"Who goes there?! To lurk and spy while the Regent of the Imperium holds council—do you harbor ill intent?!"
As Perturabo was lost in thought, a sharp, stern reprimand suddenly rang out from beside him. The harsh voice snapped the Lord of Iron back to reality. He quickly turned his head toward the source of the shout.
With a start, Perturabo saw a warrior clad in auric-gold armor forged of mica-gold, engraved with lightning bolts and eagles. The warrior wore the distinctive high-plumed helm of the Legio Custodes; because of the fully enclosed visor, his face remained hidden.
"I ask you again, who are you?! How dare you spy on a meeting of the Imperial government? Do you not know this is a grave offense?!"
The Custodian pointed his guardian spear at the Lord of Iron, continuing his stern interrogation. It seemed he had already branded the Primarch before him as an assassin with malicious intent who had infiltrated the Imperial Palace.
"So you are... the Custodians responsible for guarding Father? Those golden warriors who stand by His side?" Hearing the somewhat arrogant tone of the golden-clad warrior, Perturabo's expression soured with distaste.
Though Perturabo had seen these golden guards around his genetic father during their time together, he had rarely spoken to or interacted with them. This was his first direct encounter.
"Indeed! I am a warrior of the Ten Thousand under the Master of Mankind! Now, answer my question!" The Custodian replied curtly, his guardian spear still leveled at the Primarch, showing signs of impatience.
"Then, can you not see that I am a Primarch? I have been granted permission by the Emperor to move freely within the Palace, save for those places He has explicitly forbidden me to enter."
"As for these bureaucrats, had I expressed a desire to attend their meeting, Malcador and his officials would have undoubtedly prepared the finest seat for me as an honored guest. I simply did not wish to watch them perform for me. I wanted to quietly observe how these officials govern this vast empire in their daily lives."
"Finally, if you believe I am lying, I shall tell you: I am Perturabo Rurik Kislovsky, High Tsar of all Kislev, Lord of the Eighteen Duchies, and the Fourth Primarch of the Master of Mankind."
"If you still doubt me, you may contact Constantin Valdor—the leader of your golden order—and verify it with him." Having identified the warrior, Perturabo did not hesitate to blunt the Custodian's accusations with a direct rebuttal.
"Perturabo? So you are the recently returned Primarch? Then, please excuse my lack of etiquette." Hearing Perturabo reveal his identity, a trace of surprise entered the Custodian's tone, though he quickly reverted to his serious, business-like demeanor.
"Since you have verified it, then leave this place. Do not disturb my thoughts and plans further. I do not appreciate being interrupted by the uninformed. If this were my Kislev and not my Father's capital on Terra, I would not be so patient!"
Irritated by the Custodian's sudden realization, Perturabo's voice carried a hint of disrespect, intended as a sharp warning to the guard.
"Very well, Lord Perturabo. I shall continue my patrol and trouble you no more." The Custodian nodded, his tone returning to its habitual, frigid neutrality.
Under Perturabo's watchful gaze, the Custodian slowly departed to continue his rounds. Perturabo returned to the skylight, looking down at the Imperial bureaucrats still busy at work below.
"Now, perhaps I should begin planning my journey through the heart of the Imperium. I feel I have learned enough of Terra. Perhaps it is time to understand Mars—the world the people call 'The Other Head.' They say the Imperium is a double-headed eagle, with Terra and Mars each acting as a head."
"I have more or less grasped the nature of the Terran head. I must try to understand the Martian one. Furthermore, I hear Mars holds the richest legacy of human technological knowledge and industrial systems. Perhaps I can learn even more there than on Terra."
Perturabo reconsidered his next steps. Soon, the Lord of Iron had settled on his next objective: Mars.
My name is Alpharius. I am the twentieth son of the Master of Mankind, and I was the first of His children to be recovered—found even earlier than the so-called 'First-Found Son.'
When that Warp storm swept all twenty of us across the galaxy, I was fortunate enough to land on the surface of Terra—specifically, almost right outside the Imperial Palace. My genetic father found me in time and personally entrusted me to His Regent, Malcador, to be raised.
I am certain that Father and Malcador prepared a specific goal and responsibility for each of us twenty Primarchs. Mine is that of a spy and an agent. They taught me to operate in the shadows. To that end, they even concealed the fact of my return.
I personally witnessed the final end of the Thunder Warriors and the rise of the First Legion. I also saw the return of Horus Lupercal, the one called the 'First-Found.'
And now, I have heard of the Fourth Primarch, Perturabo of Kislev. I have met him in person. Fortunately, even face-to-face, my kin did not realize that the Custodian before him was his own brother, a Primarch.
In any case, from our conversation, I sense that my brother is not a man of pleasant temperament. Like us, he is incredibly proud. Perhaps this is a trait shared by all us Primarchs—each of us possesses our own brand of arrogance.
I must continue to observe him. To me, there is still much to be learned from this recently returned Primarch, Perturabo.