"Brother, you're awake?" Ryan asked, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief, silently wondering how much Sanguinius had seen of their personal moment. Sulia, though also slightly annoyed by the intrusion into her and Ryan's shared intimacy, couldn't help but soften as she took in the angelic image of Sanguinius, his perfect features and serene grace making it difficult for her to harbor any real irritation.
"Yes, I have awakened," Sanguinius replied gently, his spectral form flickering faintly. "I cannot say exactly when I awoke; it was a hazy awareness, an ebbing and flowing sense of warmth that stirred me from the curse of pain."
"Are you well now?" Ryan asked cautiously, inwardly hoping that his recent vulnerabilities hadn't been too obvious to his brother. "How long were you, ah, watching us?"
"Perhaps around the time you started making chocolate," Sanguinius responded with a small smile, though his form shimmered as if speaking required effort. "You've done well, Ryan, to share your heart openly. You should be grateful for a wife like Sulia; her strength and persistence likely helped draw out those thoughts from within you. Without her, you might never have shared them."
Which means he saw everything, Ryan thought ruefully. Gray Knight that he was, Ryan found himself at a rare loss for words under Sanguinius's knowing gaze.
"Don't be so hesitant, brother," Sanguinius observed with gentle chiding. "You always seem so cautious, forever holding back. I may not know you as well as some of our brothers, but it's plain to see you approach things with an excess of concern. Why?"
"I… am lost," Ryan admitted, glancing at Sulia, who offered him a reassuring smile as she wiped away both their tear stains with a handkerchief. "This world, and the future… sometimes it overwhelms me."
"Indeed, I understand. You fear failing, you fear not being enough," Sanguinius said, his warm light illuminating the small room. "You hesitate to act boldly, trying to avoid every potential mistake, as if you're painting a masterpiece but are afraid of making a single stroke out of line."
"Things are complicated; I don't have the luxury of simplicity," Ryan admitted, bowing his head slightly.
"More complicated than when Jonson, Guilliman, and I established the Second Empire?" Sanguinius asked, recalling the distant past with a wistful expression. "You may know how I longed to return to Father's side, to be with him in the shadow of chaos and darkness. But at that time, creating the Imperium Secundus was a necessity, even if the choice was painful. Sometimes, Ryan, we must act and trust our convictions, accepting that perfection may be impossible."
"So… make a choice, and don't regret it?" Ryan asked, intertwining his fingers with Sulia's as she quietly wiped the last of his tears.
"For an empire, no policy is definitively right or wrong; there are only the benefits and drawbacks of the moment," Sanguinius said softly, meeting Ryan's gaze with unwavering kindness. "I once discussed this with the Silent King and came to see the wisdom of his view. There are no 'perfect' structures in the universe—only those that endure, whether they be the Necron dynasties, Father's Imperium, or even Caliban under Jonson."
"When I saw my sons overtaken by the rage and bloodlust, though it pained me, I faced it, knowing that I'd do whatever it took to guide them back to peace," he continued. "And when Ka'Bandha—the Greater Daemon of Khorne—offered to save my sons if I cast myself into the demon furnace, I considered it despite knowing it was a trap. If Melekh hadn't stopped me at the last second…"
Sanguinius's voice trailed off, his expression resolute. "Even knowing I'd likely die in the final battle if I joined Father, I still chose to go. Why? Because my purpose, my ideals, matter more than any individual life. I fight for love, courage, and justice. I am not a pawn, a tool, nor a bargaining chip; I am the Emperor's son, a warrior of light with no regrets. I fight for my beliefs, flaws and all."
"Even knowing we're only tools to him?" Ryan asked.
"If ideals are flawed, then we must work to improve them. If you can't love your father, why would he love you?" Sanguinius's aura filled the room with warmth, his golden light touching Ryan and Sulia's hearts. "We cannot constantly focus on what we're owed. Selfishness has its limits."
"Prophecies aren't always true," Ryan insisted, though Sulia sensed the uncertainty in his voice.
"No, but the future will always present challenges," Sanguinius replied, his form flickering. "In a vision, I saw you and Russ fighting a shadow in a snow-bound fortress surrounded by hundreds of plumes of black smoke, facing an army of Chaos and mortal soldiers. I couldn't see the outcome, but your foe was as powerful as Ka'Bandha."
"Russ? He's probably in the Far East now," Ryan sighed.
"He will return; my prophecies usually begin accurately," Sanguinius assured him, his golden hair now beginning to fade. "I look forward to the day we're together again."
"Brother, give me more time. I'll retrieve the Lexicanum Scroll and bring it to you," Ryan promised.
"Thank you, Ryan," Sanguinius said warmly. "I should be the one thanking you; without you, Father wouldn't have returned, nor would Fulgrim and Angron. I once asked Guilliman and Jonson if we would ever meet again... I lied."
"Brother?" Ryan inquired.
"Don't overburden yourself with my fate," Sanguinius replied, his gentle smile unwavering. "I sense that what you and Fulgrim plan to retrieve is crucial, but the Phoenix Pyramid is fraught with danger. If it proves impossible, don't hesitate to let it go."
"We won't give up," Ryan insisted.
"Trading two for one is not worth it," Sanguinius shook his head. "You're both irreplaceable; Fulgrim is a fine leader, and you, Ryan, are vital. I've survived a thousand years; if it can't be done, don't let it claim you."
"I promise, you and Brother Guilliman and Jonson will reunite," Ryan vowed, steadfast.
"Perhaps we will, or perhaps we won't," Sanguinius murmured, his golden form gradually dissolving into scattered feathers and faint lights. Even as he faded, his calm gaze left a lasting warmth in their hearts.
Ryan added with a forced grin, "If Father could trade Angron and Lorgar to bring you back, he'd do it in a heartbeat."
"Not funny, Ryan," Sanguinius's disembodied voice responded, his tone almost chuckling. "Though somehow, I suspect you're right."
As Sanguinius's presence dissipated, Sulia squeezed Ryan's hand. "My love, what should we do now?"
"Let's head back," Ryan said, nodding. "Let's regroup at the villa and plan our next steps."
"Right."
---
As October drew to a close in Imperial Year 2513, high elf forces gradually began assembling in Lothern, though their numbers fell far short of expectations. Inner Kingdoms had dispatched almost no forces, while Outer Kingdoms like Nagarythe, Chrace, and Cothique had similarly abstained from contributing.
Within the courtyard of the Phoenix Throne, Phoenix King Finuba finally managed to finish preparations for the Isha festival. Summoning his White Lion Captain Kohil, he asked, "What's the situation?"
"Only Lothern's local nobles and forces have responded to the call," Kohil reported, presenting a list. "Troops from Tiranoc and Yvresse have also arrived, but other kingdoms… very few."
"As expected," Finuba took the list. His appointed Warlord had managed to gather around 30,000 troops, while Sea Lord Aislinn had committed 18 battleships and 15 destroyers, the largest fleet possible without compromising northern defenses.
Two dragon ships carrying sun dragons would also join them.
"I will observe the battle myself," Finuba declared, acknowledging the limitations. "But I worry our forces may be insufficient. The undead only grow stronger with each fight; I know them well."
"The Warlord has said he needs the support of at least two of the Inner Kingdoms: Saphery, Caledor, or Avelorn," Kohil informed him. "What's your decision, Majesty?"
Finuba fell silent. The high elves' decentralized power had left military command largely in the hands of local leaders. For the elves, centralization was not simply impractical—it was distrusted.
Elf politics had three primary reasons for resisting central power. First, during the Empire's peak, their culture emphasized democracy and freedom, leading elves to resist centralized or autocratic rule. If not for the Chaos invasions that led to the Phoenix King's creation as a wartime leader, only the Everqueen would serve as a cultural symbol.
Second, the betrayal of the first Phoenix King's son, Malekith, during the Sundering had only reinforced their distrust of centralized power, fearing another usurper could seize control.
If we imagine Ulthuan as a martial arts school, Malekith's repeated challenges meant he'd have to defeat each member individually rather than confronting one leader, a strategy that had foiled him time and time again.
Third, Ulthuan's geography demanded a decentralized
defense. The Annulii mountains allowed Chaos beasts and occasional demonic incursions, creating the need for local armies under each lord's command.
Finuba understood that convincing the local lords of Lothern had been relatively simple since the undead fleet affected everyone's trade. But persuading the inner kingdom lords, who enjoyed relative peace, would be far harder.
"Summon Shaer," Finuba ordered Kohil.
Moments later, a high elf noble entered. Tall and proud, his appearance was tinged with an unusual air of gravity. His aquiline features and silver hair framed an astute gaze. This was Shaer Morlis-Benest, Finuba's newly appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs and trusted advisor.
"You called for me, Majesty?" Shaer bowed respectfully.
"Yes," Finuba nodded, his expression serious. "I have a task for you."
"Please, tell me."
"Meet with a certain someone for me, and find out his thoughts."
_________________________
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