"But I don't have any classes right now."
"There are eight hours until the next class, aren't there?"
The hissing Nostramian language once again filled one of the rooms on board the 'Emperor Sovnium'. After a short silence, Konrad Curze nodded very reluctantly.
"But I want to help you," he said with a last flicker of hope.
Kariel did not answer, only looked at Konrad Curze in silence. Under his gaze, the latter slowly lowered his head.
"I don't want to g
speak, that you "must" do, Konrad. But we both know that your studies are most important right now, don't we?
"I just wanted to go on patrol once..."
"I've already spoken with everyone," Kariel said calmly. "From the first one to the one you haven't assigned a number to yet, the one with the broken horn. I've spoken with everyone."
The pale giant abruptly raised his head. He was still shorter than Kariel now, something that had never happened before, but it seemed quite fitting.
"Really?" he asked quietly.
"Have I ever lied to you?"
Kariel smiled slightly, walked over, and opened the door to Konrad Curze's room. The conversation was over, and their last interaction had been wordless.
Standing in the doorway, the Night Haunter stared at him for a moment.
Standing in the doorway, Kariel nodded back calmly.
The door closed quietly.
The double-headed eagle on its surface stared coldly at Kariel, as if on behalf of Konrad Curze. He returned its gaze, wondering why the Emperor had chosen the double-headed eagle as the symbol of the Imperium.
Alas, the answer to that question would have to wait. Lately, he hadn't had time for studies, and aboard the "Emperor Sovnium"...
Judging by the glances from around corners, Kariel understood he wasn't welcome here.
He turned to leave, but at the next turn, he was stopped by a giant in golden armor.
His armor was impressive, even against the backdrop of his equally proud comrades. An eagle with outstretched wings was frozen on the massive pauldrons. He was bareheaded, and his calm face was frozen in anticipation.
Kariel raised an eyebrow.
Unarmed.
He noticed that.
"So... is this his invitation?"
"No," the giant calmly shook his head. "Our lord is currently lost in thought. He is not receiving anyone at this time."
"Do you always say that?"
"This is High Gothic."
"I mean it," Kariel chuckled. "But your dialect seems more ancient... It's funny how minor grammatical differences can make a language so convoluted."
"Precisely."
The giant nodded calmly and extended his hand.
"But I did not come here for that today. General-Captain of the Adeptus Custodes, Constantin Valdor, greets you, Kariel Lohars."
Kariel shook his hand. Every detail of the golden armor slowly imprinted itself in his palm – the cold, the refinement, and the quiet hum beneath it.
He remembered everything.
The brief greeting ended, and in the gilded corridor, dozens of times wider than usual, Constantin Valdor began the conversation.
"You are trying to change this... planet," the General-Captain paused, as if swallowing some definition.
This hesitation did not escape Kariel's sharp hearing. He smiled.
"I suppose you wanted to add a not-so-flattering epithet to Nostramo's name."
"Correct," the General-Captain nodded, remaining calm. "But I will not utter it in your presence."
"It doesn't matter. It's already filthy, disgusting, and undeserving of salvation. I won't get angry if someone states a fact."
"...Be that as it may, Kariel Lohars, you have undertaken a practically impossible task."
"I know."
"Then why not retreat?"
Sincere tone, sincere face – no mockery, no trickery.
"Good," Kariel thought.
"Because I must," he replied very quietly. "You yourself said: practically impossible, but not absolutely. And even if the chance is only one percent, I must try."
"The chance might be one-tenth of a percent."
Constantin Valdor frowned.
"I don't think you don't understand this, Kariel Lohars. The Lord trusts you greatly, which means you are far from stupid. And judging by our observations over the past few days, I am sure your intellect is excellent."
"Intellect is excellent? I've never heard that definition before..."
"Intellect and wisdom are not the same thing. I don't know if you possess wisdom, but your intellect definitely surpasses that of most people in this galaxy."
Constantin Valdor shook his head again.
"And that means you clearly understand what Nostramo is. Its only value to the Imperium is its mineral resources."
"Besides that, it can give nothing to the Imperium. The Eighth Legion will arrive soon. Its warriors are the sons of criminals from Terra, many of whom are criminals themselves."
"But even for them, Nostramo is too terrible a place. Believe me, if you want to make it a recruitment world, you won't succeed. The Terrans will be categorically against it."
"Curious, but I wasn't planning to make Nostramo a recruitment world. The strong and healthy here are either aristocrats or bandits. Can such people join the Eighth Legion?"
Kariel chuckled.
"I've read the reports and know what killing machines these modifications turn people into. Therefore, either those who are pure as a blank slate, or people of high moral character should join the legions. Neither aristocrats nor bandits fall into these categories."
Constantin Valdor frowned even more.
"So, you know," he said with bewilderment.
"Yes, I know. And I cannot influence the Eighth Legion in any way. Its lord is currently in his chambers preparing for sleep. Only he can give it orders."
Kariel replied with a smile.
The way he spoke about it made the General-Captain realize something. After a brief silence, he changed the subject.
"...Kariel Lohars, I have one last question for you," he said quietly.
"Speak, General-Captain."
"My lord received you alone."
The General-Captain spoke slowly.
"Upon arriving on this planet, he first met not with his son, but spoke with you in private. After that, he granted you immense power. I don't think you will abuse it, but you must be aware of its full scope."
He peered into Kariel's eyes.
"This power is terrible. I have seen countless heroes and noble people decay under its burden, turning into what they once despised, and their power was ten times less than yours."
"I do not question the lord's will, nor do I think he made a mistake in you. But, Kariel Lohars, you must be careful."
The General-Captain said seriously and weightily:
"Power is a poison, Kariel Lohars. Do not let it corrupt you."
"You are the most mysterious person I have ever met. You were born on a distant, nightmarish planet, yet you possess impeccable morals. You even wield inexplicable, mighty power... The Lord trusts you, and therefore we will trust you too..."
He lowered his head, and his voice became deeper.
"I beg you, do not betray this trust."
After a brief silence, Kariel spoke quietly:
"I don't think I can give you any promises, General-Captain Valdor. It's too early yet, isn't it?"
"I cannot guarantee that I will not betray this trust. I don't know where its boundaries lie, as everyone has their own idea of them. One day I may commit acts that you cannot understand..."
He fell silent and, meeting the General-Captain's gaze, smiled slightly.
"So... let it be so, General-Captain Constantin Valdor. The only thing I can promise you is..."
"Speak."
"I will not become a dragon," Kariel said hoarsely. "Because the sword is already raised above me."
***
"What is this?"
"A knife."
"I see it's a knife, Ferrus, but I'm asking: what is it?"
Fulgrim stared in amazement at the blade resting in his brother's hands.
"Whose weapon is this?" he whispered.
"Konrad's."
"You forged it?!"
"Of course not... I only forge weapons."
Ferrus raised his head and glanced at the Chemosian. His expression did not escape the Gorgon, and the corners of his lips subtly curved into a smile.
"And this knife, obviously, is not a weapon," he said. "It transcends the concept of a weapon... It reminds me of blades from myths and legends."
With these words, he took the knife in his right hand. It lay calmly in his palm, but without particular warmth.
Ferrus grunted vaguely.
"...Very curious," he muttered.
"Curious?"
"Yes, curious... It's a shame Vulkan isn't here."
"Hey!"
"I'm not saying your smithing skills are inferior to his, we both know that's true. But since you're not going to rest, help me."
"What?"
"Help me, Fulgrim," Ferrus repeated. "I need to make a suitable hilt for him. I can make it strong, but not necessarily beautiful, so I need your help."
"Ha! And you still need Vulkan for that?"
"..."
Ferrus did not answer, only sighed.
***
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