The display screen beeped incessantly, one notification after another. Today's ship inspection charts were out, the forge hall was requesting ceramite from the neighboring system, summaries of issues reported by various management levels, and three Death Guard requested an audience with Mortarion.
Light danced on Mortarion's power armor, reflecting a dazzling brilliance with each notification.
Sitting at his desk, the Primarch silently reviewed and approved. Aboard the *Endurance*, countless Death Guard were bustling about their duties.
Mobilization and change always demanded significant manpower and energy.
In the spacious, well-lit room, directly above Mortarion and facing the door, a meticulously stitched banner hung. The silent skull, encircled by spikes, the emblem of the Death Guard, watched over them.
A time reminder popped up on the screen. The next batch of approvals was due.
Mortarion looked up. In the corner, Hades was unceremoniously curled up, hugging his scythe, snoring loudly, breaking the room's silence.
"Hades, wake up."
The snoring continued.
Mortarion pondered for a moment, then drew his pistol, *Lantern*. The xenos-tech blue glow began to charge, humming. He aimed it at Hades.
"Hmm?!"
Hades, who was snoring moments ago, sprang up, readying his scythe.
Mortarion, satisfied, holstered the *Lantern*, pretending nothing happened. He averted his gaze, pretending not to see the drool on Hades's scythe.
"It's time for the next batch of approvals, Hades. Wake up."
Realizing Mortarion was merely summoning him for work, Hades's initial alarm faded. He leaned his scythe against the wall and wiped away his drool.
Even for a space marine, this was exhausting.
Ever since their conversation, Hades had been working intensively. Every day, after just an hour of rest, he was summoned by the diligent workers for overtime.
By the Emperor, Mortarion now only slept ten minutes a day. He truly seemed indefatigable.
This was why Hades preferred being a mere soldier. It was easier to slack off.
Hades felt like he was back in the early days on Barbarus, during the grueling establishment of their base.
Alas, times had changed.
Hades blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head. He quickly inspected his power armor and scythe. All seemed in order.
As if sensing Hades's readiness, there was a knock on the door.
Mortarion turned off the display, silencing its beeps.
Hades stood at attention, scythe raised.
"Enter."
Mortarion's raspy voice echoed.
Hades steeled his face, becoming a stoic backdrop.
The door opened, and a warrior in standard combat attire entered.
He saluted in the Aquila gesture.
Mortarion nodded, signaling him to relax.
"Proceed."
Mortarion looked to Hades, who handed the visitor his scythe. The visitor held it with both hands.
A faint, wavering white light. Good, no issues.
"Swear upon the weapon bestowed by the Emperor, speak your mind, and hide nothing."
Even if Mortarion believed his sons were uncorrupted, Hades decided to screen them once more.
After learning that Hades could channel the warp through his scythe, Mortarion and Hades chose this method.
Swearing upon a weapon given by the Emperor was a common practice within the legions.
When Hades was pondering how to justify using his weapon for the oaths, Mortarion casually mentioned to Balasin,
"Use Hades's scythe for the oath. It was the first weapon the Emperor gave to the Death Guard after their formation."
Ah, so that's how it is.
Staring at his scythe, Hades pondered. Indeed, it seemed so.
Why hadn't he thought of that?
The room's silence snapped Hades out of his reverie. His task was done. He silently moved to the corner, watching Mortarion and the Barbarus-born warrior.
"Deniel, what did you see?"
The warrior hesitated, then began,
"I saw twisted flesh and pustules."
"My vision was clouded, as if I lay atop a pile of corpses."
"And then..."
Deniel hesitated again.
Mortarion watched him intently.
With great resolve, Deniel finally spoke,
"I saw you kneel."
Mortarion remained still. Most warriors saw this very scene.
"Is this the truth?"
The weight of Mortarion's unspoken authority chilled the room.
Deniel shivered but held his gaze,
"I swear, this is all I saw."
"Very well."
Mortarion raised an eyebrow, signaling the end of this inquisitorial interview.
Hades stepped forward, took back his scythe, and watched Deniel leave, silently awaiting the next visitor.
"Almost done?"
Hades peeked at the display in front of Mortarion. In these five hours of interviews, they had identified several promising candidates.
Surprisingly, even after the previous visions, there were no signs of corruption among the Death Guard.
Even Calas Typhon was merely startled.
"Yes."
Mortarion was still deep in thought. Where would he find the Untouchables?