Chapter 62: The Emperor — Horus, Take Him
The agreement between the Word Bearers and the Imperial Fists was, by all accounts—
A success.
Terms were reached.
Compromises made.
And, most importantly—
Assets redistributed.
One of Perturabo's sworn brothers had been formally transferred to the Imperial Fists.
Another—
Was quietly retained by Erebus.
Giving everything away would be wasteful.
Naturally.
Soon after, Erebus returned to the Word Bearers' administrative wing—
And immediately noticed something was wrong.
Three figures stood before him.
Haggard.
Sunken.
Broken.
Erebus narrowed his eyes.
"…What happened to you?"
"Lord Erebus! Lord Lorgar!"
Garrulek rushed forward, voice trembling with emotion.
Even the powder on his face cracked as his expression shifted.
"You have suffered," Erebus said solemnly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"For the Imperium! For the God-Emperor!" Garrulek declared loudly.
Erebus nodded approvingly.
Then—
He asked the most important question.
"…How many documents remain?"
Silence.
A brief—
Very dangerous—
Silence.
"None!" Kor Phaeron answered immediately.
"Everything has been processed."
Ahriman nodded beside him.
Far too quickly.
Erebus studied them.
Then smiled.
"Excellent."
Kor Phaeron exhaled internally.
We live another day.
"By the way," Erebus continued casually, "allow me to introduce someone."
He gestured behind him.
"This is Damikos—Primarch Perturabo's adoptive father."
Kor Phaeron turned.
Damikos stood tall.
Regal.
Even without armor, the bearing of a ruler clung to him.
Kor Phaeron frowned slightly.
Why is a king here?
Damikos, in turn, examined Kor Phaeron.
Why does this man look like death?
Their eyes met.
Understanding passed silently between them.
"…Kor Phaeron."
"…Damikos."
They shook hands.
Both men saw it.
The same truth.
Retirement would be nice.
"Erebus."
A voice cut through the moment.
Erebus turned.
Constantin Valdor stood at the end of the corridor.
"The Emperor summons you."
Erebus smiled.
"Ah."
"Perfect timing."
The Emperor's Chamber
Steam rose from the table.
The scent was… unexpected.
Spiced broth.
Cooked meat.
Vegetables.
Hot pot.
At the table sat three figures.
The Emperor of Mankind.
Malcador the Sigillite.
And—
Oll Persson.
None of them spoke.
Malcador quietly ate.
Oll ate more aggressively.
The Emperor…
Did not touch his bowl.
"…Traitor," Oll muttered between bites.
Before anything else could be said—
"Comrades! Let's eat!"
Erebus entered.
The Emperor's eyelid twitched.
For a brief moment—
He reconsidered everything.
Should I have let him in?
Too late.
Erebus sat down immediately.
Then paused.
"…Where are my utensils?"
No one moved.
So—
He took the Emperor's.
"…Have you used these?" Erebus asked.
"—"
The Emperor did not answer in time.
Erebus had already started eating.
The Emperor's hand twitched.
Calm.
Remain calm.
"Erebus," the Emperor said, voice controlled, "I have summoned you to introduce someone."
Erebus chewed thoughtfully.
"…This sounds dangerous."
"You will have… supervision going forward."
"…That sounds worse."
"Praise the God-Emperor!" Erebus added suddenly.
"Do not speak while eating!" the Emperor snapped.
Silence.
Malcador lowered his gaze.
Oll Persson smirked.
"…Interesting," Oll murmured.
Few people could provoke the Emperor like this.
Fewer survived it.
Moments later—
Erebus was thrown across the room.
Repeatedly.
When he returned—
Slightly swollen.
Mildly resentful.
He sat down again.
"…You hit harder than last time."
The Emperor smiled.
A real smile.
And for a moment—
Malcador froze.
Oll stopped eating.
They had not seen that expression in a long time.
Then it was gone.
"I have made a wager," the Emperor said.
Erebus paused.
"With the gods of the Warp."
"…That already sounds like a terrible decision."
"You are the stake."
Silence.
"…What?"
"You will be tested. Tempted. Pressured."
"…Absolutely not."
"If you fall—"
"I won't."
"If you fall," the Emperor continued calmly, "I lose."
"…And if I don't?"
The Emperor looked at him.
"I win."
A pause.
"…You didn't ask me."
"No."
Erebus stood.
"…I'm leaving."
He turned—
And ran.
The Emperor did not move.
Malcador blinked.
"…You're letting him go?"
The Emperor folded his arms.
"Not exactly."
The Corridor
Erebus burst through the doors—
And collided with something solid.
Very solid.
He fell backward.
"…Watch where you're going!"
The figure before him stood unmoved.
Tall.
Broad.
Wolf pelts draped across his armor.
A topknot rising high above his head.
Golden eyes.
Horus Lupercal.
Erebus blinked.
"…Oh."
Behind him—
The Emperor's voice echoed.
"Horus. Take him."
Horus smiled.
Slowly.
"Understood, Father."
Erebus froze.
"…Wait."
Too late.
End of Chapter
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