Roboute Guilliman settled heavily into his new throne. The Primarch had dispatched all of his attendants and advisors, even sending his Honour Guard to wait outside the sanctum.
The only one that remained now was Gerhard. He had asked to be the last one Guilliman would talk to, as he knew what was going on and had to talk to the Primarch.
One by one, the Primarch spoke with each of the Celestinians, the leaders of the Ultramarines, as well as Yvraine of the Ynnari. Days were spent in deep, earnest conversation.
Guilliman used every ounce of his political acumen to put his guests at ease, drawing as much information from them as possible while carefully concealing his reactions to their words. He thanked each visitor for their insights and their service to the Imperium, all the while assessing them inwardly and presenting whatever aspect of his personality would make them feel sympathetic and open to his cause.
Though he had not shown it, each fresh revelation struck the Primarch like a cannon shell. He was exhausted from staving off bewilderment and horror, hollowed out by pain. Guilliman almost groaned and placed his head in his hands.
Neither of the two said anything. Gerhard looked at the Primarch, and the large man did the same. Gerhard was in his normal state and no longer used his Blank skill.
"There is no need to do that," Gerhard said suddenly.
"I don't understand," Guilliman said.
"That mask you're showing everyone. To make sure that you get as much information as you can, while placating everyone's worries and keeping them sympathetic."
"..."
"It's useless with me, anyway. Seeing the truth through the lies and veils of reality is what I am very good at."
"There is no mask, Lord Gerh--"
"No 'Lord' with me, please. You're a Primarch and one of the few loyal and capable ones. There is no need for you to use a title when talking to me."
"Is that not your title? It would seem that you earned it from what I have seen."
"Heh. You're very good," Gerhard smiled.
He shook his head and then reached out with his hand, holding it before Guilliman. The Primarch didn't know what to make of this.
"Give me your hand. Place it on mine. It will help you deal with the pain."
A lesser man would have narrowed his eyes at Gerhard for knowing something like that. How would he know of the pain he felt?
Guilliman thought about Gerhard's words and his actions so far. After the long fighting, he had taken the time to observe and study Gerhard. He had never seen a 'normal' human who wielded powers that surpassed those of a Space Marine, without the use of the Warp.
And yet, always after a fight, Gerhard had walked through the battlefield and used his powers to help those who still lived and brought them back from the brink of death.
He slowly reached out his gauntlet hand and gently placed it on Gerhard's very small one. Gerhard spoke the skill out loud, for Guilliman's sake.
"Heal."
A bright light shone from Gerhard's palm, and warm light and energy spread from his palm, passing through the powerful armour the Primarch wore and then spread through his body.
The feeling was unlike anything the Lord of Ultramar had ever felt. It was as if he were back on Macragge during his childhood, when his mother reprimanded him or his father smiled in pride.
Gerhard spent a lot of Mana, roughly 78,000 MP, to heal the Primarch. Thankfully, his regeneration allowed him to use the skill over and over again, until Guilliman was fully healed.
What Yvraine had done to him to bring him back had left the Primarch with a constant, gnawing pain that radiated from deep within him. He had suspected that pain would never leave him. And partially, he had been correct.
Yvraine used the power she gained from the Eldari God of the Dead, Ynnead, to kill him fully, while Belisarius Cawl had healed his body and then brought the soul right back to the body.
The problem was that you didn't play with souls just like that. The creation of the Primarchs was the Emperor's greatest work and used the Warp in ways no creation had ever used before; not even the Eldar or the Krorks had been created that way.
What Gerhard had just done was heal that 'misalignment' and the 'patches' and crude work to heal him fully. And when he said "fully heal," Gerhard meant "fully."
His soul and body were now in a state that was at the upper edge of his peak state, as he knew before. But that also had another effect.
The rush of soul healing and the energy flooding his body, mind, and soul affected his emotions, and his inhibitions and controls were overwhelmed in the aftermath.
At last, albeit unwillingly, he allowed a little of his sorrow, trauma and pain to show, and Guilliman let his mask drop with a sigh of relief. Physical pain was now the least of Guilliman's troubles, and the floodgates opened.
"Millennia have passed," he murmured, unsure why he spoke.
He knew he had to vocalise his situation before it drove him mad. Ever since his return, Guilliman had wished for one of his brothers to talk to, more than once. They might have understood him at least. But here he was, speaking what weighed on him, to a man he knew for such a short time, for reasons he didn't understand.
"Thousands of years, and look what has become of them. Of us. Idolism. Ignorance. Suffering and disorder, in the name of a god who never desired the title."
Guilliman shook his head and stood up, pacing across the Chapter Master's sanctum as he gazed at the banners hanging on the western wall. Each banner was as tall as an Imperial Knight, showcasing a cascade of masterfully woven cloth that depicted the glories of the Ultramarines.
The images included slain Xenos beasts, executed heretical despots, worlds they had saved, and others that had to be burned. While the Chapter's proud iconography was luxuriously displayed, so too was the aquila of the Imperium.
"We failed, father," said Guilliman, his words full of sorrow. Who knew who he was truly talking to.
"You failed your sons, and we, in our turn, failed you. In our arrogance and pride, we have failed them all. Did Horus not claim that you sought godhood? He built a rebellion based on that accusation? How he would gloat to see the Imperium now!"
Anger surged through the Lord of Ultramar, and he clenched his fists, struggling to restrain himself.
"What are you waiting for?" Gerhard asked.
Guilliman turned around and looked at the individual who seemed to be overlaid by another face.
"Let go. There is no need with me. I already told you. You are also allowed a moment to yourself. To let go of your inhibitions. I can even help you with that," Gerhard said.
He raised his hand.
[Instant Dungeon - Creation]
"This is a separate space. An illusion of reality, if you will. Whatever damage you cause here won't affect the outside. No one can hear you; nothing you do here will get out. So let go, Guilliman. Allow yourself a moment."
Gerhard's words seemed to reach the Primarch and the strange state he was in right now, a metaphysical high of his body and soul coming to alignment and healing, and he was rather open to Gerhard's words.
It was still that his face seemed to overlap with another one.
And so he let go, just for a very, very brief moment. He punched out with his gauntlet fist, destroying the wall, tearing it apart and hurling its wreckage around like a wild beast.
For that single second, one saw just how dangerous and destructive Primarchs could be. The table was reduced to rubble, the walls were broken, the banners ripped apart, and it only took a single second.
...
Suddenly, Guilliman stopped.
"Feeling better?" Gerhard asked.
Roboute looked at all the destruction he caused and sighed.
"Don't worry. Look."
[Instant Dungeon - Escape]
The air shattered, and they returned to reality, where nothing was damaged, and everything looked just as it had a few seconds earlier. Guilliman stared at Gerhard, who didn't say anything and simply waited. This was his moment, and if he wanted anything, Gerhard would give it to him.
Gerhard always knew that the Primarchs could have done with a bit of paternal love and attention. They were still humans, but just juiced up on the Warp. What most people often forget is that they were demigods, and they got their human side from the Emperor.
But their psyches were still human, and if Guilliman didn't take time to process all of this shit, he would suffer in the long run.
Guilliman dared not continue on this destructive path. Although he wrestled with despair, the Primarch understood that he mustn't reveal his weaknesses. Calgar, Tigurius, Agemman, and the others looked at him as if he were the Emperor himself.
Guilliman himself was aware of his symbolic significance and how dire the situation had become. Right now, he had to display nothing but strength to his gene-sons, lest his despair infect their hearts as well.
"And yet, would it really matter?" he sighed, turning his back on the banners and moving across the chamber to look through the stained glass window.
Outside, beyond the war-torn expanse of the Fortress of Hera, Guilliman could imagine the wide bulwark where his old chambers had once been. They had belonged to his father before him. It was there that he had come up with his plans, spoken to his brothers, laughed, fought, and, on one occasion, nearly died.
Now they were gone, buried beneath ugly creations of necessary fortifications and gun batteries. It was fitting, he thought bitterly. Fitting to the situation.
Guilliman's anger and frustration spilt over, and he spun on his heel, staring at the only person in the room, who, for some reason still, overlapped with the image of the Emperor, with accusing eyes.
"Why do I still live?" he shouted. "What more do you want from me? I gave everything I had to you and to them. Look at what they have made of our dream. This bloated, decaying carcass of an Imperium is driven not by reason and hope, but by fear, hatred, and ignorance. It would have been better if we had all burned in the fires of Horus' ambition than to live and witness this."
Gerhard felt the sheer power radiating off the Primarch. It was once again [Gamer's Mind] that prevented him from shitting himself and dying from a heart attack. He didn't say anything, believing that his blessing and the feeling that the Emperor's blessing gave him had to remind Guilliman of his father.
But that wasn't true entirely.
Even as he said it and saw the understanding look in Gerhard's eyes, Guilliman heard the lie in his words.
"No, Guilliman. It is good that you live. Horus' ego allowed things to happen as they did. That and Erebus. That cunt.
Among your brothers, no one was more idealistic than you. No one envisioned a brighter future, not just for Humanity, but also for the warriors of the Legiones Astartes, than you.
I know how you formed and shaped your Legion. You still understand the truth that the Astartes are humans and should be taught to think of the moment after all this fighting. That honours you.
I understand your frustration and the wild emotions you are going through. But you are lying to yourself if you say that it would have been better if Horus had won.
I sense within you a raging flame of hope that has been within you since the very start. The desire to change things for the better, to improve the lives of those under your protection.
Even now, as it seems to be overshadowed by darkness and despair, I sense that flame still burning brightly."
"..."
"Am I wrong? Are you going to drown in despair? Did Horus already win? Did Erebus win? Did your brother Fulgrim win when he cut your throat?"
Guilliman sighed.
'"There is still hope," he told himself as he turned back to the window, placing one armoured hand against it.
He looked out at the work crews labouring to repair the damage caused by the Chaos forces, and he saw the Ultramarines standing proud and determined on the ramparts.
Gerhard stood up and settled beside the Primarch.
"We all have been born into this dark millennium, knowing nothing but hardship, suffering, and the misery of unending conflict. It is normal for us.
Undoubtedly, we humans aren't innocent in the current state of the Imperium.
Yet, despite the countless enemies arrayed against us, we continue to struggle on, unbowed and full of delusion. You have experienced a better age, one filled with hope and triumph.
You have the template of what we could go back to and in time and through hardship... surpass."
'He's right,' Guilliman thought.
What right did he, a superhuman son of the Emperor himself, have to show any less strength and courage than his followers, who had been born into darkness and worked relentlessly to try and make things better?
Guilliman had witnessed Humanity's potential. He was also aware of the impressive advancements that Archmagos Cawl's efforts had yielded beneath the surface of Mars. He believed that a brighter future for the Imperium was still attainable, but only if those who oppressed Mankind were defeated first.
"All of this misery," said Guilliman. "All of this suffering and pain is not caused by Humanity, but by those who have betrayed us. For too long, the pawns of Chaos have dictated the fate of our species. That must come to an end."
Guilliman felt a surge of new strength fill him.
"Weell... that's not entirely true, but true enough, I suppose."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Sigh... Let me tell you about George Vandire and Drakan Vangorich..."