Bonus Chapter: Letter Two
This copy of the letter was obtained from a sergeant who wished to remain anonymous, requesting very carefully that we not mention his name. We thank this comrade for his generosity.
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Dear Brother Mortarion:
Hello! Or rather… good evening! Although I heard you do not need to sleep in that big jar full of tubes and green potions at Archmagos Cawl's, I still want to say it.
Old Huang told me that everyone, mortal or Primarch, needs a few people to say "goodnight" to; that is what makes a home.
I am writing this to you now, huddled under the covers, on some high-quality parchment I pilfered from Roboute's desk.
This paper is a bit slippery and has a faint smell of ink; it is much better than the ones I have seen in the Hive City.
You know what? I was really terrified when I first saw you.
Back then, you still had those big, tattered wings, green smoke billowing from your body, and you wielded such a huge scythe.
When you flew down, you looked like a moving mountain of garbage, a highly poisonous one at that.
I remembered the terrifying legends I had heard in the Hive City. People said that if you did not obey the God-Emperor and work hard, you would be captured and eaten by green-skinned monsters. I thought to myself, "Wow, this is it, we have encountered a real monster."
But later, on Iax, when the golden light burned away all that disgusting stuff, when you returned to your current state—a little thin, a little pale, but clean—I realised… you were not so scary after all.
Especially that day on the battlefield. When you saw those former sons who had suffered alongside you, turned into monsters, and you knelt on the ground, a heartbreaking voice apologising to them, and then sent them on their way with flames.
I saw your eyes.
They were beautiful eyes, though they seemed cold, but I saw tears. Not fake tears, but genuine sorrow.
That was when I knew you were not a bad person. You just… travelled a very, very long way, suffered a great deal, and then got lost.
Old Huang told me a lot about you. He said you were an incredibly stubborn and strong-willed person. He also said you grew up on a high mountain filled with poisonous gas, a place where even breathing was difficult.
You fought desperately to protect the people there, fighting against those grotesque xenos overlords.
Old Huang also said you hated being lied to, hated being used as a tool.
Actually, I can really understand that feeling.
Back when I lived in Big Ant Cow Lane, I thought the same thing.
Back then, I was a wild child; everyone called me "that garbage collector." The older kids always bullied me, stole my things, and mocked me for not having parents.
I thought to myself then, I need to become strong, to look fierce at first glance, so no one will dare bully me, no one will dare steal my things.
I want to live on my own two hands, without needing anyone's charity.
So I desperately learned how to fight, how to find the most valuable scrap metal in the junkyard.
I thought that as long as I was fierce enough, ruthless enough, I could protect myself, and incidentally, protect Old Joe (the old man I told you about who raised me) from being extorted for protection money by gangs.
But later I realised that being alone is incredibly difficult.
When Old Joe disappeared, when I trembled in the trenches of Iax, when I thought I was about to die… I realised that I also longed for someone to protect me, just once.
I was lucky; I met Roboute. He protected me.
And you, brother Mortarion, you also met Old Huang, met Roboute, and met me.
Although Old Huang can be harsh sometimes and likes to have weird, morbid quirks (like telling me your embarrassing stories), I know he actually cares about you a lot.
He also told me that you did not actually want to become one of those festering monsters.
You just… did not want your sons to die. You had to sell yourself to that disgusting dung beetle to save them.
It sounds really silly, but it is also really… heartbreaking.
Like Old Joe, even though he was blind in one eye, he still got into a fight just to buy me some scrap starch blocks. He said, "Little Eileen, as long as your family is still here, you will be alright." (In the end, I had to apply that cheap disinfectant to him.)
I think you two are a bit alike. You both do not say it, but you really, really value your family.
Although this may be ten thousand years late, I still want to say it on behalf of Roboute, on behalf of that awkward man sitting on the Throne (shh, do not tell anyone I call him that), and on behalf of myself:
Brother Mortarion, welcome home.
There is no poison gas here, no disgusting filth. The floors are clean, the beds are soft, and there is delicious food (if you do not count the food I cook).
Most importantly, there is no Dark God here who turned your sons into rotting specimens.
There is only Roboute, that big, worrying blueberry, and me, your little sister who is not very capable, eats a lot, gets into trouble, and occasionally shines.
Family is about eating together, arguing together, and then fighting off those bad guys who want to bully us.
Oh, right, I prepared a gift for you!
The other day, when Uncle Sicarius and I were strolling around a certain garden world, we went into a rather strange-looking general store.
It was full of oddly shaped things. The owner said they were all transported from a very, very far away system.
On a dusty shelf, I saw a set of cups.
These cups were carved from some unknown grey stone. The stone had natural patterns that looked like… well, maybe a bit like the clouds over the high mountain in your old home.
And these cups were heavy, incredibly thick, like they would not break no matter how much they were dropped. The rims were slightly tapered inwards; the owner said this was to prevent the heat inside from escaping too quickly.
I was thinking, this cup is perfect for you!
Look, Old Huang said you used to always be wearing a respirator, you must not have had a proper cup of tea in ages, right?
This cup is very sturdy, and the colour matches your current outfit (that grey robe) perfectly!
I tried to buy it with my saved allowance (it was given to me by Roboute, I did not squander it!).
But Uncle Sicarius said he bargained with the shopkeeper, and the shopkeeper was very generous and gave it to us for free.
I have already wrapped it up, in that patterned grey wrapping paper, and tied a big bow (it is a bit ugly, do not mind!).
I put it outside your room on the ship. The one Archmagos Cawl prepared for you, the one with the giant worm (redacted).
Remember to take it inside when you come out of that big jar!
Then, we can have some drinks together with this cup set.
Roboute seems to have several bottles of that Fenrisian mead; I heard it is really potent.
I will sneak out a bottle later (do not let him know it was my idea!), and we will try it together.
You can tell me about your time on Barbarus, how you led everyone up the mountain and defeated those xenos.
If you would like to hear, I can also tell you about how I fought those thugs for territory at the junkyard.
I think that would be really interesting.
Brother, I know you might still have a lot of unhappy things on your mind, and you might still be feeling bad about the mistakes you made in the past.
But, as Old Joe always said, let bygones be bygones.
Those who died, their souls are now in my necklace, or have gone to that golden place. They told me they do not hurt anymore, and that it was not your fault.
Do not hate yourself anymore.
You need to take good care of yourself. Archmagos Cawl said that once we get the data on Terra, he can give you a body even stronger and healthier than it is now.
Then you can stand in the sunlight, breathing deeply the air filled with the fragrance of flowers.
You can also feel the damp, wheat-scented earth beneath your feet.
Most importantly, you are free, brother.
Okay, I have written so much again without realising it. My hand is sore.
Old Huang also said you have a special kind of… numerology, maybe you can teach me sometime.
Goodnight, brother Mortarion.
If you fall asleep in the jar, have sweet dreams. No green monsters in your dreams, no painful memories of being bound.
Only freedom and your loving home.
Your loving sister:
Eileen
(Here is a slightly more complex sketch: a man in a grey robe, sitting and drinking tea from a large cup. Next to him is perhaps a wheat field, and a little girl is sitting with another cup. Next to the drawing is a large, mischievous grin.)
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According to the sergeant who provided us with this copy, when he saw the original letter, it was already crumpled beyond recognition, as if it had been carried around and unfolded countless times.