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The sky was blue, a shade easily described as azure, and white, fluffy clouds crawled by, seemingly unhurried by anything. The breeze was light, ruffling through a waving sea of corn stalks. It was still the warmest part of the autumn season, and harvest would not come for a few weeks to come yet.
Birds trilled to one another, grasshoppers sang, and the whispers of leaves rubbing together created a symphony of peace and harmony. It seemed, in many ways, like a sin to spoil it by speaking aloud. As he moved slowly down the row, inspecting the stalks, one could see relatively little of an ear of corn in this state. Most of what was seen was the long, dangling trail of corn silk. He inspected the corn silk, finding it to be without dryness or crisping. He slid a thumb along the stalk of corn, feeling out the kernels beneath.
Hm, plenty of time yet on these.
He began to walk again, inspecting each of the rows, counting ears in his head. The act was soothing. A thing to focus on while doing relatively nothing. There was nothing that needed to be done here. Corn grew on its own, without much help once planted. There would be ears that would not be edible. Some that had been left too long, or not long enough. A worm might get inside one, despite their best efforts. Some might never grow at all, some might--
Well, that's unusual.
He paused by one of the stalks, and inspected a large tuft of corn silk. Instead of one ear, there were two, nestled against one another tightly. A quick test indicated that both ears would be small, if they grew at all, pressed in so close and tight.
“I could remove the least likely of the two of you, but that would indicate a lack of faith, wouldn't it?” he murmured. “That I didn't believe the pair of you could grow just as well as a single ear.”
“Talking to yourself again?” He turned, looking up. Standing at the edge of the field was a tall, young man. He was dark-skinned with gold-flecked brown eyes, bald and bareheaded save for a series of delicate, interlocking pieces of metal dotted with bright blue crystals. The newcomer wore blue-white robes, cut along simple lines, but the fabric was rich and expensive, a pointed contrast to the simple blue overalls that he wore, and the equally simple flannel shirt with sleeved rolled to the elbows. He smiled.
“Some days, I'm the only one who wants to listen to me,” he replied lightly. “Hello, Konor. What brings you here?”
“I've seen your intention to rejoin the fleets exploring the outer rim,” Konor replied. “I wanted to discuss that decision with you, among other things.”
“We've explored the known galaxy,” he replied. “Now I want to explore the unknown one. There is still much that we don't know.” He smiled a little, straightening. “Come, walk with me.” Konor nodded, lifting his robes slightly, as though wearing an elegant ballgown, and made his way to a nearby row.
“Father, are you falling to battle-lust?” Konor demanded, abruptly. “I've seen the reports, you keep your Legion moving constantly, patrolling different sectors. The others have all retired, how can you keep--”
“Konor,” he said quietly, halting the flood of words. “Do you recall what I told you the day I abdicated from the throne of Macragge in your favour?”
“You said that the price of peace is constant vigilance,” Konor said, feeling a little numb. “But the Great Crusade is over.”
“It is, and I'm glad of it,” he replied. He smiled, and reached across the corn to take his son's shoulder and shake it lightly. “Someone has to watch out while my brothers grow fat and relaxed. I would never deny them their joy. They've created families and lives for themselves beyond war.”
“You already have a family,” Konor said. “Myself, Mother... Amelie, Liselle, and Dayvid.”
“Exactly,” he replied. “The truth is there will always be something that comes up. Natural disasters, conflicts. Races we overlooked, the possibility of life outside this galaxy. I am cautious. I send the Legion far and wide to help with what they can, to fight that constant battle against entropy, but you'll notice we don't recruit any more. The Legion will shrink in time without putting too many out to pasture.”
“Assuming they haven't taken on leadership duties elsewhere, which was long a part of your master plan,” Konor said, frowning. “I don't know what the other Legions are doing. My own...”
“They don't remember what home was like,” he said quietly. “It was something I always feared with the old programs. My Astartes have always remembered their homeworlds. Iax, Espandor, Calth. Macragge. The memories are solid.”
“They all stopped remembering Cthonia,” Konor said, dropping his gaze to one of the ears. He rubbed his thumb along one, questioningly. “They're happy enough, but they didn't have any ambition to return there.”
“Cthonia is a hole.”
“Father.”
“It's a hollowed out mining colony that stinks with filth and the population was reduced to gangers. It's a hole.”
“It's their hole,” Konor pointed out. “They're proud of it.”
“How can they be proud of it if they don't remember it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Fair.” Konor sighed. “I worry about them. I worry about my Primarch. I worry about why you called me home.”
“I wanted to know that Ultramar would be in good hands,” he replied. “Your mother won't live forever. Unmodified humans simply do not.”
“Is that why you left Grandmother's funeral early?”
He sucked in a breath. “I had business to take care of.”
“Business that didn't involve seeing her in a grave.”
“She was one of the strongest people I have ever known, and she was very, very fragile by the end,” he said simply. “It was a reminder that life is fleeting and fragile, even for those we do our best to protect.”
“She was proud to see the end of the war,” Konor said. “She was proud to see that all of your hard work had paid off.”
“She was proud to see all of her grandchildren again on her deathbed,” he replied quietly. “I visited the site she wanted before the funeral. I wanted to make certain that it would be right for her.”
“It was, it was a good service,” Konor said. “Father... when are you coming home?”
“Soon,” he replied. “I promised myself I'd spend time on Sotha once I had the chance. When the harvest ends, I'll come back to Macragge.”
They were quiet for a time, walking through the rows of corn, watching as clouds crawled by and the sun travelled across the horizon.
“Why is it that you came out here in the first place?” Konor asked. “I know this is your retirement, but this isn't exactly a garden that needs a personal touch. Why this?”
“I am Roboute Guilliman, Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion of the Emperor's own Space Marines, former ruler of the Five Hundred Worlds of the Empire of Ultramar.” He spread his arms wide, indicating everything around him. “I am out standing in my field.”
End