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"Titus Prayto,"Tetrarch Dolor asked with bone-chilling gravity,"can you swear, under any conceivable circumstance, to maintain eternal loyalty to the Primarch?"
The current Chief Librarian of the Ultramarines looked at Dolor with utter bewilderment. Prayto had always enjoyed a rapport with this transparently honest Tetrarch, and they frequently shared private confidences ranging from grumbles about their Primarch’s lingering boyish streaks beneath his solemn exterior to which establishment in Macragge served the finest cognac. He could not fathom what would bring the Tetrarch to his meditation chamber at the crack of dawn, looking more haggard than a corpse and spouting such nonsensical riddles.
"Is there a problem, Valentus?"Prayto asked."Our minds and flesh are gifts from the Primarch. Beyond fealty to him, I can imagine no other mode of existence."As he spoke, he cautiously reached out to probe Dolor’s mind, but the man’s mental defenses were currently as impenetrable as an Iron Warriors fortification. Prayto sensed absolutely nothing.
"What I mean is,"Dolor paused, weighing his words with agonizing care."I mean, regardless of what form he takes, or what predicament he finds himself in, can you maintain that loyalty?"
Prayto grew increasingly baffled. However, out of the genetic habit inherent to the scions of Guilliman, he gave the hypothetical serious, analytical thought."As long as the Primarch remains loyal to Humanity, I am eternally his,"he said cautiously, before a spike of anxiety hit him. Dolor was a man of sharp wit and composure, and only one thing could rattle him so thoroughly."What has happened to Lord Guilliman?"He recalled the sight of the Primarch weeping before his ruined office."Have the vipers of the Alpha Legion struck again? Has the wound...?"
"Follow me,"Dolor said curtly. He spun on his heel so sharply that his magnificent cloak nearly slapped the Librarian across the face.
Full of doubt, Prayto followed. They navigated the Fortress of Hera, traversed the Avenue of Heroes, and soon arrived at the Residency. Prayto found himself standing before the door of the Primarch’s temporary office, a converted private library. Tarasha Euten stood there, the Chamberlain's face set in a mask of grim severity. Prayto attempted a cursory telepathic glance only to find the woman’s mind as unyielding as granite and iron. Totally impregnable.
"We require your absolute silence regarding what you are about to see,"Dolor warned."Regardless of how agitated or incredulous you become. Can you do that, Titus?"
"Who do you take me for, Valentus?"Prayto replied. Euten sighed and nodded to him."Go inside,"she said."Our dear Lord needs you quite badly right now."
The sheer ceremony of it all sent Prayto’s nerves into a flutter, but he pushed open the heavy doors regardless. By habit, his eyes searched for the towering silhouette of his gene-father amidst the data-slates, scrolls, chairs, and bookshelves. He saw nothing. It took a full half-second for his gaze to drop to the desk. Then he let out a sharp intake of breath, stumbled back, and nearly sat down hard on the floor. Dolor caught him.
"I warned you, brother,"the Tetrarch said, his voice thick with a profound, existential sorrow.
---
Euten had received the message early that morning, though whether it was a blessing or a curse was hard to say. Macragge had intercepted a signal from a Dark Angels fleet a few light-years away. Guided by the Pharos, the First Primarch, Lion El'Jonson, had arrived and was demanding an audience with his brother, Guilliman. Euten had asked Captain Gorod if the Primarch had received the news, but Gorod replied that the Lord of Macragge had been feasting with the Space Wolves the previous night. He had drunk late, returned, face-planted into his office, and had not emerged since. He was likely still resting.
Euten pursed her lips and decided to deliver this momentous news herself. She rang the chime. Guilliman did not respond. The door was unlocked, so she marched straight in. Roboute had never been the sort of child to scream red-faced and hide contraband when his parents entered anyway.
Much like Prayto later that day, Euten failed to find Guilliman amongst the clutter of administration. Guessing he might still be sleeping off the intoxication, she rounded the desk to the sofa bed he used for naps. It was a simple cot, though to her it was the size of a shipping container, and she had to walk all the way around to see the surface.
She did not see the Primarch of the Ultramarines, Master of the Five Hundred Worlds, the Eagle of the East, or the Avenging Son.
She saw a small, furry animal curled up in the corner of the sofa, fast asleep.
Euten froze. Her first reaction was that the Wolves had forced more than just mjod upon Guilliman last night. They had perhaps gifted him some miraculous Fenrisian creature, and taking advantage of his inebriated state, the barbarians must have convinced him to keep it, likely intending to use it as a spying device. It wouldn't be entirely unprecedented. Middle-aged men stumbling home drunk with a stray dog of unknown origin was a staple of Macragge’s local news.
But she quickly realized something was wrong.
The animal seemed to hear Euten’s footsteps. It opened its mouth in a yawn, stretched its supple body, and opened bleary, sleep-filled eyes to look at her. Now she saw it clearly. It appeared to be a creature known as an Ancient Terran Syrian Hamster, also called a Golden Hamster, once a prized pet of Macragge nobility. But this hamster was a giant among its kind, roughly half the length of her arm. A Leviathan of hamsters.
The giant hamster looked at Euten. It opened its mouth and let out a faint squeak.
The sound seemed to startle the creature itself. It lifted a front paw, stared at its own pink digits, then looked down at its belly covered in short golden fur and the stubby legs supporting its frame.
It looked up again. Euten noticed its eyes were blue. Identical to Guilliman’s. Although rodents were not supposed to possess a complex range of facial expressions, the look of shock it gave Euten was identical to the look of a psychologically devastated Guilliman.
The Guilliman-turned-hamster looked at Euten. Euten looked at the Guilliman-turned-hamster.
---
Prayto clutched his psychic hood with both hands. Dolor looked at the Librarian with deep sympathy.
"Well?"the Tetrarch asked.
Prayto wanted to weep. No matter how many mental suggestions he planted, no matter how many detection rituals for Chaos sorcery he performed, no matter how much psychological bracing he attempted, he could not deny the reality displayed before him. The large, golden hamster standing solemnly on its hind legs on the Primarch’s desk, front paws crossed in a dignified manner, was without a doubt his gene-father. He could sense it through their blood connection, and every psychic probe confirmed it. That mind, those emotions, were undoubtedly Guilliman’s.
The good news was that even as a hamster, his Primarch’s mind remained calm, rational, resolute, and heroic.
The bad news, however, was that these qualities are of limited utility to a hamster.
The hamster-Primarch seemed to feel sympathy for his son’s confusion. He scampered across the desk, extending a paw as if to pat Prayto on the shoulder for comfort. Realizing his forelimbs were too short to achieve this, he retracted the paw with a reserved dignity that salvaged his gravitas.
It was absolutely Guilliman.
"We tried other ways to communicate,"Dolor said, placing data-slates and parchment before Prayto. The crystal surface of the slate was covered in tiny paw prints while the paper bore a few crooked, illegible characters surrounded by ink-stained paw marks. Prayto noticed his hamster-father’s golden fluff was stained with ink."We even shortened a quill for him, but a hamster’s physiology is ill-suited for writing or typing. So the Primarch ordered us to fetch you. Under these circumstances, translating his thoughts through you is obviously the most efficient method. He will open his mind to you."
This was true. Guilliman was currently speaking to Prayto internally."Transforming into this form has impacted the complexity of my thoughts, but it is not without benefits. At least it reduces your stress,"the hamster said, though physically his furry exterior merely twitched its pink nose, cheek pouches puffing rhythmically. The prerequisite for this communication was that Prayto could feel the Primarch’s mind—usually a labyrinth of nuance, a river of grandeur, unpredictable as the weather—had indeed shrunk. It was now a size he could grasp and comprehend. In other words, it was about the same as a standard Astartes. It was slightly bruising to realize the Primarch’s brain, even shrunk to hamster size, was at least as smart as he was, but Prayto could only marvel at the Emperor’s genetic mastery.
"Why on Terra did this happen?"he asked.
The hamster twitched his whiskers."I have a theoretical,"Guilliman said, though before projecting it, he glanced at Euten with a distinct sense of guilt.
"I believe my Father granted us a self-preservation instinct. Though I possess no psychic talent, this instinct manifests in times of extreme danger. It adjusts the body to the state best suited for surviving a hostile environment."
"Similar to how our Melanochromic Organ alters our skin color in high radiation,"Dolor supplied.
The Primarch-hamster placed both hands on his chest and nodded, affirming Dolor’s point. Prayto struggled to look away. Space Marines knew no fear, but they were not immune to cuteness. Yet, thinking his Primarch was'cute'felt like heresy of the highest order."Precisely, though our changes may be more extreme,"Prayto continued to relay the Primarch’s thoughts."I believe that due to the consecutive traumas of Calth, the Shadow Crusade of Lorgar and Angron, and the Alpha Legion’s assassination attempts, my instincts were triggered."
"Then what exactly happened to you, my Lord?"Euten asked. She stared at the hamster-Guilliman without a shred of pity, her voice stern.
Guilliman looked even meeker than before.
"I may have consumed excessive amounts of the Wolves'Mjod. It is an interesting beverage,"he admitted.
"It is poison,"Euten pointed out sharply. Usually, Guilliman would retort, but now Prayto heard his Primarch’s inner voice sounding like a teenager trying to change the subject."Regardless,"he said,"because my body was not in... peak condition, it attempted to find the most optimal biological form to process the overdose of alcohol."
The office fell into silence.
"In the animal kingdom,"Dolor finally spoke, adopting the factual, resigned tone of a man accepting his fate,"hamsters possess an incredibly high tolerance for alcohol. Due to a massive and efficient liver, they metabolize ethanol and reduce circulating blood volume far more efficiently than any humanoid."
"So for the practical..."Guilliman began.
"Exactly how much of that wretched drink did you consume?"Euten interrupted.
"...By my estimation, perhaps thirty-three liters,"Guilliman confessed honestly.
"I asked around the Wolves'camp indirectly,"Dolor added."Russ pretends to love the drink, but in reality, he has never actually consumed more than ten liters in a single day."
Prayto felt Euten’s gaze could burn a hole through the desk. Guilliman squeaked some internal defense, but Prayto dared not utter it, nor even listen too closely.
"Based on efficiency and body mass calculations, you will need at least a week to metabolize that mjod,"Dolor concluded."In other words, if the theoretical is correct, you will be a hamster for at least a week."
Euten crossed her arms, looking down at the slightly shrunken hamster-Guilliman.
"And what will you do now?"she asked, placing the report regarding the Dark Angels and the Lion on the desk."Your big brother is coming."
Hamster-Guilliman scurried across the desk and reviewed the report carefully.
"Is it really the Lion?"he muttered. Prayto wasn't sure if he should translate that.
"He brings a massive fleet,"Euten answered."That he could have been a serious threat, had he not come peacefully.Not to mention,"she looked at him with that stern gaze again,"you are currently a hamster. How do you intend to meet your brother, my Lord?"
The hamster cautiously extended a claw to touch the winged sword emblem on the report, as if confirming its reality. Then he sighed. Prayto was too embarrassed to translate the squeak.
"Of all of them… Why did it have to be himwho found a way through the storm?"Guilliman said."And why now?"
The three attendees pretended not to hear.
The hamster straightened up, paced to one side of the desk, then dropped to all fours and scurried to the other side, then back again.
"Shall we find an excuse to delay him?"Dolor broke the silence.
"Not viable,"Guilliman said."My brother is exceptionally paranoid. If I lack a solid reason to delay his landing on Macragge at this juncture, he will undoubtedly suspect I am engaged in some dark conspiracy. It serves no benefit. Not to mention, I am currently considering..."
He stopped, spun in a circle twice, and stood in the center of the desk. Prayto watched in horror as his Primarch began to wash his face with his paws, rubbing his puffed cheek pouches and ears, grooming his fur. He had never owned a pet, but he knew this was how small creatures like hamsters soothed anxiety. From his psychic contact, he knew this was a subconscious action, and Guilliman didn't even realize he was doing it.
Based on his knowledge of hamsters, they had another way of dealing with stress, but if Guilliman actually did that in front of him, Prayto decided he would commit suicide immediately to preserve his gene-father’s honor.
"This is too difficult,"Guilliman continued to mutter."I cannot think clearly like this."
Then, he seemed to have a sudden inspiration.
"Valentus,"he said."Would you mind doing me a favor?"
---
Dolor, heavy with worry, did not expect to run into Auguston so soon after leaving.
"I hear the First Legion and their Primarch are arriving,"the tall First Master rumbled."Does the Primarch have any instructions?"
He certainly does, but I fear they aren't what you imagine, Dolor thought, looking at Auguston."The Primarch is still considering the matter,"he said."He asks us to remain calm."
Auguston looked noncommittal but nodded seriously. After being scolded by Euten and Guilliman recently, he seemed to be in a period of reflection. He had a bad temper and wasn't known for creative thinking, but introspection was a virtue of Guilliman’s sons, for it was the prerequisite for adaptation.
So Dolor decided not to tell Auguston that the Primarch had turned into a hamster. He couldn't bear to ruin Auguston’s precious introspective progress.
"Where are you rushing off to?"Auguston asked.
The multi-threaded thinking Guilliman bequeathed to his sons worked against Dolor in that moment. Thinking of too many things at once, he accidentally spoke the truth."To find a large running wheel. The kind a hamster runs in."
This was Guilliman’s order.
The Primarch reasoned that since the situation was immutable, complaining was useless and a counter-strategy must be found. Based on his understanding of his hamster physiology, he believed running on a wheel might help him maintain composure and think more effectively to handle the Lion’s arrival.
Dolor realized Auguston was staring at him in disbelief, and his heart sank.
"What do you need a large running wheel for?"the First Master asked.
A vast galaxy of possibilities slid through Dolor’s mind. In an instant, he concocted seven or eight lies to cover the truth, each over twelve thousand words long and so absurd not even an Abominable Intelligence could invent them.
But before he could select one that was only marginally ridiculous, Auguston waved his hand magnanimously.
"Never mind,"he said."I never really understand what you're up to anyway, Valentus. If it involves the Vigil, pretend I didn't ask."
The massive field commander paused for a moment, looking slightly embarrassed.
"But I have what you need. Ready-made,"he said.
"What?"Dolor was incredulous.
"The wheel you need,"Auguston said."I made it myself some time ago. If you need it urgently, I'll fetch it. It's quick."He pointed behind him."It's right in my quarters."
Then Dolor remembered. Auguston was indeed of Macragge nobility. Before becoming an Astartes, he might have been like any ordinary child, lying on a table, watching his little pet run endlessly on a wheel.
"...Thank you, Phratus,"Dolor said. He didn't ask why Auguston kept a homemade hamster wheel in his barracks. Astartes had different ways of anchoring their humanity, and Guilliman had always encouraged it.
So when Guilliman began to sprint on the wheel so fast he became a blur, Dolor couldn't help but mention it.
"Auguston made this,"he said.
"Is that so?"Guilliman replied, though he was running with intense concentration.
"It is impressive,"Euten said.
"It is reassuring,"Guilliman said without looking up, but Dolor thought he sounded slightly happier.
---
Guilliman sniffed at the cheap badges bearing the First Legion sigil, the plastic figurines of Dark Angels, and the plastic figure of his elder brother(one size larger than the standard Dark Angels)scattered on the table. Dolor had bought them from street vendors, and the Tetrarch informed the Primarch that business was booming.
"So my people think he will save them when I cannot?"Guilliman said, looking rather displeased.
Euten watched him. Strangely, although the initial shock of seeing Roboute as a hamster had been severe, it took only half a day for her to learn to read his emotions, faster even than his sons. After all, finding and recognizing humanity in a creature that looked nothing like a human was something she had experienced once before.
Speaking of sons, Prayto sat to the side, hands on knees like a schoolboy, dutifully translating the words appearing in the hamster’s brain, though his eyes were completely vacant. Euten suspected he was visualizing how to mind-wipe himself of the last few days.
Thinking this, Euten hushed Guilliman, who was squatting on his hind legs amidst a pile of Lion merchandise.
"They celebrate the moment, you foolish boy,"she said."Whatever your opinion of your brother, he is noble and he is loyal.They are not celebrating the fact that you have turned into a hamster."
The great Hamster shook his head, whiskers twitching.
"Furthermore, this is your decision,"Euten said. This was the conclusion Guilliman had reached after running over a thousand laps on the wheel. He would not delay the Lion’s arrival, and he would welcome him with a grand ceremony. He obviously couldn't appear in public; the official excuse was that the Primarch remained unwell and needed rest. However, Guilliman had decided to meet the Lion in this form.
"I do not think the First Primarch will accept this,"Dolor had said, shocked.
"No,"Guilliman said."I have considered it carefully. There is a tactical advantage."
"Advantage?"
"My brother is proud, independent, and one might even say self-willed,"the Great Hamster said solemnly."But he is accustomed to the laws of the Calibanite forests while being raised on knightly codes. This means if he sees an equally powerful existence before him, his first instinct is defense. He raises his guard, perhaps even postures to show off. He becomes a bundle of problems and trouble, and we would inevitably clash. The Imperium Secundus plan would never come to fruition. However, despite his ruthlessness, he adheres to principles. If I show weakness, and if I am willing to appear before him honestly even in this embarrassing form, perhaps he will be more inclined to believe in my sincerity."
"That is one perspective,"Euten sighed."But he might also think you are tainted by the Warp and punch you across the room."
"That is a possibility. But my weight is currently one-thousandth of my original mass,"Guilliman replied confidently."The physical burden is small. Even if the Lion slaps me away, air resistance will allow me to land safely without significant injury. Besides, he wouldn't eat me."
Euten had no doubt that Guilliman’s brother had caught and eaten hamster-like creatures while living as a feral child in the forest, but there was no need to bring that up now.
"You aren't jealous of him. That is good,"she said.
Guilliman fell silent for a moment.
"I might actually be a little jealous,"he said, ears flattening back against his head uncomfortably."I do not feel uneasy around Horus, nor dissatisfied with Ferrus. But the Lion is different."
"It does not become you, but it is also rather sweet."Euten said.
Guilliman must have grumbled something in his mind, for Prayto faithfully translated the incoherent muttering.
"It is strange, though,"the Ultramarine Hamster-Primarch said."If I were... normal, I wouldn't think of the Lion this way. I feel I would inevitably try to compete with him. I would never want to show weakness. Even discovering he was a few centimeters taller would make me uncomfortable."
"So what is your conclusion, my Lord?"Euten smiled.
"Thinking from a different perspective broadens the horizon,"Guilliman said.
"You always knew that, Roboute."
The hamster nodded.
"But I lacked the opportunity to practice. So this is a beneficial experience,"he said. Euten saw Prayto’s mouth twitch; clearly, he did not approve of this assessment. But the Chief Librarian remained silent.
"Speaking of your brothers,"Euten said,"have you... gone to see your other brother?"
Guilliman nodded. His whiskers drooped.
"I have,"he said.
Dolor had informed Guilliman. Perhaps because the Tetrarch couldn't quite accept seeing the Primarch using his bottom to stamp genetic authorizations on data-slates, he had spent more time in the Apothecarion observing the strange corpse that had fallen from the sky. He had confirmed it was actually the Primarch of the XVIII Legion, Vulkan.
Unknown to most, the accident of the Primarch turning into a hamster might have triggered a Warp shockwave, causing Vulkan to resurrect on the spot.
Seeing the XVIII Primarch apparently devoid of sanity, Dolor immediately notified Guilliman and took him there. It was bizarre and difficult, but Dolor had been through worse.
"How is he?"Euten asked.
Guilliman sighed."He doesn't recognize me at all. He hears no one. Dolor wouldn't let me in the cage."
"Of course not,"Euten said.
"But I found a gap and squeezed in,"Guilliman added."Impossible for a Primarch, but as a hamster, there are simply too many gaps."
Euten glared at him again."You shouldn't have done that."
"Oh come now, woman,"Guilliman said."That is my brother. Even if he doesn't recognize me, he is still my brother."
"How do you know?"
"He acts like a feral animal,"the hamster said."Roaring and raging. But after I entered, he never once thought to harm me. He paced back and forth in the cell, but never once stepped on me. No matter how mad, he is still the Lord of Drakes I knew. I could do nothing but keep him company for a while."
He sighed again.
"I truly hope the Lion has a heart like Vulkan’s."
Outside, horns and trumpets blared. The hamster stood on tiptoes, looking out the window.
"My brother is landing,"he said.
"Do you want to eat something first?"Euten asked."Not to meddle, my Lord, but you haven't eaten in seventy-two hours since the transformation. You need to build up strength before meeting your brother."A normal hamster might have starved to death, but a Primarch-hamster was evidently different.
"No need,"Guilliman said sternly, but after a moment he retracted his words."Are there fruits and vegetables?"he asked somewhat shyly."I think I might like that."
Euten watched Guilliman finish a piece of chicken breast and some broccoli, then picked him up and walked toward the depths of the Fortress of Hera. Prayto followed, eyes still vacant. In the distance, the military square was raucous with drums, the roar of deceleration engines and landing thrusters faintly audible.
"I hope Dolor and the others can handle it,"the hamster muttered, swiveling a round ear."I don't even need to look. Just listening to that commotion, I know the Lion is definitely showing off his military discipline."
Euten smiled faintly, her fingers absently stroking the soft golden fur on the hamster’s head. Roboute didn't complain. The last time he had been patted on the head by Euten was a long, long time ago—before war occupied his entire life, before Konor left him, even before he understood and accepted his ideals. It felt like a fuzzy dream of a past life. So, neither she nor he minded reliving the old days for a moment.
---
The Lion was certain there was a trap.
Naturally, where Guilliman was concerned, a lack of traps was impossible. Some called the Lion cunning, but he considered himself merely unbound by rules; Guilliman was the one full of ambition and schemes. Only this time, he was even more suspicious than usual.
That light from the beacon of unknown origin? Fine.
The implicit proposal to rebuild an empire? Laughable.
Assassinated by Alpha Legionnaires before the Lion arrived, to the point where he was bedridden and couldn't attend the welcome ceremony? The Lion scoffed at this.
Guilliman was absolutely plotting something, hiding something. But it didn't matter. The Lion would find it out.
On Macragge, the Lion decided he would sleep with his eyes open. He had done the same when Curze was running rampant on the Invincible Reason.
(He didn't know that Curze, having seen Guilliman’s current form through his vision, had suffered such a massive shock that he hadn't recovered. The Night Haunter was currently huddled in the Dark Angels'kitchen, contemplating his next move, temporarily unable to take action.)
With these thoughts, the Lion casually parried a Space Wolf's axe blow, then turned to the embarrassed-looking Dolor and said,"Take me to your Primarch."
They walked through the grand halls and corridors of the Fortress of Hera, heading toward a tower deep within.
"Is my brother recovering in that place?"the Lion asked. He had already memorized the fortress's general layout and formulated retreat routes, and even attack plans. His sons followed behind, bodies tense.
"Yes,"Dolor replied humbly."You will see him soon."
The Lion felt the humility was fake, definitely hiding something, but he couldn't quite judge. He used to rely on Nemiel to judge the truth of others'character, but Nemiel was not here anymore.
They passed through a large gate. Before a magnificent portico stood an even more massive stone door, clearly sealing some unspeakable secret. Dolor stopped.
"Forgive my rudeness, my Lord,"he said to the Lion, glancing at Redloss and Holguin behind the Primarch."But Lord Guilliman wishes to meet with you alone."
"My brother doesn't expect me to lay down my weapons, does he?"the Lion smiled. In his understanding, this was a joke meant to ease the tension. It failed. Redloss and Holguin looked even grimmer, hands gripping their sword hilts tightly. Dolor maintained his signature poise and politeness, though he looked more pained than before.
"No, my Lord. You may keep your weapons. Please consider it a proof of sincerity. But please also understand our Primarch’s difficulty; he is already deeply ashamed for failing to fulfill the duties of a host,"he said.
The Lion nodded and glanced at Redloss and Holguin. Though reluctant, they retreated. The Lion lowered his hand from the Lion Sword, but he knew if he wished, he could draw faster than lightning. Even if Guilliman was plotting something, he was confident he could handle it. Guilliman had never been much of a duelist anyway, so if he tried any tricks, the Lion would beat him until he wished he’d never crawled out of his incubation pod.
The heavy doors opened. The Lion strode in, and the doors slammed shut behind him.
There was indeed more than one person inside.
No, wait, Guilliman wasn't there. Only an Astartes standing blankly. The Lion had met him before and studied the data on current Ultramarine strength, so he knew this was Titus Prayto, a fairly capable Librarian, though likely not comparable to Zahariel. Thus, the Lion paid him little heed.
"Where is your Primarch, lad?"he asked.
Prayto spoke.
"'I am here, brother,'"he said in a flat, resigned monotone, delivering a line that should have been full of warmth.
The Lion looked down.
He saw a long table and twenty-one massive chairs around it. He instantly understood the meaning of the room. But he did not immediately understand the thing standing on the table in front of the chair draped in the Ultramarines banner.
Round. Furry.
The large golden hamster, standing on its hind legs, locked eyes with the Lion.
"'I apologize for having to meet you in this manner, but please believe me, I am your brother, I am Roboute Guilliman,'"Prayto spoke again."'As for why I have become like this, I will explain later. But I only wish to tell you, brother, that the current situation is grave and brooks no delay, therefore our meeting is to...'"
A vast galaxy slid through the Lion’s mind.
But he was a Primarch, after all, and a true, unadulterated beast of the forest. Therefore, compared to the five stages of grief others might experience—such as denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—he immediately understood and accepted the fact that his brother had turned into a hamster. But being the Lion, his mind immediately slid to the next logical stage.
Hamster-Guilliman was preparing to deliver the rest of his welcome speech when he watched his brother leap onto the long table, draw his longsword, and point it straight at the hamster. Brows inverted, fury radiating from him, he looked truly majestic, handsome, and lethal.
"Ha!"The Lion roared."I knew you had ill intentions and harbored dark designs!"
He immediately deduced the most likely conclusion from the current situation.
"You used some foul sorcery to turn yourself into a hamster,"he bellowed."ARE YOU PLANNING TO TURN ME INTO A CAT?!"
Deep in his soul, Prayto rolled his eyes.
His Primarch had made another mistake.There were times when Lord Guilliman of Ultramar seemed to know everything about everything, in astonishing detail, yet he could also be childlike in his naivety and not understand very basic things about the people and the culture surrounding him.Now he had misjudged his big brother’s reaction entirely.
However, watching the scene of chaos—cat-and-mouse, or rather, Lion-and-Hamster—unfold on the stone table, Prayto thought to himself:One must have faith in the Primarch. Even as a hamster, his gene-father was calm, rational, resolute, and heroic.
Their Primarch excelled at cleaning up messes.
Even if everything was collapsing, crumbling down, he would surely solve the current situation.
Right?
End?