My Life as A Death Guard (Warhammer 30K Male MC)

The fabric flag hung limply, its folds casting uneven shadows under the dim light.

In the Death Guard's meeting room, several captains and a Librarian sat around the table. Mortarion occupied the head seat, his gaze lowered as he listened to Barasine's report.

The restructuring of the Death Guard's Librarius was largely complete. Fernando was appointed leader of the newly established Undertakers, with the title of Lantern Bearer replacing the old title of Chief Librarian. The Undertakers' unit was relocated to a lower level beneath the former Librarius Library as a reminder of their duties.

The newly formed Grave Wardens would be led by Garro, the former captain of the 7th Company. This unit was composed primarily of moderate and neutral veteran soldiers. Some rational and restrained recruits from Barbarus, who had performed well despite the illusions they experienced, were also temporarily added to this team.

Branka replaced Garro as the new captain of the 7th Company.

The allocation of Barbarus-born squads had also been finalized, largely adhering to the division from their initial training as recruits. However, some Barbarus natives volunteered to join the 7th Company, amounting to less than 500 individuals in total.

Vorx was reassigned to the 1st Company as Barasine's subordinate replacement.

Mortarion was aware of the negotiations and power struggles among the Terran factions.

In the past, he would have dismissed such underhanded maneuvers with disdain and relegated those involved to marginal roles.

But now, faced with the shadow of that dark future, every warrior had their role to play—even if Mortarion found it distasteful.

Thus, he chose to remain silent, deliberately observing as these veterans communicated with him through Hades.

After all, Hades was capable of managing these affairs.

If Hades knew what Mortarion was thinking, he would probably groan in exasperation at his lord's continued disregard for his advice.

As for Hades' position, he remained the Death Guard's sole Untouchable, making him unique and difficult to categorize. Mortarion had thus assigned him directly to the Deathshroud, without designating a specific position.

Once more Untouchables were recruited, a dedicated unit of Untouchables would be formed under Hades' leadership.

The Deathshroud, Mortarion's personal guard, currently consisted of five Barbarus-born warriors handpicked by him to form his protective squad.

Clad in Terminator armor, these warriors would become Mortarion's scythes.

Mortarion still remembered the surprise on Hades' face when the composition of the Deathshroud was announced.

"Ah, why only five?"

Mortarion had left two positions vacant, intending to fill them with Untouchables.

"I—"

Before he could explain, Hades interrupted,

"Why not seven?"

...?

"Why do you think I'd assign seven bodyguards?"

This response momentarily flustered Hades. Big brother, look at your own companies—seven might as well be branded on your forehead.

But, deducing from Mortarion's questioning tone, Hades quickly realized he couldn't say that.

"Hmm, so why?"

In truth, among Barbarus' sparse knowledge, some understanding of numerology had been preserved.

Before this, Barbarus' knowledge was monopolized by its Xenos overlords.

Compared to books on torture and sacrificial rituals, Mortarion preferred numerology.

Seven was a beautiful number, like a scythe, and the most solitary prime number under ten.

Sometimes, preferences and habits defy explanation.

But now, Mortarion glanced at the feigning-ignorance Hades.

"It's five, not seven."

Hades had unwittingly ended Mortarion's fixation on the number seven.

Barasine's report continued, and the responses to the issued orders were mostly as Mortarion had expected.

Time passed second by second, and the Death Guard's restructuring report neared its conclusion—

A tech-priest clad in green and white robes entered. Unlike typical tech-priests, their robe was lined with fine gold trim, signifying their status.

The tech-priest knelt before Mortarion, presenting a slender cylindrical message container intricately adorned with gold engravings. The Imperial Aquila glimmered on its surface.

The captains and reassigned officers in the room held their breath, bowing their heads to avoid eye contact.

Typically, after a Legion's early adjustment period, the Emperor would appoint a seasoned Primarch to guide their newly found sibling in learning and integration.

Horus, Primarch of the 16th Legion and the Lunar Wolves, often assumed this role.

As the "first" Primarch found, Horus had commanded most of the Legions before his siblings were discovered. His humble and approachable demeanor had left a deep impression on the 14th Legion.

Many hoped this letter was merely an invitation from the Emperor for their Primarch to learn from Horus—and not something else.

Mortarion and the Barbarus-born warriors might not realize it yet, but to Barasine, the timing of this letter was troubling.

Considering the time required for communication to travel from Terra, along with administrative processing, this letter must have been sent during their ordeal with the visions.

No, it couldn't be. Barasine silently reassured himself.

If the worst had happened, they wouldn't be facing just a letter.

Mortarion frowned as he removed his combat gloves, accepting the letter with bare hands. The container opened upon recognizing the genetic signature of the 14th Legion's Primarch, revealing a parchment tied delicately with gold thread.

With an impatient motion, Mortarion untied the thread and unfolded the letter.

The Emperor's personal gold seal and Malcador's sigil flashed briefly at the bottom of the letter.

After a long silence, Mortarion finally spoke.

"I've been... summoned to Terra immediately."

Barasine raised his head.

"Lord Primarch, should the Legion prepare a fleet for immediate return?"

"No. I will go alone."

"They will dispatch a fleet this afternoon, at 1600 Standard Terran Time."

"Open the concealed port on Endurance's starboard side at that time."

Under his hood, Mortarion's expression was inscrutable.

"Barasine, now, ensure all soldiers return to their quarters and remain on alert."

Mortarion added unexpectedly:

"Keep the forges running as normal. All other departments interacting with external parties should operate as usual."

"And those envoys... are to meet with Hades."

That noon, at 1200 Standard Terran Time.

"Vorx, don't be nervous."

Mortarion sat in a meeting room that felt cramped compared to his towering Primarch form. His expression was blank as he gazed at Vorx, seated across from him.

He had already spoken to Morarg, the Barbarus-born warrior initially assigned to the Deathshroud. Following Hades' advice, Mortarion deliberately chose two individuals from Barbarus to manage affairs during his absence—one to operate openly, and the other from the shadows.

"Yes, my lord."

"I will be leaving the Legion for a time. During my absence, I am entrusting all Barbarus-related matters to you."

Huh? Him? Why not Hades?

Vorx could understand why Mortarion didn't choose Calas Typhon,. After the incident in the dueling arena, Calas had clearly fallen out of favor with the Primarch. Moreover, Terra's upper echelons had lost confidence in him as well.

"I have four directives for you. Ensure they are carried out properly."

Vorx remained still, awaiting the Primarch's instructions.

"First, keep an eye on every Barbarus-born individual."

"Second, hone your skills as quickly as possible. When I return, I want to see that the Legion has Barbarus-born leaders capable of assuming management roles."

"Third, maintain close contact with the newly formed Grave Wardens. Ensure no one falls prey to the illusions again."

"Fourth," Mortarion paused.

"Do your best to improve relations between the Barbarus-born and the Terran-born."

The Primarch's raspy voice seemed to linger in the air, and Vorx felt a chill in his heart. Despite the uncertain situation Mortarion faced, he still arranged for the Barbarus-born to have a hidden hand in managing affairs.

"Yes, my lord. In the name of Barbarus, Vorx of the Death Guard will not fail."

<+>

Elsewhere...

The familiar room held a familiar scent, though only Barasine, Garro, and Fernando were present this time.

Hades blinked as the mechanical clock ticked slowly.

"So, Mortarion is heading to Terra alone, while the Legion stays here to train?"

Barasine nodded.

"And the envoys from Terra have requested to meet with you."

Surely it's not an arrest warrant?

Regarding the Death Guard and Mortarion, if this timing involved him as well, it was likely connected to the previous ordeal with the illusions.

In Hades' estimation, the visitors were probably here to assess their purity.

That wasn't a concern. Thanks to Hades' meticulous screenings, the Death Guard currently showed no signs of corruption.

But as for himself... Hades was unsure of the Imperium's attitude toward him. Would they execute the person responsible for triggering the events?

No, it probably wouldn't come to that. At worst, they'd drag him to Terra as forced labor.

Setting aside these fears for the moment, Hades decided to offer a warning to Barasine and the others.

He turned to Barasine.

"Keep an eye on Typhon."

<+>

The Black Ship

A silent vessel glided through the void, steadily approaching its destination.

In the dim, narrow corridors of the Endurance, the Custodes and Sisters of Silence marched forward.

Their synchronized footsteps echoed through the halls, accompanied by a suffocating atmosphere of authority.

In a meeting room near the deck, Mortarion stood fully armored in the center. Behind him, Barasine and Hades, also clad in full power armor, waited silently.

The scene felt oddly familiar to Hades.

The lead Custodian stepped forward, offering a perfunctory Aquila salute, then dropped his hand swiftly, as though not expecting or requiring a response.

A Sister of Silence handed him a golden cube before retreating in perfect order, keeping their distance from the object.

The Custodian placed the golden cube on the ground with precision, and an image flickered to life above it.

Ordinary.

That was Hades' first impression of the figure.

The projection depicted a slightly stooped, frail old man in ceremonial garb, draped in a plain cloak. His face wore a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes—the kind of bureaucratic smile that pushes you from one desk to another.

However, the staff he held in his hand demanded attention. Its tip, adorned with a golden eagle engulfed in roaring flames, seemed to scrutinize everyone in the room.

Malcador the Sigillite.

To signify his sincerity, the old man raised his wrinkled hand and slowly removed his hood.

His eyes met Mortarion's, studying the recently recovered son of the Emperor.

"Hello, Mortarion. This is our first meeting."

Malcador's smile deepened slightly as he addressed the Primarch.

"Allow me to briefly introduce myself. I am the Emperor's servant, currently responsible for managing the Imperium's administrative affairs."

Mortarion remained motionless.

For a psyker meeting him for the first time, showing no overt hostility was the extent of Mortarion's tolerance.

"He is still pushing outward across the galaxy, preoccupied with the war effort. Therefore, your matters will be handled by me for the time being."

"Originally," Malcador raised a hand, palm upward, as a gesture of goodwill, "your brother Horus was supposed to be involved. However, I understand some... unforeseen circumstances have occurred, so adjustments have been made to the plan."

When he said the word "unforeseen," Hades swore Malcador glanced directly at him.

"We will not pry. Every Legion has its own privacy."

"However, for the foreseeable future, a contingent of Sisters of Silence will remain stationed on the Endurance's perimeter."

"Agreed," Mortarion responded.

Allowing Untouchables to linger on the Endurance was something Mortarion actually welcomed. It aligned with his long-term goal of establishing his own force of Untouchables.

Seeing Mortarion's acceptance, Malcador lowered his hand.

"Now, proceed to Terra, Mortarion. There, you will need to engage in further learning."

"Of course," Malcador's expression turned solemn, "this is His will."

As heavy footsteps faded into the distance, led by the Custodes, the Primarch departed. The remaining captains went to see him off, and the lined Sisters of Silence followed Barasine to discuss their upcoming tasks.

In the now-empty meeting room, the golden cube flickered intermittently.

Malcador's projection lingered, his piercing eyes focusing on Hades, the last person left.

By Hades' reckoning, Malcador's gaze carried the distinct fatigue of someone forced to work overtime.

With Mortarion gone, Malcador seemed to let go of his earlier formalities.

"You. Outsider."

Hades froze.

Outsider?!

He knows I'm not from this world?!

As though reading his thoughts, Malcador continued, his voice sharp.

"Keep your mouth shut."

The old man looked at Hades with a mixture of frustration and weariness.

"I have seen countless individuals, managing talents of all kinds."

"But you, Hades," he paused, his tone dripping with disdain, "you are the first I've encountered who is both so... intelligent, yet so foolish."

Why did the Emperor choose him?

Malcador knew that the Emperor, for all His greatness, was still human in some respects, capable of making mistakes.

And that, ultimately, was why Malcador himself existed.

Still, the situation at hand gave him pause. Revealing certain truths to one of the Emperor's sons wasn't necessarily a misstep.

It would fall to him to determine whether Mortarion could handle these revelations. If not...

"Forget it," he muttered under his breath.

Turning his attention to the source of his current exasperation, he spoke sharply.

"Now, contact the Death Guard's Master of the Forge. Have him recommend you for training on Mars as a Techmarine."

"?"

"And do not disclose what has transpired aboard the Endurance, including this conversation."

Not all Adeptus Mechanicus adepts were allies of the Imperium, and Malcador knew the delicate balance required.

"Store these memories in your left hemisphere. The Adeptus Mechanicus won't be able to access them there."

Hades was thoroughly baffled, but it seemed Malcador had run out of patience. With a low hum, the already unstable projection blinked out entirely.

Huh?

The door creaked open, and a Sister of Silence entered to retrieve the golden cube.

Hades was left standing in the room, his mind swirling with unanswered questions.

<+>

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