Kiavahr System, Mandeville Point.
A powerful Warp fluctuation swept through the vicinity of the Mandeville Point.
A massive Imperial fleet, as if breaking through a mirror's surface, emerged from the Warp and into realspace.
The Mandeville Point is the minimum safe distance in Imperial Warp travel, allowing a vessel to enter or exit the Warp without being disturbed by the gravity of stars or other celestial bodies.
At this point, starships can make Warp jumps relatively safely, avoiding disaster for the ship or surrounding worlds that might occur from entering or exiting the Warp too early or too late.
"My Lord, we have arrived in a system not yet reclaimed by the Imperium. According to ancient star charts, this is the planet known as Kiavahr. As we exited the Warp, the flagship detected a strong nuclear explosion on Kiavahr. This planet must be in rebellion," reported Constantin Valdor, Captain-General of the Legio Custodes, to his master.
"Blockade this system. Issue an order to Horus in the name of the Council of War: transfer the Nineteenth Legion here, and reinforce him with the Eighth Legion," the tall golden figure, concealed on the flagship's throne, conveyed his command to his loyal Custodian.
"Yes, My Lord," Valdor faithfully carried out the Emperor's command.
Only, the Captain-General didn't detect the slightest, almost imperceptible, hint of panic in his master's tone.
"Malcador, you've really screwed me over. How am I supposed to handle this Nineteenth? And there are so many more sons after him. Waiting anxiously online…" After Valdor withdrew, the somewhat flustered Emperor hurriedly made a psychic call to Malcador, who was far away on Terra. As he exited the Warp, he felt the genetic resonance and confirmed the other party's identity.
"It's all Eldar's fault! If it weren't for her, the Primarchs would have grown up under my tutelage. Now, well, except for Alpharius, whom I raised myself, they've all grown into adults since they returned. Malcador, answer the phone…" The Emperor, unable to connect the psychic call, grew anxious, constantly urging Malcador to pick up.
Even the air began to exude an aura of impatience.
Fortunately, the anxious Emperor didn't have to wait long. Although psychic communication in the Warp could experience delays, it depended entirely on who was making the call.
"My Lord, what do you need me to do…" Malcador's voice, without any delay, reached the Emperor's ears through the psychic communication.
"Malcador, I sense the Nineteenth's presence. What do I do? Hurry and come here!" Before Malcador could finish speaking, the Emperor anxiously urged him to come over.
In the past, whenever he recovered a Primarch, Malcador would always offer advice. Currently, Horus, Ferrus Manus of the Iron Hands, and Leman Russ of the Space Wolves all had good relationships with the Emperor.
"My Lord, that is your son, not just a tool with a designation," Malcador, far away on Sacred Terra, said with a weary heart.
The Emperor always used designations to refer to his sons, who inherited his powerful genes, whenever he was nervous.
"Actually, it's similar to when you recovered the other Primarchs. Give your son a gift, then ask him about his thoughts on governing a planet, and discuss the current state of humanity as a species. Trust me, there won't be any major problems," Malcador re-explained the previous steps to the Emperor.
He was already considering whether he should write a separate guide for the Emperor, so that every time the Emperor found one of his genetic sons, he wouldn't have to call him and delay meeting his son.
The galaxy was so chaotic. What if a Primarch was killed due to the Emperor's hesitation?
"No, as soon as I hang up, I'll write the guide!" Malcador made up his mind, gripping the quill he was signing with tightly!
"Oh, oh, good, good. Now that you say it, I remember. From now on, you should come with me," the Emperor suddenly felt confident again, then added with a hint of guilt.
"Your Majesty, there are still many state affairs to handle on Terra. How about you handle the state affairs, and I go find the lost Primarchs?" Malcador suggested.
"No need for that. I'll go find them. I'm good at this. You stay busy," the Emperor quickly hung up the phone, as if a second later, a flood of state affairs would drown him.
Handling state affairs was the most annoying thing!
"Heh heh…" Far away on Terra, Malcador's fists clenched as he looked at the disconnected psychic communication.
He didn't want to handle state affairs either! As the Great Crusade progressed, more and more worlds were reclaimed, and Malcador had less and less time to rest.
"I hope the Primarch who is good at handling state affairs is found soon…" Malcador looked at the documents that had once again piled up on his desk, a look of utter despair on his face.
The unfortunate thing was that he was an immortal; he couldn't die, and even if he did, he would revive. Revival took time, and during that time, even more state affairs would pile up.
It was hopeless…
Unfortunately, Malcador looked around and couldn't find any Legion that was good at handling state affairs. These Legions liked all sorts of things: some liked keeping small secrets, building fortresses, blacksmithing, playing with iron torrents, or infiltration. Besides that, they were all just good at hacking and slashing. None of them impressed Malcador in terms of management.
What Malcador didn't know was that this was just the beginning. Next, there would be a Legion that openly contradicted the Emperor's "Imperial Truth" and liked to chant scriptures, waiting for him.
"Damn it, it can't be that there really isn't a Legion good at management, can it?" Malcador was somewhat skeptical of the Emperor's solemn guarantee.
After all, the Astartes Legions were built using their Primarchs as templates. From them, one could more or less see the areas their genetic fathers excelled in. Although this wasn't absolute, it still made Malcador very worried.
What if the Emperor was bluffing him, just as he bluffed the Emperor? Then it would truly be over.
Kiavahr System, Mandeville Point.
"Let me think, Nineteenth, no, Corax inherited my talent for stealth. His essence is the *** in the Warp. What kind of gift should I give him?" The Emperor's psychic power, like a gentle rain, swept over Lycaeus, extracting his son's name and appearance from the minds of other miners.
Malcador was right; he couldn't keep calling them by numbers, even though deep down, the Emperor always treated them as tools.
"Valdor, go to the armory and pick out a gift. Come with me." The Emperor knew there was no suitable gift for Corax on the Emperor's Dream, so he told the Captain-General to choose one. He couldn't possibly give Corax the Emperor's Claw; he still needed it himself.
Anyway, gifts were minor. He had other plans that would surely satisfy this son of his, raised by miners. A Legion and a system as a gift should be substantial enough.
If Malcador knew the Emperor's plan, he would probably explode…
Damn it, isn't that the basic right of a Primarch? Do you even understand the importance of a Primarch in the Imperium?!!!!