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Horus studied the Codex Astartes and the accompanying History and Archives of the Various Chapters with focused attention.
Whenever he hit something he didn't know, he would actually ask Cullen. The old knight found that almost impossible to believe. A primarch, asking an Astartes for guidance?
But he accepted it gladly, filling in the historical details the Warmaster lacked.
Cullen didn't know everything, of course. He'd spent most of his ten thousand years on the run, rarely paying attention to Chapter affairs, so he could only offer personal accounts based on the Chapters he'd actually seen. Horus took those accounts and wove them together with the written records and his own thinking.
About half a day later, Horus finally surfaced from the books.
A primarch's reading speed and comprehension left mortals far behind. He'd finished the entire Codex long ago. The remaining time went entirely to the histories and archives of the various Astartes Chapters.
"I have to say," Horus said, "that brother of mine is a genius."
He could see it clearly in the Codex, Guilliman's vision for restructuring the Imperium's military after the Great Heresy. The unified doctrine for Space Marine moral codes, combat order, tactical theory. All of it.
That was very Guilliman, he thought. During the Great Crusade, the Ultramarines Legion was never as sharp as his Luna Wolves at raids and improvisation. But they advanced with seamless, systematic precision. As long as the enemy failed to crush them in the first engagement, the Ultramarines would quietly dissect the enemy's tactics, pull them into a flawless rhythm, and from that point on, you simply could not beat them.
Kaelen leaned in.
"Actually, when this book first came out, not all the loyalist primarchs were fans. Rogal Dorn and Leman Russ especially."
"And after all the primarchs disappeared and Guilliman went into stasis, the Codex gradually calcified into dogma. So it picked up a nickname in private circles: toilet paper."
Horus nodded slightly, a flicker of understanding in his eyes.
He could read the sorrow underneath that joke. No matter how good the theory, if it can't adapt to the times and the battlefield, it stops being a guidebook for warriors. It becomes a set of shackles.
"But I have to admit — the Codex has a very high floor. Especially for newly founded Chapters. It covers nearly every aspect of force-building, combat, and logistics. A new Chapter can rise quickly and healthily with this as its foundation."
"If it had been me, back in the Legion era, I might not have shared something this foundational so freely with every brother and every Legion. But what Roboute built here is a bedrock for all Astartes. He laid it out without reservation." Horus paused. "That breadth of spirit, I fall short of it."
"He did what I recognized back then but could never bring myself to do."
"What was that?"
"Warlord fragmentation."
Cullen cut in.
"Every primarch, beyond the Legion they commanded, had countless Imperial forces bound to them, Forge Worlds, Titan Legions, Knight Houses, tens of thousands of mortal auxiliary units. For primarchs and Legions who answered only to Terra and the Emperor, that wasn't a problem. But at its core, the system had no real oversight. No real restraint." A beat. "The Great Heresy is the proof."
Kaelen got it immediately.
The Emperor was the sovereign of all. The primarchs were feudal lords with armies. The Great Crusade held together because there was always an external enemy to point at, always a common threat to absorb the tension. The moment the Crusade ended, with no shared enemy left, every accumulated grievance and buried ambition had nowhere to go but inward.
And every primarch had glaring personality flaws on top of that.
The Heresy was almost inevitable.
"Cullen is right. The Codex did restrain and oversee Astartes power, to a significant degree."
Horus tapped the archive cover with one finger, his tone settling into something heavier.
"But based on what I just read — the Chapter histories, the archives — the Codex's rigidity didn't just kill tactical flexibility. It also failed to stop the Chapters from getting dragged into the Imperium's political infighting, over and over again."
"That's not a small problem. It bleeds combat strength for nothing. And it hands openings to every rising xenos threat, every resurgent old enemy, every rebel force waiting for a crack to appear."
Horus tucked the Codex and archives carefully into his carry-pouch.
Kaelen watched him do it. He couldn't tell what was going through the Warmaster's mind.
Was he thinking like a military strategist, working out what he'd change if he took command of a Chapter?
Or was there still ambition in there somewhere, turning over the idea of using his brother's doctrine to build something new?
Horus caught the look. He guessed the thought behind it. He just smiled and shook his head.
"Don't overthink it, my friend. Even if my father and brothers forgave me, I wouldn't take power again."
He was quiet for a moment.
"Sometimes being a tool is fine. You don't have to think too hard. Like a brick, wherever it's needed, that's where you go."
Cullen gave a cold snort. He didn't fully believe the Warmaster.
But saying it out loud meant something. It meant the Warmaster had let go of things. Obsessions. Entanglements. And ambition.
"Don't be so negative, Horus." Kaelen's voice was easy. "There's a lot you can actually do. Your brothers need you."
He wanted to clap Horus on the shoulder the way you'd clap a friend.
The height difference between a mortal and a primarch made that a problem. Even on tiptoe, Kaelen couldn't reach.
Horus saw it. He crouched down.
Cullen stared.
He hadn't expected this. A primarch, voluntarily setting aside the natural authority that came with his existence, just to meet a mortal at eye level. In ten thousand years, Cullen had only ever seen that kind of gesture directed at the Emperor himself.
"Don't carry it like a redemption quest," Kaelen said. "That'll just grind you down. Keep it simple. The Lupercal I know was always confident. Think of it as backing the future, helping your primarch brothers carry some of the weight."
He patted Horus on the shoulder.
The Warmaster didn't mind. If anything, it stirred something old, the memory of Cthonia, of growing up in the gangs where no one had ever offered him that kind of easy friendship. As a mortal, he'd had no real friends. As a primarch, he'd had plenty of people who called themselves friends.
Kaelen held out his fist.
A genuine smile crossed the Warmaster's face.
Small fist met large fist with a quiet tap.
Kaelen turned to Cullen. "You in?"
"Childish." The old knight looked away and snorted.
"Fine, don't then. Not like I'm begging."
Kaelen shook his head. Horus laughed.
"Alright, you two. That's enough."
Kaelen clapped his hands once.
"We need to talk about what we're actually doing once we reach Cadia. Plans. Direction. All of it."
➤ Next: The Plan — Words Unspoken
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