My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 374: Emperor? Neoth?
Hades had finally been released from prison—well, no, he finally no longer had to supervise Magnus.
As for who would take over watching Magnus next—Leman Russ or Malcador—Hades wasn't sure. But he was certain the Emperor would assign Magnus an appropriate custodian.
Hades' steps were light. Ever since the Council of Nikaea, he had either been propping up the Emperor's authority or staring blankly at Magnus in a cell. The Emperor being a workaholic didn't mean Hades had to be one too.
Following the route the Emperor had given him, Hades moved through the Somnium, his destination most likely yet another private chamber for confidential talks.
He passed through the dim prison decks, candlelight reflecting off his armor. Then he caught the scent of rain and gunpowder. Hades paused—but kept going.
Deep, pallid starlight filtered through the portholes and spilled onto the deck. He saw Malcador standing there, hunched as he waited for him—and behind the old man, in the darkness, were…
Mortarion and Leman Russ.
The Lord of Death's armor was splashed with blood and marked by bullet impacts, the blood seemingly only just coagulated. The Lord of Winter's fur reeked of psychic corruption, and from Leman Russ, Hades caught a puzzling scent—Magnus.
"You're here."
The old man calmly opened his eyes and prepared to lead Hades toward the chamber. Hades blinked, staring at the two Primarchs, but it seemed Malcador had no intention of giving him time to speak with them.
Mortarion suddenly lowered his great scythe, blocking Hades' path.
A rasping voice rose up:
"You've been on this ship the whole time, Hades?"
Hades nodded.
"I was guarding a psychic prisoner. Has the war already ended?"
Mortarion cast a glance at Malcador's back, then deliberately dragged out his words:
"Thanks to the psyker, the warriors didn't have to fight maddened warp-creatures in the rain-soaked night."
The psyker? Had Malcador gone into battle?
Then Hades realized Mortarion was referring to the Emperor.
The sound of Malcador's staff striking the deck coincided with Leman Russ' low growl.
"Mortarion, if no one expects you to speak, then you needn't open your mouth."
The old man's weary voice rang out. Hades could already imagine Malcador frowning deeply.
Hades coughed a few times.
"Old Ma, I was just about to ask about the progress on the Death Guard's construction plans."
Malcador twisted his head around; beneath the hood, his eyes looked ready to immediately smack Hades twice with his staff.
"First, I am not called 'Old Ma'; Second—our lord has urgent matters to discuss with you."
Mortarion snorted, then lifted his scythe.
Hades sighed. Infrastructure, infrastructure—his words faded away as Malcador led him into the darkness.
Leman Russ muttered something under his breath. His hand instinctively reached toward the fur at his waist—where Magnus' single eye was hidden.
. . .
Hades stared at the tea before him. A familiar scene—last time, it seemed, had been aboard an Ultramarines vessel.
"Prospero didn't suffer any major disaster, did it?" Hades asked cautiously.
"For now, nothing has happened." The Emperor replied calmly, his gaze fixed on the map of Imperial territory before him, deep in thought.
"The Changer of Ways showed me some insignificant visions. It is still attempting to toy with misdirection."
"You faced it directly?!"
The Emperor raised his eyes and looked at Hades.
"No. It fled."
"Wasting one's own power to no effect is unwise. The Realm of Chaos has its own laws and its own way of waging war. When it comes to dealing with the Imperium, it would not be so generous."
Hades sighed. So Tzeentch simply didn't want to suffer a loss himself—he had to drag the other three gods into the fray against the Imperium.
"Then what about Magnus? I still don't think this is safe at all."
"There is nothing that is certain to happen, Hades, and there is nothing that is certain not to happen."
The Emperor said it casually. Hades realized that His Majesty was determined to gamble. He recalled how the Emperor had once rolled the finger-bones in His hand… so it had all been foreshadowed long ago; Hades simply hadn't understood at the time.
If this accursed cesspit didn't contain anyone more conscientious than the Emperor, Hades would sooner or later grab a bucket and run. Never get involved with gamblers—this was Hades' personal creed.
"At present, the Imperium is holding a total of nine hundred and ninety-nine Thousand Sons. Those who are adept in the use of psychic powers will be placed under my authority."
Malcador added in a timely manner from the side.
"The Grey Knights."
The old man said, taking a sip of tea, as though already weary of the endless work related to them that the future would bring.
"The flesh-change of the Thousand Sons has not been resolved. With Prospero now burned and Magnus imprisoned, these flesh mutations may relapse at any moment."
Malcador's voice remained even.
"I will find ways to acquire gene-seed from other Legions to act as a counterbalance, but Thousand Sons gene-seed will still form the main component."
Hades spoke dully, "Then what about the flesh-change?"
Malcador shot him a glance.
"As long as they can fight before that happens, it is enough. The Imperium needs their combat strength. An unstable bomb is far more valuable than a stable stone."
Hades let out a sigh.
"Are you sure these Thousand Sons can fight for the Imperium, Malcador? Do you need me to—"
"Matters of psykers should be left to psykers, Hades." Malcador cut him off immediately.
"A psyker who has been eroded by your black domain will likely never again release a soul-flame of the same brightness as before in this lifetime—Hades, stop leaving psychological scars on innocent psykers!"
When Malcador finished speaking, he realized Hades was staring straight at him, mouth open as if he wanted to say something.
Malcador immediately crushed Hades' unrealistic and foolish fantasy.
"Other than myself, my psychic strength at the time exceeded yours."
"Good."
Hades smiled, and began drinking his tea as well. His cup, as always, was extra large—
The Emperor's voice sounded again, hesitant.
"Hades, would you be willing to…"
Such a rare interrogative phrasing, and such hesitation. The tea in Hades' mouth almost sprayed out. He hurriedly set the cup down and looked at the Emperor with grave seriousness.
"Would you be willing to stay by the side of the Sixteenth Legion—the Luna Wolves?"
"Did something happen to Horus?" Hades asked tensely.
So soon?
Then he saw the Emperor shake His head. The reaction was clearly beyond Hades' expectations. Hades looked toward Malcador, but the old man kept his features hidden beneath his hood and the steam rising from his tea.
Malcador recalled the question he had once asked the Emperor. In the end, the Master of Mankind would always come to this.
"Hades," The Emperor said calmly, golden light surging in His eyes.
"This is a request."
"I hope you can remain at the Warmaster's side, steady him against the corruption of Chaos. Once I return to Terra, so long as the Warmaster's command ability remains intact, and Horus still retains his reason, then the course of the Imperium's wars will remain clear."
The Emperor paused.
"I also know you wish to return to the Death Guard. This choice will be yours."
Hades fell silent. Then he asked carefully,
"Don't you have psychic foresight, Neoth? Or couldn't you use logic to calculate where I'd be most appropriately deployed?"
The Emperor recalled the empty shell he had seen of Horus, while the one he had been most concerned about—Magnus—had, in secret, traded his soul with the Changer of Ways.
"You are inherently difficult to predict, Hades. Any portents concerning you can only be outlined indirectly, through the fates you influence."
"But if we follow the logic of the physical world, you are best suited to go to Horus' side. Lupercal needs someone who can shield him from the interference of the warp."
Hades stared at the Emperor. The Emperor… fell silent.
Neoth lifted his teacup and drank calmly.
Hades pondered.
He could at least ensure that one Primarch at his side would not fall—meaning the Emperor would inevitably prioritize deploying him alongside a high-ranking Primarch. That would have to be Horus, or Guilliman, who commanded vast forces.
But this was a request… it felt more like… a request mixed with personal emotion.
Hades let out a bitter smile.
"By reason, I should be with Horus."
"And… I believe Mortarion and the Death Guard will be the Primarch and Legion most steadfast in their stance."
The Emperor seemed to breathe a sigh of relief—
"But!"
Hades shouted, "I demand that the Death Guard be given new equipment! You're not allowed to object!"
The Emperor smiled.
"That is your right."
But the smile was quickly drowned by exhaustion.
"There is little time left," The Emperor said.
"I must return to Terra at once. The Webway Project has entered a critical phase—it is about to seal the warp routes within Terra."
The Emperor extended his hand, and a galactic map manifested above the table. Hades could see countless symbols representing the Legions flickering across it.
"Let me tell you the current state of affairs, Hades."
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