Why did the Thirteenth look like this?
Calliphone found it strange. The evil emanating from him was barely concealed — the Chaos Eight-Pointed Star simply hung in the air behind him.
And he had somehow walked straight in without triggering a single one of Perturabo's devices.
Where were the Abominable Intelligence units and the attendants? And the warriors who had undergone the Huscarl conversion?
'Robert' removed his helm. A face almost as brooding as Perturabo's appeared before Calliphone.
But Calliphone was almost certain — this was absolutely not the rational, warm-natured Thirteenth she remembered.
"Perturabo has protected you well, my lady."
'Robert' thought of the defensive installations he'd passed through on the way here. If it weren't for the reports that Perturabo had imprisoned the Emperor and still not declared outright rebellion, he might almost have taken this for Perturabo's next palace.
Looking at the slight, almost frail Calliphone before him — reminiscent of a mother — 'Robert' understood why she was so carefully protected. Though it was evident that Perturabo's intentions were considerably more complex than he'd initially assumed.
"You aren't the Thirteenth. Even wearing his face."
To walk in here without a single alarm sounding required either strength at Perturabo's own level, or technology so far beyond anything available that it might as well be magic. And this 'Robert' was clearly the former.
"I am not him. Chaos paid an enormous price to bring me here. If I were as limited as he is, that price would be wasted."
'Robert' walked forward at a leisurely pace. With a light wave of his fingers, Perturabo's enormous chair slid to position itself behind him. The Logis Engine applied maximum interference, but to 'Robert,' this minor resistance was beneath notice.
He settled into the chair. The ergonomics were not exactly comfortable — the Lord of Iron was not a man who prioritised personal indulgence.
The rumours were accurate, then. 'Robert' ran his fingers along the armrests — the high-density alloy had a smooth, rounded quality that was almost pleasant to touch. He found himself reluctant to let go.
Perhaps he should have one made for himself. It would be useful for the more tedious moments of administration.
"So. What happened to the real Thirteenth? Did you kill him? Or something else?"
"He's alive. Honestly, his willpower exceeded anything I expected. The power I used to try to corrupt him would have been sufficient to corrupt five Primarchs."
"Yet apart from some physical mutation, he has never yielded to me. I know 'myself' quite well, but I hadn't anticipated 'my' potential being this considerable."
'Robert' seemed genuinely impressed by "his own" strength of will.
Calliphone looked at his self-satisfied expression. It reminded her of her brother — though Perturabo's self-satisfaction was considerably better hidden.
"A traitor wouldn't be able to imagine the strength of someone who actually believes in something."
She said it without warmth.
"You'd be surprised. I've seen it — especially among the mortals. When I heard that someone had lasted more than seven days under my corruption, I assumed the Chaos Gods had given them assistance. Because how could ordinary mortals be stronger than Space Marines?"
"But it turns out that among billions upon billions of mortals, there will always be individuals whose resilience genuinely impresses me."
"Though their fate, I imagine, wasn't a pleasant one."
'Robert' didn't deny it.
"I suspended them in the Warp. Their bodies were warped beyond recognition, gradually becoming something like a Chaos egg — and still they never surrendered."
"If a Space Marine or Custodian had that kind of will, I might have felt mild surprise. But that mortals could do the same — I genuinely couldn't believe it. The Four Gods, with my tacit permission, made attempt after attempt to corrupt them. It made no difference. They never surrendered."
A flicker of something like respect crossed 'Robert's' eyes. After that experience, his forces began including mortal auxiliary units who fought alongside the Legion as something more than filling for gaps and armoured columns.
"Mortals are the Imperium's foundation. The Space Marines and Custodians are chosen from among them. You — or rather, what you once were — are also human. The Emperor included."
Calliphone looked at 'Robert' without a trace of fear.
"That is why I haven't deployed the Legions in an assault yet. What I want is not an Imperium covered in Chaos. I want an Imperium that is entirely my own."
"Besides, I no longer need to sacrifice five hundred worlds to expand my Legion's scale. The Sol System doesn't require my personal intervention — those fools will do the dangerous groundwork for me."
"Do you know, my lady — when I had driven my blade into the Emperor's chest after breaking the Sol System's defences with five million Space Marines, and reduced Perturabo to something approaching despair, what I felt was not satisfaction."
"Fulgrim rushed forward to stop me at the moment I was about to kill the Emperor. Before I snapped his neck, he mocked me — called me nothing but a slave."
'Robert' showed no anger. Because he was not a slave. The Four Gods held no power over him. After fighting his way through both the Warp and realspace, he had discovered he was effectively beyond defeat. Even the Necrons couldn't touch him. Even the C'tan gods of the physical universe couldn't kill him.
"But his words changed something in me."
"Changed you toward not killing indiscriminately? Or closer to Chaos?"
"Changed me toward enjoying control. I enjoy power — but I am not controlled by it. What I truly enjoy is the sensation of being able to move people as I choose."
"I enjoy winning people over through my own personal influence. In practice, I have always somewhat overestimated my ability to do this."
"Beyond those I can simply dominate or corrupt, the ones who obey me unconditionally of their own free will number only a very few."
"But that's fine. I still greatly enjoy the sensation — even when it generates that particular kind of administrative problem that I can resolve instantly but which still consumes considerable time and energy."
"For reasons I don't fully understand, I take particular satisfaction in drafting rules and legal codes. Perhaps it better satisfies the need for control? Having all people living within a framework I defined, subject to my direction?"
'Robert' looked at Calliphone. Apart from his mother, this was the first time he had felt a genuine desire to talk to someone.
"Perturabo is considerably harder than you in many ways. But he isn't like you."
Calliphone's tone remained level.
"Oh?"
"He doesn't channel his interests into controlling every move everyone makes. And he isn't as extreme in cruelty as you are."
"And yet my cruel governance yielded me virtually limitless resources and support during the assault on the Sol System. Even after killing so many brothers. Even after killing the Emperor. Even while continuing to rule with brutal tyranny."
"I barely needed to reinforce the armed forces on most worlds at all — yet those worlds were remarkably quiet. Even voices of resistance were minimal, and I rarely needed to suppress them myself. They handled it among themselves."
"Do you find that ironic? The Imperium that was supposed to lead humanity to its pinnacle — wracked by endless rebellion. And in the hands of a tyrant who intended to establish absolute, dark rule — it instead developed with steady momentum."
"You can't imagine what my Legions became. You can't imagine what it meant that human living standards actually improved substantially under my rule."
"The Mechanicum's technological innovation hadn't been this vigorous since the Golden Age!"
"I am the true Dark King. The Emperor is nothing. Neither are those brothers."
"All of them — forever declaring their love for humanity — kept launching revolution after revolution on my worlds."
"That was one of the very few places I was willing to allow some loss of stability. Because I genuinely needed a little entertainment to fill the emptiness inside me."
A somewhat deranged smile spread across 'Robert's' face.
"Every time I watched them working the crowds, trying to stir people up to overthrow me — the traitor, the 'Chaos puppet' — I wanted to laugh. Those were always moments when I felt genuinely happy."
"I almost never deployed my main Legion strength. Usually their rebellions would simply fizzle out on their own — causing minor instability in a small area, then returning to the previous pattern."
"Again and again they hammered at the order I'd established. Again and again I watched them perform their little circus for me across the galaxy — they didn't even have the means to get within sight of me anymore."
"I never suppressed their development. I even indulged their 'antics' within the Imperium. And still they produced no results. Do you know why, my lady?"
'Robert' continued his monologue. Since the rebellion's success, his desire to share this had been reaching its peak — but there was no one to share it with.
Now this mortal woman had given him that impulse. He wanted to hear her perspective.
Would it be the expected answer — 'darkness,' 'numbness,' that kind of thing?
'Robert' was curious.
"Because of order. And stability."
Calliphone recognised the pattern immediately.
"Go on."
"People living within stable order — who have enough to eat and wear and are free from existential pressure — don't want to lose that life. But there will always be 'rebels' who want to strip away that hard-won existence. So the people resist those rebels themselves, spontaneously."
The deranged smile on 'Robert's' face deepened.
"Even mortals can easily perceive the essence of this. Yet those self-proclaimed demigods — every last one too arrogant, too elevated, to understand it. Forever shouting about 'loyalty' and 'traitors' and demanding repentance."
"And every time the result was nothing — petty, thoughtless action that seemed to bypass the brain entirely. Charging ahead on impulse."
"A group of fools who couldn't even identify why they were failing. The same approach every single time. I began to wonder what their actual objective even was."
"Eventually I concluded — they were simply stupid."
"And they dared call themselves Primarchs? Dared say they would serve the Emperor loyally?"
"Utterly, boundlessly stupid. When I think about how much I once agonised over how to breach the defences those fools built, I feel a deep and genuine humiliation."
'Robert' had genuinely low tolerance for his brothers' stupidity at times — but the thought of killing them all and losing the entertainment permanently made him simply watch these little games instead, occasionally letting them survive so they'd be back to play again.
The more Calliphone listened to 'Robert's' complaints, the more she found him strangely similar to Perturabo — yet far more terrifying and arrogant, and very fond of dismissing others through his own self-serving assumptions.
Perturabo was hard-tongued but soft-hearted. This man was not. He simply enjoyed trampling on people's dignity.
"You are still a traitor."
"I should correct you on that point, my lady."
"Losing is what makes someone a traitor. I am the final victor — a victor who won through my own ability. The real traitors are the ones still trying to rebel across my Imperial territory."
"That doesn't change the fact that you are a traitor. And I don't believe your Imperium can have anything resembling the order of the current Imperium, or that the humans under your rule live anything like the people of Macragge or Olympia."
"You're not wrong, my lady. But it still doesn't change the fact that I am the one who won."
"You aren't winning now."
"That's of no consequence. I'll be the winner again very shortly."
'Robert' remained perfectly self-assured. Just as Calliphone was about to say something cutting, 'Robert' suddenly sensed something, and a new flicker of amusement crossed his face.
"When the time comes and I put a plasma gun in your mouth and reduce your head to fragments, I hope you'll still be able to say that."
Perturabo's large frame came through the door. He wasn't in armour. He didn't need it for this.
"Abo."
"Go on, sister. Do what you need to do. Nothing here requires your attention."
Calliphone asked nothing further, and walked out directly.
"She's not particularly brilliant, but she's capable, and she has considerable courage. Is that the type you prefer?"
Perturabo sat across from 'Robert' and tossed him a large black metal object.
'Robert' looked at what was in his hands and became considerably more interested.
"Did you absorb him? Or what?"
Perturabo brought 'Robert' to the Daemonic Forge. There, a massive robot and a mechanical half-dragon were locked in silent combat.
They had very little autonomous will remaining. The Lord of Iron had never been lenient with traitors or Chaos.
On the Execution Assembly Line, lightning crackled and the sound of "go work" echoed throughout the Daemonic Forge. A man whose appearance was dark and terrifying appeared soundlessly behind them.
"You got killed again? Though it looks like you're still recoverable this time."
'Robert' paid no attention to how Curze had arrived here — he was simply somewhat impressed by 'Vulkan's' extraordinary vitality.
"Traitor!"
"How many times did you kill Vulkan before he brought you down?"
'Robert' was unbothered by the title.
"Traitor!"
But Curze didn't answer — his pitch-black eyes were locked onto 'Robert' with absolute fixity.
"If you could do something about that temper of yours, I might still be able to offer you a position as a Grand Judge or Grand Arbiter. Even if you constantly opposed me, it would be acceptable — but in the end I had to wring your neck, which cost me an excellent guardian of order."
"Traitor!"
Curze couldn't hold himself back this time, even knowing he had no chance.
His lightning claws drove directly toward 'Robert's' face. Perturabo made no move to stop it. Neither did 'Robert' — the lightning claws were centimetres from striking when Curze froze completely, suspended in mid-air.
"Don't always be so impulsive. Your sense of justice is too strong, brother. Though that is precisely what makes humiliating you so enjoyable — there's nothing quite like an absolutely righteous man doing your work for you, while still wishing he could put you on trial."
Curze's eyes were wide with fury. Looking at 'Robert's' mocking smile, the lightning crackled green across his phase lightning claws.
Perturabo ended the farce, moving Curze behind him.
"How did you corrupt them?"
'Robert' was curious. In such a short time, Perturabo had already dealt with 'Vulkan' and pulled his own brother into his domain. How?
"You find it strange that I can kill Vulkan?"
"You sensed it?"
"I sensed it when he crushed Curze."
"How did you do it? Some kind of advanced technology?"
"A brand placed in advance is all it takes. Though I imagine that particular technique is mine — not yours."
Perturabo looked at 'Robert' coldly. If he had any confidence he could kill him outright, he absolutely would not be allowing this, his greatest adversary, to sit here and talk with him.
"Your ability and talent make me envious, brother—"
"I am not your brother. I do not associate with traitors. I will take your heads — all of you traitors — as I took Vulkan's."
'Robert' was not called the Dark King for nothing. He showed not the slightest fear or unease toward this peer-level opponent, even standing within his domain.
"All right. Time to discuss what matters."
'Robert's' psychic power erupted. He forcibly tore open a gap within the Daemonic Forge and pulled all three of them out.
Curze, however, had been reduced to a purely Warp-based entity — he had died, and had no equipment left.
'Robert' was extremely powerful. Perturabo had exerted something close to his full strength trying to prevent this action, and 'Robert' had still extracted all three of them from the Daemonic Forge and given Curze a physical form.
"Your strength is considerably beyond my estimates."
"If you'd absorbed half the essence of the Four Gods yourself, you'd be in roughly the same position."
'Robert' settled into his chair. That imperious, arrogant expression immediately made Curze want to charge at him again — Perturabo suppressed him and pushed him firmly out of the room.
"What do you want to discuss?"
"You must be aware — Chaos invested enormously in this operation, trying to find a crack in you and the Emperor."
"And?"
"I am essentially their contingency plan. If you defeat Horus and the others, I am the final problem you'll need to resolve. If Horus and I combine forces, even if we defeat you, Chaos will almost certainly not let me succeed in the end."
"They will not allow me to win. Neither will you. So regardless of what happens, this great war will burn the entire galaxy — they can recover from losses, and no matter the outcome, the galaxy will descend into endless chaos."
"I believe you've already perceived this problem. Horus and Leman are not easy opponents — and this time 'Dorn' has also arrived."
"You can't break through the defensive line that I and the Dorn here have established. My Abominable Intelligence cohorts and my invincible fleet will hold you outside the Sol System permanently."
Perturabo had absolute confidence in his constructed defences. As long as the physical universe remained, even the Necrons and the C'tan together couldn't break through quickly — this was beyond what Chaos could overcome.
"If we didn't have some confidence, do you think they would have brought all of us here? With the resources they invested — do you think it's possible they can't breach a single defensive line?"
"What exactly do you want?"
"Let's make a deal."
"I don't deal with traitors."
"Then what are you doing right now?"
"Listening to a dead man's last words. I intend to interrogate out of you exactly what you're planning this time."
"I can tell you why the Imperium's communications have failed. And where Dorn will begin his assault — and what he'll use to crack your defensive line."
Looking at Perturabo still maintaining the hard line verbally, 'Robert' decided to show some good faith.
"I said — I trust my Legion and I trust Dorn. As for you — I'll come for you one by one and take your heads, the same way I dealt with Vulkan."
"If you're truly this confident in yourself, then watch and see. Or go take a look right now — see if you can find their line of attack."
"I guarantee: without my help, even if you absorbed the full power of one point of the Eight-Pointed Star, you would have absolutely no way to stop their operation."
Perturabo looked at this 'brother' — one who could still hold his human shape, who in psychic vision appeared as nothing but a roiling mass of Chaos — at that self-confident and arrogant expression, which Perturabo found almost physically intolerable.
"Say what you're going to say. If it's worth enough, I'll consider what you just offered."
'Robert' smiled. He didn't worry about the verbal evasion in that response. The moment Perturabo had engaged, no further compromise was required — 'Robert' could make this verbal agreement binding whether Perturabo was willing or not, and changing his mind later wasn't going to be an option.
This was his innate ability — the same way Perturabo understood and wielded machinery.
"You must know — Chaos pulled all of us here from elsewhere. It would be strange if there weren't a version of you among them."
"So a version of 'me' is part of the attack?"
"No. You won't be part of the attack. You've already lost that opportunity."
"What do you mean?"
"Coming here from that reality, we naturally investigated some basic information about this Imperium first. The most troublesome element — without question — was the Abominable Intelligence you'd deployed."
"To successfully breach the Sol System, besiege Terra, and deal with the Emperor, dismantling the defensive architecture you've constructed was the first problem that had to be solved."
"But what does that have to do with 'me'? He shouldn't be capable of producing anything like this."
"He isn't. But as a sacrificial offering he's entirely appropriate — because you and he are the same person. Don't deny it. The timeline diverges somewhat, that's all. You are the same — just one of you has grown considerably stronger."
"What did you do?"
Perturabo was beginning to understand why the Logis Engine had lost contact with remote locations.
"We sacrificed you and your Legion. Magnus and I performed it personally — along with the Legion's Think-Tank members working in concert — to conduct the ritual using a single Primarch and an entire Legion as the offering. Through this forbidden working, we successfully severed your communications for at least fifty years."
"A minor loss, and the results were somewhat imperfect — having a Primarch of such enormous utility die to a method this unglamorous was a waste. But for my purposes it's still a positive outcome."
"Because this way every single one of my enemies suffers a significant blow, while I can build my strength in the shadows."
"While I held them in psychic suppression, Horus and Leman stood watching. Not one of your brothers said a word in your defense."
"Frankly — your relationships are extraordinarily poor. They didn't even produce a surface-level show of grief. For someone who had contributed as much as you had — your death was a matter of complete indifference to them. Not even basic brotherhood."
"Your own sons did better. At least some of those in the Legion were willing to die alongside close companions. There were even mutinies on the spot."
"Do you know which Legion actually produced the most resistance in this? The one that was always considered your greatest rival — Dorn's sons. Many of them charged at us like madmen, purely to try to save brothers they'd come to know in time spent together — even brothers they'd known for barely any time at all."
"Dorn's state at the time even caught my attention. He personally dealt with the traitors within his Legion, and the methods he used — the self-mortification and punishment — left even Curze visibly unsettled."
'Robert' recalled the silent, terrifying quality Dorn had shown. An honest man pushed to betrayal had methods considerably more brutal than 'Horus' or 'Leman' ever would.
"So — where do you plan to breach the Sol System, and how?"
Perturabo pressed down his fury and moved to the next question.
"This is something you actually gave us the idea for."
"I did?"
"Another you, more precisely."
"The Sol System has been built into something like an iron barrel. To genuinely break through the defensive line using only our Legions and fleet strength — that isn't realistic."
"But just when we were discussing plans and couldn't find anything suitable, you stepped forward. And proposed something quite bold."
"What was it?"
"If we can't break through the defensive line — why not go around it?"
"Are you joking? If you think making a fool of someone is your idea of entertainment, then let's go to the Warp right now and settle this — and bring the Chaos Gods into it while we're at it."
Either fight or don't fight. Going around it — in his dreams.
"Why the urgency? Just because you raised the idea doesn't mean we accepted it."
"Your proposal was to bypass the defensive line and strike directly into the Sol System — the logic being that even with all its preparation, the Imperium couldn't simultaneously face eighteen full Legions."
"We rejected the proposal. Committing everything to a rapid decisive victory isn't what we want. But the idea prompted Dorn to think of a method to break your defensive line."
"It has to be said — Dorn in this area never disappoints. He successfully formulated a plan that everyone except you is reasonably satisfied with."
"So what is it?"
"Now I set my conditions, Warmaster."
'Robert' looked at Perturabo's barely-contained fury and spoke quietly.
"You—"
Perturabo rose to his feet. Looking at the completely composed 'Robert,' in this moment he genuinely wanted to fire an electromagnetic supernova cannon directly into this damned traitor's face.
"Say it."
Perturabo conceded.
"I want your complete Logis Engine technology. And the technology to construct and open the Webway."
"Have the Chaos Gods scrambled your brain? You think those few sentences entitle you to walk away with that technology?"
"Let me be absolutely clear — even if you fought your way to Terra and used the Emperor and my brothers as hostages, I would not hand those two technologies over. Not for anything."
"The situation will be considerably worse than that. A great many more people will die."
"No number of human lives outweighs this. If I gave you those two technologies, that would be the greatest betrayal of all."
Perturabo didn't even want to think about it — what could they do with Logis Engine technology and the Webway.
"At least sixty percent of humanity would die in exchange for your technology. And I wouldn't hand these to Chaos — I have no desire to see the Imperium reduced to ruin by those parasites. I want to sit on the throne."
"I am not like them. Chaos is Chaos. Traitors are traitors. And I — no, I and you — we are different from all of them. Aren't we? You know what I would do. Isn't what you're doing right now the same? You've simply not yet discarded that thin veneer of humanity that lets you continue pretending."
"Who believes that? What nonsense are you talking? Traitor!"
"Can you watch sixty percent of humanity die? And your Abominable Intelligence cohorts won't be able to help you — once Dorn's plan succeeds, no defensive line you've built will stop their assault."
'Robert' knew Perturabo would agree. Because he was, at his core, a man who couldn't harden himself to this. However rational.
And he genuinely wasn't going to help Chaos. This conflict would ultimately resolve as a clash between two different visions — not an irreconcilable war of extinction. This was humanity's own civil war, and it would be fought with surprising restraint.
Winner takes all. Accept the gamble and accept the outcome.
Perturabo was not someone who could accept losing. Neither was 'Robert.' But in this moment, they had arrived at a shared understanding.
Perturabo looked at the completely unruffled 'Robert,' his emotions churning, his breathing heavy. He was thinking.
Even if everything this traitor said sounded like manipulation and an attempt to get something for nothing — in this moment, he had to admit he was wavering.
"How am I supposed to know what you'll do with these technologies?"
The deal was made.
The deranged smile on 'Robert's' face became more pronounced.
"At minimum, I will not let Chaos have their way. And like you, I will work to eliminate the remnants — even going so far as to actively protect humanity. Isn't that enough? You gain a new major adversary, but humanity doesn't gain a new enemy."
"And you can save sixty percent of human lives. Your defensive line can remain unbreached."
"You're being this generous?"
"Each getting what we need. I also have no interest in watching those fools reduce the Imperium to rubble. What I want is to seize power — the entire Imperium — and to have you all kneel at my feet. Not the despair and darkness Chaos desires."
"And what's to stop me from joining with them to eliminate you first? No one wants another disruptive element in the picture."
But 'Robert' didn't even bother responding to this — he simply looked at Perturabo. This was a deal where neither side trusted the other to keep their word, but both knew — the one outcome that absolutely could not happen was Chaos emerging as the final victor.
Perturabo struggled for a long time. Finally, with unmistakable reluctance, he sat back down. Two hard drives appeared in his hand. He threw them across with barely-suppressed fury.
'Robert' caught them carefully with a psychic grip.
"Handle those carefully. They're irreplaceable."
"Tell me what they're planning."
"Quite simple. First, sever the communications between all of you. Then extinguish the Astronomican above Terra entirely. The only effective communication remaining across the entire human Imperium will be ours."
"That doesn't necessarily mean you can break my defensive line."
"What if we then shatter the Sol System directly from within? Or rather — from the Eye of Terror itself, tear the Imperium in half?"
"If you had that capability, why would you be sitting here talking to me?"
"We have reinforcements."
"Chaos is helping you? They want to die?"
"They wouldn't have brought all of us here without a willingness to break all their eggs."
"So you want me to move to block them during the operation — weakening the Four Gods in the process, forcing those fools' Legions to pay an enormous price to continue pressing the Sol System, while you come away with all the advantages?"
"Not quite. The Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar are within the affected zone as well. I do care about that."
"And Dorn has prepared considerable offensive equipment for this assault. Even if he can't resolve this easily, he's confident that with the others' support he can force open your defensive line."
"Three assault points. Your strength can't cover every sector simultaneously. Against Dorn, your defensive line — as perfect as it is — still has vulnerabilities."
"Here — these are the locations Dorn has selected for his assault. Which one he ultimately uses will depend on how much damage the tear through the Eye of Terror inflicts on these locations, and how degraded the Sol System's defences become."
"I believe they'll go for a direct hard push this time."
'Robert's' smile became brighter still — because he knew that against the Four Gods, even a weakened Four Gods, Perturabo was going to be locked in a grinding struggle for a very, very long time.
"So I'm essentially going to be fighting a war of attrition against Chaos at the Eye of Terror — while simultaneously making sure our battle's collateral damage doesn't endanger—"
"Correct."
"And the one who benefits most from all of this is you, the traitor. 'Horus' and the others, stripped of the Four Gods' support, will sustain enormous losses even if the attack succeeds. Our side loses me, has communications disrupted, and you're hitting from four directions simultaneously — I imagine some brothers have already been taken down by you."
"Both sides will take very heavy losses in this operation. Even the Emperor at half his strength can't stop 'Horus' and 'Leman.' And you stand to profit from the middle of it."
"Correct. And I can even help you deal with Horus and Leman on Terra in the process—"
"But the Emperor will probably be dead by then, and they'll end up being directed to come after me as well. You'll take advantage of the chaos to hit all of us, and come out the winner again."
"You get every benefit there is!"
"Hadn't you considered that I might care about these people? That I might refuse to go to the Eye of Terror and gamble with you?"
'Robert' didn't argue the point.
"I won the gamble, didn't I? You're going to go to the Eye of Terror."
"Besides — who can predict the future? As you said — your Abominable Intelligence cohorts and invincible fleet are genuinely formidable. Perhaps Dorn and the others simply won't be able to breach your defensive line."
"Or perhaps something unexpected happens in the middle. Who can say?"
"And still you come out ahead. You might even gain the upper hand."
Perturabo very much wanted to hit this person right now.
"That's my own ability, then. But don't forget — you have Legions too. And they're not lacking in quality — especially your sons. I've actually been considering asking you for some of your modification surgery techniques."
"Though I thought better of it, since that would probably make you fight me to the death. And I genuinely do covet your technology. Much as I do when I look at those imperfect copies of us you've been producing."
"Perhaps you actually could recreate a Primarch?"
'Robert' was genuinely impressed by this brother's extraordinary mind. He truly was short of people like this — a shame there was no chance of winning him over.
"Are you done? If you're done, you can leave."
"I look forward to our next collaboration. Perhaps we share more common ground and common thinking than either of us would like to admit."
"This is the first time and the last time. Traitor. The next time will be when I lead my Legion to grind five hundred worlds to dust and scatter you with a broadside."
'Robert' had what he came for. He had no intention of responding to words that carried no real threat.
He stepped out through the door. Beyond the guards, only Curze still stood watching him. The rest of Olympia continued its operations without any trace of disruption.
Under Curze's gaze — a gaze that could kill — 'Robert' walked slowly past him, cast him a single amused glance, and then vanished from Olympia entirely.