There were no pursuers for now, and it was a rare moment of peace.
Karen rubbed his hands out of boredom, his curiosity successfully piqued by Horus’s previous statement.
His gaze unconsciously fell upon the Wolf Shepherd God’s left hand.
It was a golden ring, very conspicuous.
“Is this…
that Centaur Gold Ring the Emperor gave you?” Karen blurted out.
Horus wasn’t surprised at all that Karen could name the ring’s origin.
After all, this mortal knew many things; one more wouldn’t make a difference.
He generously extended his hand and admitted frankly, “Yes.” “When the Ullanor War ended and I was bestowed the title of Warmaster, he gave it to me personally.” Horus’s gaze became somewhat deep.
“He said I was his archer, his Sagittarius, his Wolf Shepherd God.” Having said this, Horus smiled.
It was a smile as normal and bright as could be.
This was not the drooling, idiotic grin Karen had seen in fan-made posts before crossing over—the kind that portrayed a “Father loves me, I love Father” homoerotic father-complex image.
Of course, some of the blame lay with the writers, especially that one named Guy Haley, who wrote Horus’s homoerotic father complex with such morbidity.
One wonders if he was inserting his own personal agenda.
Dan Abnett wrote him much better; in his hands, Horus was a normal little sun who warmed others.
Or the confidence in Dave Thorpe’s writing—a reliable monarch and big boss who occasionally exuded charisma.
But that’s getting off-topic.
To the real Horus standing before him, that Centaur Gold Ring represented power and glory, but more importantly, it was a symbol of unreserved trust.
He felt proud of gaining the Emperor’s trust and felt filled with strength because of this heavy expectation.
“Do you want to hear that story, Karen?” Horus’s voice took on a rare touch of tenderness.
“The thirty years I spent alone with him.
To me, those were the sweetest and most stable days of my life.
During those thirty years, my ideals and his merged into one, indistinguishable from each other…” The Warmaster was prepared for a long speech, intending to savor those glorious years.
As a result, just as he raised his hand, he was ruthlessly interrupted by Karen.
“Enough, enough, stop right there!” Karen waved his hands repeatedly, his face written with distaste.
“I’ve sampled enough of this ‘loving father and filial son’ story for thirty years.
Take it away already!” “Oh, my friend, could you have a little patience?” Horus said helplessly.
“Back in the Legion, my sons were very happy to hear these things.” “Nonsense, those are your biological sons; I’m not.” Karen rolled his eyes.
Hearing this, Horus laughed out loud.
If this were during the Great Crusade, who would dare interrupt the Warmaster like this?
But now, he actually found it quite interesting.
Even he was surprised by how exceptionally good his temper was when facing this mortal.
“Since you don’t want to hear about my father, let’s talk about my sons.” Horus sat up cross-legged.
“Didn’t you mention Cyannus, Torgaddon, and Loken before?” “If we’d talked about this earlier, I wouldn’t be sleepy!
Tell me everything!” In the dim underground facility, the Primarch and the mortal sat facing each other.
One spoke, the other listened.
“To be fair, my love for my sons does carry some personal bias.
After all, there are too many capable sons in the Luna Wolves.” Horus’s tone carried the pride of an old father.
“But overall, I cherish my Legion and my sons, especially my Council of Four.” “Ezekiel is the strongest among them, the most determined, and the one most like me.
But Cyannus and the others have another kind of strength.
If Ezekiel is my Lupercal, my eldest son, then Cyannus is my Guilliman.
Sedirae is my Dorn, and Torgaddon is my Fenris.
Oh, and then there’s Aximand; he looks a lot like me, and in the Legion, he is known as Little Horus.” At this point, Horus let out a hearty laugh, his eyes full of memories.
“What about Loken?” Karen chimed in at the right moment.
“Don’t be impatient; I was just about to talk about him.” Horus’s massive frame leaned forward, and he lowered his voice as if sharing a great secret with an old friend.
“Of course, there’s Loken.
Since you know him, you should also know his character, I guess?
In many ways, he’s not much like me, but he is my favorite son.
If anyone else asked, I would deny it; I cannot show any favoritism.
But since it’s just the two of us, I’ll tell you: he is my Sanguinius.” When mentioning Loken, the brilliance bursting from this demigod’s eyes was even more dazzling than when he spoke of the Emperor earlier.
Karen watched him quietly.
He didn’t respond.
Indeed, putting aside the halos of the Great Traitor and the Emperor’s First Found Son.
The Horus before him was, in the end, a father who deeply loved his children.
“You know Sanguinius, right?” Horus asked.
“Yeah.” Karen nodded.
The Master of the Ninth Legion, the gentle archangel brother (sister) of Baal—who wouldn’t like that “black-hearted white sesame dumpling”?
“Then what is he like in your eyes?” Horus pressed, a hint of curiosity flashing in his eyes.
After all, Sanguinius was his closest brother, and he had even mentored Sanguinius for a while until he returned to the Ninth Legion.
“Warm on the outside, cold on the inside, and a bit manipulative.” Karen gave his evaluation.
“Oh?
Why?” “I can’t quite explain it; it’s just my personal assessment.
However, from Konrad Curze’s perspective, this archangel is definitely manipulative.” “Curze?
Oh, you mean that brother of mine.” Horus nodded understandingly.
He remembered that pale-faced brother who would occasionally blurt out strange words.
During the Great Crusade, he hadn’t paid him much attention; Fulgrim was the one who mentored him, and he heard they had a good relationship.
“Curze has psychic prophetic abilities, doesn’t he?
They’re stronger and more real than Sanguinius’s.
He foresaw your rebellion long ago.
He originally wanted to avoid the future in his visions, but later he just gave up and joined the rebellion.” Karen coughed lightly, observing Horus’s facial expression.
The Wolf Shepherd God signaled for him to continue.
“Later, at Thramas, he fought Lion El’Jonson.
He was captured by the Lion, taken to the flagship, and then brought to Macragge.” “And then?” The Wolf Shepherd God pressed further.
“Later, Curze arrived on Macragge in a drop pod and played hide-and-seek with the Lion and Guilliman.
Then Sanguinius arrived too, and the three of them conveniently formed the Second Imperium.” “When they captured Curze, Sanguinius told him that since the prophecy said he would die, he would take him to their father, and perhaps he would forgive him.
Curze panicked upon hearing this; he realized the prophecy was changing and felt hopeful.
But the Angel said that while Father might forgive him, he wouldn’t.
Then he stuffed Curze into a stasis pod and exiled him into space.” After hearing this, Horus nodded with great understanding.
This was indeed Sanguinius’s way of doing things.
Seemingly gentle, but actually ruthless and decisive.
However, a more explosive term had just been buzzing in the Warmaster’s mind.
“Wait, Karen.” Horus frowned, his expression becoming more serious than ever.
“Did you just say…
Second Imperium?
What exactly does that mean?” “Oh…
that matter.” Karen deliberately prolonged his tone, leaning back tactically.
“After The Horus Heresy broke out, the Warp storms completely blocked all signals from Terra.
Everyone was guessing whether the Emperor had already kicked the bucket.” “To protect the sparks of human civilization, Lord Roboute overrode all objections and, along with the Lion and Sanguinius, simply started a new venture.” Karen looked at the Warmaster and dropped the bombshell word by word: “Sanguinius became the Emperor of the Second Imperium, Guilliman became the Regent, and as for the Lion…
he became the Warmaster.” As soon as he finished speaking.
Karen saw a complex expression on Horus’s face.
But notably, there was no anger.