"Roboute, it's time for you to go to school." Caelan, spoke up suddenly during dinner.
Konor and Euten both stopped, knives and forks in hand, clearly unprepared for Caelan,'s suggestion.
Euten asked hesitantly, "So suddenly?"
Caelan explained, "He's three years old now. Other Primarchs had already achieved great things by age three. This is already slow."
Euten nodded, "I'll enroll him in the elementary school tomorrow."
Caelan shook his head. "No, not elementary school. Rhetoric school."
Macragge's education system followed the same lineage as ancient Rome.
Before age seven, education was primarily at home. From ages seven to twelve, children attended elementary school to learn basic literacy and writing.
From twelve to sixteen, they attended grammar school to study literature and history.
From sixteen onward, they attended rhetoric school to study advanced debate and political philosophy.
At three years old, Guilliman was indistinguishable from an adult in both physique and mind. Sending him to elementary school would be bullying the younger children.
Winning would be embarrassing, too.
"But he's still a child!"
"He's a Primarch. You can't treat him like an ordinary mortal child."
"Konor, what do you think?"
As Euten and Caelan, argued, Konor, innocently caught in the crossfire, still had his wine glass raised mid-air.
Konor thought for a moment. "I also believe Roboute should go to rhetoric school."
Euten frowned with concern. "Sending him to rhetoric school at age three... how will the other children treat him?"
"Tarasha, if he's still in elementary school at age three, how will the other children treat him?"
Whether a three-year-old adult attended elementary school with a bunch of toddlers or attended university with a bunch of teenagers, he would stand out like a crane among chickens, feeling alienated.
No matter where Roboute went, he would be the subject of gossip, ostracised as an outsider.
Euten's fear was precisely that Roboute would be treated like a monster by others.
"Can't he just not go?" Euten's napkin was crumpled tightly in her palm.
Caelan, turned to her. "He has to go out and gain experience eventually. Would you prefer his first experience to be on a battlefield, or at school?"
Since returning to the domus from the forest, Guilliman had rarely gone out, except for occasional family hunts on the city's outskirts.
Guilliman was patient. He spent his days in the library, among the towering bookshelves.
Like all his brothers, he had been voraciously absorbing knowledge from a young age.
In terms of knowledge, he needed no instruction.
Every Primarch was a true genius. He could memorise the contents of books effortlessly. He was already well-versed in both ancient and modern learning.
Though he still indulged his parents, listening attentively and remembering whatever they taught him...
He couldn't spend his entire life inside this small domus, even if it spanned tens of thousands of square metres.
He would eventually have to leave his parents and see the outside world.
Euten's gaze lingered on the boy's face, caught between youth and maturity, her eyes filled with a complex, unguarded emotion.
"Roboute, you've grown up. This decision is yours to make."
Roboute raised his head, his azure eyes meeting his mother's. "Mother, please allow me to enter rhetoric school!"
Caelan's feelings were conflicted, too.
He yearned to give the Primarchs a complete childhood, but Primarchs grew far faster than ordinary people.
Compared to other Primarchs, Guilliman's childhood had already been quite full.
Sending a three-year-old Primarch to elementary school was more absurd than forcing an adult to spend significant time in kindergarten for basic education.
It wouldn't give the Primarch a happy childhood; it would be a form of restraint.
Primarchs were born different. Their talents and potential far exceeded ordinary people.
Forcing a Primarch into the mold of a mortal's growth trajectory would only suppress them. Allowing them to fully unleash their potential was the truly responsible course of action.
Caelan, had taught fourteen Primarchs. Half a century of experience had given him profound insight.
The essence of emotion lies not in the length of time, but in meeting the right person at the right time.
A love-struck man might pursue a goddess for ten years, only for her to remain indifferent.
But if two hearts beat as one, they can become inseparable instantly.
Before adulthood, a mortal's mental development is not yet mature. They are still slowly forming a basic understanding of the world, lacking deeper comprehension.
And different generations have different value orientations and ways of thinking.
Thus, when an adolescent's gradually forming worldview significantly clashes with their parents' values, it often triggers the so-called rebellious phase.
Primarchs, however, race through their developmental years at an astonishing speed. They are not without childhood; their childhood is simply accelerated.
They also have a rebellious phase, but it comes and goes quickly.
Because their minds develop to maturity quickly. They understand that yelling and screaming at their parents would only cause both parties pain.
But this does not mean their perception of love becomes shallower.
On the contrary, their love is more refined. They are more capable than mortals of understanding and accommodating their parents.
Guilliman is only three years old, yet he already possesses a self-consistent worldview system.
A mortal's adolescence is precisely about the long accumulation of building their worldview. Making a Primarch repeat this process is pointless.
A poor child becomes the head of the household early. The logic of development is essentially the same.
Without the protection of an ivory tower, the hardships of life force them to mature, and their childhood is cruelly compressed accordingly.
In contrast, university students from peaceful generations may have higher IQs, broader perspectives, and brighter prospects, but they are generally less mature mentally than children from impoverished backgrounds.
They need to leave the ivory tower, be tempered by society, experience the weight of hardship, before their minds can gradually mature.
But there are also cases of thirty-year-old 'girls' being bullied by eight-year-old 'boys', or people in their fifties throwing tantrums in public like children.
These people are particularly immature mentally.
The more peaceful the era, the more such people exist. It's caused by being in a sheltered environment.
Primarchs are another extreme. They know too much, mature too quickly, and have almost no opportunity for childishness.
In just three years, a Primarch grows from an infant in swaddling to a young adult. Yet their understanding of emotion runs far deeper than a mortal's eighteen years.
"Then go."
Euten gazed into Guilliman's eyes, a smile blending disappointment and relief. "But remember, no matter where you go, this will always be your home. Your family will always be here waiting for you."
Caelan said, "Tarasha, Guilliman is just going to school, not embarking on a long journey."
Konor nodded, "The rhetoric school is in the city center, barely a twenty-minute walk. If you truly miss him, you can visit anytime. Though, I'd advise against it. Children need to learn independence."
Tarasha shot them both a fierce glare. 'You two know so much, don't you?'
Guilliman's gaze fell upon the faces of his three loved ones, a warmth surging in his heart. "I am favoured by fate."
He had three fathers and one mother.
His mother feared him the most, yet doted on him the most.
Among his three fathers, one was his biological father, whom he had never met.
His adoptive father also gave him unreserved love, teaching him reason and politics.
His godfather was more accustomed to silent company and patient instruction, guiding him when he was lost.
Apart from his biological father, the other three held immense significance in his life.
Caelan said, "Roboute, you should understand that my reason for sending you to rhetoric school isn't for study."
Guilliman nodded gently. He had already learned from books everything the school could teach, and more.
"What you need to learn is unity."
"The students at rhetoric school are all children of nobles. Your classmates will be the future Consuls, generals, and senators of Macragge. And you must make them follow you willingly!"
At his age, some Primarchs had already conquered entire worlds.
But Guilliman would not compare himself to his brothers. He had his own rhythm.
When he graduated from rhetoric school, he would begin his true journey.
Guilliman believed it wouldn't take too long.
....
That night, Guilliman climbed onto the domus's roof, alone, to gaze at the stars.
It was a habit he had developed as a child.
Whenever night fell, those twinkling stars seemed to whisper to him, telling him he didn't belong to Macragge.
He came from among the stars.
"Where is Terra, Father?"
His voice was very soft, almost lost in the night sky.
Guilliman didn't turn around to check, but he knew Caelan, was there with him.
He was always there.
Caelan's gaze swept past Guilliman's shoulder into the starry sky. "To be honest, I don't know Terra's exact location either."
"Why?" Caelan's answer made Guilliman's eyes widen slightly, his voice full of confusion.
"Because I've never deliberately looked for it."
"But it is your homeland."
"Macragge is also my homeland." Caelan, smiled. "Nostramo, Colchis, Fenris, Nuceria, Barbarus, Chogoris, Baal, Nocturne, Olympia, Inwit, every Primarch's homeworld is also my homeworld."
Caelan, paused, his tone clearly teasing. "Unless you all think I'm too much trouble and plan to kick me out."
"I've never had much attachment to a place. I can settle down wherever I go."
"Terra these days truly has nothing worth remembering for me. It feels utterly foreign to the world in my memory."
"Back on Terra, I worked as a construction worker for five whole years, helping your father build the Imperial Palace."
"It's ridiculous to say, but your father knew I was on the work site, yet he still made me do hard labour for five years, eating corpse starch the whole time."
Guilliman listened quietly, without speaking.
Caelan, looked into Guilliman's eyes. "Disappointed?"
Guilliman shook his head gently. "Just a little surprised. You've never mentioned these past events to me before."
"I didn't think the time was ripe before."
"And now?"
A smile played on Caelan,'s lips. "Now you are mature enough to be exposed to the truth."
Guilliman pondered for a moment, then asked the question that had been lingering in his mind for so long, "Why did you travel tens of thousands of light-years to find me and my brothers?"
He was not the first Primarch to return, yet he selfishly placed himself at the front.
Father told him that everyone has selfish motives, and Primarchs are no exception.
Having selfish motives proves he is human.
"Why do people live?" Caelan, looked up at the brilliant stars, answering his own question. "Because they fear death."
"But what is more terrible than death is living a muddled, mediocre existence."
"It's ridiculous to say, but though I am mortal, I consider myself extraordinary, unwilling to be grouped with ordinary mortals."
"When I first arrived on Terra, I was full of ambition, believing I could change the entire world by myself."
"Even the five years of gruelling work on the construction site couldn't extinguish that spirit."
"But deep down, I knew I couldn't change the world. I had no power. I couldn't do anything."
"But I could change those who truly could change the world, you."
"To me, you are the meaning of my existence. The achievements and honours you attain will prove that my life holds value worthy of praise."
Caelan, paused briefly. "If I can complete your education, then even if I die, it will have been worth it!"
Guilliman asked, worried, "Can you die?"
Caelan, smiled gently. "Don't worry. It's just an exaggerated metaphor."
"Your father made me a psyker and also made me a perpetual."
"So many years have passed, and my appearance has never aged. It won't be easy for me to die."
"Besides, I want to watch you grow up, watch you achieve your ideals. I wouldn't want to leave before that."
"As long as none of you find me a nuisance, I'll always be here."
"I don't think any of my brothers would find our father a nuisance."
"I don't think so either."
If there were, that brother would have forgotten his roots.
Such an ungrateful person would have let down his father's teachings and would surely be met with a heavy fist from his other brothers.
And his biological father... making Father work on a construction site for five years... how could he bear it?
He would remember this.
Not just him; his other brothers were probably secretly noting it down too.
Father clearly complained about this period. He wasn't petty, but he had his own feelings.
His other brothers likely also heard Father's lingering dissatisfaction with those five years of construction work. Their dissatisfaction with their biological father would only grow with each passing day.
Although, in Caelan,'s life, those five years of construction work represented less than one-tenth of his life, and the proportion would only shrink in the future...
The days of plastering and hauling concrete are always so unforgettable, even worse than his days in the underhive.
In the underhive, Caelan, had Curze for company.
Caelan, could see the children gradually escaping the darkness thanks to his education. Every day, he witnessed the germination of hope.
Those children had light in their eyes, assuring him that his efforts were meaningful.
But on the construction site, there was only mindless, repetitive labour, eating unpalatable corpse starch, and the numb gazes of the workers around him.
Knowing what the future held, yet being utterly powerless to stop it, that sense of helplessness was suffocating.
He could see no hope at all back then. He could only pin his hopes on the 'patch ahead of the game' God-Emperor's protection.
Now, every day, Caelan, quietly watches over the Primarchs, witnessing them grow sturdy like seedlings.
Those future scenes that once existed only in dreams are now gradually becoming clear.
This sense of achievement is unparalleled.
Guilliman asked softly, "Father, if we win one day, what will you do?"
"Maybe I'll go back to live on Terra."
Caelan said, "If we win, your father will surely reshape the cradle of humanity and turn Terra back into a beautiful world!"
"The Primarchs' homeworlds are also very nice, but choosing to live on any one Primarch's homeworld would be unfair to the others."
"It would be better for everyone to live on Terra. The Emperor would surely reserve places for us in his palace."
"If that day truly comes, humanity must have entered a new Golden Age. It will surely be a wonderful era!"
In fact, during the late Great Crusade, Neoth had already begun implementing Terra's reconstruction plan.
One purpose of Rogal Dorn's return to Terra, besides reinforcing its defences, was to oversee Terra's construction and revival.
Dorn poured immense enthusiasm into this work. He not only formulated detailed construction plans but also requisitioned vast quantities of precious building materials and advanced equipment, aiming to slowly restore Terra's former beauty.
However, with the sudden outbreak of the Horus Heresy, these beautiful visions had to be shelved.
Dorn was forced to seal away all those materials intended for construction and devote all his energy to military matters.
Guilliman's gaze was resolute. "That day will come. I promise you."
Caelan, smiled contentedly. "I will be waiting eagerly."
In 40K, the most reassuring Primarch was Guilliman, even more so than Sanguinius.
Sanguinius's weakness was his sons. But the complete version of Guilliman had no weaknesses. Even Lady Euten's death would not shake his resolve.
Guilliman's talent in management and politics made people believe that even in the darkest era, he could bring the Imperium back to life.
Even if that Crusade was the Imperium of Man's last dance, perhaps even humanity's swan song...
Under Guilliman's strategic direction, the moribund Imperium still displayed astonishing vitality!
Even the most pessimistic began to believe that the Primarch could make the dying giant of the Imperium undergo nirvana and rebirth.
Among all the Primarchs, only Guilliman could instill in people a belief called hope!
"Roboute! Caelan! What are you two doing on the roof?"
Lady Euten's voice came from the garden. She stood with her hands on her hips, looking up angrily at the two on the roof.
Caelan, sighed helplessly. "We're coming down."
"No." Lady Euten interrupted him. "Carry me up."
Caelan, thought he must have misheard.
Euten raised her chin. "What, can't I look at the stars?"
"Fine."
Caelan, chuckled helplessly and raised his hand.
Psychic energy lifted Lady Euten's body, her skirts fluttering gently in the air, as she landed steadily on the roof tiles.
The night wind brushed through her hair. She gazed up at the countless stars, the sternness in her eyes slowly melting away.
"Roboute," she called her adopted son's name, "Perhaps I don't express it well, but... I love you."
Guilliman leaned down slightly and replied gently, "Yes, I love you too. Mother. And Father."
.....
30 Chapters [email protected]/DaoistJinzu