Did Perturabo realize he was wrong?
At the moment he saw Iron Warriors standing between himself and Usotan, he understood something had gone wrong.
Not tactically.
Not logically.
But structurally.
Command cohesion had fractured.
Authority had failed to propagate.
That meant an error existed.
But Perturabo did not admit error.
He could not.
How could I be wrong?
I am the war-smith of Olympia.
I was forged superior.
I was made to understand what others cannot.
From the moment his capsule opened, every experience had confirmed it:
He learned faster.
He designed better.
He saw solutions others missed.
He built wonders no mind could rival.
Criticism never came.
Only praise.
And praise becomes truth when never contradicted.
If failure occurred, it was because:
orders were misunderstood
• execution was flawed
• discipline was insufficient
Never the design.
Never the architect.
Perturabo believed war should function like his armor systems:
integrated
synchronized
perfectly responsive
His tactical helms linked data streams, battlefield telemetry, and command routing into a single control web. Through it, he could oversee every engagement zone and issue orders in real time.
He did not trust chaos.
He trusted control.
Total control.
This would become the foundation of his campaigns in the Great Crusade.
He had not expected his sons to defy him.
And he had certainly not expected them to do so for Usotan.
He knew the Thunderlord by reputation and record. He had studied every campaign report from his absence.
Usotan was competent. Efficient. Courageous.
Perturabo respected him.
He had even forged a gift for the veteran — a precision high-explosive pistol, machined to perfection.
When Usotan did not attend his return ceremony, Perturabo assumed contempt.
He destroyed the gift.
He never asked why.
Perturabo's innate knowledge had denied him something vital:
growth.
Other Primarchs learned through failure. Through doubt. Through listening.
Perturabo heard only himself.
And applause.
Yuki knew this.
She did not hate him.
She pitied him.
Holding him pinned beneath one arm, she spoke evenly:
"Perturabo, you are a good man… but you are a child living inside your own world."
It was the most accurate description she possessed.
He loved deeply.
He simply did not recognize the language of love.
Perturabo strained against her grip, muscles like coiled siege cables.
He did not answer.
"Perturabo," she continued,
"you have never been allowed to grow."
She released him.
He lay still on the shattered ferrocrete.
"Choose," she said.
"Admit your mistake… or remain stubborn and I will put you back on the ground."
Silence stretched.
Rain hissed against cooling metal.
Finally:
"…Fine. I acknowledge… an error."
Yuki blinked.
"You believe I humiliated you."
He gestured at the torn armor.
"Was that not the intention?"
"No," she said gently. "I love you. We all do."
He stood slowly, eyes burning like furnace cores.
"This is your idea of love?"
She tilted her head.
"Then you do not love your Legion?"
He answered instantly.
"I act for their good."
She smiled.
"So do I."
He fell silent.
Logic offered no escape.
Strength offered no victory.
Was he truly wrong?
Yuki produced a massive thermal blanket and draped it over his shoulders like a cloak.
"Now," she said softly, "will you admit your mistake?"
His jaw tightened.
Words forced their way out like rusted gears turning.
"…My conduct… was inappropriate."
"And?"
"My purpose was not wrong. My intent remains correct. My reflection does not depend on you."
"Good," she said warmly. "That is enough."
Rome had not been built in a day.
This was progress.
She knelt, lifting fragments of shattered armor.
"I will repair this," she said. "I promise."
"No," he replied, turning away.
"I do not believe you can restore it completely."
He walked into the rain.
Then stopped.
Without turning, he said:
"Yuki… I will remember this day."
She smiled.
"Good. Don't forget."
Elsewhere…
Omega scratched his head furiously.
What did that mean?
Was it gratitude? A vow? A grudge? A future threat?
He hated not understanding things.
He wanted to return to the Empire.
He didn't want to return to the Empire.
He wanted to return — because Yuki was here.
He didn't want to return — because Imperial life was exhausting.
Surviving alone in a death wilderness had been simpler.
Watching Alpha skulk through shadows and manipulate half the galaxy had been entertaining.
Still… he returned.
Work awaited.
"I want to see my sister."
Alpha did not look up from his data-slates.
"You are young. Focus on your duties."
Omega nearly punched him.
"We are twins."
Alpha snapped back:
"I am drowning in work and see her twice a day. You just arrived and want privileges?"
Omega seethed.
"Fine. I'll work two years. Then you don't stop me."
"Deal."
Omega's first assignment:
Infiltrate the newly returned Fourth Legion.
He observed everything.
Usotan's arrival.
The confrontation.
The defiance.
Yuki descending like judgment.
And Perturabo…
admitting fault.
Omega nearly stopped breathing.
Then came the final words.
I will remember this day.
What did that mean?!
Alpha: Don't panic. Thinking.
Omega: Well think faster.
Alpha: Possibly a threat.
Omega: Possibly?
Alpha: I'm telling Father.
Omega: Do NOT tell Father!
Alpha: Signal breaking. Goodbye.
Omega: ALPHARIS YOU—
Silence.
Omega slowly looked up.
A warm smiling face filled his vision.
"What's wrong? You've been staring into nothing for a long time."
His brain emptied.
"I… I was…"
She tilted her head.
"Oh?"
Her hand brushed his helmet.
"So this is our first meeting."
Omega froze.
Words abandoned him.
She took his hand.
"Come. Let's talk."
He followed, stunned, pocket watch burning against his chest like molten metal.
Behind him:
"Who the hell was that?"
"Hey! If I see that kid again I'll rip his helmet off!"
Company Commander Felix looked at Usotan.
"Commander… who was that?"
Usotan blinked.
"How the hell should I know?"
High above:
Alpha: BROTHER ANSWER THE VOX
Omega: Connection terminated.
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