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"You're not angry? Horus?"
Horus looked at him calmly. "Why would I be angry?"
"Do you think," he paused, "I should be furious that they set up a separate regime — or that Lion took over the Warmaster title that once belonged only to me?"
Karen nodded honestly. "Uh. Normally? Both."
He'd been half-expecting the former Warmaster to smash a few steel plates after hearing all that. Some kind of outlet. Something.
Horus just shook his head.
"If you swapped Roboute for me, I would have done the same. With Terra out of contact and Father's fate unknown, re-establishing a government was the most rational, most reliable way to preserve the Imperium of Man."
Then, rare enough to be remarkable, the Lupercal cracked a joke about his brother.
"Honestly, I'd wager that kid Roboute had wanted to do this for a long time. Back during the Great Crusade, he was already absurdly protective of his Five Hundred Worlds. But in all fairness — when it comes to infrastructure and administrative command, I do admire him."
"And the Warmaster?" Karen kept probing at the edge of danger. "Lion took your title. You really don't feel the slightest bit sick about it?"
"Warmaster..."
The easy expression on Horus's face faded at the word.
He didn't get angry. He just pulled out a tired, bitter smile.
"Karen, I gave everything I had back then because I didn't want to disappoint Father. The Warmaster title was just a byproduct of that road."
"I admit, in the early years I did care about the position. Even a Primarch finds it hard to refuse that kind of glory and renown."
"But once I truly sat in that seat, I found..." Horus looked down at his own broad palms, something hollow in his voice. "My relationships with my brothers deteriorated. Visibly. Maintaining what little fragile brotherhood we had during the Great Crusade was already hard enough. After I became Warmaster, it became a complete mess."
Karen, as a working adult who had been thoroughly beaten down by office politics, felt that one in his chest.
He couldn't help himself.
"I get it. Lonely at the top."
"When you sit in that position, you're no longer just Horus. You become a political symbol. You have to weigh every interest, and you can never again act on pure personal feeling the way you used to."
Horus went still. A rare look of surprise surfaced in his eyes.
He studied the mortal in front of him for a long moment.
"Right to the point, my friend. That is exactly how it is."
Karen glanced at the time on his system panel, patted his backside, and stood up.
"Alright. Story time's over. Our top priority right now is hitting the Black Market and getting you registered."
He looked Horus up and down, taking in the terrifying three-meter-plus frame, and stroked his chin.
"The only legal identity that fits your build is probably a special Ogryn. You know — the sub-human strain. Low intelligence, massive physique." He paused. "My Lord Lupercal."
Karen bit down on a laugh.
"Throne above..." Horus's face went dark instantly. "I'd rather pass as an Astartes! Even some common mutant would do!"
"An Ogryn? That's degrading beyond measure! You want me drooling all day like an idiot?"
The former Warmaster of the Imperium looked like he'd been personally insulted by the universe.
"No choice!" Karen spread his hands. "As long as we survive, what's wrong with playing a big dummy?"
Horus glared at him. His chest rose and fell, hard, twice.
But he couldn't argue with it. In this damned 41st millennium, an identity-less, unregistered Primarch really did have to hold his nose and accept it.
A few hours later, the two of them slipped into the local Hive City Black Market under that hooded invisibility cloak.
With a few forged documents from the system, they walked out with legal identity cards without too much trouble.
Horus turned the worn chip over in his hand. "Special-Type Ogryn Auxiliary Force." He was quiet for a moment.
"What are your plans next, my friend?"
That "my friend" made Karen pause. He shook it off and lowered his voice.
"Let's move. There's a tavern I know. Too many eyes here."
"Fine."
The tavern was loud and packed, thick with the smell of the cheapest synthetic alcohol available. Desperadoes and scavengers drank hard, sang loud, and cursed this rotten world with every profanity they knew. The noise was perfect cover.
They found the darkest corner and ordered two barely palatable servings of food and drink.
"Now that you've got the Ogryn shell, you can sign up for the Astra Militarum with me." Karen tore off a bite of hardened jerky. "Great Crusade terminology: the Imperialis Auxilia."
"Then we can leave this broken planet with full authorization." He took a sip of the low-grade booze and coughed twice from the burn.
"If I'm reading this right, the recruits will most likely be sent to Cadia. The fortress world at the gate of the Eye of Terror. The Imperium's most critical frontline."
Long before Horus had been pulled through, Karen had confirmed the timestamp from the system.
M41, 997.
Less than 2 years before the Despoiler, Chaos Warmaster Abaddon, launched the 13th Black Crusade.
The planet they were on sat extremely close to Cadia. A single short Warp jump would get them there.
Karen's original plan had been simple: lay low until Cadia, wait for the planet to fall into chaos, then cling to Archmagos Cawl's coattails and hitch a ride all the way to Macragge.
His one problem had been the obvious one: what qualifications did a mere mortal have to buy into a game that high-stakes?
Now there was a living, breathing Primarch sitting right next to him.
He could already picture the expressions on Cawl's group when they saw an uncorrupted Horus. The sheer, world-shattering look on their faces.
"What's on Cadia?" Horus asked.
"Nothing too dramatic." Karen grinned. "Just that you'll get to see your once most beloved First Captain. Abaddon."
"Ezekyle..."
Horus lifted his cup. His expression was unreadable.
He had seen the history Karen had shown him. Ten thousand years on, his proudest son had become the Chaos Warmaster of the Black Legion, the Imperium's greatest cancer.
"According to the historical timeline, he destroys Cadia." Karen kept his voice low. "We have to be there. With luck, we board a ship belonging to an Adeptus Mechanicus Archmagos and head straight for Macragge."
"There, you'll witness Guilliman wake up. After ten thousand years of sleep. That same Archmagos happens to carry the equipment capable of resurrecting the Lord of Ultramar."
Karen held Horus's gaze. "My plan is to bring you to the revived Guilliman and have him vouch for you, the number-one arch-traitor in Imperial history. Then we follow him all the way back to Terra, stand before the Emperor, and let the Emperor clear your name."
"I know how this sounds. Insane. Unscientific. It spits in the face of every prophecy and fate ever written, it's basically absurdity holding the door open for more absurdity." Karen raised his cup. "But I'm asking you to trust me, Lupercal."
He couldn't exactly lay his cards on the table and admit he was a transmigrator running off a script and exploiting the timeline's bugs. Even if he did spill everything, Horus would probably just think he'd lost his mind.
Horus listened without interrupting.
Then he picked up his cup of murky, low-grade alcohol and touched it gently against Karen's.
"I trust you, my friend. If it is truly as you say, if I can see my father one more time..."
The Lupercal spoke each word slowly, deliberately. Something ignited deep in his eyes, like a galaxy of sparks catching all at once.
"Then I can die without regret."
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