Chapter 65: An Elderly Father Concerned About His Sons' Marital Affairs

"We must remain vigilant against the corruption of heresy! Even if signed by the Custodes and the Lord Regent, we shall fulfill the duties of the Inquisition!"

"Anything that touches upon the might of the God-Emperor must be subjected to trial!"

Loiska strode forward, wielding her sword with both hands and expertly flipping it to strike Aaron with the flat of the blade as he rushed toward her.

One must bear in mind that even during the era of the Primarchs' return and the tumultuous events on Holy Terra, the Primarchs themselves had been relatively "polite," symbolically accepting some degree of questioning from the Inquisition.

The reform of the Inquisition had also been advanced quite mildly.

Even when someone of Titus's standing—a high-ranking Ultramarine—was hauled away by the Inquisition, although it later proved to be a minor administrative error, the Ultramarines hadn't reacted all that violently!

Yet this "Firstborn Son of the God-Emperor," who possessed no certification whatsoever from the Ecclesiarchy or the Inquisition, was blatantly interfering with both the Regent and the Adeptus Mechanicus!

Especially the Regent! His recent working efficiency had dropped, and his rest periods had clearly increased!

This was undoubtedly some wicked scheme by a lazy daemon designed to disrupt the operations of the Imperium!

With that, Loiska brought her sword down in a sweeping strike, only to hit empty air.

The heavy blade slammed into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

And that "Firstborn Son of the God-Emperor" had already vanished without a trace.

Alarms began to wail in the surrounding area, and several tech-adepts serving the Inquisition hurried over, their cybernetic limbs clanking with a mix of metal and flesh:

"Inquisitor Loiska, our ritual has suffered a complete disconnection; we can no longer summon the Firstborn Son of the God-Emperor. You ought to have been gentler, seeking out appropriate information before making a judgment."

Loiska merely sheathed her power sword, turned around, and departed under the escort of the Throne's代理 agents.

No Inquisitor ever regrets their own actions.

Of course, as for those radical inquisitors who mysteriously wound up assassinated and dead, one could only hope their souls returned to the Golden Throne.

***

B.C., Unu.

Aaron crawled out of bed to wash his face, brushing his teeth with a reed stem.

As for his father and Malum, they never brushed their teeth, nor did they ever worry about matters of hygiene.

It really is wonderful to be a god.

By the time breakfast was ready, Anda and Malum were already rubbing instrument strings together by hand, twisting the finer bowstrings into place and securing them onto the frames.

Ordinary mortals would worry about slicing their own hands open, but these two had to worry about accidentally snapping the bowstrings with too much force.

"Let's eat first. I feel like Number Five has been listless lately; it probably needs a free prairie to gallop across. But I daren't take it there," Aaron said, calling out as he unhitched Number Five's reins, led the donkey to the prepared forage, and poured out a fresh bucket of clear water.

Taking care of this donkey was far more troublesome than taking care of his own father.

***

The three of them seated themselves around the dining table. Malum remained as serene as ever.

Anda, meanwhile, was pressing down on a miniature chariot with two fingers, rubbing it back and forth across the table:

"I really am a bit reluctant to give this thing away."

Aaron snatched the chariot back and tucked it into the belt around his waist:

"We already agreed this is for Jaghatai; you can't go back on your word. By the way, I had a strange dream last night."

He hurriedly changed the subject; his dear old father was always prone to wandering off on tangents, so he needed to redirect his attention immediately.

As expected, Anda grew curious: "Which rebellious son did you dream of this time?"

Aaron shook his head, gesturing with both hands to outline the shape of a hat as he explained:

"It was a woman named Loiska, who claimed to belong to something called the Inquisition. She said I am the Son of the God-Emperor, yet she harbored a deep hostility toward me."

Malum had already laid down his cutlery, his expression grave:

"The Inquisition represents the pinnacle of authority within the Imperium, possessing even the power to issue Exterminatus and cleanse entire worlds. Even my predecessor, Titus, despite being an Astartes, was hauled away by the Inquisition due to issues of Chaos corruption."

Anda burst into laughter, slamming his palm against the table:

"How dare those obsessed lunatics pull such stunts on my warriors! Malum, you should take a page out of those space wolves' book and pick a fight with them!"

"Though Guilliman's spawn are generally quite orderly, precisely when people assume you lot are playing by the rules, you're usually plotting something far more terrifying."

Anda looked toward his son and continued:

"Was the woman pretty?"

Aaron was dumbfounded. How on earth did the conversation veer into this territory?!

Before he could speak, he heard his father press on:

"Don't go looking for those madwomen in the Inquisition. Though the Ecclesiarchy is also full of wrecks, the Adepta Sororitas are quite decent."

"You're not getting any younger. Many young men in Thebes are married and having children by their teens. As your father, I feel it is entirely necessary to express concern regarding your marital affairs."

Aaron hastily argued back: "I'm just staying at home to look after you, and I don't have many opportunities to meet people my own age. Why are you worrying about this?!"

Anda adopted the solemn, earnest expression of an old father:

"My boy, if you are experiencing any psychological inclinations or tendencies, you must voice them promptly. If you feel that I am dragging you down and holding you back, then just abandon me and leave!"

Hearing these words made both Aaron and Malum's hearts skip a beat, hammering wildly against their ribs in a chaotic rhythm.

Until Anda let out a hearty laugh:

"Hahaha! This is the first time I've ever found Ultramurvian books to be of any use. The book said that talking about these topics with an adolescent son would reveal a young man's shyness and feeble retorts."

"Come to think of it, this is a promising direction; perhaps I can use it on the other rebellious sons later on. For instance, asking Guilliman what his views are on marriage. I deeply admire Lady Tyana's dedication; therefore, Guilliman should certainly understand the importance of a wife."

Seeing His Majesty's train of thought straying further and further off course—where every time he opened his mouth, aside from that donkey, everyone else at the table suffered a rise in blood pressure—Malum felt compelled to take pre-emptive action. Taking advantage of Anda's inattention, he shoveled the entirety of the food from the plate in front of Anda straight into his own mouth.

Then, he looked ready to pick up the entire table and run for the hills.

"Master, I'll clear the tableware; you should rest for a bit."

Anda looked in puzzlement at the empty plate before him. Had he really eaten that quickly today?

Never mind, never mind. Let's resolve the issue with Jaghatai first.

In truth, he didn't really believe Jaghatai had any psychological issues; it was simply Aaron, as the older brother, being overly persistent.

He seated himself before the large hand-harp—an instrument grand enough to be called a lyre, the kind whose music frequently echoed through the seaside palaces of Mycenae.

There, women longed for husbands who had marched away to wage war in Troy.

While their queen murdered the king in his bath.

It was still better to have Erda, who at least wasn't currently plotting to murder him.

Prompted by these memories of the past, Anda recalled some ancient melodies—tunes without structure, devoid of any notation in the traditional sense of a musical score.

Many of them were simply melodies he and Erda had casually improvised and played together back when they traveled the galaxy.

He settled his posture, steadying the upper frame of the harp with one hand while his other began to pluck the strings, humming in a tongue far more ancient still.

Only Erda had ever listened to these tunes. Albia's son might have had the opportunity to hear his holy voice, but that old codger hadn't been seen in centuries.

Could it be he was simply leaving enough space for the two of them to enjoy some world of their own?

A smile touched the corners of Anda's mouth, and brisk, cheerful notes rippled outward, instantly enlivening the atmosphere of the entire courtyard.

If only this place were closer to the Ganges rather than the Nile, they would all be singing and dancing to match this rhythm.

By tonight, he might as well look through the personnel files of the Adepta Sororitas and pluck one out for his son.

With a father caring for his son to this extent, what possible grounds could Erda find to criticize him!

At this thought, Anda grew even more joyful. He even hoisted the massive lyre up with a single arm, cheering and dancing about as if he had already merged into the Dionysian festivals of the outside world.