Chapter 247: They're So Busy
In the past ten years, Arthur's duties as Warmaster had been remarkably light. He didn't need to interfere in the governance of the nation. He only needed to focus on the core responsibilities of commanding the armed forces and formulating military strategy. And asking Romulus for money. The rest of his time, he spent methodically handling three main tasks: gathering the scattered remnants of the 30k Dark Angels across the galaxy, purging the traitors who had turned to Chaos, and periodically reviewing the progress reports of the Ironwing's research projects.
He had performed these tasks flawlessly. The number of reassembled Dark Angels had now reached eight thousand, and the number of Chaos warbands they had annihilated was countless. The Dawnbreakers' neophytes were a secret. It was certain that the Schola Progenium, which currently focused on training qualified Astartes, were now mainly exporting talent to various fleet-based Chapters like the Carcharodons. Who knew how many troops they could churn out once they began to fully supply the Dawnbreakers.
And the research on the T'au Empire's slipstream module wormhole was progressing steadily in a joint laboratory composed of Cawl, the Ironwing, and the sufficiently capable Human Federation. It was expected that a physical test could be conducted by 900.M41.
And then there was the most important matter—carefully holding onto the time bomb that was the Dark Angels Chapter's Inner Circle, and not letting it explode.
"Reported..." Romulus muttered the word, and couldn't help but raise a hand to his forehead. It sounded absurd, but it was also very reasonable. A single interrogation, the cause of which could not be explained, which had resulted in the death of the subject of repentance, had brought down Ezekiel.
Now he somewhat understood why the Dark Angels Chapter had become so fanatical. No one could bear the consequences of the secret being exposed. No one. No one could question Ezekiel's loyalty to the Emperor. But his actions, in the eyes of his brothers in dark green, were more shameful than the basest of betrayals. He had dared to make contact with a Fallen Angel in private, behind the backs of the entire Inner Circle! And even more unforgivably, he had refused to reveal any of the conversation's content! What, you forgot? How dare you forget.
Asmodai, make him repent!
Ezekiel had only been messed with a little by Ramesses on Impech, and this was the result. If not for his importance as the Keeper of Secrets of The Rock, being executed on the spot would have been a light sentence. It was tragic.
A cold smile touched Romulus's lips as he shook his head. Of course, there was not a hint of sympathy in his sentiment. The Dark Angels had brewed their own bitter wine; of course, they had to drink it, sip by sip. Serves them right.
But he clearly had another problem to focus on. "Then what about the destruction of Caliban?"
The Dawnbreakers all knew that when Luther and the Lion had fought, neither side had used star-destroying levels of force. So why had Caliban exploded? This was a question for the 40k-era Dark Angels to answer.
If the Dawnbreakers did not interfere, then in 932.M41, Azrael, as the acting Chapter Master, would participate in the operation to rescue the former Supreme Grand Master Naberius from the hands of the traitorous Eighth Legion, the Night Lords. After deciding to use his administrator privileges to take control of Naberius's power armour and self-destruct it, tearfully sending his old leader, the Chapter's standard, and the traitor guards to the heavens, and then formally taking over as Chapter Master—soon after, Azrael would, in pursuit of a joint force of 'Fallen Angels' and the Death Guard's 'Typhus,' experience a time-travel event.
In this event, under Ezekiel's guidance, Azrael would pour the firepower of the entire Dark Angels Chapter's fleet into a time-space rift, which would directly lead to the explosion of Caliban. As a result, he had inadvertently created a causal paradox: the person who had destroyed Caliban and caused the Fallen Angels to be scattered across the timeline was himself.
Of course, this did not mean that Azrael's action of bombarding Caliban was wrong. At that time, Caliban had three great artifacts: the planet's native 'Ouroboros,' the Lion's fleet's 'Tuchulcha Engine,' and the Typhus plague fleet's 'Plagueheart.' If these three artifacts were to be combined, they could recreate a shield-machine from the time of the Old Ones, which they had used to dig the Webway in the warp. But at that time, the 'Ouroboros' and the 'Plagueheart' had already been completely corrupted by Chaos. So if they were to be combined, what would be born was truly hard to say.
So Azrael's action of blowing up Caliban and closing the time-space rift was, strictly speaking, not wrong. In fact, it had solved a big problem for all life in the universe. Even the Watchers in the Dark, who guarded the Lion on Caliban, were happy to see it. But the subsequent handling of the problem was a complete mess. The Fallen had to be caught, and this secret could not be known. Azrael also did not think that the Dark Angels' actions were wrong. They were defending the honour of their Chapter.
It was just absurd. The Dark Angels' fanaticism lay in placing the defense of their Chapter's honor above all else. To cover up their little secret, to prove they were still loyal, they had done everything from inexplicably abandoning the battlefield to backstabbing their allies. To be loyal for the sake of loyalty... it didn't seem so loyal.
"Why should we be so fixated on preventing the three artifacts from being combined?" Arthur asked in return, his voice echoing in the empty strategy room. "Do we not have the ability to control them?"
Just as China would not only sign an iron ore order with Australia, the Dawnbreakers would not bet their future solely on the slipstream module wormhole, the Necrons' Dolmen Gates, or the Aeldari Webway map. Parallel development. It wasn't as if they didn't have the means. The galaxy is so big. Try more things. After all, it's all rotten anyway, right?
"That's true," Romulus nodded, a cold smile on his lips as he walked to the observation window, looking out at the vast river of stars. They didn't need to be timid just because history was changing. That wasn't their style. Otherwise, they should have just gone to Kaus, a planet that had held out peacefully from Lorgar's attack until the Indomitus Crusade, and waited for the Regent to wake up, then run to Macragge to watch him lift weights.
Rather than being afraid of an increasingly uncertain future, it was better to use this window of opportunity to develop quickly. When the time-travel event occurred, if they could bring a hundred thousand Astartes with them and seize the corrupted artifacts, then it would be the Four Gods who would have to worry. Not to mention whether they would have the power to control the three artifacts by then. You're telling me the old man on the Throne can't use it? It made no sense that Vashtorr could use the three artifacts, but the old man, who was at the top of the warp's food chain, couldn't.
The 40k-era old man was fickle, his personality switching frequently. One moment he was majestic, the next he was mad. He would call his old thirteenth son, his tool, a traitor, warp-filth, and other random things. But the Dawnbreakers had Arthur. Ramesses had deliberately not suppressed the normal personalities that had been filtered out of the old man, in the hope that this demigod could be relied upon at a critical moment.
"If necessary, I will take the blame," Arthur replied, his voice as calm as if he were discussing tomorrow's weather. Even if they failed to get their hands on it, they still had a final option. At worst, he would be the one to blow up Caliban. "It wouldn't be the first time, anyway. I make the strategy. If there's a problem, I will personally solve it."
Romulus looked at his childhood friend, and in the other's emerald eyes, he saw an unshakable resolve. You're serious. You'd really take the fall. He then looked at the Dark Angels in the distance. They said they didn't care, that they were relaxed, but they were all paying attention to them. Yes, working under such a leader, it was hard not to be relaxed.
He closed his eyes and looked at the report in his vision. Romulus suddenly laughed. Who else but you could be the Warmaster.
"You're this," he said, giving a thumbs up.
"You are," Arthur returned the gesture. Without Romulus, he wouldn't be able to mobilize so many resources.
"By the way, the infiltration does need material support. The cost of the other souls will be quite high. Otherwise, it will be difficult to pass the internal audit."
"Wait, you've already brought down Ezekiel. What are you still worried about this for?"
"Ezekiel was just a matter of convenience. In fact, we have not actively interfered in the internal affairs of the Dark Angels' Inner Circle," Arthur explained. "The psychological state of the Inner Circle members is problematic, but it is matched by their powerful combat capabilities and keen investigative abilities." If they were just any old riff-raff, he wouldn't have to be so careful. These were a group of lunatics who could turn their paranoid ideas into reality.
"Then Azrael..."
"They are all still neophytes," Arthur said. "Our main infiltration targets are currently the Interrogator-Chaplains of the various Chapters, and the positions in the Inner Circle's Librarius. Because the Consecrators Chapter, the main source of Interrogator-Chaplains, was dealt with violently by us, the progress of developing the 'Broken Wing Brothers' in the new generation is quite good. But in terms of numbers in the Inner Circle, we are still at a disadvantage."
"Is that so?" Romulus stroked his chin, his brow furrowing slightly as he thought. After a moment, he nodded decisively. "Alright then. Report any operational losses for the expansion and infiltration. Our production capacity can handle it now. If you need a lot of computational power, use the A.I. The two large computers in the Pioneer system should be enough."
"Good," Arthur said. This was what he had been waiting for from Romulus. He would handle the rest. He then prepared to leave. "Then I'll be going. While I have the time, I still need to talk to them one by one." At this, Arthur couldn't help but sigh softly and complain, "Sometimes I feel like I'm the warden of a lunatic asylum."
"Haha, who isn't? Look at me," Romulus said with a wry smile, pointing to his own head. The memo-list in there would make a normal A.I.'s head spin. "After this, I have a series of handover matters for the fleet's departure, a series of procedures from the technical department, and I have to confirm various matters. The development plans for the various star systems need to be reviewed again. The Preservers still need to make a twenty-year personnel plan. And then I need to check if all the various emergency measures are ready..." Romulus thought for a moment and began to count.
As he listed them off, one by one, Arthur leaned back slightly, his emerald eyes becoming dazed. Gods above, this is our true weightlifter. Who else but you could be the Regent?
"What about Karna? Isn't he helping?" Arthur finally couldn't help but interrupt, his voice filled with a clear confusion. Why does it always feel like someone is just enjoying a quiet life?
"Achoo!" Karna suddenly sneezed, the liquid in the teacup before him rippling slightly. The filtered sunlight fell through the shade of the trees, casting mottled light and shadow on his golden-red power armour. He was sitting on an iron-wrought chair in an open-air pastry shop on the edge of the starport, savoring the delicacies made by the Felynes.
It had to be said, these gene-programmed creatures were not only stable, but also masters of the knowledge they had been given. Unfortunately, they had no creative ability. Strictly speaking, they were more like biological machines running on a pre-set program. But it would still take time to verify before they could be promoted little by little.
"My Lord?"
Opposite Karna, the Chapter Master of the Lamenters, Phoros, whom he had dragged along for a meal, was puzzled. Does a Primarch have these mortal reactions?
Karna didn't answer immediately. He rubbed his nose and, at the same time, openly expanded his warp-projection. A pale golden psychic wave rippled out from him, carefully scanning every Felyne chef around to confirm they hadn't been changed by any warp influence.
"It's nothing," he said, withdrawing his psychic power and taking a sip of his tea. After dealing with the warp for so long, he was used to these sudden premonitions. Karna made a mental note of the time, intending to cross-reference it with his companions later to see which of them was talking about him behind his back.
Chew, chew...
The silver fork and the porcelain plate made a crisp sound. Adhering to the principle of not wasting food, Karna put the last piece of blueberry pastry into his mouth. When he put down his utensils, he found that the dessert in front of Phoros had barely been touched. Karna suddenly reached out and pushed Phoros's plate towards him. "You should try some."
"..." Phoros's throat moved. Under the expectant gaze of his own Primarch, and the jealous stares of those around him that were about to eat him alive, he slowly picked up a piece of strawberry pastry. The cream trembled on his fingertips, just like his complex mood at the moment—honored by this special treatment, yet helpless at being the center of attention.
"He's only good for being an idol and occasionally doing grassroots research. His brain is only good for that," Romulus said.
The fact was, a Primarch's brain only expanded the breadth of their thinking, not its height. You could ask Karna to look at a proven theory, and he would understand it. But if you asked him to do research and development, he would be completely lost. The same applied to other areas. At this, Romulus even brought up a surveillance recording. In the hololithic projection, a picture of Karna awkwardly operating a research instrument was frozen there, his frowning expression particularly vivid. Oh, Ramesses had sent that to the group chat two years ago.
"True," Arthur nodded in agreement, then asked, "Then, shall we get to work?"
The two, who had just met, were about to get busy again.
"Yes. Let's get to work," Romulus said. He then suddenly stuffed a small, blue-glowing Tesseract Labyrinth into Arthur's hand. The small device for storing physical documents was slightly hot in his palm, which meant its internal space was almost full. They were using Necron technology in private, but it had not been promoted to the important armed forces and research groups.
"By the way, help me deliver this material to the audit office for review. Since you're going there anyway, I won't go." Although the calculations for these accounts were large, they still needed to be verified manually before they could be formally archived.
With that, he hurriedly strode away, his steps larger than anyone else's. The silent corridor was filled with the sound of his footsteps.
"...He's so busy," Ramesses said, leaning against a carved pillar at the corner, playing with an ancient Imperial coin.
"After all, we're all counting on him," Arthur replied, giving Ramesses a sideways glance. He put the Tesseract Labyrinth into a pouch on his belt and said, "Remember to do a check-up on this batch of Dark Angels, and touch up their disguises. Go over the psychic links from the Pentaculum Wing again. I have to go to a meeting."
With that, the black knight also quickly departed, and in the blink of an eye, had disappeared into the lift at the end of the corridor.
Ramesses tossed the coin high into the air, watching it trace a silver arc. When the coin fell back into his palm, it made a crisp metallic sound, which was particularly clear in the empty corridor.
He sighed again. "They're so busy."
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