Near the end of the celebration for the eighteenth Primarch to be found, Nareth's psychic projection crossed the void and arrived at the Golden Palace.
Horus Lupercal, the good elder brother, introduced him with his usual warm smile.
"Nareth, I think you've heard that another brother has been found. Konrad Curze of Nostramo."
"Curze..."
Following his words, Nareth looked to the end of his side, the only Primarch present in person.
His long arms were crossed before him like folded bat wings. His pale skin made his fingers look even longer.
His black nails tapped against his chest rapidly, as if agitated.
Curze leaned forward, exposing his long neck.
Compared to other Primarchs, his gaunt shoulders hunched up to his head.
He was like a vulture, wings folded, staring at a corpse. His gaze swept over the Primarchs, finally settling on Nareth.
"Nareth, the name I've heard most on Terra." Curze's voice was like a scraping knife.
Horus's smile froze. Curze scratched at his ears like a dog.
"The hive dwellers praise him as 'Conqueror of xenos, eternal victor over humanity's enemies.'"
"The nobles only dare whisper in the shadows, if they don't want to end up like those recently dead."
"I must say, I like what they call you. The Bloody Sovereign."
Curze let out a trembling laughter. Vulkan frowned.
Russ's ice-blue eyes were fixed on Nareth, unblinking.
Guilliman looked at Nareth, wondering why he had resorted to assassination instead of more measured political means.
Fulgrim, his silver hair like snow, wore a charming smile.
He had learned some of the palace intrigue from an astropathic message from his old acquaintance, Konkonda Pyke, his former Chief Priest.
Omegon thought of the hidden deals and machinations behind the intelligence.
Compared to Nareth's blade, the Sigillite was even more cold-blooded.
He had not only used the opportunity to purge wealthy political opponents, but also crushed those families he had supported.
The seized wealth had bolstered the Imperium's failing finances. The mountains of bones had become five new expeditionary fleets.
'Malcador killed as many as Nareth.'
'Nareth bore the blame for Malcador and the Imperium.'
Dorn visualized the map of the Imperial Palace, considering how to deploy defenses if he were the Praetorian of Terra.
Horus's brow unfurrowed before it could furrow. He smiled.
"Just rumors."
Nareth sat calmly amidst the scrutinizing and thoughtful gazes of the Primarchs. He offered no explanation, watching silently as the doors opened.
The Emperor entered first, beside him the Fabricator-General of Mars, behind him Malcador and Constantin Valdor.
He had already conveyed his stance through his actions.
When Malcador and the nobles formulated future policies involving him, they would recall the Bloody Month and consider the consequences.
Curze was about to speak when the silent river rolled in his eyes.
The wide river, merging into the sea, suddenly rippled. A shadow emerged from the depths of time.
As Nareth withdrew his gaze, he keenly noticed Curze's grin freeze, his dirty black teeth exposed.
He immediately thought of Curze's prophetic ability. Though not present in person, he could still see something through his psychic projection.
'What did he see?'
'Whatever it is, it may not be the true future.'
'"Burial" has not qualitatively changed, but it has strengthened somewhat. It will interfere with his vision.'
As he thought, the Emperor walked to his throne.
He noticed Malcador and Valdor's gazes lingering on him for a moment.
Malcador's expression was complex. Valdor's gaze was like Lion El'Jonson's and Jaghatai Khan's, a cautious assessment.
After taking his seat, the Emperor spoke gravely.
"Colony worlds on the Imperium's western edge have been attacked by xenos."
"Both savage Orks and elusive Aeldars."
Nareth expected the Emperor to dispatch his Pegasus, himself, when he spoke.
"Perturabo, my Lord of Iron, this is your trial."
Nareth paused, thinking to himself.
'Hmm, Perturabo still can't escape his fate of being sent to the Great Crusade's periphery for a century, can he?'
'The Emperor's first choice should have been me.'
'Why?'
As he thought, Perturabo spoke gravely.
"Father, I will not disappoint You."
The Emperor nodded, then looked at Nareth.
"Nareth, for eighty-five years, you have fought without cease, crushing the Orks, the Mitus, the Rangdan, the Nephilim, and other xenos, returning Incaladion to Mars, bringing the Squats into the Imperium. Your achievements are remarkable, but you have also overworked."
Nareth was even more puzzled by the Emperor's sudden concern.
'Words of concern would have been more appropriate when I returned to Terra for the celebration after the Rangdan campaign.'
'This feels belated, unnecessary.'
Before he could understand the Emperor's intent, he continued.
"The worlds under your governance also require your attention."
"For the near future, remain at Vostroya and attend to administrative matters."
Nareth glanced almost imperceptibly at Horus opposite him. A thought arose, then was dismissed.
'The Emperor can't be deliberately slowing my pace to push Horus into the Warmaster's position.'
He knew the Emperor encouraged competition. When he created the Primarchs, he had abandoned any idea of brotherly harmony.
He wanted competition to drive them to conquer faster.
The more Nareth achieved, the more pleased the Emperor would be. This would spur other Primarchs like Horus.
Inspiration struck. He noted the word "Vostroya." His thoughts raced.
'Why specify Vostroya?'
'If we consider that the Dionysian Spear has not returned to me, it makes sense.'
'The Emperor may need to know my precise location to bring it back.'
The Dionysian Spear, infused with the Emperor's power, had a natural, close link to him.
He could naturally sense it, trapped with Ouroboros.
But it would not be easy for him to free it from Ouroboros's grasp.
Given the Spear's close link to Nareth, and his intent in giving it to him, the most feasible, most likely way was to return it to him, as before.
That would mean a divine-level struggle. Though the Emperor might be more powerful than the resurrecting Ouroboros, he would be acting from a distance, while his opponent would have the home-field advantage of "Reboot."
Even if the Emperor could temporarily suppress Ouroboros, he would need to know Nareth's location precisely.
'How does the Emperor locate me?'
He had thought about this. He had two hypotheses.
The most obvious: his link to the Spear was closer than Russ's had been, because his psychic power was stronger.
The deeper possibility: the Emperor had linked the Spear to his true name.
Every Primarch, upon awakening their Primarch memories, learned their true name.
Horus did when he grew from slightly taller than a man to a giant. Perturabo did when he refused his adoptive father's request, insisting on Perturabo.
When Nareth became a "Barbarian" and awakened his genetic memories, a string of glittering words was buried in the flood of information.
Of course, the names the Primarchs used publicly were only part of their true names.
Like Warp daemons, true names held power, but were also a weakness.
Knowing a daemon's true name could allow one to borrow its power, banish it to the Warp, or even enslave it.
Of course, the outcome depended on the power struggle between the two.
Kaiyan could turn the ancient, powerful Khornate daemon the Ragged Knight into a top-tier collectible card. Most Inquisitors of the Ordo Malleus suffered backlash.
The same applied to Primarchs. In his memory, the Grey Knights had banished Mortarion by reciting his complete true name.
This showed that even the Four could not change a Primarch's true name.
'Hmm, at least not individually.'
'Together, the Four could change Horus's true name, to prevent him from kneeling immediately in the final battle.'
Only the Primarchs themselves, and the Emperor who created them, knew their complete true names.
Kaldor Draigo, the Supreme Grand Master of the Grey Knights who banished Mortarion, had also learned his true name from the Emperor.
Thinking this, Nareth felt a chill of fear. His physical body aboard the Shadow's Sovereignty went cold.
His fate controlled by the Emperor. He was back to when he first arrived in this world, contemplating his future.
'To control my own fate, I must change my true name. Change at least one word.'
'Otherwise, the Emperor can manipulate me whenever he wants.'
'Hopefully, advancing to Sequence 4 will bring a qualitative change, and my true name will change.'
He took a deep breath. "As You command."
'As You command?'
'Not likely.'
'Though I can't change my true name yet, and I'd like to get things for free, I'll still play hide-and-seek with you. I'll make things harder for you.'
The Emperor nodded with satisfaction, then looked at the figure opposite Curze, his head shaved, covered in inscriptions and symbols.
.....
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