Fulgrim paused and looked at Konrad Curze. The latter sat with a clearly absent look, his head bowed. His right hand still held the pen, but the line in the notebook had stopped moving long ago.
The Chemosian sighed.
"Konrad."
"...Huh?!" The pale giant abruptly raised his head. "What is it?!"
"Are you listening to me?"
"...Sorry, Fulgrim."
"It's okay," Fulgrim smiled gently. "But I must remind you of something: Kariel doesn't need your concern."
"...I'm not worried about him."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Look me in the eye when you speak."
Konrad Curze reluctantly raised his head, met Fulgrim's gaze for a split second, and immediately looked away.
The Chemosian chuckled silently and nodded: "So, you are worried after all."
"...Well, a little."
"He doesn't need your concern, Konrad. You'd better worry about your own academic performance; I've prepared some tests for you. What will Kariel think if you fail them?"
"But..."
Curze raised his head. His face was calm, but his dark eyes showed clear anxiety.
"...I want to know what he's doing right now."
"He's busy killing, Konrad."
Fulgrim sighed mentally but didn't say these words aloud. There was something more hidden behind them, and he wouldn't tell Konrad Curze about it. After all, a year-and-a-half-old Primarch is still a Primarch.
Besides, Konrad was very perceptive in some things.
"I think you should think more about your legion," Fulgrim said tactfully. "How will you greet the Eighth Legion when it arrives?"
"..."
"They will, of course, arrive by ship, there's no doubt about that, right?"
Curze nodded silently.
"Then they will want you to inspect them. That is also a normal requirement, so you will have to be present at the parade. And after that, you will need to give a speech to express your intentions..."
"A speech?"
"Yes, a speech," Fulgrim nodded. "But you don't need to prepare it in advance; you'll forget everything when you meet them anyway..."
He smiled mysteriously.
"Improvise, Konrad. In general, whether you accept them or refuse them is your decision, and they will respect it."
"So, Konrad, you don't need to worry about Kariel right now. He's doing his job. You should think carefully about how you're going to do yours."
"...Can I skip the speech?"
"If you want to offend them," Fulgrim replied with a smirk.
"...So, a parade, a speech, what else, Fulgrim?"
"Many other things, for example, subsequent events..."
Konrad Curze grabbed his pen and began to write diligently.
"Well, for example, how Nostramo, a planet rich in adamantium, should develop trade routes. Trade between worlds is not forbidden in the Imperium; it is beneficial for the economy, only taxes must be paid..."
"Also mineral extraction, terraforming, recruitment, and so on... Yes, you may also have to appoint a Planetary Governor."
"It sounds like there's a lot to do... A Planetary Governor? Can't I be one myself?"
"Have you forgotten our main task? The Planetary Governor must constantly be on Nostramo, and you cannot."
"...The Great Crusade?"
Fulgrim nodded with a smile.
"Yes, the Great Crusade."
His voice was soft, but it held anticipation. Konrad Curze, without looking away, stared at him, waiting for the Chemosian to say more.
But Fulgrim said nothing, just smiled. As if this one phrase already described all the beautiful hopes and bright future.
Unconsciously, Konrad Curze was captivated by these words.
"Fulgrim..." he asked quietly. "So, what is the Great Crusade?"
"I remember telling you about it already, Konrad," Fulgrim replied gently.
"But I want to hear your own opinion," Konrad Curze said. "What is it to you?"
"...It is conquest," Fulgrim replied hoarsely after a brief silence.
"The galaxy is unfriendly to humanity, Konrad. You haven't left Nostramo yet, but when you truly join us and embark on the path of conquest, you will understand how many terrible monsters hide in this stellar void."
"Humanity has long been fragmented. We are not united and do not strive for unity. Planetary dictators are everywhere; they treat their compatriots as a renewable resource."
"They completely fail to understand the meaning of unity and what it means for humanity. Therefore, we must make them understand..."
He raised his head, looked at his brother, and repeated those two icy words, but his breath was hot like a flame.
"Conquest," Fulgrim narrowed his violet eyes. "There is no other way."
"Whether it is peaceful accession or subjugation by force of arms, we must do it. Father created us precisely for this. We are humans, Konrad, but we are also deadly blades."
"We are born for conquest, and conquest will bring long peace and progress. Those whom we force to join will not understand, but their peoples, their sons and daughters will understand."
"In this galaxy, only the Imperium can save everyone. Only our Father can do it."
"Even if innocents die for it?"
Fulgrim smiled again. He smiled at his brother's perceptiveness, but at the same time, he bitterly smirked at the meaning hidden behind these words. His smile was so complex, so beautiful.
So heartbreaking.
"Yes," he closed his eyes and nodded calmly. "...Even if innocents die for it. Sacrifices are necessary, Konrad."
No one answered. After a while, a hoarse voice said, "But at least we will remember..."
him them?
"We will remember every one, Konrad," Fulgrim said solemnly.
…
Twenty-eighth…
A deep breath.
Kariél straightened.
His hands were bloody up to the elbows, flesh and blood staining his skin crimson. Amidst the pile of corpses, the scene looked surprisingly harmonious.
"The twenty-eighth gang." He repeated the words mentally, forcing himself to calm down. He had to kill without emotion.
He had to… do it.
But this time it felt harder.
Kariél turned, picked up his pistol from the floor, and descended into the basement through a side door at the back of the hall.
Wall lamps burned dimly, illuminating only tiny patches of darkness. Crouching, Kariél entered. Muffled sobs and the clinking of chains echoed from the depths of the basement.
"...Good evening," Kariél said hoarsely.
Naturally, his greeting went unanswered, only a few ragged breaths grew louder.
Kariél took a deep, deep breath and exhaled.
He knew what was hidden in the darkness. He had known it from the very beginning, when he saw children with weapons in their hands. Further memories he extracted only confirmed his suspicions.
He went further. What he saw was no surprise to him.
Dozens of children sat in the darkness, chained by their legs.
The gang he had just destroyed considered recruiting people from the civilian population too inefficient. So they came up with a more progressive method.
They took children…
And then they brainwashed them.
With violence and hallucinogens, they replaced their common sense, reshaped everything with violence, gave them a pistol, and sent them to kill.
Firearms, what a great invention. Even a child suffering from malnutrition, dizziness, and unable to see further than ten meters can use it. Just pull the trigger to take a life…
He had just killed quite a few of these bandits. Each of them was crazier than an adult. They were small, could barely speak, but they shot at him with unprecedented hatred.
The hallucinogens had completely destroyed them. No, perhaps not only them.
Kariél closed his eyes and took another deep breath.
A soft rustling came from the darkness. A dirty shadow crawled up and placed its hands on his boots. Parting its dry lips, it uttered a single word in Nostramo:
"Dose."
She spoke with difficulty. Kariél opened his eyes. He could see in the dark, and therefore he saw in those eyes a pure, primal thirst.
He could see through the darkness, but he could not see what was hidden behind that thirst.
His left hand, not holding the pistol, trembled. As always. Every time he thought he had gotten used to it, this planet stabbed him in the back.
"Dose?" she asked again.
More rustling, the clinking of chains, and more requests came from the darkness.
"Dose?"
"Dose?"
"Dose."
A deep breath.
Kariél lowered his head and raised his right hand.
"I don't have a dose."
His voice was muffled.
"Sorry."
Gunshots rang out.
Five minutes later, he emerged from the ruined building. Flames raged behind him. The downpour that poured from the sky could not extinguish it.
Kariél turned and glanced at the fire he himself had lit one last time. The raging flames reflected in his dark eyes and colored his pale face crimson.
Burn.
Keep burning…
He turned and disappeared into the darkness.
***
Read the story months before public release — early chapters are on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan