The meeting with the eight captains did not go as hard as Konrad had expected. He thought he would have to engage in a verbal battle. But in reality, nothing of the sort happened.
He expressed his opinion that he considered it wrong and explained the reasons to the captains in detail.
For example, he had no experience in managing a legion, and appointing new officers indiscriminately could cause many problems. He expected them to argue, but the captains said nothing.
"If that is your will," said Captain Vancliff of the First Company, who remained in the room after the meeting.
No matter how Konrad persuaded him, he did not want to give up the formal address, and thus became the only one in the legion who addressed Konrad Curze as "you."
"The meeting is over, aren't you even going to object, Vancliff?" Curze asked in surprise.
"What does objection have to do with the end of the meeting?" the Captain of the First Company frowned, and genuine bewilderment appeared on his stern face.
"After all, you were the one who informed me of your collective resignation. You told me about it at the very first meeting. And no matter how I persuaded you, you didn't back down."
"At the meeting, after my speech, you also voted 'yes' last. Therefore, I have reason to believe that you are actually considering the feelings of your brothers, and that is why I left you alone."
Konrad Curze smiled, his hands neatly folded on the table. He waited for Vancliff's answer.
The Captain of the First Company was silent for a long time before speaking.
"Actually, Primarch, I was just considering your words then. I am a man of old habits and conservative views, so I only respond to the words of any person after long reflection..."
"You have convinced me, Primarch. You are right, we really shouldn't have resigned from this position. After all, it is not just a responsibility, it is the trust of many brothers. We must not let them down..."
Vancliff spoke with his head bowed and did not see his Primarch's expression. Konrad Curze exhaled softly, his heart finally calmed down.
He sincerely hoped that Vancliff would understand him, and therefore he was very happy about it. However, although it sounded contradictory, if Vancliff had not understood, he would not have insisted.
'Seek common ground while preserving differences,' he thought.
"That's very good, Vancliff," he said sincerely. "And also, may I ask you a favor?"
Vancliff's head snapped up, his brows furrowed. He did it so quickly that Curze was surprised. Then he saw his Captain of the First Company place his right hand heavily and quickly on his chest. Even though he was not wearing armor, his chest made a dull sound from the blow.
"I will do everything in my power," the Captain of the First Company of the Eighth Legion said solemnly.
"You don't have to do that, Vancliff," Curze said with a bitter smile. "I just wanted to ask you to tell the ship's scribes to send today's documents to the meeting room. I want to work here today."
"So that's what it is."
The Captain of the First Company nodded, immediately turned around, and left through the door, without the slightest delay, not intending to stay even a second longer.
Curze opened his mouth, but lowered his raised hand. He heard the automatic door close, then raised his hands, covered his face, and leaned back in his chair.
A muffled sigh came from under his palms.
Fatigue.
This feeling made him keep his hands on his face for a long time. He lay with his eyes open, the soft light not penetrating through the gaps between his fingers, and the familiar darkness enveloped him again, as comforting as the corner where he was accustomed to sit.
'But I can't just be the Night Haunter,' he told himself. 'I have the responsibility on my shoulders, twenty thousand lives, and Nostramo... I can no longer sit in the corner and wait for Karyel's return as before.'
He removed his hands, allowing the light to flood in, and stood up in silence. He walked to the edge of the silver table and began to examine the banners of the companies hanging on the conference room wall.
There were eight of them, with sharp or dull patterns in blue on a black background. They hung in a row, silent and motionless.
Looking at them, Konrad Curze squinted without saying a word. A word that Karyel had often spoken slowly bloomed in his mind. These were long-sown seeds that were now finally beginning to grow.
History.
He thought quietly and began to repeat the word to himself: "History." He pronounced the word in Nostramo, and then in High Gothic. They sounded completely different, but both were equally weighty.
"What was before me?"
"What was their history? What sacrifices did they make? How many years did they endure to meet me?"
Konrad Curze did not allow himself to think about it any longer. He had a lot to do today.
A responsible person who took on the management of such a huge organization as the Astartes legion faced an astonishing amount of paperwork.
All the matters that officers had previously discussed with captains and resolved now naturally fell on his desk. Konrad Curze did not complain; he was even happy about it.
But he had no experience in these matters.
Although he learned quickly, his productivity inevitably decreased.
He knew perfectly well how to solve this problem. What other way was there to solve it?
Other than doing it more and gaining experience, there was no other way. In this work, knowledge and supernatural analytical abilities alone were not enough. They were needed, but experience was even more needed.
Shaking his head, the lord of the Eighth Legion walked to the conference room door.
The door opened, and as if anticipating it, he reached out and took a large stack of documents and appendices from the servitor.
This was only the first batch. Konrad Curze knew perfectly well that he would have to process at least six such batches. When the supply fleet arrived, these papers would go with him where they belonged.
And now...
"Thank you," he said to the servitor.
The creature of flesh and metal looked at him, not understanding the meaning of the word.
If it had even the slightest spark of consciousness, it would be confused now. But it didn't, so it just stood there and uttered a cold phrase:
"Order?"
"No orders," Konrad Curze replied calmly.
The servitor turned and left.
The lord of the Eighth Legion lowered his head, and some incomprehensible feeling stirred in his soul. But he did not let it affect him. As before, he threw it into a box deep in his heart.
...
"Why not?" Siani of Terra asked his captain with annoyance. The latter cast a dispassionate glance at him with his eyes set under high cheekbones and shook his head slightly.
"It's just not possible," he replied coldly.
"What's not possible?!" Siani shouted. "Don't you want Lord Karyel to stay?!"
"Of course I do, especially after seeing the situation on Nostramo. From a moral standpoint, Karyel Lohars is impeccable. But I must remind you of something, Siani: the question of whether Lord Karyel will stay is not for us to decide."
Slowly, gradually, deep wrinkles appeared between the brows of the Captain of the First Company, Vancliff.
He stared intently at Siani.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked coldly. "Going to the Primarch and asking him to persuade Lord Karyel to change his mind? Are you out of your mind, Siani?"
"Don't tell me you don't want to, Captain!"
"I do, but I won't do it. Your actions are a direct violation of the charter. We are judges, Siani. If we ourselves do not abide by our rules, with what face will we look at those who have crossed the line?"
Siani's hands trembled. He took a deep breath and leaned his hands on his captain's desk.
"Do you agree or not?" Siani of Terra asked in the most serious tone of his life. "Let me remind you, Captain, Lord Karyel is the Primarch's adoptive father."
"The law is the same for everyone!"
The Captain of the First Company was silent for a moment, understanding what Siani meant, and then roared these four words in anger:
"Go and rewrite the Codex of Terra three times!"
He stood up in anger and left. Siani, with relief, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead – he had thought Vancliff was about to hit him.
In the Eighth Legion, everyone knew the character of the Captain of the First Company. Off duty, he could be pleasant to talk to, but when it came to the codex and rules, he became terrifyingly inflexible.
"This is our duty as punishers and judges of the Emperor," Vancliff often said.
However...
Siani suddenly muttered with a guilty sigh:
"Forgive me, Captain."
Meanwhile, Vancliff, leaving the company's quarters, did not head straight for the conference room to their Primarch Konrad Curze, as Siani had thought. On the contrary, he went in another direction.
He walked down a dark corridor, passed a labyrinthine hall with thirteen doors, went up, down, even used a short elevator – and after a long seventeen minutes, the Captain of the First Company of the Eighth Legion finally reached their new training hall.
As he had expected, looking down, he saw Karyel Lohars in the center of the ring.
This giant among giants was fighting bare-handed with a young warrior from the Fourth Company, who held a sharpened training sword and attacked with fury.
But for his opponent, this was far from enough.
Vancliff watched as, in the next five seconds, Karyel Lohars dodged all the sword attacks with casual ease and finally ripped the weapon from the young warrior's hands with one hand.
The voices under the ring fell silent at that moment.
"Not bad," the giant said softly. "Compared to last time, you've made great progress, Khaled."
The young warrior straightened up sharply, his voice ringing:
"R-r-really, sir?"
"Don't call me 'sir,' or I'll take my words back."
The giant returned the sword to Khaled with a slight smirk, blade towards himself, his posture surprisingly calm and serene.
After a moment of silence, Vancliff quickly descended the long staircase.
He pushed through the crowd, taking off his outer clothing on the go.
It was the only thing that could be called ceremonial. It had been in Vancliff's closet for seven years, and if the Primarch hadn't returned, it would have stayed there even longer.
Vancliff always kept it, but now he just shoved the clothes into the hands of one of the First Company's Astartes.
"Keep an eye on it," he said briefly. "Who's next?"
"Me!"
"From the Second Company? I remember you."
"Yes, Captain of the First Company!"
"Can you yield to me? I beg you."
"Of course!" the young warrior shouted. "Good luck, Captain of the First Company! Show Lord Karyel your strength!"
Vancliff nodded with an impassive face, but inwardly smirked bitterly.
"Strength? What strength?"
He entered the cage.
Karyel Lohars – a giant among giants – stood calmly in place and looked at him in silence. Vancliff spoke first:
"Good day, Lord Karyel."
"Good day, Vancliff... when will you stop addressing me as 'you'?"
"As long as I live, I won't stop, sir."
Karyel smiled in annoyance.
"But I don't think I can teach you anything. Besides, I can see something is bothering you."
"That's right," the Captain of the First Company said quietly. "But I'm not going to talk about it yet, sir."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
Vancliff took a deep breath, cautiously assumed a fighting stance, and slowly moved forward.
Karyel was much taller than him, which meant that if he wanted to win – or at least not lose so crushingly – he would have to find a way around.
But that was easier said than done.
He approached with a leap and began to strike.
Straight, side, uppercuts... Vancliff delivered a series of a dozen precise combinations at dizzying speed. His target was the giant's ribs – there were many nerve endings there, and his height allowed him to attack only there.
However, the result was predictable. None of these blows hit their target.
To be honest, Karyel didn't dodge very quickly, but each time he was just a little bit short.
And he didn't dodge before Vancliff struck.
In other words, Karyel Lohars left this small distance intentionally. This gap was left specifically so that Vancliff could breathe and not suffocate.
Vancliff took a deep breath and stepped back.
In just three minutes, he was already covered in sweat.
"Amazing technique, Captain Vancliff," the giant among giants said in surprise. "Your technique is terrifyingly honed, and you wield it perfectly..."
"But I still can't touch you."
"You're just a little short," Karyel replied vaguely. "I'm not that strong."
"Excessive modesty sounds different, Lord Karyel."
The giant frowned, thought for a moment, and then sincerely apologized:
"Forgive me, Captain."
"It's okay..."
Vancliff calmly regained his breath. Only then did he speak slowly:
"You don't need to apologize to me. In fact, I should be thanking you. You've already shown so much care in these little things, and if I got angry over some trifle, I would be too ungrateful."
His words made Karyel's brows furrow even tighter.
"I don't deserve such an assessment."
"I'm not praising your moral qualities, I'm just stating a fact, sir. And also..."
Vancliff – Vancliff of Terra, direct and unyielding, Vancliff who never crossed the line – spoke in a tone that could be called almost humiliated:
"Could you please not leave?"
Karyel frowned slowly. A moment later, he said quietly, "Let's go talk outside."
...
"...that's how it was," Vancliff said, sitting up straight, his tone calm. "Siani is a impulsive young man, but he has a trait that is extremely rare among us, so I trust his judgment, sir."
"I am not a soldier," Karyel said slowly. "And you are a legion, Captain Vancliff. Under what pretext, deceiving myself, should I stay here?"
"You can become a soldier."
"To become a member of the Eighth Legion, you need nineteen modifications, implanting geneseed – and I'm already past that age."
"You don't need it, you're strong enough as it is."
"Strong?" Karyel laughed. He repeated:
"Strong? That's not a criterion for joining the Eighth Legion, Vancliff. You are all brothers, and I am not. I have not a drop of blood relation to you or to Konrad Curze. I didn't before, I don't now, and I won't in the future. So how can I join the Eighth Legion?"
Vancliff fell silent.
He was convinced. He had no arguments left. Every word of Karyel Lohars was irrefutable, even the intonation at the end of the sentence sounded like a heavy hammer blow – and this blow seemed to make his heart bleed.
He had already broken his rules – he had broken them out of love for the Primarch. And now...
He was almost nowhere to hide from shame.
"Forgive me," the captain said, lowering his head, and slowly stood up. "It was rash of me, forgive me, Lord Karyel. I..."
"Sit down," the giant among giants rubbed his brow in anguish. "Forgive me for interrupting, but sit down, Captain Vancliff..."
He sighed.
"I understand your thoughts," he said dully. "I once told Konrad that good must be repaid with double good."
Vancliff's eyes widened.
"Therefore, I will not disappoint your expectations."
"You?"
Karyel slowly stood up.
"I will discuss it with the lord of the Eighth Legion."
***
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