"I don't understand!"
"Vosotho, you might as well speak more clearly!"
Gage's tone was icy. Vosotho wasn't Legion Master anymore. They were equals now. Vosotho had no right to order him around!
Vosotho had anticipated his reaction. "You've been chosen, Gage."
"The Primarch has ordered a decimation of the Ultramarines Legion to form a new Chapter, the Consuls of Ultramar."
"The Legion has decided. You are to be the first Chapter Master of the Consuls of Ultramar."
Vosotho deliberately lowered his voice. "This is the Primarch's command!"
"Why me?" Gage frowned deeply. He could quarrel with the former Legion Master Vosotho, but he dared not disobey the Primarch's order.
The Primarch forming a new Chapter, the Consuls of Ultramar, was also recorded in the history of other Legions.
Every Primarch, upon their return, had ordered the formation of new Chapters.
These Chapters were not dedicated solely to combat. They had different functions according to the different Primarchs' commands.
Since the Primarch had returned, the creation of a new Chapter was to be expected.
At yesterday's Legion meeting, the Primarch had also discussed it with them.
But why him?
He was one of the first recruits of the Thirteenth Legion, with seniority equal to Vosotho's. His honour was no less than any warrior in the Legion. That was why he could firmly hold the top position among the talented Ultramarines!
Vosotho said, "The decimation picked you. It's that simple. It's all fate."
Gage asked bluntly: "Did you rig it?"
A one-in-ten chance wasn't high, yet it just happened to pick him, the First Chapter Master. It was hard not to suspect he'd been set up.
With so many people, why him specifically?
Vosotho was the former Legion Master. His authority was second only to the Primarch's. It wouldn't be difficult for him to rig the draw.
Anyway, Vosotho wasn't Legion Master anymore. Gage would ask whatever he wanted, without any fear!
"This is the Primarch's order."
Vosotho could rig the draw, but he would never do such a thing.
Who would dare to obey publicly while opposing privately in this matter?
Unless they were tired of living.
Gage understood the logic, but anyone in this situation would be agitated.
Gage was already regretting his outburst, but the thought of becoming Chapter Master of the Consuls of Ultramar made his blood run cold.
If it were just an ordinary Chapter, he would take it.
Gage didn't care who sat in the First Chapter Master's chair, as long as he could continue fighting on the front lines of the Great Crusade.
But according to the Primarch's order, the Consuls of Ultramar were not to participate in the Great Crusade. They were to learn how to govern the Imperium of Man.
This was a purely logistical Chapter!
They were Astartes! How could they be bogged down in the trivial paperwork of mortals?
Superhuman warriors like them should be charging into the most dangerous battlefields, forging their honour in blood and sacrifice, not hunched over desks reviewing damned documents!
This was a sheer waste of talent!
Gage dared not show the slightest dissatisfaction in front of the Primarch, nor complain in Vosotho's presence.
He wasn't angry that the Primarch was forming the Consuls of Ultramar and having them learn to govern worlds.
At yesterday's meeting, when the Primarch asked for their advice, they had all praised the idea.
Gage was angry that he had been chosen!
A decimation!
How could it have picked him?
Gage forcibly suppressed his almost overflowing resentment. "Does the Primarch know the result?"
Vosotho said, "The Primarch does not yet know."
The draw results had just come out. He hadn't had time to present the list to the Primarch.
Gage grabbed his vambrace. "My Lord, for the sake of the Legion, help a brother out!"
Vosotho silently met Gage's burning gaze, looking at him steadily.
When things are fine, it's 'Vosotho'. When in trouble, it's 'My Lord'.
A true pragmatist.
Vosotho asked, "How can I help you?"
"Change the name."
"No." Vosotho refused outright. He would neither rig the draw to pick Gage nor replace him. If it was him, it was him.
Gage said, "I understand your concern. Don't implicate the other Chapter Masters."
"Just put Exedra in my place. His seniority is the same as ours. He's more than qualified to be a Chapter Master!"
Vosotho gave him a look. It's fine to throw other Chapter Masters under the bus, but you have no qualms about throwing your own Champion under it?
"No." Vosotho shook his head again.
Gage was anxious. "Why?"
"Because he was chosen too."
The decimation wasn't just for Chapter Masters. It was one in ten warriors.
Over thirty thousand Astartes, three thousand were to be drawn.
Although the Consuls of Ultramar would not go to the front lines, but learn to govern the Imperium, the necessary command structure was complete. Chapter Master, Chapter Champion, Company Captain, Company Champion, Librarian, Techmarine – none could be missing.
The probability of Gage and Exedra being chosen together was only 1%.
This was fate!
"Accept it." Vosotho patted his pauldron. If the draw results could be changed arbitrarily, how could they command the respect of the rest?
Gage was not someone who didn't understand the bigger picture. He also knew that Vosotho would never play favourites. He was just temporarily unable to accept reality, talking nonsense.
The thought of having nothing more to do with the Great Crusade made Gage feel dead inside.
What difference was that from killing him?
...
"My Lord, this is the list." Vosotho respectfully presented the data-slate with both hands.
Guilliman took the slate. His finger paused briefly as he scrolled. Gage's name was prominently listed on it.
"Do the warriors have any objections?"
Vosotho answered truthfully, "Some warriors have minor complaints, but they understand your good intentions."
Guilliman asked, "Does this include Gage?"
"Including Gage."
Did this mean he had complaints too, or that he also understood the good intentions? Guilliman didn't ask, and Vosotho tacitly understood.
The Primarch had asked on purpose.
Guilliman ordered, "Conduct a political assessment every ten years, with a 'last place elimination' system. The highest performers may choose whether to return to the Legion."
Vosotho asked, "My Lord, the elimination ratio?"
"Decimation."
Guilliman could understand his sons' dissatisfaction.
They were born for war. They craved honour and sacrifice, willing to pay with their lives for victory.
But precisely because Guilliman understood them, he was more convinced of the necessity of reform!
He did not want his Ultramarines to be warriors who only knew how to fight and not how to govern.
Guilliman wanted to cultivate them into rulers and administrators. Only then could the future fifty thousand worlds of Ultramar be governed in an orderly fashion.
They must truly understand why they fight and for whom they fight, in order to grow into the Ultramarines he envisioned.
Guilliman believed that once they learned and understood the hardships of governance and the suffering of the people, the answer would become very clear.
His brothers were doing the same.
For example, Perturabo.
Since returning to the Imperium, though he had not left Macragge, Guilliman could still learn about the other Primarchs' situations through astropathic communication.
As the 'first-found son', Kurze had set a good example.
He had half his Legion warriors participate in the Great Crusade, while the other half remained rooted on the homeworld, diligently building their pocket empire.
Nostramo had openly established a vast pocket empire, contending with the Imperium of Man. Truly ambitious.
Other Primarchs, upon their return, had also focused on 'farming' without exception.
Perturabo was the most extreme.
Immediately upon his return, he implemented decimation in his Legion, forming the Hammer of Olympia Chapter.
But this 'Hammer' was not that 'Hammer'.
The Iron Warriors were the battering ram, while the Hammer of Olympia was the forging hammer.
One-tenth of the Iron Warriors were assigned to the construction of Olympia. They were not only rulers but also architects, actively participating in the construction work of various industries.
Olympia was just a trial. This successful experience would eventually be extended to the entire galaxy.
Guilliman also thought his brother's successful experience was worth learning from, which was why he was also implementing decimation among the Ultramarines.
The decimation rate was low, and fair enough, without any personal bias. Everyone had a chance of being chosen.
One in ten joined the Consuls of Ultramar. Only 10% of those would have a chance to return to the front lines. 90% would remain with the Consuls.
But even those 90% were not without any chance. With comprehensive assessments every ten years, theoretically, full rotation could be achieved in a century.
The longer the governance, the more experience one would naturally have.
With dedicated governance, a century was enough to transform any warrior. Decimation could also motivate sons to take governance more seriously.
If, after a century of governance, one still couldn't rank in the top 10%, it only proved they had never truly taken this responsibility to heart.
A century might seem long, but for Astartes with lifespans of millennia, it was only equivalent to a year or two for a mortal.
But the accumulated experience of that year or two was valuable. It could temper their characters.
This was Guilliman's personal experience. Tested and proven effective. Otherwise, he wouldn't use this method to train his sons.
Guilliman asked, "Vosotho, has there been any astropathic communication from Terra?"
Vosotho answered, "None yet, my Lord. Perhaps the Emperor of Mankind is deeply engaged on the Crusade front and cannot spare the attention."
Guilliman nodded slightly, saying nothing.
Although the Imperium's Great Crusade had many Legiones Astartes, and most Primarchs had returned, each Legion led by a Primarch was a main force of the Crusade.
But the Custodes and the First Fleet, personally led by the Emperor, had always been the tip of the Crusade's spear, conquering far more worlds than other Legions.
The Emperor was busy. He understood that.
Astropathy also had latency, especially across galactic distances. Communication was very difficult.
He had only recently returned to the Imperium. It was understandable that the Emperor's response was a bit slow.
Guilliman would not blame the Emperor. Everything he did was for humanity.
But as a son, Guilliman still felt anticipation towards his biological father.
He looked forward to meeting the Emperor, to seeing this biological father whom Caelan both praised and complained about.
But if the Emperor was too busy, he wouldn't insist.
The Emperor disliked wasting time. So did he.
Since the Emperor would neither come to see him nor summon him...
Then he would stay in Ultramar, 'farming', focusing on running Ultramar, which currently only had fifteen worlds.
He would not actively go to see the Emperor. He was a Primarch. He had loving adoptive parents.
He was not so desperate.
If he eagerly sought the Emperor's approval, he would shame himself, but how would the world view his adoptive parents, who had raised him with such painstaking care?
Was it that they had given him too little love, forcing him to seek the favour of his unknown biological father?
Or was he blinded by ambition, abandoning his adoptive parents' kindness to climb the bloodline ladder?
Guilliman loathed this. He must not push his adoptive parents into the public eye.
If the Emperor didn't care about him, then so be it.
Without his biological parents, he still had three adoptive ones.
The Emperor was a great ruler, but hardly a competent father.
.....
"Checkmate!"
With a sigh, Malcador moved the Imperial Knight to the Emperor's side. "You've lost again."
Neoth nodded, "Yes, I've lost."
He had too few pieces, no cards to play.
Malcador leaned his scepter against the chair back, sat down, and looked at the board.
Malcador sighed again. "You can't win."
The board lay before them, split fifty-fifty, perfectly fair.
But his pieces were multiplying, while the Emperor had none. How could he conquer territory on the board?
Even using psychic powers to cheat, he couldn't win this game.
Seventeen pieces were enough for a checkmate.
Malcador felt sorrow for his old friend. He had hurried through half his life, yet had nothing to show for it.
Neoth said, "I don't need to win. I would prefer you to win."
"Then what about you?" Malcador asked.
He withdrew his hands from the board, sat up straight, and looked at Neoth.
"Aren't you leaving yourself any way out?"
Neoth shook his head. "Who are you playing against?"
Malcador replied, "You, of course."
Neoth asked again: "Who is playing against me?"
"Him, of course."
"Wrong."
Neoth's hand swept gently over the board. Under the pull of an invisible force, all seventeen pieces slid neatly to Malcador's side, gradually turning dark blue as they moved.
Then, the twin pieces that had originally belonged to Neoth quietly shifted to join the opposite array, changing from red to blue.
Finally, Neoth took two brand new pieces from the box.
One engraved with the Regent's emblem, one with the Emperor's mark.
Neoth solemnly placed them in the now completely blue camp.
Neoth asked, "What's the situation now?"
"21:0. You still have no pieces to play."
Neoth continued, "Who am I playing against?"
Malcador stared at the board. 'Where was the Neoth?'
'On the opposite side of the board? On this side of the board?'
'Was he playing against himself?'
'No.'
Malcador was playing his game. Whose game was the Neoth playing?
His? Or His?
Malcador nodded, "I understand. But truly, you have no regrets?"
"As long as I can win, why regret?"
"Then you truly spare no means."
"I always have."
Malcador asked: "How proceeds the Crusade?"
The Emperor was not on Terra. He was leading the First Fleet on a Crusade in the Segmentum Obscurus, currently using the Golden Throne for long-range real-time communication with him.
Neoth said, "The time is about right. I plan to launch a Crusade."
Malcador was taken aback. "What Crusade?"
"The Crusade into the Abyss."
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu