"Father, don't believe him!"
"Father, wake up!"
"He's been deceiving you all along! I'm your true son, Father!"
Caelan jolted awake from his dream. The room's light was still on, and the pale giant stood silently in front of him, watching.
"Nightmare?" Curze asked.
Caelan scratched his hair. "Not exactly a nightmare. More like someone whispering things to me in the dream."
"Who?"
"Not sure… maybe Little Mag." Caelan sounded uncertain. "He's the only one I can think of who could pull something like that. But how did he even reach me? He was calling me 'Father,' saying someone was tricking me. But isn't he supposed to be busy gossiping across the warp with the Emperor?"
Caelan frowned. Years ago, back when he first landed on Nostramo, he'd had the exact same dream.
He had nearly forgotten it after so many years, only for it to come back now.
"Who's 'Little Mag'?" The concern in Curze's eyes disappeared, replaced by coldness.
"Magnus, Primarch of the XV Legion. Your brother."
"Heh."
Curze was the first Primarch Caelan had met, and nothing could change that, even in the presence of other brothers.
He and Caelan had lived side by side for years. Together, they had freed the underhive and mid-hive, built a new order, and made justice take root in people's hearts. Now, they were on the verge of conquering an entire world. They were true family to each other.
What right did Magnus have to call Caelan "Father"? Just because he could whisper to him in dreams?
Caelan thought he was imagining things because he swore he heard Curze chuckling. But when he listened carefully, there was nothing.
"What kind of man is he?" Curze asked.
"A psyker. A paranoid. A man-child. A giant baby." Caelan answered without hesitation.
Magnus' psychic talent was unmatched among the Primarchs, second only to the Emperor himself.
But he was also one of the most paranoid, most infantile of them all, second only to Perturabo.
The other Primarchs' betrayals all had reasons. Mortarion had always believed the Emperor deceived him. Fulgrim was corrupted by the Blade of the Laer, then was possessed and tricked into slaying Ferrus. Lorgar's faith collapsed when Monarchia was destroyed. Horus was force-fed the gods' corruption. Angron was driven insane by the Butcher's Nails. Curze himself was tormented into madness by visions. Alpharius and Omegon couldn't even tell themselves if they were loyal or traitors.
But Magnus and Perturabo? Those two were the real oversized babies.
The Horus Heresy burned the Imperium to ash. When it was over and tallies were made, ah yes, Horus got MVP!
And then you look at Magnus during the Siege of Terra, AFK the entire match. Freeloader! Magnus is just a freeloader. His performance rating for the whole campaign? A solid 3.0.
Horus coordinated the entire war, carried the team with a 13.0 score. And Magnus? Seriously, you call that effort?
Like hell that's fair!
Sure, Horus set the galaxy on fire. But Magnus? Magnus shattered the Emperor's hope!
If he hadn't broken the Emperor's psychic wards, the Custodians wouldn't have been butchered in the Webway War, and the Emperor wouldn't have been forced onto the Golden Throne.
Yes, it was all orchestrated by the Chaos Gods anyway. Even if Magnus hadn't, some other fool would have blundered into the same trap.
But reality is reality, Magnus did break the wards. That makes him the Heresy's greatest "contributor."
Of the total "credit" for the Heresy, Magnus holds eight parts out of ten. Horus gets one, and the remaining Primarchs share the scraps of the last one.
"Overgrown baby."
Curze suddenly thought his brother wasn't worth mentioning, because Caelan's face practically screamed disdain.
"The burden is heavy, the road long." Caelan sighed. He hadn't sighed in a long time.
Curze had been mature since childhood. He'd always understood justice, only to stray onto the wrong path because of obsession.
But besides Curze, there were still twenty-one other Primarchs. How was Caelan supposed to teach them all?
"Your dad really is a piece of work," Caelan muttered.
He knew Neoth was busy; an entire galaxy-spanning empire needed his leadership, and that was far more demanding than raising kids. But that didn't stop Caelan from cursing him.
Marcusin walked into the room without knocking; Curze had never required him to.
"House Scarlawke has sent invitations to the other noble houses," Marcusin reported. "They're calling for a coalition to wipe out the Midnight Phantoms in the lower hive, trying to force you to abandon the spire."
The cornered nobles were finally lashing out, something Curze had already expected.
They thought purging the Midnight Phantoms would drag Curze back into endless gang wars in the underhive. They would even use the lives of billions of workers as hostages. Killing him would be ideal. If not, they would force him into negotiations, ruling only the spire while they held the rest.
The nobles were clever; they had found Curze's weakness. The Midnight Phantoms were his lifeline, his bottom line.
Everything he killed for, everything he did, was for the growth of the Midnight Phantoms.
But the higher one's bottom line, the easier it is to be manipulated. A man with no bottom line is untouchable.
"Do you want me to warn them?" Marcusin asked.
The nobles still controlled the lifts, severing the link between the upper and lower hive, allowing travel only downward.
They could descend to the lower hive whenever they wanted, simply by rewriting the lift's code.
"No need for warnings." Curze smiled. "They won't live that long."
Destruction is always easier than construction. He was the destroyer. The Midnight Phantoms were the builders. He would never let the nobles ruin the order he had struggled to establish.
And instead of defending against war, he preferred to strangle danger before it bloomed.
"Marcusin, rally the troops. Surround the Scarlawke spire. Leave no one alive."
Curze's gaze pierced into Marcusin like a blade, as if it could strip him bare and see his future.
Marcusin lowered his head and left to carry out the order.
Curze wasn't afraid of betrayal. Marcusin was a clever man, that was why he lived.
And if he did betray? Curze lost nothing. Marcusin would only lose his one chance at redemption.
No matter where the nobles hid, Curze would find them. And he would kill every last one.
…
On a young man's handsome face appeared a confident smile. "Father, there must be a traitor among the other houses. Otherwise, that monster wouldn't have found the Melvin family so easily. His next target will surely be us. That means we must strike first. As long as he comes for us, our plan succeeds."
"And if he doesn't?" asked Count Scarlawke.
The young man's smile turned cruel. "If he doesn't, then we stick to our public plan. We use our army to slaughter the underhive's vermin!"
"Jando, I like your plan." Count Scarlawke said warmly. "You've grown up, my son. I believe House Scarlawke will flourish in your hands!"
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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