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"You're not angry? Horus?"
Horus looked at him calmly. "Why would I be angry?"
"Do you think," he paused, "I should be furious that they set up a separate regi — or that Lion took over the Warmaster title that once belonged only to ?"
Karen nodded honestly. "Uh. Normally? Both."
He'd been half-expecting the forr Warmaster to smash a few steel plates after hearing all that. So kind of outlet. Sothing.
Horus just shook his head.
"If you swapped Roboute for , I would have done the sa. With Terra out of contact and Father's fate unknown, re-establishing a governnt was the most rational, most reliable way to preserve the Imperium of Man."
Then, rare enough to be remarkable, the Lupercal cracked a joke about his brother.
"Honestly, I'd wager that kid Roboute had wanted to do this for a long ti. Back during the Great Crusade, he was already absurdly protective of his Five Hundred Worlds. But in all fairness — when it cos to infrastructure and administrative command, I do admire him."
"And the Warmaster?" Karen kept probing at the edge of danger. "Lion took your title. You really don't feel the slightest bit sick about it?"
"Warmaster..."
The easy expression on Horus's face faded at the word.
He didn't get angry. He just pulled out a tired, bitter smile.
"Karen, I gave everything I had back then because I didn't want to disappoint Father. The Warmaster title was just a byproduct of that road."
"I admit, in the early years I did care about the position. Even a Primarch finds it hard to refuse that kind of glory and renown."
"But once I truly sat in that seat, I found..." Horus looked down at his own broad palms, sothing hollow in his voice. "My relationships with my brothers deteriorated. Visibly. Maintaining what little fragile brotherhood we had during the Great Crusade was already hard enough. After I beca Warmaster, it beca a complete ss."
Karen, as a working adult who had been thoroughly beaten down by office politics, felt that one in his chest.
He couldn't help himself.
"I get it. Lonely at the top."
"When you sit in that position, you're no longer just Horus. You beco a political symbol. You have to weigh every interest, and you can never again act on pure personal feeling the way you used to."
Horus went still. A rare look of surprise surfaced in his eyes.
He studied the mortal in front of him for a long mont.
"Right to the point, my friend. That is exactly how it is."
Karen glanced at the ti on his system panel, patted his backside, and stood up.
"Alright. Story ti's over. Our top priority right now is hitting the Black Market and getting you registered."
He looked Horus up and down, taking in the terrifying three-ter-plus fra, and stroked his chin.
"The only legal identity that fits your build is probably a special Ogryn. You know — the sub-human strain. Low intelligence, massive physique." He paused. "My Lord Lupercal."
Karen bit down on a laugh.
"Throne above..." Horus's face went dark instantly. "I'd rather pass as an Astartes! Even so common mutant would do!"
"An Ogryn? That's degrading beyond asure! You want drooling all day like an idiot?"
The forr Warmaster of the Imperium looked like he'd been personally insulted by the universe.
"No choice!" Karen spread his hands. "As long as we survive, what's wrong with playing a big dummy?"
Horus glared at him. His chest rose and fell, hard, twice.
But he couldn't argue with it. In this damned 41st millennium, an identity-less, unregistered Primarch really did have to hold his nose and accept it.
-----------
A few hours later, the two of them slipped into the local Hive City Black Market under that hooded invisibility cloak.
With a few forged docunts from the system, they walked out with legal identity cards without too much trouble.
Horus turned the worn chip over in his hand. "Special-Type Ogryn Auxiliary Force." He was quiet for a mont.
"What are your plans next, my friend?"
That "my friend" made Karen pause. He shook it off and lowered his voice.
"Let's move. There's a tavern I know. Too many eyes here."
"Fine."
The tavern was loud and packed, thick with the sll of the cheapest synthetic alcohol available. Desperadoes and scavengers drank hard, sang loud, and cursed this rotten world with every profanity they knew. The noise was perfect cover.
They found the darkest corner and ordered two barely palatable servings of food and drink.
"Now that you've got the Ogryn shell, you can sign up for the Astra Militarum with ." Karen tore off a bite of hardened jerky. "Great Crusade terminology: the Imperialis Auxilia."
"Then we can leave this broken planet with full authorization." He took a sip of the low-grade booze and coughed twice from the burn.
"If I'm reading this right, the recruits will most likely be sent to Cadia. The fortress world at the gate of the Eye of Terror. The Imperium's most critical frontline."
Long before Horus had been pulled through, Karen had confird the tistamp from the system.
M41, 997.
Less than 2 years before the Despoiler, Chaos Warmaster Abaddon, launched the 13th Black Crusade.
The planet they were on sat extrely close to Cadia. A single short Warp jump would get them there.
Karen's original plan had been simple: lay low until Cadia, wait for the planet to fall into chaos, then cling to Archmagos Cawl's coattails and hitch a ride all the way to Macragge.
His one problem had been the obvious one: what qualifications did a re mortal have to buy into a ga that high-stakes?
Now there was a living, breathing Primarch sitting right next to him.
He could already picture the expressions on Cawl's group when they saw an uncorrupted Horus. The sheer, world-shattering look on their faces.
"What's on Cadia?" Horus asked.
"Nothing too dramatic." Karen grinned. "Just that you'll get to see your once most beloved First Captain. Abaddon."
"Ezekyle..."
Horus lifted his cup. His expression was unreadable.
He had seen the history Karen had shown him. Ten thousand years on, his proudest son had beco the Chaos Warmaster of the Black Legion, the Imperium's greatest cancer.
"According to the historical tiline, he destroys Cadia." Karen kept his voice low. "We have to be there. With luck, we board a ship belonging to an Adeptus chanicus Archmagos and head straight for Macragge."
"There, you'll witness Guilliman wake up. After ten thousand years of sleep. That sa Archmagos happens to carry the equipnt capable of resurrecting the Lord of Ultramar."
Karen held Horus's gaze. "My plan is to bring you to the revived Guilliman and have him vouch for you, the number-one arch-traitor in Imperial history. Then we follow him all the way back to Terra, stand before the Emperor, and let the Emperor clear your na."
"I know how this sounds. Insane. Unscientific. It spits in the face of every prophecy and fate ever written, it's basically absurdity holding the door open for more absurdity." Karen raised his cup. "But I'm asking you to trust , Lupercal."
He couldn't exactly lay his cards on the table and admit he was a transmigrator running off a script and exploiting the tiline's bugs. Even if he did spill everything, Horus would probably just think he'd lost his mind.
Horus listened without interrupting.
Then he picked up his cup of murky, low-grade alcohol and touched it gently against Karen's.
"I trust you, my friend. If it is truly as you say, if I can see my father one more ti..."
The Lupercal spoke each word slowly, deliberately. Sothing ignited deep in his eyes, like a galaxy of sparks catching all at once.
"Then I can die without regret."
➤ Next: Found an Angel, But Why Is It a Fallen Angel?
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