Ramses was upset for a while but soon pulled himself back together.
After all, they were adults. Complaining and venting was fine, but brothers were there to listen, and the reality was they were all locked in the same prison together. No one's situation was better than anyone else's.
If he couldn't stabilize himself, dragging the other three down into depression would just ruin everything.
The top priority was figuring out how to survive in this world.
"Ahem, then let's start this Second Empire Representative Assembly under the witness of the Brothers' Chapter."
Romulus, seeing the heavy mood, coughed and broke the silence.
"Why not just call it the Third Empire? Otherwise it sounds like Ramses is an outsider."
Arthur couldn't help but snark.
"Not a bad idea."
"I like it—chomp—hey, why don't we—chomp—make that our Chapter's name too?"
"You just want me to feed you a bolter round."
None of the four had any reverence for the Imperium. To them, it was nothing more than a rotting corpse of sustainability, with an impossible political system inside and Chaos and Tyranids waiting outside.
If not for the countless heroes still dying for humanity's future, and the one stuck on the Golden Throne, the Imperium would have been buried long ago.
If they had to describe the Imperium and this galaxy in one line—
"The Imperium is fermented dung, and the Warp is the toilet. Humanity survives only by feeding on dung."
Arthur's cutting review.
Even without Chaos corruption, the Imperium itself was a broken political entity. It was essentially the Emperor's last-ditch gamble for humanity, forcefully stitched together.
Now the gamble had failed. He sat fused into the Golden Throne, turned into a supreme weapon of state religion. What remained was a headless corpse that only stank more as centuries passed.
"As for the few shining sparks that appear from time to time—pouring a glass of clear water into an ocean of filth doesn't change anything. The whole process is just tragedy."
"And then there are the xenos. As humans we'll never fit in. Orks are a species of pure chaos and laughter. The Eldar are stalked by Slaanesh. Even with all their tech, the Necrons are nothing more than a slave empire."
"Next, the Tau Empire. All I'll say is: I'll wait until I see them for myself. I'm human, not an ethereal. Their existence is nothing more than proof that many of the Imperium's so-called 'necessary evils' are not necessary at all."
"Well said!"
The other three clapped.
"So none of us are holding on to any illusions about this universe."
Ramses let out a genuine sigh of relief. "That makes me glad."
"Since we've abandoned illusions, then there's only struggle left."
Romulus took advantage of the lighter mood to lay out his plan.
"Right now we need to confirm three things—what era and region we're in, what we actually are, and what we plan to do next."
He tossed a data-plug onto the table.
"I found this in the ship's logs. This vessel entered the Warp in 740.M41, Terra calendar July. The location is in the northern part of the Segmentum Ultima, the Pierrede Sector. You might not know that name, but the Ghoul Stars right next to it you definitely do."
"Backwater."
Ramses muttered, and used psychic force to pull a cogitator-servitor closer. Feeding Romulus' data into it, a star map unfolded before them.
"Pierrede Sector, named after Rogue Trader Pierrede of the Great Crusade. It has twelve Imperial worlds. Only the core world, Pierrede, has any value—it's half a Forge World at best. Let's see—"
"We should still be in this sector. I'm transmitting astropathic signals, but waiting for an Imperial reply will take time."
Everyone knew Imperial bureaucracy. Even though their ship carried Deathwatch identification codes, with the bridge smashed off by Ork junk, they'd probably drift a while.
"This ship was responding to Pierrede's call for aid. Supposedly a heretic cult outbreak—almost certainly Chaos. Otherwise they wouldn't have called in Deathwatch and Cadians."
Romulus added.
The others nodded in understanding.
"Then the second issue."
Romulus looked at them.
"What exactly are we?"
"Primaris Astartes?"
Arthur, now aware of the era, glanced down at his Mk.10 armor. It felt out of place.
Abaddon's destruction of Cadia was still three centuries away. If some Mechanicus magos saw a squad of Primaris wandering around now, they'd probably shriek in binary.
"Maybe physically. Or not even that—not entirely. Otherwise I'd have been turned to ash by a hexagrammic ward ages ago."
Ramses gnawed a chicken leg, noticing Arthur still hadn't removed his helmet.
"Why aren't you eating? It's just us here, no need to be so uptight."
"Arthur still doubts our abilities. Even Low Gothic he learned on his own."
Romulus explained, leaving Ramses dumbfounded.
"...Impressive."
When Ramses first discovered his powers, he didn't hesitate to use them. His logic was: they'd already been thrown into the Warhammer universe, hit rock bottom, so everything was up from here. If Tzeentch wanted to toy with him, so be it.
But the more he used them, the stranger it felt.
The Chaos Gods didn't have this level of finesse.
"Good thing. In times like this, Arthur's restraint is admirable. Unlike Karna, who greeted me with two shots the first time."
"I was in a Black Rage state—fine, my bad, sorry."
Romulus glared resentfully at a certain someone who was busy devouring food like he hadn't eaten in eight generations.
"..."
Arthur, embarrassed, didn't know what to say.
Romulus instantly noticed something was off.
"You didn't consider stabbing me too, did you?"
"Uh..."
Arthur stayed silent, choosing his words.
The truth was, yes. At first he suspected Romulus was a Tzeentch daemon sent to trick him. Until Romulus conjured up a squad of Astartes from nowhere, the suspicion barely eased.
If the Emperor hadn't manifested to him, giving him assurance about the absence of Chaos taint, Arthur would have seriously considered stranding the ship in the Warp until he uncovered the truth—rather than risk a daemon plot spilling into reality.
And if it had been a plot, he would've acted.
"..."
Romulus watched Arthur's silence and understood his old friend's line of thinking.
His resentment, far from fading, only grew heavier.
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