“I came to see if you had recovered and to discuss the Primarch’s subsequent matters.” Calgar tried to steady his tone.
“Archmagos Cawl, why would you…
self-destruct?” Cawl stared blankly at Calgar, then looked at the armor of fate and the Guilliman model sitting side-by-side on the nearby workbench.
The massive logical dissonance and emotional swing caused his processors to overload again, but this time in a positive direction.
“I…
I thought…” Cawl’s voice grew smaller, a flush of shame rising on his human face beneath the oil stains.
“I thought since the awakening ritual ‘failed’ into…
that, the Ultramarines and the Adeptus Mechanicus would surely hold me responsible and…
so I thought…
I might as well…” Calgar finally understood.
He remembered Cawl’s state of crashing and falling over when Guilliman woke up, then looked at the stark contrast between the armor and the model on the workbench, and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
This old machine who had lived for ten thousand years was brilliant, but when it came to handling ‘interpersonal relationships’ and ‘expectation management,’ he seemed a bit…
overly pessimistic and prone to leaps in logic.
“Archmagos Cawl,” Calgar sighed, his tone becoming solemn.
“Listen.
No one is going to hold you responsible.
Quite the opposite.” He pointed at the Guilliman model, then toward the direction of the Correction Temple outside the window.
“You successfully awakened Lord Guilliman.
That is what matters most.
Regardless of what form the Lord has taken, he is alive, he possesses great power, and he remains our gene-Primarch, the hope of the Empire.
For that alone, you are a hero to Macragge, the Ultramarines, and the entire Empire.” Calgar paused, his lips pursing beneath his tactical mask, before adding in a softer but firm voice, “As for the form…
perhaps this is some profound intent of the Emperor and the Omnissiah.
We need only accept it and continue our loyalty.
As for changing back…” He trailed off again.
That thought of ‘actually, we quite like how things are now’ surfaced once more, making him feel a pang of guilt.
Cawl, however, keenly caught Calgar’s momentary hesitation.
His human eye widened slightly as his processors whirred, analyzing Calgar’s tone, body language (mostly blocked by armor, yet still showing subtleties), and the unfinished sentence.
Could it be…
that the Ultramarines…
don’t want the Primarch to change back?
Maybe they even…
like this ‘new form’ a little?
This discovery was like an indicator light suddenly turning on in the dark, instantly illuminating the labyrinth of despair in Cawl’s mind.
If the ‘clients’ (the Ultramarines) weren’t strongly dissatisfied with the ‘product’ (Loli Guilliman), and might even be pleased, wouldn’t his ‘accountability crisis’ be greatly alleviated?
As for the Adeptus Mechanicus side…
there seemed to be more room for maneuvering now.
After all, the result was good (Primarch awakened + Chaos purged), there were just some’surprises’ in the process.
Hope, like rain after a long drought, soaked back into Cawl’s parched thinking circuits.
His human eye regained its luster, and his mechanical arm stopped trembling.
“I…
I understand, Chapter Master Calgar.” Cawl’s Synthesized voice regained some of its former stability, though it still carried a hint of weakness from his brush with death.
“It was I…
who overthought things and fell into unnecessary pessimistic extrapolations.
Thank you for your timely intervention and guidance.” He struggled slightly, signaling the Servitor holding him to let go.
Receiving a clear command from its master, the Servitor released the locks.
Cawl swayed, steadied himself, and began checking the damage to his wrist while speaking rapidly: “The priority now is to re-evaluate the current situation and provide adaptive support for the Primarch.
The armor of fate needs a complete redesign; I will start on that immediately.
Additionally, regarding the analysis of the Primarch’s morphological changes, I require more data, but this must be done with the Primarch’s consent and comfort as a prerequisite.” He looked at Calgar, his tone becoming serious.
“Chapter Master, please inform the Primarch that Belisarius Cawl is at her service.
I deeply apologize for my previous immature actions.
I will make amends through my subsequent work.” Calgar looked at Cawl, who had recovered his state so quickly and even seemed more motivated than before, and felt a sense of relief.
It seemed this Archmagos’s psychological resilience was a bit stronger than he’d imagined…
though his direction seemed a bit skewed?
“I’m glad you see it that way.” Calgar nodded.
“The Primarch is currently bathing and will hold an emergency meeting afterward.
You can report your analysis and the armor issues to the Primarch in person during or after the meeting.” “Understood.” Cawl was already using his intact mechanical arm to pull up data panels, his eyes flashing with the light characteristic of a technical fanatic.
“I will prepare a preliminary analysis report.
Additionally, regarding daily clothing, light armor, and such that the Primarch might need, I can contact the textile and light industry departments of the Adeptus Mechanicus…” Watching Cawl instantly enter work mode, Calgar shook his head and turned to leave.
As he reached the door, he suddenly stopped, looked back, and said in a quiet but clear voice: “Cawl.” “Yes?” Cawl looked up from the data stream.
“…Thank you.” Having said that, Calgar seemed a bit uncomfortable and immediately strode out of the workshop.
Cawl froze in place, the light of his mechanical eye flickering softly a few times.
“Thank you…?” he murmured to himself, the corner of his human mouth turning up by a single pixel.
“It seems this ‘accidental result’ might really…
not be bad?” He turned and looked with renewed vigor at the now-unsuitable armor of fate, then at the model of Loli Guilliman, and countless new design inspirations began to burst forth in his mind.
“Female Primarch power armor…
energy wing compatible interfaces…
halo stabilizers…
perhaps I can even add some aesthetic optimization modules…” Inside the workshop, the familiar, vibrant hum of machinery and data streams echoed once more.
At the other end of the corridor, the humming in the bathroom had stopped at some point.
Only the gentle sound of water remained, signaling that a crucial meeting was about to begin.