Inside the solo medical room of the Endurance, two apothecaries were busy working in front of a medical table.
The initially dim room was illuminated with a bright white light shining over the surgical table. IV tubes dangled from overhead stands, surrounded by various instruments emitting a steady drip-drip sound.
Mortarion's imposing figure sat silently in a chair by the operating table. At the request of the apothecaries, he had removed his noxious incense burner. Without the surrounding poisonous mist, his frame looked even more gaunt.
A servitor, specifically designed for the Primarch, stood by Mortarion's side.
"It's done, my Lord."
One of the apothecaries approached Mortarion, indicating that Hades would soon awaken.
However, Apothecary Leo stared silently at Hades. By his calculations, the effects of the anesthetic would soon wear off—
Hades' eyelids fluttered, then his eyes opened.
Leo offered Hades a "friendly" smile.
"Well, young man, you're awake."
Indeed, he was the apothecary Hades had previously thrown over his shoulder.
Even now, Leo felt a dull ache in his back. The boy's strength was remarkable.
He had pursued Hades, intending to get him to rest. Instead, he was greeted with a swift throw, and then Hades had fled.
Ah, but here you are, back again.
Of course, for Hades' quick recovery, Leo deliberately administered a reduced dose of painkiller. And while stitching up the wounds, he had "accidentally" nicked a few inconsequential nerves.
Opening his eyes to Leo's smug grin, Hades braced himself for an imminent storm.
However, Leo merely glared at him with murderous intent and then stepped aside.
Seeing Hades stable, both apothecaries withdrew to a separate area cordoned off by white curtains, giving space for the Legion Master and Hades to converse.
Hades knew why Leo hadn't retaliated.
Sitting up, he fixed his gaze on Mortarion.
Mortarion remained silent, his massive scythe resting horizontally across his knees, the heavy chain blade lightly touching the ground with a soft clink.
When their prolonged silence had the neighboring apothecaries shifting uncomfortably, Hades finally spoke.
"First, let me see the data from the Death Guard's recent campaign. I've been focusing on the Galaspia data and haven't really looked at the battle itself."
Mortarion grunted in response, gesturing for the servitor to hand over a data slate.
Hades took the slate, scanning the data—preparations for the war, the number of participating ships. All standard.
Hades flipped to the next page—
His vision darkened. Was this abysmal number seriously the casualty ratio?
He leaned back, almost passing out.
Alarms blared. Mortarion, startled, stood up, the chair scraping sharply against the floor.
The two apothecaries rushed out, initiating another round of emergency care.
After a while, Hades finally stabilized.
"Don't get worked up. Your blood pressure spiked," Leo admonished, giving Hades a warning glance before tidying up and departing.
"Fine," Hades replied weakly.
Then he turned his attention back to Mortarion.
"I'm okay, sit."
However, Mortarion remained standing. After a prolonged silence, he asked in a subdued tone, "So, did we actually fail?"
Hades took a deep breath.
"Not at all. This campaign was a victory for the Death Guard."
But it was a Pyrrhic victory.
If one excluded the exaggerated casualties, this Galaspia campaign could be seen as a classic strategy of a preemptive strike.
Strike fast, strike hard. One misstep meant death.
When a star system is fortified with defenses, one can either slowly encroach and consume, or opt for a swift, decisive battle.
The advantage of the latter is to concentrate one's forces, breaking the enemy's defenses and aiming straight for their heart.
If successful, casualties might be reduced compared to a protracted battle.
However, the disadvantage is stark. If the strategy falters, then the endless defensive fleet of the enemy would surround the assaulting Death Guard, slowly but inexorably consuming everything.
Mortarion's tactic was a classic all-or-nothing gamble.
The majority of the Death Guard's fleet participated in this campaign, along with a quarter of their troops.
As the supreme commander, Mortarion even placed himself at the forefront of the assault.
Such a strategy almost took the wind out of Hades' sails.
If this was a do-or-die campaign that would determine the fate of the entire legion, Hades would commend the strategy. But it wasn't.
Mortarion could've chosen not to attack this star system.
The Imperial Army's initial assessment of this civilization was correct. A single legion could not conquer such a system.
The most prudent strategy would've been a siege by three legions, slowly eroding the enemy's defenses.
This approach would undoubtedly result in a bloody and prolonged battle, but the casualties would be spread across multiple legions, preventing any one legion from bearing excessive losses.
Mortarion's strategy was essentially using "lesser" casualties (still a considerable number for a single legion) and betting the existence of his entire legion.
Clearly, he won the bet. The Death Guard claimed victory.
But looking at the bigger picture, this was a losing proposition.
The purpose of war is to gain greater benefits for oneself.
If one loses sight of the end goal, even a victory can feel hollow.
Hades looked at Mortarion with mixed feelings, recalling that back on Barbarus, Mortarion never seemed concerned about post-war recovery or economic issues.
Yet, thanks to the swift liberation by the Death Guard and the uplifted productivity of the Barbarus people after being freed from the alien tyrants, Barbarus experienced a period of prosperity under Mortarion's rule.
On Barbarus, Mortarion's reason for leading the army was simple: to liberate humans from the rule of tyrants.
Clearly, Mortarion still held that belief and acted upon it, leading to the Galaspia campaign.
But legions don't thrive on faith alone; they're complex entities with vested interests.
Faith and strategy are equally essential.
In the early stages, smaller organizations, like the Barbarus resistance, could cover tactical flaws with rapid expansion. But at the scale of a grand legion, careful planning is crucial.
Recruitment and fleet replenishment for Astartes is much more complicated than simply increasing the population.
It seemed that apart from Roboute Guilliman, Horus, and Ferrus, other Primarchs also seemed to have a somewhat neglectful attitude towards legion operations.
Hades felt a profound sense of helplessness and decided to give this young, naïve Primarch a crash course.
"Mortarion, why did you choose to attack Galaspia?"
Mortarion blinked.
"The people here were oppressed by tyrants, just like we were on Barbarus. So, I vowed to liberate them."
"But I later realized it wasn't the case."
Mortarion continued slowly, dragging a chair over to sit as he spoke.
After meeting with his two brothers, Mortarion had a lot to think about.
"Hades, do you know what the Emperor said to me when we first met?"
Hades raised an eyebrow, genuinely clueless.
"He said I would be his scythe, destined to liberate the galaxy from tyranny," Mortarion revealed. "He told me countless human civilizations are suppressed under the heels of despots, and that he made me to be their liberator."
"That's why I accepted the legion he offered me."
Hades paused, pondering this revelation. It dawned on him that not all the primarchs had willingly served the Emperor's Great Crusade from the start. Apart from those immediately swayed by the Emperor's charisma, promises were made to others. Some primarchs sought glory, some desired favor, some yearned for peace. For Mortarion, it was liberation.
However, those promises from the Emperor seemed fleeting, perhaps even hollow. Once the primarchs took command of their legions, they were shackled to the war engine of the Imperium with no turning back.
While they could use their legions to realize their ideals and fulfill those promises, their freedom had limits. As long as they furthered the Empire's goals without crossing certain boundaries, the Emperor didn't intervene.
In a sense, Roboute Guilliman's focus on infrastructure was simply an alignment of his personal beliefs with the direction of his legion.
Hades suddenly realized that Mortarion understood this disparity between the Emperor's words and the actual deeds of the Empire. At its core, it boiled down to differences in perspective. While Hades wanted to strengthen the Death Guard for upcoming battles, Mortarion prioritized his original vow to overthrow all tyrants, even if it jeopardized the legion's strength.
Carefully choosing his words, Hades inquired, "Mortarion, now that the legion has fulfilled its mission and toppled the tyranny of Galaspia, what do you intend to do next?"
Mortarion was silent, his thoughts a turbulent storm. He had never envisioned the aftermath. On Barbarus, people had naturally rallied behind him, and order spontaneously emerged.
Exasperated, Hades remarked, "I thought the Empire would handle post-liberation reconstruction."
Considering the size and administrative chaos of the Empire, they probably couldn't uphold their end of the bargain, apart from ensuring the collection of taxes, Hades added.
Mortarion nodded, adding a quiet jest about the efficiency of the tax department.
Hades continued, trying to guide Mortarion's understanding. "Why do you wish to overthrow tyrants?"
The question plunged Mortarion into deep contemplation.
"Oppression is wrong. The oppressed are devoid of freedom and agency," Mortarion finally replied, a lesson he learned under the oppressive rule of Necare.
"But a chaotic, lawless world also deprives people of genuine freedom," Hades pointed out. "We can't just overthrow a regime; we need to rebuild. That requires manpower, more Death Guard. We cannot afford to lose so many warriors in a single campaign, especially if we aim to liberate other civilizations."
Mortarion acknowledged, "You're right. I might have been too fixated on liberation."
Hades, sensing the turning tide, decided to seize the moment. "Now, we should designate Galaspia as a recruiting ground for the Death Guard. The tax exemptions and post-war conditions match the Empire's requirements. Let's get the tax exemption paperwork rolling, and then discuss further plans."
With a sigh, Mortarion sent a brief transmission to the Empire regarding the tax exemptions before abruptly cutting the communication.
Hades nearly screamed in frustration at Mortarion's leadership approach, which was eerily reminiscent of the many last-minute tasks he was burdened with in his previous life.
"You can't treat your subordinates this way!"
"All set," Mortarion stated, his clarity returning. "Galaspia will be the next recruiting ground for the Death Guard. Now, let's talk about why you missed the Galaspia campaign."
Caught off-guard, Hades recounted the events on the other planet, emphasizing the appearance of the 'Spirit Race'.
Mortarion mulled over this new enemy. Having cleared his previous dilemma, he was now in full primarch mode, ready to address this new threat.
The two strategized for a while, then Hades remembered something important. "What about the Death Guard's recruitment?"
What Hades didn't know was that this simple question would, in a way, save the entire Death Guard.
"I sent Calas back for recruitment. It was his idea," Mortarion replied.
Hades panicked, fearing the worst. "We need to return to Barbarus. Immediately."
After Mortarion left, the two apothecaries behind the white curtain exchanged a knowing look. From their perspective, it seemed Hades was the real decision-maker.