Chapter 17: It's Good to Have You
Valdor returned to the palace after completing his duties.
Inside the outer hall, he found Malcador standing motionless before the doors to the chamber of governance.
Valdor paused.
"Well. Has the Imperial Chancellor taken up gate duty now?"
Malcador sighed.
"The Emperor is inside."
"And you are standing out here?"
Malcador leaned slightly on his staff.
"I would advise against entering."
Valdor frowned, then pushed the door open a fraction and looked inside.
Lady Amar Astarte stood below the dais, pointing at the Emperor and unleashing a torrent of fury.
"You cold, heartless creature! Is your heart carved from stone?!"
The Emperor sat in silence, head slightly bowed, offering no defense.
Valdor slowly closed the door.
"…I have suddenly remembered unfinished matters," he said, already retreating.
Malcador watched him depart.
He himself had arrived to discuss state matters — only to witness Amar Astarte storm through the doors with such force that even he had hesitated.
Who, in this age, dared point at the Master of Mankind and shout?
Protocol demanded intervention.
Yet the Emperor had simply sat there and endured.
Malcador decided his ancient bones deserved half a day's reprieve.
He turned and walked away.
"What a mess…"
Amar Astarte trembled with anger.
She had never objected to Yuki's role in war. She understood the Primarchs' purpose. She understood what the future demanded.
But when she learned that Yuki had stood with five hundred warriors against three hundred thousand Iron Men for eleven hours…
and that the Emperor had not dispatched even a single Custodian…
her restraint shattered.
"Do you think she is like you?" she demanded. "Do you not understand that strength does not make one immortal?"
"You can overturn Terra itself, yet you surround yourself with Custodians day and night — and leave your daughter alone on a battlefield?"
"You are heartless."
Hierarchy no longer mattered.
Only the child mattered.
The Emperor remained silent.
He valued Amar Astarte beyond measure; her mastery of gene-craft was irreplaceable. Another might have been cast aside by psychic force for such insolence.
But she was not another.
Nor was she wrong.
He had watched Yuki throughout the battle. Had she faltered, he would have intervened instantly.
Yet the Custodians were not meant to become instruments of conquest. They were guardians, envoys, symbols — not line infantry for the wars to come.
He did not explain.
Explanations would not soothe grief.
They would only wound further.
So he allowed her anger.
At last, exhausted, Amar Astarte spoke one final sentence before turning away.
"You are not a good father.
And you are an even worse king."
She left.
The Emperor sat in silence for a long time.
Then he rose and departed.
Yuki leaned against her bed, reading.
Her wounds — once catastrophic — had nearly healed. Another being would still lie dying.
"Father?"
The Emperor entered and conjured a chair beside her.
"My daughter, you have done well. I had commissioned new armor and blades for you. When you are fully recovered, I will present them myself."
Yuki looked directly into his eyes.
"How much did we lose?"
"…Do not burden yourself with numbers," he replied. "Victory is sufficient."
"No," she said softly. "It was luck."
She lowered her head.
"Our victory depended on his arrogance. His miscalculation. If he had trusted another to command retreat… if he had not underestimated us… we would have lost."
She clenched her hands.
"All victories built on enemy mistakes are luck. And if luck fails… the Empire pays the price."
The Emperor studied her in silence.
He had never seen this expression on her face.
Not when she first arrived.
Not when she faced war for the first time.
She had always been curious, bright, irreverent — a storm of vitality that threatened to upend even his composure.
Now she looked… burdened.
Without conscious intent, he reached out and gently placed his hand upon her head.
He paused, surprised by his own action.
Then he spoke quietly.
"No, my child. You do not diminish your own excellence.
You fulfilled your duty.
Your courage and judgment earned this victory.
Accept it.
Be proud of it."
Yuki stared at him.
Then she smiled — a smile bright enough to rival sunlight through storm clouds.
She lifted her hands and held his wrist.
"Thank you, Father.
It's so good to have you."
He said nothing.
He did not withdraw his hand.
After a moment, she spoke again.
"Oh, Father… may I have Nathandum?"
The Emperor raised an eyebrow.
"For what purpose?"
"I need his assistance with… certain experiments."
Nathan Doom sat restrained, limbs secured in adamant restraints.
He looked up as the Emperor entered.
"Ah. Our first proper meeting. You are… radiant."
He smiled.
"She admires you greatly. I assume you present yourself as a savior of humanity?"
He laughed softly.
"The ambition to rule the world often disguises itself as the ambition to save it.
Which are you, Emperor?"
The Emperor's voice answered like a cathedral bell.
"You have time.
Observe.
Decide for yourself which I am."
Silence returned to the chamber.
But the question lingered.