Guilliman folded his hands calmly.
"Preparation determines success. Improvidence ensures collapse. If we continue overspending as we did last fiscal cycle—funding Terra's reconstruction, expanding expeditionary fleets, and accelerating compliance logistics—then within a decade we will be operating at deficit across three sectors."
Lorgar leaned back, fingers steepled.
"So your meaning is that Father's Great Crusade and Perturabo's reconstruction projects have bankrupted the Imperium?"
"That is not what I said."
"Then clarify."
Sanguinius placed a gentle hand on Guilliman's shoulder before the Lord of Ultramar could rise.
"Brothers," the Angel said softly, "we are discussing sustainability, not accusation."
Across the chamber, Horus restrained Lorgar from escalating further, murmuring something into his ear while glancing at the head of the table.
Malcador sipped his tea.
He was enjoying this far more than he would ever admit.
Too Many Primarchs
Never before had so many Primarchs gathered on Terra simultaneously outside of a formal triumph.
Horus had returned because the XIX Legion had once fought under his operational oversight. He insisted on welcoming Corax personally.
Sanguinius accompanied him.
Magnus had returned due to ongoing discussions regarding Librarius formalization.
Mortarion had followed Magnus—ostensibly to "observe."
The Lion had come under the pretext of reviewing Warmaster deliberations.
Guilliman and Lorgar were already stationed on Terra for administrative reasons.
Curze had insisted on attending.
Angron remained on Terra due to "medical supervision."
Corax was inbound.
Alpharius—or perhaps Omegon—was elsewhere on classified assignment.
For a moment, twelve Primarchs occupied Terra.
Malcador reflected privately:
Regent candidates.
Warmaster contenders.
Librarius supporters.
Librarius opponents.
Expeditionary front commanders.
Civil engineers.
Weapon smiths.
Reformers.
Zealots.
Assassins.
The Emperor's sons were less a family and more a political storm front.
"Horus," Malcador said coolly, "this is a cabinet session. Your presence is tolerated, not authoritative. You do not propose policy here."
Horus smiled without warmth.
He did not wish to join the cabinet.
He wished to win the Warmaster's mantle.
But that required vigilance.
Especially regarding Malcador.
He would not allow the Sigillite to consolidate too much influence.
Before the discussion could spiral further, the Lion entered.
"The vessel has docked."
Conversation ended instantly.
The Cat Situation
In the palace courtyard, Mortarion crouched beside Curze's tiger.
The animal tolerated him reluctantly.
Mortarion's chemical-laden armor systems emitted an unpleasant scent.
"It has no name?" Mortarion asked.
Curze considered.
"It is a cat."
Magnus brightened immediately.
"Ah! Terran felids! Aeldari keep similar bioforms—"
Mortarion hurled a stone without looking.
"Silence."
Magnus sidestepped directly into the Lion.
"When did you arrive?"
"Just now."
The Lion did not elaborate.
Magnus retreated to Sanguinius instead.
Meanwhile, Horus attempted conversation.
"Brother," he said warmly, "our first meeting, yes?"
The Lion acknowledged him with a minimal nod.
Horus retreated smoothly to Sanguinius.
Magnus frowned.
"Why does he glare at me but smile at Horus?"
Lorgar pulled Magnus back.
Sanguinius gestured subtly toward the tiger.
The Lion was staring at it.
With intensity.
Magnus blinked.
"Oh."
He wants to pet it.
The Lion's own genetically-engineered lion was aloof, dignified, and utterly disinterested in affection.
Curze's tiger, by contrast, tolerated petting.
Sanguinius slid effortlessly between Curze and Mortarion.
"May I?"
Curze hesitated.
Then nodded.
Others followed.
Eventually, even the Lion crouched and stroked the animal's neck carefully.
Sanguinius smiled.
"I hear you keep a similar companion. Which is more agreeable?"
The Lion considered seriously.
"Mine has a mane."
Curze: "…What?"
Guilliman finally understood.
Sanguinius was dangerously subtle.
Corax's Arrival
If Curze's procession had been invisible,
Corax refused spectacle entirely.
No parade.
No crowds.
No broadcasts.
He did not consider himself an icon.
He considered himself a citizen.
Yuki adjusted protocol accordingly.
The reception became private.
When Corax saw his brothers gathered, his gaze locked onto one figure.
Curze.
A reflection in darkness.
Similar silhouette.
Opposite soul.
Corax felt an instinctive unease.
Like glimpsing one's reflection in a mirror at midnight.
Still, he stepped forward.
Introduced himself calmly.
Horus greeted him with open warmth.
Others followed.
Corax answered politely, though the sheer volume of personalities nearly overwhelmed him.
Only Curze remained silent, observing from behind with a thin smile.
"…Little Raven."
Angron
"Why are you not with them?"
Yuki's hand rested lightly on Angron's.
Angron stared forward.
"Not interested."
"You fought well beside some of them before."
"Did I?"
Angron had met Guilliman.
Lorgar.
Perturabo.
Guilliman and Perturabo regarded him with restrained discomfort.
Lorgar attempted closeness—Angron rejected it.
Better isolation than pity.
Yuki did not argue.
The Butcher's Nails were not the primary obstacle.
Removal was technically possible.
Even Mechanicum Magi could extract them.
The problem was what had replaced.
The Nails had supplanted critical neurological structures intertwined with warp-derived architecture.
A Primarch's brain was not purely biological.
It was psycho-genetic.
Warp-infused.
Stem-cell replication would produce flesh.
Not essence.
The subspace component could not simply be cultured.
Yuki had a solution.
But it was dangerous.
Extremely dangerous.
Angron might not survive the attempt.
She needed time.
He did not trust time.
"Go," Angron said, pulling his hand away. "Why are you here?"
"No need to go."
She tilted her head toward the door.
"They're coming."
Angron frowned—
The door exploded inward.
"Brothers!" Horus boomed. "Why is it dark in here?"
Behind him, Lorgar looked apologetic.
Khârn looked defeated.
Sanguinius entered with wings partially spread.
"Sister," the Angel smiled, "secret conversations?"
Yuki pinched his cheek.
More Primarchs forced their way inside.
Magnus commented on architectural aesthetics.
Mortarion told him to stop breathing near him.
The Lion regretted entering but could not retreat.
Guilliman and Lorgar were trapped at the back.
The chamber devolved into chaos.
Angron's head throbbed.
"What are you doing here?"
Corax, overwhelmed, spoke quietly.
"I only asked where our brother was."
Lorgar shouted from behind someone's shoulder:
"They made me lead the way!"
Angron nearly snapped—
Yuki's hand tightened around his.
"Look at them," she said softly.
"They came."
Silence lingered.
For once, Angron did not respond with anger.
Yuki rose.
Still holding his hand.
And led him toward his brothers.
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