Chapter 22: Anda in Need of Seven Wolves

“Prepare fifty debens of silver; his father is worth that price.” Dalate ordered expressionlessly, then looked at Anda with a hint of pity.

“Your son does not love you, but you need not worry about the future.”

He hoped to see anger, bitterness, or inner turmoil in Anda’s eyes.

He had just made a new yellow hat adorned with a lion’s mane, planning to wear it and disguise himself as a majestic lion.

Savor your charm.

As for the silver, that was no problem.

These Roman spies had no chance of surviving under Erst’s battle axe; that man was blessed by the gods and had once single-handedly slain a Nile crocodile and a hippopotamus.

Therefore, Dalate never intended to spare the two from the start; he was merely offering them a death with dignity.

Erst would sever their heads, but Dalate would request to keep Aaron’s head, hanging it above the bed to watch over everything that happened on the bed below.

How splendid that would feel.

By then, Anda, held in his arms, would surely stagger with tearful eyes—a sight that would evoke deep sympathy.

Dalate left calmly, not minding the wait.

After all, preparations for the sacrificial ceremony had to be made; he couldn’t afford to let Erst cause more trouble. That bastard always liked to find excuses to hold duels.

And then he would kill a few favored servants, severing their heads.

After Dalate’s departure, an eerie calm settled once more.

Malum dared not lift his eyes to look at either man; he knew better than to provoke either.

Dalate’s servant brought over fifty debens of silver, packed in a small box.

Malum, accustomed to carrying luggage, took it as Aaron crooked his mouth; he accepted it without realizing it was the Emperor’s price for selling himself.

About 4.5 kilograms of silver—enough to save four serious criminals condemned for sacrilege.

Aaron opened the box with a note of admiration, secretly clenching his fist. Well done—selling his father for a good price.

Moreover, the bald priest would be busy with the religious rites and wouldn’t dare insult his father.

From the sound of it, that priest Erst was a warmonger—perhaps the very war demon they were seeking!

Malum closed the box just as a servant arrived carrying Dalate’s guard armor and weapons.

After all, appearances had to be complete.

The three were arranged to stay in the same tent; according to Dalate, this was his mercy and compassion.

To give Anda a chance to bid farewell to the past.

***

“Malum, do you know what you’re holding?” Anda’s face darkened. The Extremis warriors lacked subtlety; though Dorn was stubborn, at least he understood the situation.

And Kiriman? His behavior often made the other sons suspect the Extremis warriors were staging a rebellion.

Malum respectfully replied, “My lord, it is fifty debens of silver. At current purchasing power, it would afford you and Aaron a comfortable life in Egypt.”

Anda slammed his fist on the table.

“You swore loyalty to me! And yet you sell me out like this!”

He desperately needed the Seven Wolves—the artifact that, over two thousand six hundred years later, would restore father-son bonds.

Malum quickly knelt, silent.

He had already figured it out: matters of verbal sparring with the Emperor should be left to Aaron.

The conflicts between uncle and grandfather were family affairs.

His father was only thirteenth in line; what business did a grandson have meddling?

Oh, and he wasn’t even a true grandson.

Aaron began defending his nephew.

“What are you shouting about? Even when you were angry growing up, you hardly spoke to me. This time you scare others—why not just ask me directly?”

Clearly, the word “son” rendered Anda’s speech mechanisms dysfunctional.

His other sons had drifted away and returned only after growing up.

Discipline was always overseen by Old Malum, with beatings and scoldings—then they got through it.

He wondered if his inability to communicate normally with his son stemmed from the countless timelines affected by future battles with Horus.

Or perhaps it was a genetic issue—

Anda steeled himself. The future required the original as a tool; he could not hesitate now.

Even if the future meant deceiving Irda to come back and help.

He outright ignored Aaron’s objections and said,

“Let us return to the point. That Erst is very likely the war demon’s host we seek.”

Malum finally found a topic he could speak on and said respectfully,

“My lord, once the location is confirmed, I will immediately destroy that demon’s real-world vessel.”

Anda’s eyes grew colder.

“Do you think you’re Titus? Though your performance is commendable, when I’m bored I feel like I’m watching a bunch of blurry, pixelated battle scenes.”

***

“But a demon capable of intervening in Terra’s early civilization development before the warp storm erupted in the subspace is truly formidable.”

Malum said confidently, “Precisely because of that, its power in the real world cannot be too great. Its real-world vessel is still merely mortal.”

Anda’s voice sharpened further.

“Extremis warriors are always so optimistic about battle assessments; no wonder Kiriman jumped in without hesitation—I have nothing to say.”

“Listen carefully; that thing is extremely cautious. We cannot alert it. Follow my plan.”

Aaron could understand that the subspace was the demons’ domain.

As for Kiriman jumping in, that was something from the future he could not grasp.

Had nothing to do with him.

Aaron complained,

“Father, I’m following your plan—buying time, seeking clues. Look, it’s precisely because of my choices that we found information on Erst so smoothly today.”

“Besides, you’re fine now, aren’t you? You’re not lying on that priest’s bed.”

Anda’s face, just calmed, darkened again.

“Enough! Rest now. If you dream tonight of those wayward sons, don’t bring anything back carelessly!”

“This world is just—what comes must go!”

But he was not a just party; sons, from now on I must prepare myself mentally to abandon you.

Anda lay down in a corner of the tent, face grim.

Malum looked to Aaron, who was equally displeased.

This father couldn’t say a single reasonable word.

“Sleep, sleep. My brother speaks nicely and knows how to care for me, covering my retreat.”

Aaron turned away and soon fell into a deep sleep.

Only Malum remained silent, lying in the middle.

“Oh Father, great Kiriman, please in the unseen realms bless me to complete my mission successfully.”

As for why his prayers were not to the Emperor—

Well, in Malum’s first few days here, he still kept up the Astartes’ daily prayers, only to be rudely awakened by Anda, grumbling for him to go away.

And cursing the prayer texts, blaming some fool who wrote them, muttering in his mind like the snoring of that idiot Rus after drinking, endlessly!