V3 Chapter 20: Ten Thousand Years Have Passed
The Primarch's shrine fell into a long silence.
No one knew how to answer the question.
Aeonid Thiel. Andros. Survivors of the First and Second Companies. Those names were Chapter history and sacred text to the Ultramarines of today, but to the man who had just woken, those people seemed as though they had been kneeling at his side only a moment before.
Duvette looked at Calgar, then at the Ultramarines kneeling on the floor, then stepped forward.
"Lord Roboute Guilliman." Duvette rendered his salute. "Ten thousand years have passed since you were laid to rest."
Guilliman's gaze came to rest on him.
Duvette continued. "The heroes you named have passed into history."
"Ten thousand years..."
Guilliman repeated it quietly.
For a single instant, something like disorientation crossed his face. It lasted only a fraction of a second before he pressed it down.
He raised his head and looked at the mortal in front of him.
A natural authority expanded outward from the Primarch without any deliberate effort. Despite being entirely unintentional, it made the breathing of everyone present more difficult, and many Ultramarines instinctively lowered their heads.
"Who are you?" Guilliman asked. "And why were you fighting my sons here?"
Duvette did not step back from the Primarch's scrutiny.
His expression was composed, neither submissive nor defiant, as he rendered a second salute.
"Marshal-Commissar Duvette Erdmann," he said. "Present to assist Archmagos Belisarius Cawl in waking the sleeping gene-sire."
"Cawl."
Something shifted briefly in Guilliman's eyes at that name.
He turned his head, and there was the vast mechanical shape—familiar yet transformed. Ten thousand years had made Cawl considerably more complex than the version in Guilliman's memory, but the quality that was distinctly Belisarius Cawl still came through.
Cawl's mechaoptic lenses turned toward Guilliman.
"Most Blessed Son of the Omnissiah," Cawl said slowly. "I have come to fulfil the promise made ten thousand years ago."
Guilliman was quiet for a moment, then gave a nod.
"You have done it, Cawl."
"My success rate is not one hundred percent," Cawl said. "But the outcome confirms that this execution can be categorised as successful."
Duvette's mouth moved slightly, but he said nothing.
Guilliman's gaze then moved to the figure standing beside Cawl—an Aeldari, holding a sheathed sword, standing in complete stillness.
Yvraine met the Primarch's assessment without flinching, the Crone Sword back in its scabbard. The gazes of the Ultramarines around her were still hostile, and at a single word from Guilliman she would be surrounded immediately.
She returned his look with no sign of fear. The innate pride and self-assurance of the Aeldari was on full display.
"Primarch of humanity," Yvraine said without particular inflection. "You were just pulled back from the boundary of death."
She glanced at the armour of fate on his body.
"Your revival did not occur solely because of that armour. I used the power of Ynnead to draw your soul free from the wound's hold. Your soul has only just returned and needs time to stabilise."
Guilliman did not answer immediately.
He simply swept the room with a calm gaze.
Duvette watched this and understood clearly. The situation here was completely different from what it had been in the original timeline. There was no Black Legion breaking into the shrine, no external enemy forcing everyone to fight side by side. Guilliman had woken with time to assess the situation.
Which also meant he would examine Yvraine and Sylandri's presence with considerably more clarity, and would understand what had just been done here with full precision.
Guilliman moved slowly toward Calgar, who was still on one knee.
Most of Calgar's fury had gone. In its place was an emotion too complex to name easily.
He had almost killed the person who woke his gene-sire. He had almost destroyed the revival apparatus with his own hands.
And yet Guilliman was standing in front of him.
Guilliman came to stand before him and extended his hand.
Calgar raised his head. Surprise was visible on his face.
"Rise," Guilliman said.
He personally helped Calgar to his feet, then looked at the Ultramarines kneeling around the hall.
"Sons I have gained across ten thousand years—do not kneel."
His voice rang through the shrine.
"Stand. Let me look at you."
The Ultramarines rose slowly at those words.
Many removed their helmets. On faces that had seen countless wars, emotions that could not be suppressed were visible—some maintaining composure with visible effort, some with reddened eyes, and some simply looking at their gene-sire in silence as though afraid that in the next moment all of this would be gone.
Guilliman looked at them.
These sons were already different from the Legion warriors in his memory. Their structure, their power armour, their formal manner, their posture, and the marks of their era on their faces all told him that ten thousand years was not a simple number.
His gaze finally returned to Calgar.
This Chapter Master had white in his hair and the marks of long determination in his face, but stood now like a warrior waiting for a father's assessment.
"What is your name, my son?" Guilliman asked.
Calgar immediately lowered his head.
"Marneus Calgar, Chapter Master of the Ultramarines, current Lord of Ultramar."
"Current Lord of Ultramar?"
Guilliman repeated the phrase quietly.
He looked at Calgar, then at the shrine around him, his mind already processing information at a rate far exceeding any ordinary person's capacity.
Ten thousand years had passed, and Ultramar still stood. The Ultramarines still stood. The Fortress of Hera still stood. But every detail told him the Imperium had undergone enormous changes from the one in his memory.
This was not the place to learn the full truth.
He had only just woken. His body was still being sustained by the armour of fate. The room still held Aeldari, representatives of the Adeptus Mechanicus, an unfamiliar Imperial officer, and the aftermath of a conflict that had just ended.
Guilliman made his assessment quickly.
"I will inspect the Fortress of Hera first," he said. "Within three days, I will meet with all persons of significance."
Calgar immediately lowered his head. "By your will, my father."
Guilliman continued. "I will need to learn the current state of the Imperium, of humanity, and of Ultramar and Macragge: from your accounts, from the records, and from the battle reports."
As he said this, his gaze moved to the two Aeldari in the room.
Every Ultramarine went rigid again.
They would act at their father's word—immediately, to bring these xenos under control. Even though they had just participated in the Primarch's revival, that did not erase the fact that they had entered the sanctuary through deception.
Guilliman looked at Yvraine.
"Until I have reached my judgement, treat them as guests."
Calgar blinked, just perceptibly.
Guilliman added: "They are not to be harmed, and they are not to leave observation."
"By your will," Calgar said.
Something very slight may have moved at the corner of Yvraine's mouth, but she said nothing.
Sylandri let the residual psychic fluctuations around her hand fade and stepped back into position beside Yvraine.
Guilliman's gaze finally settled on Duvette.
"And you, Marshal-Commissar."
Duvette met the returned Primarch's eyes.
There was no confusion of a man newly woken in those eyes. Only scrutiny and judgement. Duvette understood that from this moment on, every action he had taken before this would be re-evaluated by this person.
Guilliman said: "Remain at the Fortress of Hera. In three days, I will want to hear from you and Cawl: your full accounts, and everything of your histories within the Imperium."
Duvette rendered a salute. "Agreed."
Guilliman gave a nod.
Then he looked to Calgar.
"Take me to my quarters."
Calgar lowered his head immediately. "Yes, my father."
Guilliman stepped away from the throne area.
The armour of fate produced a low sound with each stride. The Ultramarines stepped aside without needing to be told, watching their gene-sire pass, every one of them bowing as he went by. Calgar followed at Guilliman's side.
Before leaving the shrine, Calgar turned and looked back at Duvette one final time.
The expression was extraordinarily complex.
The anger was still there. The wariness was still there. But beneath all of it sat an undeniable fact. Duvette had deceived him, and Duvette had returned Roboute Guilliman.
Duvette said nothing.
He simply raised an eyebrow slightly, allowed himself the faintest smile, and gave the Chapter Master a slight bow.
Calgar held his gaze for a moment. Then he turned and followed Guilliman.
The residual psychic energy in the shrine gradually settled.
Duvette finally let out a slow breath.
He had known from the beginning that there was only one possible outcome to this gamble.
He was always going to win it.