Chapter 202: Guess Who We Didn't Invite?
Temporarily burying Horus's pointless curiosity and probing under the deep shadows of the Endurance, Mortarion, for once, felt a rare sense of ease.
He was never one who excelled at or even enjoyed conversation; in front of those who wielded words like weapons, Mortarion had to tread carefully, measuring each phrase with precision.
That overly enthusiastic "brother" had finally left—but only for now.
Mortarion knew that sooner or later, he would have to face all his brothers.
The Reaper silently sharpened his scythe, counting the names in his heart.
The rasping breath beneath his gas mask echoed softly. There were still matters to address within the Death Guard.
In the conference room, Garro stood in silence, with Vorx beside him.
Mortarion sat in his chair, staring at the black screen, patiently waiting.
The door to the room opened. Branka walked in, the usual roguishness gone from the veteran's face as he solemnly gave the Aquila salute.
"Come in."
Mortarion's voice rasped as he spoke. Branka strode over to stand behind Garro and began his report.
"Hades is still in the medical room, and Apothecary Leo is forcing him to undergo further examination. He can't leave at the moment."
Mortarion nodded silently.
"Speak freely."
Every Primarch shared a mental and spiritual connection with their sons. For Mortarion, it was a strange sensation—like standing in a field, gazing at a single cloud on the horizon. It was a vague, indistinct premonition. By observing that cloud, he could guess whether it would bring a torrential downpour or a sky of endless blue.
Mortarion could feel Garro and the others' emotions. On the hardened edge of the altered, battle-forged souls of these Astartes, a faint, hazy trace of fear had once lingered.
And at the edge of Mortarion's own awareness—had he, too, once felt fear?
"Lord Primarch, we wish to inquire about Captain Hades's condition and formally request certain precautionary measures."
Garro's voice finally rang out, calm and even, just as it always did when he reported to Mortarion.
No matter the state of the battlefield, this captain never let emotion color his words—for fear that it might distort the Primarch's judgment.
Mortarion silently stared at the three warriors before him.
Though he rarely visited the region where the Seventh Company had once been stationed, he knew these three had long been close to Hades and were trusted by him.
Vorx, especially, had been "accidentally" brought up multiple times by Hades, as if trying to draw Mortarion's attention to him.
Hades trusted them. Mortarion knew that.
But as for Garro and the others… Mortarion still needed to be sure.
Because now, they stood before him, proposing restrictions—on Hades.
"As for the matter of Hades's condition, you could have gone to him directly. He would have given you a far more detailed and straightforward answer."
"And as for your second point—your reason?"
"Precaution? Precaution against a Death Guard?"
"This kind of behavior… makes it difficult not to question your motives. Is it because Hades has been transferred around the Legion too frequently?"
Mortarion fixed his gaze on Garro, waiting for his reply. The former Dusk Raider stood tall and unmoving, unfazed.
To Mortarion's surprise, it was Vorx who stepped forward.
In Mortarion's mind, this Barbarus-born son had always been a gentle presence and was perhaps too cautious, even. That was Mortarion's assessment of him: beneath Vorx's mild exterior lay a mind that was exceptionally cautious and perceptive.
Mortarion still wasn't sure whether Hades had truly been fooled by the boy's outward demeanor when he recommended Vorx, or if he had seen through to Vorx's true nature and because of that made the recommendation.
Mortarion leaned toward the former.
Which made Vorx's decision to speak all the more unexpected. Vorx drew in a deep breath.
"Father, I mean no offense."
"You may speak freely. I permit it."
"I have long benefited from Lord Hades's care, and I deeply respect his strength. In my opinion, Lord Hades ranks among the Death Guard's finest—whether in politics, in battle, or in the forge. We have no doubts whatsoever regarding the responsibilities entrusted to him."
"I truly believe that Lord Hades is willing to defend the honor of the Death Guard."
"In my time spent around Lord Hades, I've come to believe that he may underestimate the uniqueness of his own abilities. To the Death Guard, Lord Hades is the sharpest blade in our arsenal—but even the sharpest blade must be carefully sheathed when not in use, or it may accidentally harm its wielder."
"I believe that if an accident were to happen—if Lord Hades were to unintentionally bring harm to the Death Guard—that would be the last thing he would ever want."
Vorx chose his words with care.
Garro and Branka, due to their roles, were not well-suited to say such things—so he had taken it upon himself to do so.
Mortarion was silent, chewing over Vorx's words.
They did not seem forced or disingenuous—this truly seemed to be what Vorx believed.
Within the Death Guard, Mortarion certainly trusted Hades. But what about the others? After what they had seen… how many could still truly accept him?
Garro knew that after that campaign, many of the survivors from the secondary battlefield had gone to confide in the Grave Warden.
What surprised him was that it wasn't the flesh-warping horror that disturbed them most—it was Hades's Black Domain that unsettled them to their core.
Branka was one of the few who managed to quickly adapt and come to terms with it.
Untouchables were a kind of curse—born to be shunned and feared. Some would even try to kill them on sight. And in front of Hades's Black Domain, which far surpassed that of ordinary Untouchables, there was no resisting that soul-deep tremor of dread.
Even Korklan and Jin, who frequently dealt with Untouchables, could barely manage normal communication when facing a heavily diluted version of Hades's Black Domain.
This plea from Garro's group had two purposes: to make Mortarion take the issue seriously—and to soothe their own unease, unease that they had tried to ignore until now.
After a stretch of silence from everyone present, Mortarion fixed his gaze on Vorx and finally spoke.
"I understand."
The Primarch tapped impatiently on the armrest of his chair.
What Vorx said was not wrong.
Mortarion understood Garro and the others' concerns—Hades's abilities were too unusual.
It reminded Mortarion of something his adoptive father once said: any power that people cannot comprehend will be labeled as sorcery, and sorcerers will be burned by those gripped by fear.
What Mortarion hadn't expected was that, after slaying countless psykers over the years, Hades would be the one pushed into that role.
"Then tell me, how do you propose to prevent it?"
Silence once again fell over the room. Garro's group stood firm but said nothing. Mortarion took a deep breath.
"You come to me with a warning, yet you have no method of prevention?"
For once, Garro's voice sounded strained.
"We thought… you might have insight in this matter."
"Get out."
Mortarion's voice was tinged with anger.
He had already begun wrestling with this issue internally—only to have Garro come and tell him they had no solution either?
"If you really want advice, then come back once you've thought it through."
"For now, I suggest you reflect on the boldness of your suggestion."
"…"
"We apologize, my lord. We've overstepped."
Garro finally spoke, then led the other two out. But this time, they didn't walk with the same firm resolve they had when they first entered.
Just before the door fully closed, Mortarion spoke again.
"If you truly want actionable measures—then go ask Hades."
"Report the outcome of your conversation to me."
The door shut with a click.
Mortarion stared at the screen in the conference room with growing impatience.
This entire ordeal had been a farce.
In the end, even the Primarch decided to leave.
As he casually turned on the monitor, Hades's furious voice immediately blared through.
"Stop shoving that meat paste in my damn face!"
The video feed had audio, of course—but those words were absolutely unfit for playback in front of Horus.
The Death Guard, at the very least, had to maintain some semblance of decorum in front of the other Legions.
Mortarion idly watched for a while.
This foul-mouthed Hades clearly had no idea what the people around him had just done behind his back.
Then Mortarion stood up and left too, leaving behind an empty conference room, with only the sound of Hades talking to himself echoing from the video.
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