"My children, rise in my name and proclaim our wrath to the stars. In my name, humanity shall rise again!"
Curze's declaration was stirring and impassioned, and the Midnight Phantoms below felt their blood boil with excitement.
Caelan watched Curze with relief, while Neoth was watching him.
Neoth asked, "To walk in darkness but serve the light, is that what you taught him?"
"Yes," Caelan replied. "I also told him a little bedtime story about how Grandpa Emperor tore apart a Void Dragon with his bare hands."
Neoth fell silent. 'You really don't treat Curze like an outsider, do you? Just spill everything out like that!'
Caelan wore a look of pride. 'Wasn't it you who told me to teach the child? If it's education, then it should be thorough; what's the point in holding back?'
Dorothy, trembling a little, asked in a whisper: "Was that… true?"
Neoth quickly corrected her: "Not bare hands."
Dorothy, too, fell silent.
"Who's next?" Caelan asked.
"That depends on you," Neoth answered.
"I get to choose who I want to see?"
"Correct."
"Then… what if I want to go back to Terra first and meet Horus?"
"You may. That is your freedom."
From the way Curze had changed, it was clear that Caelan's guidance was working. With Curze as proof, Neoth also believed that Caelan would not disappoint him.
Though each Primarch had vastly different personalities, as long as their hearts aligned with humanity, their flaws could be overlooked.
By letting Caelan educate the Primarchs, Neoth could bind them to the great vessel of the Imperium. At the same time, the bond they formed with Caelan would ensure his loyalty to mankind.
Neoth looked at Curze, at the Night Lords, but most often, his eyes lingered on the Midnight Phantoms.
He saw Leon, he saw Ben, and even saw Tor. They were all Nostramans, destined to one day become Night Lords. But they shouldn't exist in this time.
The current year was 813.M30. The timing was wrong.
Neoth turned his gaze back to Caelan. This, too, was his doing.
But Caelan hadn't noticed. He was whispering to Dorothy.
"Don't be so scared, Dorothy. Neoth looks like a villain, but deep down he's a good guy."
…..
War broke out again.
Ten thousand Night Lords in drop pods and Stormbirds plunged into the atmosphere, descending upon the four hive cities other than Quintus.
What followed was nothing more than dull, bloody slaughter.
Many mortal armies abandoned resistance altogether, awaiting judgment from the Midnight Phantoms.
'A month's wages weren't worth dying for the aristocrats.'
As for the aristocrats, they commanded their loyal retainers to make a last stand within their spires.
It wasn't that they didn't want to surrender. But before a fleet that blotted out the sun, even the most arrogant tyrant dared not defy the Imperium.
In fact, they had already issued a joint statement of surrender when the Imperial delegation had gone to Quintus. But Curze refused to accept it.
Sinners must be judged. His sons and his Legion needed the trial of war. The Night Lords and the Midnight Phantoms had to become inseparable.
Warriors clad in ceramite stormed through heavy fire, their bolters picking off defenders one by one, each shot reducing an enemy into a red mist.
The nobles had virtually no weapons capable of threatening these superhuman warriors. All they could do was wait for death in their lavish palaces.
The war began in the morning and was finished by afternoon.
The Midnight Phantoms, ferried aboard mortal auxiliaries' landing craft, reached the spires and restored order.
By Curze's decree, both mortals and Astartes would jointly conduct the trials of the guilty across the four cities.
Caelan and Neoth merely watched. This was Curze's war, his Legion. The Emperor had granted him full respect.
"Nostramo will become the homeworld of the Night Lords. My sons will assist the Midnight Phantoms in governing this world. Among the Phantoms, the finest children will join the Night Lords to wage war among the stars. Every world we conquer will be judged by my justice!"
"Nostramo has been ruled by darkness for far too long. Every resident here is born into darkness, dies in darkness, and their entire lives are shaped by it. Until today, they have never seen the light. To them, light was meaningless, nothing but a blinding glare."
"If I want them to abandon the darkness, I must make them accustomed to the light, make them embrace it."
"The Mechanicum will help me move Nostramo's moon, or destroy it outright, so that the sun's brilliance can shine once more upon this world!"
Curze and Caelan spoke of ideals, of the future. Rarely, a trace of warmth softened Curze's pale face, and his eyes gleamed with hope never seen before.
In his children, he saw a light like never before. It was the very future he longed for.
Like a child, he poured out his plans, his dreams, rambling on to Caelan.
Caelan was exhausted, his eyelids drooping heavily.
But still he kept smiling and listening. He knew Curze needed someone to confide in, not someone to advise him.
Besides, he had little advice to give. Curze was already a grown Primarch. Caelan had little left to teach.
"This road will be difficult. Will you walk it with me?" Curze asked.
His voice was calm, yet Caelan thought he heard the faintest tremor of nervousness.
Summoning his strength, Caelan smiled and said, "The future you long for is also the future I long for. Making humanity great again is our shared dream. As long as we walk the right path, I'll walk it with you to the very end."
Curze smiled, like a child receiving his favorite candy, his grin full of unguarded innocence.
He trusted Caelan, for he could not see a future in which Caelan left him.
When they returned to the governor's palace, the Emperor had not yet departed.
Dorothy, with Phoebe and the others, was learning from Imperial Administration officials.
Though Dorothy was technically their superior, in the art of efficiently governing a world, the officials had far more experience.
"I'll go get some sleep first," Caelan yawned, returning to his quarters and collapsing into bed.
Curze remained in the shadows, silently watching Caelan drift into slumber, his gaze never leaving him.
Time passed. Then, suddenly, Caelan vanished before his very eyes.
Just as he had appeared suddenly in Curze's incubation chamber, now he had suddenly disappeared.
"You and he both have your own destinies," Neoth's voice whispered in Curze's ear. "But you will meet again in the future. Do not grieve."
"I know."
Curze was calm, not the hysterical wreck he had once imagined himself being.
He was a Primarch, not a child throwing tantrums for candy. And here, there was no one to throw a tantrum to.
"I will go with you to Terra, to meet my brothers. But until Nostramo is set on the right path, I will not leave."
"That is your freedom. But do not forget, I am waiting for you, the Imperium is waiting for you, my son."