"So, that's the situation. In short, I've come to you. I hope I'm not causing you any trouble."
Though he had stormed out in a fit of anger, Julius was still somewhat apprehensive inside.
Guilliman offered a gentle smile and patted his shoulder. "How could that be? We're friends. You can stay in the room next to mine tonight."
Konor was dumbfounded. 'This boy had actually lured Gallan's son over?'
As one of the two Consuls, Gallan couldn't be a fool.
And Julius, as Gallan's son, had absorbed quite a bit through daily exposure. He was no political neophyte.
After just a single day together, Roboute had managed to make Julius willingly come over?
What kind of prodigy was his adopted son?
Lady Euten, more practical than his two fathers, turned and instructed a maid: "Prepare the east guest room. Use the softest bedding. And set another place at the table."
Caelan greeted him warmly. "You're Julius, right? Come, sit down and eat first. Try the foie gras Roboute made himself."
"And this is...?" Julius hesitated, looking at Caelan.
Gallan had met Caelan, but Caelan almost never appeared in public. Few on Macragge knew him.
Guilliman introduced, "This is my father, Caelan Octavian."
Julius looked at Konor in surprise. "I thought Consul Konor was your father."
"They are both my fathers."
"Then is Mr. Octavian your biological father?"
"Not exactly. Konor is my adoptive father. Caelan is my godfather. My birth father is on Terra."
One Primarch, three fathers.
This complex family structure nearly overloaded Julius's CPU.
"So how many mothers do you have?"
"Only Lady Euten."
"Then what about your birth mother?"
"There's no such person." Guilliman explained gently. "I was born in a laboratory. The gestation capsule was my mother."
He pulled out a chair for Julius. Julius sat down, dazed. "Thank you, Roboute."
A maid placed an exquisite silver place setting before Julius. Julius adjusted his posture slightly, still a bit formal, but maintained the grace instilled by years of aristocratic etiquette.
'Roboute's family structure was too unusual. There was no marital relationship between his father and mother. Were all Terrans like this?'
Julius's emotions churned within him.
The people of Macragge were raised from childhood with the belief that they originated from Terra, which was also the source of their ruling legitimacy.
Nobles were born nobles because their ancestors were Terran nobles, possessing noble blood.
Commoners' ancestors were Terrans of common birth. Slaves' ancestors were similarly low-born.
This belief made commoners and slaves accept their station, convinced they were born to it.
The drawback of this belief was that all Macraggians held Terra in the highest esteem.
Especially the powerful. In their depictions, Terra was practically a heaven on earth.
For millennia, this reverence had little practical impact, because Terra was on the other side of the galaxy, over a hundred thousand light-years away.
Yet now, a true son of Terra sat before him.
Roboute seemed to possess an innate nobility. Every look, every gesture, revealed a natural ease and elegance.
What fascinated Julius even more was the contradictory nature of Roboute's character.
He possessed wisdom and power far beyond any mortal, yet maintained a surprising humility.
He spoke of Terra with detachment, yet showed genuine fondness and respect for Macragge's culture.
He was no ordinary mortal.
Konor asked, "Julius, how did you and Roboute become friends?"
Julius swallowed his foie gras and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "We're classmates at the rhetoric school. Guilliman has helped me greatly and made me understand many things. Naturally, we became friends."
Julius was evasive, unwilling to share more details, finding it somewhat embarrassing.
But Guilliman had already told his parents. The process was simple.
Cats need to be stroked with the grain. So do people.
Guilliman didn't lecture from a position of superiority, which would only provoke Julius's rebelliousness, making him feel resentful and disgusted.
Instead, he cleverly set question traps, letting Julius draw his own conclusions.
Julius would firmly believe in his own answers, even though these seemingly independent thoughts were subtly guided by Guilliman.
But Guilliman merely used this method to implant ideas in Julius. As for how these ideas would ultimately influence Julius's actions, Guilliman wisely chose to step back.
He shouldn't over-participate; otherwise, being too obvious would backfire.
That Julius would argue with Gallan was indeed unexpected for Guilliman, but it wasn't solely his doing.
Gallan had long prioritised political ambition over father-son affection, treating Julius with a high-pressure educational style. Conflicts only grew deeper over time.
Julius had always been under his father's thumb, unable to fight back.
But conflict would inevitably become unbearable. Guilliman's ideas merely provided an outlet for Julius, giving him a new theory to fight back against his father.
And in Julius's mind, this theory was something he had realised on his own.
This made Julius even more convinced he was right.
To summarise this series of psychological activities: it was the rebellious phase.
Seventeen or eighteen was the age for rebellion.
With the spiritual victory of defying his father, Julius found the meal tasting even better.
So much so that when Gallan arrived, he didn't even notice the suddenly frozen atmosphere in the dining room.
It was only when Konor cleared his throat that Julius looked up blankly, only to see his father standing before him, his face dark with anger.
He instinctively straightened his back, half a piece of foie gras still on his fork.
"Go on, eat. Why did you stop?"
Gallan's sarcastic tone made Julius's temper flare. He shoved the foie gras into his mouth, chewing defiantly, staring at Gallan.
"Stop embarrassing yourself here. Come, we're going home!"
Julius raised his chin. "Father, I am an adult. Don't I even have the right to stay overnight at a friend's estate?"
Gallan's face was cold. 'Anyone else, yes. But not Konor.'
But he couldn't say why publicly. Julius knew he wouldn't dare make their conflict overt.
His son was indeed no fool.
But he had been fooled by Roboute, turning out like this in a single day. What would happen if he let him stay overnight at Konor's domus?
Konor stepped in to ease the tension. "Gallan, I've prepared a quiet room for you two. Why don't you have a proper talk with Julius?"
Gallan shot Konor a grateful look. "Thank you, Konor."
The Consul's voice held a trace of weariness, and a subtle hint of barely concealed regret.
Why was he bowing to Konor like this?
Julius stubbornly turned his face away, but his tense shoulders had already relaxed slightly.
Caelan added gently, "Young people act impulsively sometimes, but blood bonds of family never change."
"As fathers, we all go through this stage."
"A father certainly has the responsibility to educate his children, but he must also learn to listen to their hearts and understand their thoughts."
"It's good for young people to have their own ideas, but they should also appreciate their parents' good intentions. Don't wait until old age to regret it."
Gallan's expression gradually softened. He turned to Julius. "Come. We do need to talk properly."
Julius smoothed his already neat collar and obediently followed his father out of the dining room.
Before leaving, he gave Caelan a deep look. A sudden bitterness welled up in his heart.
He only felt that Roboute had two wonderful fathers, far more qualified than his own.
'Look at them. Then look at you!'
'They were so kind and loving to their adopted son. Why couldn't you be the same to your own flesh and blood?'
Caelan asked, "Roboute, what did you see in Consul Gallan's eyes?"
Guilliman thought for a moment, then looked up. "Caution, anger, and jealousy."
Mediocre people look up to the excellent because of the difference in their perspectives.
But the mindset of different people is telling.
Some feel jealousy. Some feel admiration. Others see the excellent as guiding lights and signposts.
Having a clear target to pursue is far better than wandering aimlessly.
Gallan was the former. His jealousy of Konor was more poisonous than any drug, constantly eroding his mind, to the point of near madness.
This wasn't strange.
Human nature is prone to comparison, especially with peers.
Primarchs secretly compete with Primarchs. Astartes fight over honour. For mortals, it's even more common.
As a Consul, Gallan naturally compared himself to his fellow Consul, Konor.
Sadly, Gallan was inferior to Konor in every way.
This jealousy was like a bone-deep disease, gnawing at his reason. Without intervention, it would inevitably lead to an irreversible tragedy.
Konor sighed softly. "I have never wanted to be Gallan's enemy."
Lady Euten warned him sternly, "But now he is actively making you his enemy!"
Konor said, "I won't be merciful if he goes too far, but I cannot convict him based on suspicion alone."
"Even if he is guilty, he must be tried by the Senate, not by lynching."
Lady Euten shook her head. "You're too indecisive."
Caelan said, "Konor is right. The law must be upheld to protect the people."
"The law was made by the aristocratic class, essentially to protect their interests."
"As a Consul, if even he doesn't obey the law, how can ordinary people trust in its fairness?"
"Well said!" Konor raised his wine glass. Caelan also raised his and gently clinked it against Konor's.
Both wore expressions of having met a kindred spirit. Excellent fathers always appreciate each other!
A trace of confusion flickered in Guilliman's eyes. "Father, he knows we came from Terra, that the Imperium will eventually come to Macragge. The Imperium could give him a world no less than Macragge to rule. Why does he still insist on competing with Father?"
Caelan answered "He may not believe the Imperium exists. Even if he does, he won't admit his own failure."
"I experienced something similar on Olympia."
"Dammekos is the Tyrant of Lokos. His eldest son, Herakon, lived under his father's shadow, depressed and gloomy."
"But their conflict could be resolved. Herakon didn't need to compete with Dammekos for the throne of Olympia. Abo could conquer countless worlds for him to rule."
"But Gallan and Konor's situation is completely different. They aren't father and son. They're political rivals."
"Giving Gallan another world to rule might seem equivalent in scale, but it would be forcing him to admit his own failure."
"And he would rather stubbornly hold his ground than admit defeat."
"Ask Konor yourself if he would willingly leave Macragge to appease Gallan and resolve their feud."
Konor didn't hesitate. "Absolutely impossible."
He was sentimental. He wouldn't frame Gallan.
But he wouldn't bow to Gallan and give up an easy victory either.
It was human nature.
Caelan continued, "Guiding you and your brothers is the proudest achievement of my life. But, if I were asked to step aside entirely after achieving success, merely to satisfy your father-son bond with the Emperor, I could not bring myself to do it either."
Guilliman gradually understood.
If any of his brothers had no parents, he would sympathise with them. But he would never give up his own parents.
If even he felt that way, how much more so for Gallan?
Guilliman was beginning to understand Gallan's obsession. But this understanding didn't bring tolerance. Instead, it gave birth to a cold thought in his mind.
If Gallan refused to step down gracefully, Guilliman would just have to help him find grace.
Understanding was one thing. He understood the existence of such human nature. But he wouldn't let Gallan threaten his father.
Caelan keenly caught the coldness flashing in Guilliman's eyes. "There's no need to be so extreme. He hasn't made up his mind yet. At best, he's just competing with Konor in private, driven by jealousy."
"He certainly won't concede, but he might accept maintaining the status quo."
Konor understood. "I have no intention of changing the current arrangement of dual Consuls, either."
Guilliman asked, "A compromise?"
"Everything can be compromised. You changed Julius. Julius might change him."
"What if he still becomes extreme?"
"Then let him have his way. You'll have to judge the extent yourself."
Caelan was never soft-hearted. He was just worried Guilliman would become extreme because of this.
Though unlikely, any slight sign had to be nipped in the bud to prevent disaster.
Only by helping Guilliman understand the value of maintaining reason could he become his better self.
Gallan still had a chance to turn back. If he remained stubborn, no one could save him.
Konor sighed deeply, deep regret in his eyes.
He and Gallan had known each other since childhood, as close as brothers, supporting each other to reach their current positions as co-Consuls.
"Why has he become like this?" Konor murmured. "I never intended to strip Gallan of his power. Otherwise, how could he still be Consul? Doesn't he even understand that?"
Caelan said, "Perhaps because he does understand, he finds it even harder to accept."
Human nature is contradictory: craving understanding yet resisting being seen through; pursuing equality yet unable to tolerate charity.
The disparity in their abilities also created a huge gap in perception. Konor thought he was simply helping a friend.
But the more tolerant Konor was, the more Gallan felt it was pity and charity.
And this huge disparity often plunges people into the abyss of mental exhaustion.
If Gallan only held the Consul position because of Konor, he felt he had to do something to prove he was worthy of it.
Since he couldn't surpass Konor in any way, eliminating him became an option.
To prove their worth, people sometimes fall into an almost paranoid frenzy.
If Konor died and Gallan lived, wouldn't that be a form of surpassing him?
Without Konor's constraints, he could also implement some more radical reforms.
"I feel like I never left Olympia." Caelan sighed softly, a hint of resignation in his eyes.
Why were there such conflicted people everywhere?
When Gallan and his son returned to the dining room, their relationship was no longer as tense as before.
"It seems you've reached an agreement?" Caelan asked gently.
Julius looked hesitantly at his father, then, receiving silent approval, turned to Guilliman. "I've decided to go home with Father for now. See you tomorrow, Roboute."
Roboute offered the same gentle smile as Caelan: "See you tomorrow, Julius."
He smiled, but there was no humour in his eyes.
It seemed Julius had been persuaded. Gallan's authority remained unbroken.
He only needed to yield slightly to his son, and Julius would compromise. It wasn't surprising.
"Roboute." Gallan suddenly called his name.
"Uncle Gallan?" Guilliman instantly masked all emotion, showing just the right amount of confusion.
Gallan stared at him. "Do you truly hail from Terra?"
He should have asked Caelan, but he chose to ask Guilliman instead. He didn't know why himself.
Guilliman replied, "I hold absolute faith that we do. Father never lies to me."
Caelan's voice was gentle. "Consul Gallan, allow me to offer a piece of advice."
Gallan stopped and silently looked at Caelan.
"Talk more with Julius. Don't let yourself be consumed by mental exhaustion."
"Thank you for your advice, Mr. Octavian."
Gallan gave a slight nod, said nothing more, and silently turned to leave.
Lady Euten frowned slightly. "Why did he ask that?"
Caelan shook his head gently. "Perhaps he's weighing his options. Only he knows his exact calculations."
Whatever Gallan was planning, once he learned of Terra and the Imperium's existence, he had to learn to assess the situation.
Even if he could overthrow Konor and seize power, when the Imperium's fleet arrived at Macragge, his schemes would amount to nothing.
This great threat should have made him pull back from the brink. But what if Caelan was bluffing? What if the Imperium didn't exist?
If the Imperium arrived tomorrow, it would surely quell all his notions.
But if the Imperium hadn't arrived even after ten years, his restless heart would likely stir again.