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"Imprisonment is a good method."
"Even the Emperor sometimes opts for such more moderate solutions. Do you remember, during the Unification Wars on Holy Terra, some losers would be ordered by the Emperor to be imprisoned somewhere, instead of being directly executed? After all, not everyone is as deserving of death as Bishop Tang or the Blood Priest-King of Morland."
"Even a fellow like Nathan Dum, the Tyrant of the Pacific Empire, the Emperor was willing to let him off."
"I think I should remind you, Bishop Tang, who ruled the Indonesian Federation, was also ordered by the Emperor to be imprisoned. However, he was quickly killed by a fellow inmate in the same cell."
"Indeed, but such spontaneous executions only prove that he truly deserved death, don't they? It's not about law, nor about mercy, but a death sentence delivered through people's hatred and animosity. That is the most just."
"And the most blind. Mortals are always blind. The one who kills him may not be righteous; perhaps it's just the most primal and impulsive personal vendetta."
Ahriman and Phosis were sharing a spacious public area, one of the many libraries on the "Mighty Radiance". Here, Magnus's sons would read classics, work together, or hold less private discussions.
When the Thousand Sons warriors finished their work, their conversations naturally shifted to knowledge and history. This seemed only natural.
Perhaps in the War Hounds Legion, the Emperor's Children Legion, or any other legion, idle time not spent in battle would naturally be squandered in the arena. But at least in the Thousand Sons Legion, such blind exertion of sweat and blood was considered foolish.
The Twelfth Legion was particularly notorious for this. This Astartes Legion, which had not yet welcomed back its Primarch, was personally named "War Hounds" by the Emperor. They took pride in this name and were known among the legions for their ferocious assaults, bloody massacres, and oppressive "Brotherhood." The infamous gladiatorial arena on the War Hounds Legion's flagship was a living material symbol of this legion's culture.
Magnus's sons generally despised the War Hounds Legion's extreme savagery, just as they equally despised the War Hounds' so-called brotherhood: in the eyes of the Thousand Sons Legion, the Twelfth Legion's so-called brotherhood was merely a beautification of their extremely harsh internal regulations, and the various military laws in the War Hounds Legion, which were considered cruel, were precisely to suppress their inherent savagery.
After all, it was well-known that the Twelfth Legion's new recruits were the most wild and aggressive, and their battles usually had only two outcomes: glorious victory and slaughter, or simply slaughter.
It was precisely for this reason that the War Hounds Legion received a low evaluation within the Thousand Sons Legion, ranking only slightly better than the group of madmen in the Sixth Legion who needed the Military Police. As for the infamous gladiatorial arena on their flagship, Magnus's sons naturally held only one attitude.
"Barbarians."
Phosis-T'ka arrogantly perched on his stone seat. A fortress of books and notes was piled beside him, its height even surpassing that of an Astartes. Every page of paper here bore traces of Phosis's perusal and his annotations.
"They are even inferior to the technological barbarians and wasteland despots defeated by the Emperor. At least those who once carved out territories on Holy Terra understood how to collect and utilize knowledge. Therefore, they are warlords, chieftains, figures to be taken seriously and fought against, not ignorant savages like beasts."
"But speaking of this, it's truly regrettable. We actually have to fight alongside such a group of people who completely fail to understand the value of knowledge. Every piece of land conquered by those wolves and dogs will only be left with dust and ruins, even if it once held ten thousand years of wisdom, it will be utterly burned away."
Phosis's voice was filled with annoyance, echoing through the room piled high with books. Ahriman, sitting opposite him, merely quietly savored his wine and reviewed documents, secretly agreeing with his words.
The Thousand Sons Captain even recalled a distant past event: it was at the very beginning of the Great Crusade. To suppress a rebellion on the world of Morlia, Ahriman and his troops once acted as flank guards for the main force of the Sixth Legion. At that time, the so-called "Wolf King" Leman Russ had not yet been found by the Imperium, and it was precisely when the Sixth Legion was at its most depraved and frenzied.
Ahriman personally witnessed how the soldiers of the Sixth Legion carried out indiscriminate massacres within the hive city. Their blades were pointed at everyone around them, whether they were armed rebel soldiers, disarmed enemy prisoners of war, or even unarmed elderly, women, and children. All of them became sword fodder for these out-of-control Angels of Death amidst wails and screams. Ahriman and his squad tried to stop it all, but it was a futile drop in the bucket. Even the Legion Master of the Sixth Legion himself could not prevent all the atrocities from happening.
In the end, Ahriman witnessed the most farcical scene of his half-military life: the remaining rational officers of the Sixth Legion formed a military police force and executed a large number of the Legion's brutes under the charge of "disciplinary misconduct," finally bringing the situation under control.
Astartes... disciplinary misconduct...
From that moment on, Ahriman despised the Sixth Legion from the bottom of his heart.
Even the return of the "Wolf King" Leman Russ did not change this: in Ahriman's eyes, this Primarch from Fenris merely turned the Sixth Legion from a gathering place of madmen into a filthy den of barbarians.
And as the Great Crusade progressed, and joint operations with various legions continued, Ahriman's contemptuous attitude extended from just the Sixth Legion to the Eighth Legion, Twelfth Legion, and Nineteenth Legion. Their achievements and habits might have differed, but they were all groups of savages who had abandoned wisdom and reason.
"The Imperium has too many reckless warriors..."
Ahriman took a sip of wine.
"And conversely, scholars and intellectuals become scarce, because all attention is focused on so-called military victories and glory. The mortals from Terra also used their so-called art and narratives solely for those brutish men. Now even someone like Abaddon can enjoy cheers and giant commemorative statues on hundreds of worlds... This is reality, and it's something that can't be helped."
Phosis snorted lightly. He didn't know if he was mocking the Imperium's current state or agreeing with Ahriman's viewpoint. The master of Librarius Arts lazily extended his hand and picked out an exquisitely packaged ancient book from his collection.
"That's why I'm passionate about history, Ahriman. I'm passionate about stories that happened at the very beginning of the Imperium, or even further back in time, because history is objective, respectable, and impartial. Someone always sweeps away the dust of trivialities and restores its true appearance."
"Take, for example, the Viotia Conflict. I trust you haven't forgotten it, have you?"
Ahriman laughed aloud in response to the question.
"Forget the Legion's first honor? You could try to question my memory in a different way, Phosis."
"Indeed, Ahriman, that was the Legion's first battle of honor. We made the Legion's debut on the Balkan Peninsula. It was the final concluding battle of the Terran Unification Wars and the first campaign of the Great Crusade. We killed the mad king Cadmus, and at the same time ended the Jeseldine family's decades-long rebellion against the Emperor... Our Legion's history books have always recorded it this way, because that is the truth."
"But guess what, a while ago I met a chronicler who had just returned from the Eighth Legion. He told me a huge joke: those executioners of the Eighth Legion actually claimed that their eradication of the Crimson Holdouts was the final battle that pacified Terra. Ha, a mere suppression operation in a hive city, and they dare to make such a big deal out of it."
"They're just a bunch of failures who didn't even participate in the Great Crusade immediately. They were sent to clear out some petty criminals whose spines had already been broken. Only the Eighth Legion would consider such a thing a great achievement."
Ahriman lowered his head and chuckled, then continued his desk work: one hand holding a wine glass, the other reviewing documents.
His work speed was very fast. The superhuman calculation and analysis abilities of an Astartes were fully displayed in Ahriman. Before Phosis could even finish expressing his dissatisfaction, only the last page of the document under Ahriman's arm remained.
He picked it up, a rare look of worry on his face.
"What's wrong, Ahriman?"
The Thousand Sons Captain was silent for a moment before slowly speaking.
"When was the last time you saw Father, Phosis?"
"Eleven Terran Standard Hours ago. If you're looking for him, he should be on the 'Iron Blood' right now, having discussions with Perturabo, the Primarch of the Fourth Legion, along with Atal and Morgana."
"Alright... then, Phosis, can I, as a friend, ask you for a favor related to official business?"
"...Speak directly."
Ahriman sighed.
"Father wants me to serve as the representative for the assigned detachment, leading the Thousand Sons' forces to the Randan front. I hope you can accompany me."
"...Why me?"
"Because... your Librarius Arts will play a very important role in void warfare."
"Ahriman... do you want to rethink what you just said?"
"Uh..."
"..."
"..."
"...Ahriman."
"What's wrong?"
"If you're truly so unpopular that you can't even find someone willing to fight for their life with you, you could actually just say it directly. I won't laugh at you... I'll try not to."
Ahriman was silent for a moment. His already dim complexion seemed to darken a little more.
"...Get lost."
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