Chapter 6: Emperor: Are You Teaching Me How to Be a Father?
Anda let the fish flop against his face before it fell to the ground. Glancing at his son, who had changed his clothes, he furrowed his brow.
“Looks like that beastskin skirt ended up in Kiliman’s hands.”
“Fine,” he said, standing up to pick up the fish, muttering, “You forgot to buy spices; plain grilled fish isn’t tasty.”
Aaron was in a foul mood, grumbling, “I thought Madame Ledans’ perfume was strong enough. I’m going to bed. Call me when the fish is ready.”
He went inside and fell into a deep sleep.
Anda turned to Malum, scrutinizing the power armor. A lump caught in his throat as he said casually, “It seems things aren’t looking good forty thousand years from now. I can feel the part of me that’s human being stripped away. *Cough.* Now, this place has no emperor like you.”
“Your communicator? Damn it, I can’t connect to the future. I swear, once I can stand and move again, I’m going to kick Kiliman’s ass hard!”
“Enough. For now, don’t mention the future. Let me distance myself from the title of emperor as much as possible.”
Malum gasped in shock. “Emperor! Are you abandoning humanity? In our dark world, people cannot lose their god, even if only in a symbolic sense!”
Anda shook his head, cursing loudly. “I’m no god. Damn it, you’re as stubborn as Kiliman. Listen carefully: the more I disconnect the present me from the future me, the more humanity I can preserve!”
“Can’t you learn from your idol Titus? That guy never said a word, just silently killed enemies. He didn’t fill my head with endless nagging.”
“God, your whispers from forty thousand years ahead already bore me.”
This was a disaster. The emperor from forty thousand years ago actually found human prayers annoying!
Malum dropped to his knees in complete reverence, prostrating himself. “My lord, please do not abandon humanity! My father Kiliman once said—”
Anda’s anger flared. Staring daggers at Malum, his voice thundered: “Enough! I feel worse listening to Kiliman’s flowery words. Now listen well.”
“Don’t tell Aaron anything about the future. He has nothing to do with it and will die in the year zero.”
“If Kaol’s ritual can let them meet in dreams, that will be good enough.”
“I will do my best to remain human.”
Hearing this, Malum suddenly realized the distinction between the “human” before him and the emperor. He remembered the purpose of the ritual.
Preserving the emperor’s humanity to prevent the emperor on the Golden Throne forty thousand years later from losing control.
So, in this moment, Anda better fit their needs?
Malum convinced himself but still asked, puzzled, “Understood. Then, how shall I address you?”
---
Anda busied himself with the firewood in the courtyard, cleaning fish scales, casually saying, “Call me Anda, blacksmith, or old man. Actually, just call me Master.”
He extended his hand, and Malum’s power armor dissipated, revealing the tall, modified physique of a Space Marine.
A quilt flew over from the neighboring courtyard, covering his body.
Under his shaping, Malum’s form had been altered to appear within the range acceptable to ordinary humans.
“Your armor and weapons remain. They’ll appear when you need them. Now, Malum, help me prepare this fish. I should have told Aaron I wanted pork, then I wouldn’t have to clean fish scales.”
“No, no, pork skin smells too strong, and the meat must be cooked thoroughly, making it more troublesome,” Anda muttered.
Malum obediently drew near, skillfully handling the ingredients with techniques passed among elite warriors.
Astartes had no special demands for food, but the culinary culture of their home planet needed to be preserved.
Growing bolder, Malum gazed at this emperor who in his eyes had become an ordinary middle-aged human male.
He whispered, “Master, your behavior is no different from a common man, but why are you so cold with the palace and Aaron?”
“If you wish to keep your humanity, perhaps building a healthy father-son relationship is a good method.”
Malum trembled inwardly. Kiliman, father, all I can do for you is this.
He hoped these words would influence the emperor forty thousand years from now, so you could also feel a father’s love.
Suddenly Malum began to gag. As an Astartes, he should not have such a physical reaction.
Then a hard punched tape, soaked with machine oil scent, was spat from his mouth.
A glance was enough to understand the meaning encoded in the dots.
“Malum Kaedo, this is information you must know.”
“Through the ritual, objects created by Your Majesty’s mighty power can be exchanged with products of the current time. Regent has received the beastskin skirt sewn by the emperor and sent it to you. There is some remaining energy, so I have compiled some information as follows.”
“Please strictly follow my instructions to ensure that the emperor of forty thousand years ago preserves the humanity we require.”
Malum grabbed the several-meter-long tape, careful to avoid his saliva corroding the holes.
After rapidly reading it, he looked at Anda with disbelief and trembled as he said, “It matches my earlier guess, Master. Father and Sage Kaol ask me to confirm your paternity with Aaron, and to ask you some questions.”
Anda felt no offense and handed over a fish, unsure if it was cooked, saying, “Ask away. Tomorrow I’m moving to Egypt; Rome will gradually launch an offensive against Macedonia, then attack Alexander. I need to go early and watch the excitement.”
Only then did Malum respectfully ask, “According to the *Parent-Child Relationship Encyclopedia* of the Ultramar Five Hundred Worlds—”
Anda’s scalp tightened, and he became instantly furious.
“What? A book? Kiliman even organized a text to try describing human parent-child relationships?”
“How many damn books has he written?”
---
“What, that bastard wants to teach me how to be a proper father? When I pulled him out of the Garden of Nurgle, I should have just strangled him.”
“Shut up and get lost! I regret letting you speak.”
Malum found it difficult to feel any emotion over such insults against his father, after all, these were the emperor’s own words.
Moreover, as someone who knew that half of his future sons would betray him, and the rest barely considered him a father, expecting him to have a good relationship with the current son was indeed unrealistic.
The emperor had no experience raising sons. He was merely a biological father; foster fathers had greater influence on the primarchs.
Realizing the great disrespect, Malum lowered his head silently.
Fortunately, Sage Kaol had anticipated this reaction.
He even considered this sensitivity and anger at being touched on a sore spot a positive sign.
It meant the emperor’s personality leaned more towards humanity.
Thus, the final plan mentioned a contingency: observe and promote the relationship between the emperor and his firstborn.
Ensure the emperor understood the need for honesty with his son to resolve their issues.
Malum then flopped onto the ground and began rolling toward the door.
The emperor’s holy words must be strictly observed.
Anda exploded in anger.
“Kiliman! You’re as rigid as your son! Are you both brainless?”
As Malum rolled away, he respectfully said, “Master, this traces back to the ancient traditions of the Thunder Warriors’ modifications. It is a subject strictly forbidden to discuss within the empire.”
“By the way, Master, Sage Kaol forbade me from revealing future events to Aaron. How should I explain it?”
Anda stuck the uncooked fish messily onto a skewer and placed it on the rack, snorting coldly.
“Just tell him I’m Zeus. That’s what Aaron thinks anyway. As Zeus, it’s normal to be cold to your son when prophecy says he will destroy everything.”
Malum bowed devoutly, rolling to the wall before rising.
“As you command, Master.”
He began recording this information, taking advantage of the lingering power of the beastskin skirt to transmit these details back.
On Holy Terra, in the Sage’s Sanctum, Kaol nervously awaited the first reply, furrowing his metallic brow as he marveled, “These are precious historical records indeed. Your Majesty truly had a period of—”
Boom!
The steam engine powering the sanctum roared, conveying the fury of the corpse on the Golden Throne.
Kaol short-circuited briefly, falling to the ground, unable to finish his sentence.