[One month later]
"You can meet now."
Imperial Regent Malcador spoke slowly, staring at the two Primarchs before him, who looked like they were both happy and worried about the news.
Guilliman frowned.
[I heard some bad rumors, is our brother okay now? ]
Since Yax's return, the Death Guard have been in a state of heightened alert and... frenzy.
They claimed to have found the Primarch, but from beginning to end, Mortarion himself did not say a word and never appeared.
Guilliman suspected that Mortarion had encountered something under the control of the Chaos of the Warp, which prevented him from showing up.
At the same time, after the Death Guard returned to Macragge, a small flu broke out on Macragge, which could even infect the Ultramarines. After what had happened before, Guilliman took this very seriously.
Lord Macragge personally organized the city lockdown and investigation, but the final result was beyond his expectations.
After examining the patients one-on-one, Guilliman found that eighty percent of them were not "themselves".
They are of the same origin as those traitors... Hydra.
Every failure is a learning experience. When the disease first broke out, Guilliman had been actively reporting the situation to Malcador. The old man was tired for a while, but his condition has improved in recent days.
Malcador pondered for a moment, and finally told Guilliman to control the patients. He told Guilliman that this flu was likely to be beneficial to them.
Before, Guilliman would have just laughed it off, thinking that what the old man said was biased and inconsistent with the Imperial truth. But now, Guilliman has conceded that perhaps there really is a "good wizard" in the Warp who is helping them in a similar way to his enemies.
He didn't know yet that this "good wizard" was Mortarion, but that didn't matter, he would know soon enough.
Angron smiled.
[It seems that our brother has recovered well? ]
He looked at Malcador, whose spirits had finally improved.
[Malcador, it's time for you to relax. With Guilliman and I in charge, and Mortarion about to recover, at least nothing serious will happen in the near future.]
Malcador gave a forced smile, but the two Primarchs were already used to this rather gloomy and sarcastic old politician.
"I did relax pretty well—"
Malcador said in a strange voice,
"Thank your other brother."
As Malcador spoke, he seemed to have remembered something funny. Even this old man, who had been in politics for a long time and did not easily show his emotions, laughed happily.
Nothing could make Malcador, the Psyker, who was previously called a damned Psyker by Mortarion, happier than to see Mortarion's defense break as he realized that he was a Psyker.
Ha ha.
Whenever he thought of this, Malcador would laugh out loud from the bottom of his heart. It was rare to have such pure pleasure, and one that was entirely self-inflicted.
In order to prevent Mortarion's uncontrolled psychic energy from causing pollution, Malcador and the Death Guard even "temporarily placed" the newly born [Pale Lord] in the Death Guard's 0th Company cell, which was used to imprison psychics.
As for the other anti-psychic devices on the Endurance, they were shut down or had their power reduced one by one during this month in accordance with Malcador's orders.
After all, the Death Guard could not banish Mortarion back to the Warp while he was aboard the Endurance.
Ha ha.
Malcador laughed inwardly again.
This joy even diluted the sadness brought to him by the incident in Macragge.
"You need to be mentally prepared. Mortarion has lost more than just some of his memories."
"Of course, I think you know this, and with your abilities, there will definitely be no problem communicating with him, but I want to emphasize in advance that—"
Machado said lightly,
"Your brother has changed his appearance. I think you can simply refer to the image of Sanguinius for your imagination."
"Okay, go ahead."
The old man said as he stepped aside, seven silent Death Guard standing behind Malcador, ready to lead the two Primarchs aboard the Endurance.
Guilliman and Angron looked at each other, and saw in each other's eyes... a certain fear.
Even the Primarchs, with their otherworldly imaginations, would have had difficulty conceiving of a Mortarion like Sanguinius.
[It’s hard to imagine... Could it be that Mortarion has smooth golden hair? ]
Angron whispered, Sanguinius... He could not draw any similarities between Sanguinius's handsome appearance and Mortarion, who was "handsome but looked like a leper".
Mortarion with his long, smooth hair was the limit of his imagination.
Angron thought about it, and the image of Mortarion with long, smooth hair shook his hair.
He better not think about it.
Guilliman was also silent.
Maybe it's the fangs.
The Lord of Macragge says, "But I have not paid much attention to Mortarion's fangs—he always wears a mask."
Angron realized that Guilliman had also automatically skipped over the possibility that Mortarion might become handsome.
The Lord of Red Sand coughed awkwardly.
[Well, I mean... is it possible that Malcador meant that Mortarion became as... more popular as Sanguinius?]
[As long as he doesn't have dark circles under his eyes, is a little fatter, his skin is no longer roughened by the poison gas, has fewer wrinkles, and starts using friendly expressions—]
[I really hope our brother will become such a popular person,]
Guilliman said in a restrained tone,
[But I think we should have less expectations in this regard.]
A Mortarion with a friendly expression is more intimidating than a Mortarion with smooth golden hair.
In the impression of the two Primarchs, Mortarion was the kind of person who would smile in a sinister and mocking way, with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes piled up like a wizard.
The two Primarchs talked as they walked. Since it was a rare opportunity to see Mortarion, and Malcador had already guaranteed that there would be no problems, the atmosphere was quite relaxed.
Angron paused for a moment.
He glanced inconspicuously at the corner of the corridor and saw nothing, but there should have been something there before - something very small.
They passed through countless Death Guards, and finally, the seven Death Guards leading them stopped in front of a big door.
In front of the door, a Dreadnought opened sideways.
Wisps of white mist overflowed from the cracks in the black stone door, accompanied by frost climbing up from the side of the door.
Guilliman paused, looking at Angron, who was also silent.
The Lord of Macragge lowered his voice to the lowest level and asked hesitantly,
[Psychic power—this is psychic power, right? ]
[Of course this is,]
Angron said with difficulty, trying to speak in a light tone.
Damn, what the hell is Mortarion like now
[Perhaps we should look at Mortarion first.]
The Lord of Red Sand showed a friendly smile. He opened the door, his pupils suddenly dilated, and a smile froze at the corners of his mouth—
[oh,]
Angron said dryly, stepping aside to let Guilliman in, and then Guilliman froze there.
[So it’s wings.]
Upon hearing Angron's words, Mortarion, who was facing him, showed an expression of grief.
This is still not particularly related to... the image of Sanguinius - it is simply not related at all.
Well, except for the wings.
Great!
(End of this chapter)