depart soon to find their gene-father, they had to help Perturabo and Rogal Dorn clear all obstacles with maximum efficiency.
Right now, they just hoped the Mentor would leave quickly!
The sooner the Mentor left, the longer he could stay with their gene-father. That was the only way the War-Born could currently show loyalty to their Primarch.
Though four Primarchs had yet to return, and the next might not necessarily be their gene-father...
Given the Mentor's current efficiency of finding two Primarchs at once, a one-in-two chance was worth pursuing.
Gage's righteous conviction stunned Sigismund. The swordsman stared blankly at Gage, as if seeing the War-Born for the first time.
"So... what is the mission?"
Gage's voice held barely concealed anticipation. Sigismund was silent for a moment, as if weighing something.
"Sleep."
Gage was slightly taken aback. Were his ears playing tricks on him?
Sigismund said "Mandatory suspension of consciousness for all personnel. That is the only order I have received."
The air on the deck seemed to freeze. An oppressive silence descended.
Gage's gaze slowly swept the area. Six thousand Astartes were assembled on the deck, nearly all veterans of the Unification Wars.
Heavy equipment was arrayed in neat formation: Stormbird wings, Mastodon heavy transports, Spartans, and more.
Beyond the rows of armored vehicles standing at the ready, over a dozen various warships were docked at the berths.
And the purpose of this grand assembly... was to sleep?
Though intuition told Gage it was absurd, reason told him the Primarch would not issue such a ridiculous order.
That was until he saw several Imperial Fists carefully carrying a bed of unknown origin, solemnly placing it in the center of the deck.
By mortal standards, it was a standard large bed.
But given the two Primarchs' imposing statures, this bed was still too small, especially for two of them.
Nor was it intended for any Astarte. No Astarte warranted such serious treatment.
That left only the Mentor.
And according to rumour, when the Mentor sought the next Primarch, he would always suddenly depart in his sleep.
'Could their purpose here be to protect the Mentor?'
'While plausible, was such a grand gesture truly necessary?'
Gage didn't think the Mentor unworthy of protection, but was sleeping really so dangerous?
And besides, wouldn't forcing the Mentor to sleep under the watchful eyes of thousands make him profoundly uncomfortable?
The Astartes speculated privately about the Primarchs' intentions, but none voiced their thoughts.
When the two Primarchs and the Mentor stepped onto the deck, the heavy blast doors closed with a great hydraulic roar.
Perturabo's gaze swept over the ranks of war machines. Whether these heavy vehicles could be synchronously transported was unknown, but the attempt was worth it.
Perturabo lowered his voice. "Father, isn't this too many people?"
A sudden wave of regret washed over him. He had miscalculated.
He had focused solely on whether he could lead his Legion back to Olympia to defend their homeworld, completely overlooking his father's feelings.
"It's fine. Let them sleep first."
It was too late for regrets now. These warriors were already assembled, so thoroughly prepared. He couldn't just play 'beacon fires to mislead the nobles,' could he?
But sleeping live in front of thousands? He didn't have the nerve for that.
Dorn ordered, "Everyone, fall asleep within three minutes!"
No one questioned why the Primarch would give such an order. Whatever their Primarch commanded, they must obey.
Thousands of Astartes formed a spectacular sight when assembled in formation.
But if those same thousands were all asleep at once, the scene would be profoundly eerie.
Astartes have neuroglottis that can regulate sleep-wake cycles, alternately 'shutting down' different brain regions to replace sleep, allowing them to remain awake for extended periods.
When not using their neuroglottis, Astartes can sleep normally like mortals.
Unlike mortals, Astartes need only brief periods of sleep to remain energetic.
If a Astarte uses their neuroglottis to shut down all brain regions at once, they can also force themselves to sleep.
Though usually no Astarte would do that, as they couldn't guarantee their surroundings were safe.
But this was the Phalanx, and the order came from their Primarch.
In just a few tens of seconds, all the Astartes lay neatly on the deck, rhythmic breathing emanating from under their faceplates.
Caelan quickly climbed into bed, inwardly marveling at the overwhelming sense of security.
He felt no psychological burden, as he started feeling drowsy as soon as he got into bed.
As long as he didn't try to stay awake, falling asleep was quick.
...
"Did it work?"
Caelan yawned and looked around. Only the two Primarchs were in the room. Not a single Astarte.
Caelan sighed softly. "Looks like this method doesn't work."
"But we haven't lost anything by trying." Perturabo had also woken up.
Dorn's brow was deeply furrowed. "Why only us?"
Caelan shook his head. "I can't say for sure. The principles are too complex."
"Abo? You're back? How's Dorn?"
Lively footsteps sounded outside the door. Calliphone entered with her handmaidens, bringing a breath of fresh floral fragrance.
The young woman's gaze quickly swept the room. Perturabo and Caelan were both there. And the unfamiliar giant, Calliphone recognized him immediately.
"You must be Dorn, right?" The young woman's eyes sparkled with unconcealed curiosity.
Dorn recognized her too. "Sister Calliphone, don't worry about me. Inwit is safe now."
"That's good." Calliphone took a few steps forward, putting distance between herself and her handmaidens, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "Although Abo kept trying to stop me, I've always wanted to meet you, you know."
She had seen Dorn when he was little, had even held him!
But in just a few short years, Dorn had changed completely. Time flew, didn't it?
Perturabo said, "Don't celebrate too soon."
"Why?"
Perturabo pointed skyward. "The Black Judges."
"But you've already returned, haven't you?"
"I'm worried about what-ifs."
He could lead the Olympians in battle, but he wasn't certain of victory.
Olympia, after all, was not Inwit.
"Dorn, can you see it?"
Perturabo gazed skyward. During the day, hidden by the sun's glare, its colors seemed dull and incongruous, yet it was still there.
Dorn stood beside him, also looking up at the heavens.
He understood what Perturabo was asking. Perturabo had asked him the same thing when they were young, but he still couldn't see it clearly.
"I'm sorry, brother."
Perturabo shook his head gently. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."
It wasn't strange that mortals couldn't see it. But if even his brother couldn't see it, why were he and father the only ones who could?
He had also looked skyward on many worlds within Inwit and never found the stellar vortex. Why only on Olympia?
Perturabo's gaze swept past the horizon, fixing on the distant outline of Mount Telephus.
It was Olympia's highest peak and, in legend, the dwelling place of the gods.
With a Primarch's transcendent intellect, the answer was already within reach.
Olympia was fundamentally different from Inwit. This land had once nurtured gods, and those ancient beings were long since devoured by the Chaos Gods.
Perhaps it was precisely the fall of Olympia's gods that created some connection between Olympia and Chaos.
Yet this still couldn't explain the difference between his and Dorn's perception of the stellar vortex.
Father was special, his traversals filled with mysteries even he didn't understand.
But Perturabo didn't consider himself nobler than his other brothers, nor did he believe he was as special as Father.
He was born on Olympia. Dorn was born on Inwit. That was the only difference between them.
In Perturabo's memory, the stellar vortex seemed to have always been there.
Thus, the answer must lie hidden within that fog-shrouded, blank expanse of his memory.
Before his memory loss, what exactly had he experienced? And what had connected him to the stellar vortex?
Perturabo asked, "Calliphone, while I was away, did Lodask show any unusual behaviour?"
Calliphone wrinkled her nose. "You won't even call me sister anymore?"
"Do you want to be my sister forever?"
Perturabo's retort made Calliphone guiltily avert her gaze from Caelan. "What else would I be?"
"Then, sister, please tell me."
Calliphone's eyes widened. She realized she'd been tricked again. Perturabo was messing with her!
Calliphone glared at her annoying little brother, but didn't want to lose her temper in front of Caelan. She had to be patient. "He provided a list of names, but insists on meeting you again before revealing more details."
Caelan asked, "Have the people on the list been arrested?"
Calliphone blinked. "Father was worried about the political fallout and just wanted to detain them first. But when Zoris and Heracon mobilized the troops to make the arrests, they unfortunately killed everyone by 'accident'."
Caelan nodded, "The 'accident' was wise. Detainment can lead to trouble."
These latent Chaos cultists were like ticking time bombs. If left unchecked, who knew when they might explode.
Detainment wouldn't work either; that would just provide a breeding ground for these cultists to 'enlighten' themselves.
Separate detention might reduce the risk, but Chaos could still trigger multiple 'blooms' simultaneously.
The only good heretic is a dead heretic.
Though killing heretics might also be part of Chaos's calculations, it was still the least risky option relatively.
Caelan asked, "Abo, do you want to see him?"
Perturabo nodded. "Let's go see him."
Lodask still had value. What he had witnessed was surely more than just the Olympian gods being devoured by the Chaos Gods.
Perturabo suddenly grabbed his sister's shoulders, shoved her towards his father, and stepped in front of them both alongside Dorn, shielding the two.
"Sister, who is she?" He stared at Calliphone's handmaiden, his voice low.
The handmaiden appeared to be around Calliphone's age, but her features were fair and radiant, perhaps even surpassing Calliphone's.
But Perturabo was certain he did not know her.
He couldn't possibly know every Olympian, but he absolutely remembered the face of everyone in the palace!
Calliphone rubbed her sore shoulders. "Lilith is my newly hired handmaiden."
"When?"
"Two days ago. Father was attacked by assassins at the theater again. Lilith saved us."
At the word 'assassination', Perturabo's face darkened instantly. "Why wasn't I told immediately?"
Calliphone blinked. "Isn't that why I brought her to see you?"
Calliphone was well aware of how suspicious Lilith's background was. But her situation at the time had left her no choice.
Neither Perturabo nor Caelan were present. She and Father had just survived an assassination attempt, and Lilith had saved them.
Even with doubts, they couldn't simply detain and interrogate their saviour.
So she had no choice but to bring Lilith personally to Perturabo and Caelan, leaving the judgment to them.
As for why she hadn't mentioned it earlier, she couldn't be blamed for that.
She had assumed Perturabo would notice immediately, but his attention just hadn't been on her.
"Father, examine my sister."
"Examine me for what?" Calliphone was nervous. Was something actually wrong with her?
"Don't worry, it'll be quick. I've had practice."
Caelan's fingertips glowed with a soft psychic light. He gently touched the young woman's brow, and the light seeped into her consciousness like flowing water.
A moment later, he withdrew his finger. "No traces of corruption."
"Now, can you explain yourself, Miss Handmaiden?"
Lilith slightly lifted her skirt and performed an elegant curtsy.
"My Lord specifically instructed me to convey Her sincerest greetings to you."
Caelan stared at her. "Who is your master?"
"You should have the answer in your heart."
Caelan fixed his gaze on the handmaiden. "Say her name!"
Lilith lowered her eyes. "I dare not speak Her name directly. But my Lady is the Mistress of Nuceria, the most beloved mother of the Primarch Angron, your only, beloved, eternal, wholly loyal wife."
Caelan rubbed his brow resignedly. "Of course it's Claudia."
Caelan asked, "How did you get to Olympia?"
Lilith bowed slightly. "Forgive me, my Lord. That is a question I cannot answer. You may ask my Lady Herself."
"Then I won't press you. How long have you been here?"
"Not long."
"If Calliphone hadn't been in danger, would you have never shown yourself?"
Lilith nodded gently. "Yes. That was my Lord's command: Do not disturb your peace."
Calliphone poked Caelan's arm. "Brother Caelan, who is Claudia?"
Perturabo's voice held a note of inquiry. "I would also like to know, Father. You never mentioned her to me."
How could Caelan explain? That she loved him to the point of madness?
This was his private life, not related to educating the Primarchs. Of course, he wouldn't bring up Claudia without reason.
Caelan chose his words carefully. "You could consider her Angron's... half foster mother."