The Emperor’s Angel of Death

After finishing his soliloquy, Jaghatai Khan frowned again. →

“What methods could he possibly use to entangle me?”

“You'll find out by going to see for yourself.”

“Yes, seeing for myself will reveal what tricks he's playing. But what about Sigismund? I'm worried he might make some small moves while I'm away.”

“No need to worry.”

The Weaver rolled up the piece of paper in his hand and handed it to Jaghatai Khan.

“Place it where the jesters can find it; they'll pass it on to Sigismund.”

Jaghatai Khan took the rolled-up paper and agreed:

“Alright, by the way, I... I want to see Mother. There are some things I want to ask her.”

The Weaver shook his head.

“I'm afraid she won't see you right now...”

“Why?”

“You know she's always been afraid of meeting with you all. It's only because you have a more easygoing personality that she's met you twice. But she just had a very unpleasant encounter with Sanguinius, so it will be difficult.”

“An unpleasant encounter?”

Jaghatai frowned deeply, making him look like a worried shepherd who had lost his flock.

“What happened?”

The Weaver shrugged.

“Don't you know her personality and temper? She probably insisted in front of Sanguinius that he accept the identity of Leman Russ, and perhaps even made him realize that everything he owns, including his wife and children, would be inherited by Leman Russ.”

Jaghatai clicked his tongue softly and covered his forehead.

“How could she say these things? How could she say these things? Any man with even a little self-respect wouldn't accept that! Anger is only to be expected; who could tolerate that?”

“There's no helping it. You know, she... loves her children too much; it's something she can't control.”

“Weaver, you knew she would say these things, didn't you? But why...”

Halfway through his sentence, his expression became helpless. He walked back and forth a couple of steps, then clapped his hands, saying with some frustration:

“Your actions will push things to the extreme. I don't think it has reached that point yet. Perhaps there are solutions that can satisfy everyone... No, I have to talk to Sanguinius another day.”

The Weaver didn't say anything to this, but instead asked:

“What do you want to ask Erda about?”

The Khan hesitated for a moment, then replied:

“To ask about Leman again.”

“Then there's no need to ask. She won't say. She probably already regrets telling Sanguinius about it... You should go and take care of your own affairs.”

Jaghatai Khan reluctantly walked towards the exit, but stopped as he pulled open the door. He turned back and looked at the Weaver seriously, asking:

“What should I do when the Sixteenth comes? What about Father? Will I ever see him again?”

Upon hearing this, the Weaver replied lightly.

“He will make arrangements.”

After Jaghatai left, the Weaver turned to look at a wall. There were many paintings on the wall, each with a completely different style, seemingly from different civilizations. One of them was covered by a canvas.

He was silent for a long time before walking over and tearing off the canvas, revealing the covered painting.

The composition of this painting was extremely simple, depicting a man sitting in a chair, leaning his upper body on a simple wooden table, his face buried in his arms, seemingly exhausted and unconscious. Countless phantasms erupted in his nightmare, surrounding him with vipers, hounds, ravens, and flies, as well as many bizarre faces.

He raised his head and stared at the painting, his thoughts drifting to a distant corner of his mind— →

“Father!”

A man wearing old, ancient, and battle-scarred power armor knelt on the cold floor, bowing to the throne towering above his head.

“I... I am willing to bear this responsibility and sacrifice for Brother Leman Russ!”

The magnificent hall was now deep and silent, as if all the lights had been extinguished. Vaguely visible in front of the huge pillars were the motionless figures of the Custodes and the cold glint of their polearms, but the shadows obscured their golden armor. It seemed that in the entire palace, which could accommodate the entire world, the only thing shining was the eyes of the Emperor on the throne.

After a moment, those eyes narrowed slightly, but did not cast a glance at the prostrate figure far below.

“You used her token to come to me for such a trivial matter? If it weren't for her sake, you would already be dead.”

With that, the Emperor snorted lightly and stood up.

“Father, I can do it! I definitely can! I am willing to sacrifice for Brother Leman Russ! He is Mother's most beloved child, and she will be very sad if something happens to him! That's why I came to you without telling Mother! I can definitely control the thing attached to Brother Leman Russ! Please let me try! Father! Father!”

The Emperor, however, paid no attention to this, turned around, and said loudly:

“Throw him back into the sewers, and don't let him in again! My time is precious!”

Then he strode away. A hunched figure, easily overlooked beside the throne, also supported himself with a huge scepter, closely following his sovereign, casting a helpless glance downwards before turning around.

“Father! Father!”

Hearing the approaching footsteps of the Custodes, the person kneeling on the ground desperately reached out towards the throne.

“I can't even sacrifice for Brother Leman Russ! Am I not your son? Why!”

The Emperor stopped and tilted his head slightly. He finally looked at the person, and that person met his gaze.

In the next moment, he froze in place as if falling into an ice cellar.

“Do I need to give you a reason for that?”

With that, he left his sight. The person kneeling on the ground also lowered his head powerlessly, letting the Custodes grab his arms and pull him up.

“Ugh!”

As he slid all the way through the rusty pipes and crashed heavily into the mud after repeated collisions, foul-smelling sewage splashed on his face. The rodents around him, startled, screamed and scattered back into their holes.

After lying in the sewage for a long time, he slowly propped himself up with his arms.

Soon, in this sewer outside the Imperial Palace, there was only a low whimper.

“Father... What was that look... Father... Father... I don't even have the right to sacrifice... No value at all... In your eyes, I'm a... a waste who can't even offer up his only life...”

The man curled up, covered his face with his hands, and began to cry. Then he burst out laughing, his crying and laughing voice like a ghost.

“I understand, I understand... The only thing that can catch your eye is power! Only power!”

Sitting up from the carpet, he released his hands from his face and looked at the face in the mirror. It was a featureless face, only appearing lifeless due to its gauntness and haggardness.

Someone once told him that his face was almost identical to the most common image of his father walking among humans. He had been delighted about this for a long time, until someone told him one day that that face was just a disguise, just representing countless false identities.

Staring at himself in the mirror, his dim eyes blinked. He realized he was dreaming again.

However, the next second, he discovered that the person in the mirror had changed, turning into another face, the face he once envied and hated so much.