Editing The Tales of the Emperasque: Part Nine (section)

==9-041-001-M42==
The battle for Zargh 3 was nearing its climax. The Imperial army had fought harder and longer than even Dante had assumed it would, with the arrival of the Emperor and the Primarchs turning the tide like no other portent could have. The Guard and Sororitas forces had interpreted it as divine intervention, which the Emperor hadn’t dissuaded. The Astartes forces had been as phlegmatic about his return as he had expected them to be, and Jaghatai seemingly hadn’t lost his skill at cavalry charges, slicing the Ork advance units to ribbons.

Still, the force of a dozen million Orks is an unstoppable one, and even with the Emperor teleporting around, blasting away at their flanks, they simply didn’t have the forces necessary to stop the greenskins completely. The Emperor was restrained by the presence of so many humans on the planet; he couldn’t simply cut loose like he had against Thracka.

After several days of campaigning, the last of the feral worlders who had managed to make it to the evacuation site had been lifted to orbit, and the Pyres of the Lost had been cleansed. The Raven Guard fleet had provided the transports needed to move the rest of the civilians into orbit, and the only humans on the ground were the natives too far from the temple to be evacuated safely, a few hundred Guard troops that hadn’t already died or gotten off-planet, and Dante.

Dante and the Emperor stood outside one of the prefabricated buildings that was being rigged to blow by the last of the Septiim sappers. The sky claws and shuttles were lifting from the pads constantly, and the teleporters were hastily broken down and packed up. A few dozen automated turrets had been left behind to serve as a firebreak, and to trouble the Orks all the more after the Imperium retreated. The sound of constant firing was growing more and more audible over the sounds of the base being torn down.

The Emperor was asking Dante the question he had been avoiding thus far. “DANTE, I WANT TO HEAR MORE ABOUT THIS PROPHESY OF SANGUINIUS’.”

“Well…my Liege, as I’m sure you know, Sanguinius prophesied that a golden warrior would stand before you, defending you from the onrushing hordes of Chaos. He took it to mean he would die wounding Horus, and that you would survive the battle. Clearly, that was the case. However…I interpreted it to mean me.”

“REALLY. WHY?” the Emperor asked. Dante hung his head.

“My Liege…I have lived a very long time. Too long. Even an Astartes feels ennui, exhaustion. Old age. That prophesy has driven my blade for over a millennium. I have watched as innocents were devoured by daemons, their minds taken by foul xenos, their hearts corrupted by heresy and mutation. I have stood fast, my Liege, against the tides of darkness that have threatened the walls of the Imperium so, so many times. I have watched the rise of the Necrons and Tyranids and the Tau and the Glasians, and now, now I see the foundations crumble. I see the Imperium taking losses from which it never recovers.”

He closed his eyes in shame. “I…know the hubris of my words. But when I think of the prophesies, all I can see is the galaxy, falling to pieces, humans going the way of the Eldar.”

“AND SO YOU REINTERPRETED A PROPHECY THAT HAD ALREADY COME TO PASS TO MEAN THAT YOU WOULD BE THE LAST THING BETWEEN ME AND DEATH,” the Emperor said. “I DON’T SUPPOSE IT OCCURRED TO YOU THAT THE GOLDEN WARRIOR MIGHT BE ONE OF MY GOLD-ARMORED CUSTODES?”

Dante was silent for a moment. “It did.”

“YET THAT DID NOT DISSUADE YOU.”

“It did not, my Liege.” The Emperor sat staring at his son’s face on another man’s body for several more seconds, then sighed.

“I SEE. DANTE, AS THE HEIR OF SANGUINIUS, IT IS YOUR PREROGATIVE TO INTERPRET HIS PROPHESIES AS YOU SEE FIT. I HOPE THAT THIS CONVERSATION DOES NOT COME TO HARM YOUR DEDICATION.”

“Never,” Dante said. “I am a loyal servant of the Imperium, first and foremost.”

“I KNOW, YOU HAVE PROVED IT CAPABLY, MANY TIMES. MAKE FOR YOUR SHUTTLE, BLOOD ANGEL. I WILL SEE TO THE LAST OF THE BASE EVACUATIONS.”

Dante saluted and walked off, lost in thought. The Emperor watched him go, then turned his gaze north, where the Orks had come closest. After thinking for a moment, he nodded to himself. His mind made up, he vanished with a *crack* of purple mist.