As Klein’s gaze swept across the neat handwriting in the scholar’s notes, the scholar’s memories began trickling into Klein’s mind.
In the process, Klein discovered something.
Neither the scholar’s memories nor his notes contained anything about the Imperium, about the Emperor, about Astartes, or about Terra.
This planet was indeed Macragge, and this city was indeed Macragge City.
But this was not the Macragge of the forty-first millennium, the homeworld of the Ultramarines.
Nor was it the Macragge of the Horus Heresy, or even the Macragge of the Great Crusade.
This was Macragge in an era when the Emperor had yet to lead humanity to reclaim the stars, when human civilization was still scattered.
It was…
From the corner of the drawer where the notes were kept, Klein fished out several coins.
They were the silver denarii used on Macragge.
Each side of the coin bore a portrait, representing the two Archons who ruled Macragge.
One side bore the Grand Justice of Macragge’s legislative assembly, the hero of the Senate, Gallan.
The other side bore the Lord of War, Konor Guilliman, the adoptive father of the Primarch Roboute Guilliman.
Klein was in the era when these two Archons jointly led Macragge.
The era in which Roboute Guilliman had been adopted by Konor, or was soon to be adopted.
The era in which the Emperor had only just unified Terra, still far from ascending the Golden Throne.
Klein clenched the denarius tightly in his hand.
The coin’s uneven surface dug painfully into his palm.
He had originally thought he had traveled to roughly the early seventh century of the forty-second millennium, the era when Inquisitor Greyfax was just beginning her career.
But now it seemed that when his consciousness fled the Golden Throne, it had fled not only through space, but through time as well.
The recently deceased body he had entered did not exist in the same time as his own body upon the Golden Throne.
He could enter the bodies of those who had died in the past, and perhaps even those who would die in the future.
He should have realized this sooner.
His consciousness had fled the Golden Throne through the Warp,
and a fundamental property of the Warp was the absence of true, linear time.
The starships that plied the galaxy on long-distance voyages through the Warp relied on precisely this property.
Under certain conditions, a starship could even arrive at its destination before it ever departed.
Yet even so, a case like Klein’s, a leap of over ten thousand years across the void, remained vanishingly rare…
Klein quickly grasped the value of this body.
Its primary value lay in this: if he could make proper use of it,
he might have a chance to alter the tragedy of the Horus Heresy, to prevent the outcome that saw the Emperor enthroned upon the Golden Throne, and thereby change the future.
If he succeeded, then no matter what changes the future might bring, he would at least have a chance to escape that damned Golden Throne and its endless torment.
Its secondary value was this:
Macragge, especially Macragge in this era, was a relatively peaceful world.
From this moment onward, until the end of the Great Crusade, Macragge and the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar over which it would preside would remain among the few places of tranquility in the entire galaxy.
Even during the Horus Heresy, Macragge was one of the relatively stable places in a galaxy engulfed by chaos…
despite the occasional disturbances from Konrad and Lion.
As long as his luck wasn’t exceptionally bad, Klein could live in peace for at least a few decades, without worrying about returning to the Golden Throne.
Whoever wanted to go back to that Golden Throne could go.
Whoever wanted to go to that Terra could go.
Neither could compare to Macragge, as far as he was concerned.
Right now, he was going to enjoy himself in Macragge.
At this thought, Klein’s mood brightened somewhat.
He reached out and continued flipping through the scholar’s notes.
As he read on, he came to understand this scholar of Macragge better and better.
He was a teacher at Macragge National Grammar Academy, skilled in linguistics, literature, and history.
In just five years of teaching, he had made a name for himself within Macragge City as a grammar instructor, hailed as a rising star in academic circles.
As Klein absorbed the scholar’s past, he also acquired a portion of his abilities.
He began to grasp the history of Macragge itself, to understand Macragge’s poetry and drama, and to gain familiarity with Macragge’s language and grammar.
He could even read the cuneiform script of ancient Macragge at a basic level and roughly recount the languages of Macragge’s barbarian tribes.
Based on Klein’s experience, as time passed and he spent longer in this scholar’s body, recalling more and more of the scholar’s memories, he would gradually master all of the scholar’s skills.
Just as he had learned the forest hunter’s hunting skills, and the diviner’s psychic abilities and Emperor’s Tarot skills.
Suddenly, Klein turned to a bundle of papers tucked into the journal…
He pulled the stack of papers from the journal and was somewhat surprised to discover that they were all IOUs.
On the rough, yellowed paper were written the sums the scholar had borrowed, the scholar’s signature, and the seal of the temple that had lent him the money.
And the amounts borrowed had grown larger and larger.
From a mere six denarii, to twelve denarii, fifty-four denarii, three hundred and ninety-six denarii…
the largest IOU was from last night, incurred just before Klein entered his body, a full one thousand two hundred and ninety-six denarii…
The scholar’s annual income was no more than three hundred-odd denarii, yet the debts on these IOUs, combined, amounted to at least over four thousand denarii.
Even if the scholar neither ate nor drank, it would take him ten years to pay it off.
And as for his current savings…
the few coins Klein had just fished out were the entirety of them.
Had he gone mad?
How exactly had he racked up this debt?
Back in the day, when the Emperor took out his loan from the Warp to forge the Primarchs, even He came up half a Primarch short.
But what the scholar owed here was over a dozen times his annual income!
Fragments of memories began to surface in Klein’s mind: shaking dice cups, the laughter of men and women, the light buzz of alcohol, the heart-pounding thrill.
Klein rubbed his brow.
He remembered now.
Not long ago, this scholar had fallen into gambling, and in the span of just a few months, had accumulated this staggering amount of debt.
With so much debt, should he find a way to repay the money?
Klein muttered inwardly to himself…
There was no way he could possibly repay the money, he thought.
Putting aside the fact that Klein’s only marketable skill was street fortune-telling, his current identity alone settled the matter.
He had transmigrated into the Emperor.
And the Emperor’s credit, as one of the galaxy’s Four Great Swindlers…
not even the most desperate moneylender on Macragge would extend him a single denarius.
If Klein repaid the money, wouldn’t he be damaging the Emperor’s credibility?
As expected, the way to go was to run.
Macragge was a mountainous planet.
He could just pick any forest, rely on his hunting skills, and live a comfortable life.
After all, the forest where the forest hunter once lived was crawling with bizarre and terrifying beasts and giant monsters, yet Klein had survived for months on hunting skills alone there.
In comparison, Macragge was heaven.
The only problem was: if he wasn’t in Macragge City, how was he supposed to make contact with Roboute Guilliman, and change the fate of the Horus Heresy?
Klein flipped through the IOUs one by one and felt beneath them.
A letter was pressed underneath.
The envelope had been opened long ago.
The wax seal at the flap was a little loose, but the flap itself was neatly folded, as if the scholar treasured this letter.
Klein opened the envelope and pulled out the letter inside…
“Abas, steward of the House of Guilliman, sends greetings to the esteemed Scholar Klein.
“Your outstanding performance in the assessments left a deep impression on my master.
He invites you, along with the other equally exceptional teachers, to visit his estate on the twenty-second day of March…”
Before Klein could finish reading the letter, a sudden knock at the door rang out, making him turn his head to look at the door.
At the same time, he noticed a ray of sunlight streaming through the narrow window into the room.
Two of the four moons had completely vanished from sight, and the remaining two hung low on the horizon.
Day had broken.
The knocking grew more urgent; whoever was outside seemed to be growing impatient.
(Translated by yourtl.app)