"This brother resembles me."
Sevatar clenched his jaw, doing his utmost not to show any expression.
'Here we go again.'
This was his gene-father, the kind of person who could always deliver the most suffocatingly bizarre assessment at the most serious of moments.
The Mechanicum had their tech-crazy lunatics. Apparently, the Astartes needed their own prophet-crazy lunatics.
This was their Night Lords gene-father. Could the Primarchs of the other Legions do this?
No, only their gene-father. In that regard, their gene-father truly was one of a kind.
To Curze, every returned Primarch shared similarities with him.
They had the same father, or perhaps two fathers.
Their genetic and personality traits were inherited from one of their fathers.
Even if they were "born" on different worlds and had different life experiences, they were indeed true brothers.
True brothers, of course, shared similarities.
Yet the similarity between Horus and Curze perhaps lay in the fact that both grew up in gang-ridden worlds, a similarity shared by no other Primarchs.
The rulers and threats faced on other worlds each had their own distinct characteristics: Colchis had religion, Fenris had Fenris, Nuceria had "pureblood" nobility, Deliverance had tech-guilds, Barbarus had the Overlords, Chogoris had an empire, Baal had radiation, Nocturne had the Dark Eldar, Olympia had the Black Judges, Inwit had the Orks, Macragge was peaceful and pleasant, Prospero had Psychneuein, and Caliban had Great Beasts.
No two Primarch homeworlds were completely identical.
Yet Nostramo and Cthonia were remarkably similar: both were once ancient human colonies, both were abandoned after their resources were exhausted, leaving behind only gang-dominated wastelands.
And both Primarchs had been "born" at the very bottom of the most filthy strata of their respective worlds.
Sometimes Sevatar wondered: if the Primarch had been born in the spire instead of the lower hive, would the future have turned out differently?
Where you sit determines how you think; your position determines your sense of right and wrong.
No one can judge right from wrong apart from their own stance, just as those standing on the side of humanity could never feel the slightest bit of mercy for xenos.
If the Primarch had been born in the Spire, and the nobles who adopted him had nurtured and protected him attentively: Even if he still cared for the people at the bottom, he would naturally defend the nobles who raised him.
Roboute Guilliman of Macragge, Rogal Dorn of Inwit, Perturabo of Olympia, and even Angron of Nuceria, all of them maintained the interests of the nobility.
They did not completely overthrow their worlds' aristocracies, but instead strove to find a balance between the nobles and the people.
Protecting the interests of the people without completely undermining the foundation of the nobility.
As long as the pie could keep growing bigger, social contradictions could be cushioned and mitigated by economic growth.
Only when the pie could no longer grow larger, and the distribution of social resources became severely imbalanced, would social contradictions erupt in the most violent manner.
However, across the vast galaxy, countless worlds awaited colonization, and beyond the galaxy lay an almost infinite expanse of cosmic territory to explore, providing human civilization with virtually boundless room for expansion.
Under the brilliant leadership of the Emperor and the Primarchs, these contradictions could be eased.
But reality had no "what ifs." There were only results and consequences.
The noble class of Nostramo had been almost completely purged.
Those nobles who survived had all lost their noble status, and they were not even permitted to retain their surnames unless they could earn enough honor to reclaim them.
Compared with the other Primarchs, Curze's revolution on Nostramo had been extremely thorough.
Although Curze never bragged about it, he still regarded it as an honor.
Although the revolution on Deliverance had been just as thorough, and the results of the revolutions carried out by the other Primarchs were not necessarily inferior to his...
Curze was still the only one who had carried out a complete revolution within a hive city.
That was his own "uniqueness."
Once, before the other Primarchs had returned, Curze had been truly unique.
His personality, his achievements, his honors, everything about him had been unique.
But as the Primarchs returned one after another, more and more of his "uniqueness" disappeared.
Horus's return would cause Curze to lose yet another thing that made him unique.
No wonder he was going insane.
Sevatar understood his Primarch; he had no choice but to understand.
Right now, he only wanted to pray for Corax, currently off on a trip at the frontlines, to hurry back. If the Primarch didn't return to relieve him soon, he was truly going to break down.
Curze said, "Sev, go prepare dinner."
"My lord, what would you like to eat?"
"Corpse-starch bars. Fresh ones, straight off the production line in the lower hive."
Sevatar gave a silent nod and issued commands to the Atramentar over an encrypted channel.
Within moments, a shuttle swept out from among the spires of the Upper Hive, diving straight down toward the Underhive's promethium refinery.
When the shuttle ascended once more, its cargo bay was loaded with corpse-starch bars fresh off the production line.
Although Curze had reshaped Nostramo's social order with an iron fist, Nostramo itself lacked the conditions to produce actual food.
Even though the Hive's purification systems had been running continuously for decades, vastly improving the environment inside so that even the Underhive could breathe fresh air and enjoy clean drinking water:
The vast wilderness outside the Hive city remained poisoned by industrial waste, a barren radiation wasteland where nothing could grow.
Therefore, the main staple for the populace remained corpse-starch bars out of sheer unavoidable necessity.
From the Spire to the Underhive, the entire society was like this.
Corpse-starch was actually a perfectly adequate artificially synthesized food.
It offered both good value and balanced nutrition. Otherwise, the workers of the lower hive could never have survived on corpse-starch alone.
It simply didn't taste good. That didn't mean it was inedible.
Therefore, Curze forcibly implemented a policy establishing corpse-starch as the staple food for all citizens.
Fruit, meat, and other supplementary foods were incorporated into the Contribution Point exchange system and supplied in limited quantities.
Even the lowest-ranking lower-hive workers could receive one free ration every week.
The rationing system naturally had the disadvantage of becoming rigid and bureaucratic, but for the time being, it was also the only policy capable of ensuring the greatest possible degree of social equality.
The rationing system was merely a temporary measure.
Once Curze unified Nostramo Sector's fifty thousand worlds, he would naturally introduce new policies to replace it.
The old aristocratic system had been completely uprooted.
However, a new privileged class was inevitably and quietly forming through the inertia of history.
These new "nobles" were the warriors who had once followed Curze through life and death, along with their descendants.
Because of injuries and disabilities, they had been forced to leave the front lines and return to Nostramo to enjoy their retirement.
As long as they did not commit crimes, Curze would tacitly allow them to enjoy wealth and prosperity for the remainder of their lives.
It was a reward they had earned through their honor but he would still uphold his own sense of justice.
If they committed crimes, the Night Lords would show them no mercy.
Curze could not guarantee absolute equality. That would be a fool's dream. But he could maintain relative equality.
"My lord."
A warrior entered the hall carrying a metal box.
He placed it on the table in front of Curze and knelt on one knee.
Curze said, "Sev, Shen. Sit down. Eat with me."
Sevatar was not the slightest bit polite.
This was the compensation he deserved for serving as Curze's emotional sounding board.
Shen sat on the same side as well.
They tore open the outer packaging of the corpse-starch bars.
The corpse-starch bars intended for ordinary humans looked unusually tiny in their palms.
Humans normally added water to turn them into a thick paste, but they could also eat them directly.
Curze took a bite and frowned.
"Sweet?"
Sevatar said, "Sugar, not heavy metals."
Curze grumbled, "I can distinguish its chemical composition, Sev."
Sevatar said, "It's a production project approved by Lady Philly and Lady Dorothy. Besides the basic version, there are also various flavors made with synthetic flavorings, including milk, beef, apple, and chocolate."
Curze turned his head.
Those eyes capable of seeing through the future quietly stared at his son.
"I know about this policy. Mother discussed it with me. I remember it clearly."
"Sev, why are you explaining it to me?"
Sevatar silently chewed on his corpse-starch bar.
His was beef-flavored.
The taste was similar, but it was still not real beef, and the texture was considerably different.
Of course, he knew Curze already knew.
He was doing it deliberately.
Normally, all Sevatar could do was watch his increasingly deranged Primarch mutter to himself. He barely ever got a chance to speak and was practically suffocating from holding everything in.
Now that he finally had an opportunity to turn the tables on his Primarch, how could he possibly waste such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?
Sevatar looked at Shen.
"Go get another box of the original flavor."
He also understood why his Primarch had frowned.
The flavored varieties cost slightly more to produce than the basic version, but the additional investment had been personally approved by Curze. He would never criticize the people responsible for production over it.
However, Caelan in Cthonia definitely couldn't get flavored corpse-starch bars.
That was the real reason Curze had frowned.
It would make Curze look as though he were enjoying special privileges by himself.
Shen looked completely bewildered, unable to understand what was going on.
Although Curze often had episodes, Sevatar still did his utmost to protect his Primarch's authority.
Within the 8th Legion, Sevatar was the only one who knew the truth.
Outside the Legion, only Corax and Lady Dorothy knew what was really happening.
Sevatar had revealed the matter to Lady Dorothy, but it wasn't entirely out of revenge against his Primarch.
He genuinely believed that his Primarch needed treatment.
He couldn't save his Primarch himself, so he could only leave the matter to Lady Dorothy.
Unfortunately, even Lady Dorothy couldn't do anything.
Although Curze had acknowledged her as his mother, she could never compare to his father.
The Primarchs were simply like this. Being father-obsessed was instinctive, engraved into their genes.
"My lord, the basic version is underneath."
Shen rummaged through the metal box with his fingers, moving aside the brightly colored corpse-starch bars on top one by one and revealing the basic versions at the very bottom.
The basic version used the most primitive gray packaging, without any flashy labels or decorations.
Curze chewed on the basic corpse-starch bar.
Bland and tasteless. That was his only evaluation of corpse-starch.
The corpse-starch bar itself was nutritious.
It was simply bland and tasteless, not actually unpleasant to eat.
But that didn't stop unscrupulous merchants from mixing all kinds of impurities into corpse-starch bars to make enormous profits.
Things like corpses, stones, wall plaster, sawdust, and even industrial waste.
But in present-day Nostramo, anyone who dared do such a thing would be hung from a streetlamp as an example to others.
"Father," Curze murmured quietly.
Sevatar put down his corpse-starch bar.
"Shen, go back to work!"
Shen immediately understood and tactfully left the hall.
Although Sevatar and Curze had never leaked even the slightest hint of the truth to the warriors of the other Legions, the other warriors were not completely oblivious.
To varying degrees, they could guess part of the truth.
But they simply buried it deep within their hearts.
No one would confront their Primarch face-to-face.
They were the Primarch's sons. They should not cause trouble for their gene-father.
If their Primarch needed them, he would naturally call for them.
Sevatar was not the only option.
Still, many Legion warriors believed that Sevatar was keeping a secret.
Curze said, "Sev, I'm craving fish."
Sevatar replied, "My lord, you've already reached your Contribution Point limit for today."
Curze frowned, "Just one box of corpse-starch?"
Sevatar said, "And deploying a Stormbird for personal gain."
Curze did not deny it, these were rules he had personally established.
He had to lead by example otherwise, who else would follow them?
But he had indeed made a miscalculation.
He hadn't expected Sevatar to scheme against him.
The Contribution Points required to deploy a civilian shuttle versus a military shuttle differed by a hundredfold... and he had actually used a Stormbird.
This was clearly an attempt to bleed him dry!
Curze said, "Sev, you go buy a fish."
Sevatar replied, "My lord, you've exhausted your Contribution Points!"
Curze stared at him meaningfully, "I said you."
His Contribution Points had indeed reached their limit but Sevatar's had not.
The rules of Nostramo did not apply to the Legion, so this did not count as abuse of power.
At most, it was Legion bullying.
Sevatar was unwilling, but he still informed the Atramentar.
Otherwise, his Primarch could simply find someone else.
There were plenty of Astartes willing to do the job.
But if another Legion warrior really became involved, Sevatar's position in this ecosystem would be replaced.
Sevatar absolutely would not allow that.
Sevatar asked, "Does Cthonia still have clean oceans?"
Curze replied, "Not on the surface, of course. But the upper hive does."
A hive city was a complete ecological city.
Although the lower hive was filthy and chaotic, the upper hive had gardens, lakes, oceans, grasslands, forests, everything one could possibly want.
The nobles had everything.
The more the nobles possessed, the less the common people possessed.
The lower hive had no spare space for additional ecological parks, but the common people of the lower hive had an opportunity every month to visit the upper hive.
This was also a form of relative equality guaranteed by the system.
....
"Eat."
Caelan placed a piece of fish into Nagul's bowl.
A pool of fish that a gang leader had spent a fortune smuggling down from the upper hive had now become Caelan's meal.
When the rebel army discovered them, the fish being kept in circulating water were already half-dead.
Caelan had no choice but to cook them.
He gave each member of the rebel army a piece of meat and a bowl of soup.
In the upper hive, these fish were merely the cheapest products available.
But to the people of the lower hive, this was the second kind of meat they had ever eaten in their lives, after rats and the only real meat.
Erwin took a sip of the hot soup, "General, what should we do next?"
The warriors of the rebel army had all come from humble backgrounds.
They had neither systematic military training nor much long-term strategic vision.
Without Caelan, they wouldn't even have been able to enter the hive.
In the hearts of many warriors, Caelan was no longer merely their leader.
He was practically a god!
Caelan said, "Wait."
"Don't rush to attack the upper hive. The most important thing right now is to consolidate and digest the territory we already control."
"The nobles will certainly not sit idly by, but neither will they commit all their forces. They also have to guard against the other nobles."
"They will mobilize the Planetary Defense Force to counterattack. But as long as we can successfully withstand their assault, we can establish a firm foothold in the lower hive and turn it into a true base of operations!"