“My Lord, I shall attend to my duties now.”
“Go then.”
Inside the room, Morningstar faced The Emperor once again.
To be honest, even knowing she was a Primarch and The Emperor’s daughter, Morningstar still felt immense pressure facing him.
She believed that if she were a mere mortal, she would likely have been crushed to death by the energy and presence radiating from The Emperor.
“So, do you have any thoughts?”
What are you even asking?
What thoughts?
So you really are a professional riddle-maker, aren’t you?
While she complained internally, her Primarch superhuman brain instantly understood The Emperor’s question.
“It’s very good.
Unifying humanity under a single banner once more is truly a grand vision.”
“I will not be angry.
Speak the truth, Child.” The Emperor looked at Morningstar with a calm expression.
Morningstar looked directly into The Emperor’s eyes, a surge of great courage welling up within her.
“Father, what you are doing now feels no different from the warlords currently on Terra.
If I didn’t know you weren’t that kind of person, I would truly think you were just an ambitious tyrant.”
The Emperor sat in his chair, meeting the gaze of Morningstar, who was sitting on the bed.
Morningstar didn’t look away, staring straight back at him (Internal Monologue: Don’t wimp out, don’t lose face).
The Emperor nodded.
“You are right.” In fact, The Emperor had long known what Morningstar said.
Many of his subjects, and even those close to him, held the same thoughts, but those issues were insignificant in The Emperor’s eyes compared to the Webway Project.
The Imperium was not important; it was merely a tool to gather the resources needed for the Webway Project during the Great Crusade.
Once the Webway Project was completed and humanity was free from the Warp, The Imperium could cease to exist.
But these plans could not be told to anyone.
For one, the Webway Project had to remain a secret, and for another, if people knew The Imperium wasn’t important, who would work for it with their whole heart and soul?
The Emperor himself was not important either.
As long as the goal was achieved, The Emperor didn’t care about his reputation or even his own end.
Even if all of humanity cursed him as a tyrant in the end, as long as the Webway was built, The Emperor would accept it.
“Then, what are your ideas?”
“Uh, well, how about I write a few proposals for you to look over tomorrow?”
Morningstar blinked.
Actually, Morningstar’s first thought was to ask The Emperor if she could leave Terra and just find a nice planet to live out her days in comfort.
But then she remembered that in the Warhammer universe, there is no living in comfort, only waiting for death.
It was better to work hard and try to change this cesspool.
Even if she failed, at least she could add a cleaner toilet, so she wouldn’t regret doing nothing in the end.
Thus, changing The Emperor’s reputation was urgent.
Not only did she need to change his reputation, but she also had to change some of his ideas.
This way, perhaps a few fewer Primarchs would rebel in the end.
If she could turn The Emperor into a gentle father figure, maybe they could even reach a happy ending.
The Emperor smiled.
Morningstar actually saw a hint of beauty in that resolute face.
No wonder Horus turned out the way he did later; it turns out The Emperor really was quite good-looking (confirmed).
“Very well.
Tomorrow you shall go to the Imperial Palace library to study.
Additionally, during this time, I will find someone to train your martial skills and abilities.
Any issues?”
Morningstar gave an OK gesture.
Since she had become a Primarch, she didn’t want to be a combat-weakling Primarch.
“That is all.
Go rest for today.”
“OK.
Bye-bye, Dad.
Goodnight.”
Watching the closing doors completely obscure those three pairs of pure white wings, The Emperor smiled and shook his head.
In his long life, The Emperor had not been without children, but almost no one had ever been so…
lively in front of him.
Before him, they were either extremely respectful or trembling with fear; at the very least, they wouldn’t be all smiles.
To be honest, The Emperor felt it wasn’t bad.
He could sense that Morningstar didn’t lack respect for him; she simply didn’t want to be too serious in his presence.
“Uh, hey, Dad, which way is the palace cafeteria?”
The door cracked open slightly, and a flattering, beautiful head poked through.
“Go downstairs, turn right, and walk straight.”
“OK, bye-bye, Dad.”
…”Dad, where am I sleeping tonight?”
Less than an hour later, seeing that head poking out again, The Emperor felt a wave of mental exhaustion.
“Diocletian, take the Eldest Princess to find any bedroom.”
“Eh?
Eldest Princess?
Me?”
A Custodian walked over from nearby, sizing Morningstar up with a look of extreme distrust.
“Let us go, Eldest Princess,” the Custodian said, putting heavy emphasis on the title ‘Eldest Princess’.
“Thank you, Mr.
Custodian.
You’re a really good person.”
Diocletian, walking in front, nearly tripped.
He pretended nothing had happened and continued walking.
The Emperor saw all of this, and for some reason, he felt a sense of dread.
The Future Emperor: This is only the beginning; you have no idea what’s coming for you.