The military parade extended into the night.
According to the itinerary, the next item on Guilliman's agenda was a bath.
No, this was no jest—bathing was indeed part of the official protocol, though it wasn't the immediate next step. As the Emperor of the Ultramar worlds, deeply rooted in a culture reminiscent of Rome, the inclusion of bathing as a ceremonial and practical element was inevitable. Moreover, the baths served as a venue for serious discussions. Guilliman even insisted that Greyfax and Celestine be present, intending to resolve some disputes amidst the warm waters.
All participants except Guilliman and Cawl donned water-resistant robes before stepping into the pool.
"May I remove my armor, Magos?" Guilliman gestured at his *Armour of Fate.*
Cawl deliberated briefly before shaking his head. "I would advise against it."
"The Magos is correct," Ephrenia agreed. "This armor doesn't merely protect your body; it safeguards your soul. It's best not to remove it."
"Very well, I'll remain on the edge," Guilliman said, somewhat disappointed, seating himself cross-legged by the poolside. "A Tyronian technological bath envied by a Primarch... Truly, a luxury unmatched in the galaxy."
Ephrenia moved to console Guilliman, but her mentor, the Harlequin Masque Master Thousand Faces, cut her off. Stripping off her crimson armor but retaining her helm, she reclined in the water with a casual grace.
"A snug robe, perfect water temperature, and the envy of a Primarch... This is practically an Aeldari blessing!" she quipped.
Even Qin Mo was aware of Guilliman's precarious condition. Since being struck down by Fulgrim and narrowly escaping death, Guilliman's soul had suffered irreparable damage, necessitating his constant reliance on the armor.
But here, in the material universe, the *Armour of Fate* was just that—material.
"Come now, Primarch," Qin Mo gestured toward the steps leading into the pool.
"What difference does it make, armored or not?" Guilliman muttered, yet he stood and descended into the bath. To his surprise, he felt the water's warmth against his skin.
Though clad in full armor, he could experience the bath as though unencumbered. Guilliman couldn't explain it, but he discerned that certain rules of the material universe were subtly distorted within this pool.
He eased into the water and closed his eyes, savoring the fleeting illusion of freedom from his gilded prison. For a moment, he was no longer a prisoner of his armor.
Only Cawl remained on the edge, standing motionless.
"Now it's merely the envy of the Magos. The experience has been downgraded," Thousand Faces remarked, casting a glance at Cawl.
The Tech-Priest's expression didn't shift; bathing was neither necessary nor desirable for him, as his mechanical form was impervious to water.
Everyone else, however, basked in the lavish pool. The rooftop bath, perched atop the grandest hotel in Life Zone One, was a marvel of luxury. Above them, monitoring devices adjusted the water temperature around each individual to match their comfort. Beyond the bath's edges, streams of levitating vehicles flitted through the cityscape, their lights weaving against the backdrop of holographic projections.
A serene silence prevailed.
For Celestine, the experience of bathing was novel. She playfully stirred the water with her wings, sending ripples toward Greyfax, who rewarded her with a sharp glare.
The ripples spread toward Qin Mo but halted abruptly three meters from him, as if rebuffed by an invisible wall.
Qin Mo opened his eyes, meeting Celestine's gaze. No matter how hard the Living Saint tried, the water refused to flow toward him.
For now, the atmosphere remained amicable, save for the pensive frown lingering on Greyfax's face.
After some time, Greyfax finally broke the silence, her tone deliberate and sharp: "Lord of Tyron, you may deny it, but everything I've witnessed since entering this system proves you are a heretic."
Leaning casually against the pool's edge, Qin Mo nodded nonchalantly. "I have never denied it. I've merely never walked into an Inquisitorial court to admit it."
Greyfax hadn't expected such candid acknowledgment. The accusations she had meticulously prepared now seemed pointless, leaving her momentarily at a loss.
"The people of the Tyron sector neither follow the Imperial Creed nor believe in the Imperial Truth. While the Ecclesiarchy persists here, it is only because they once proved useful. Their preachers must entice passersby to stop and listen to their sermons, rather than burning those who ignore them at the stake."
Qin Mo's voice carried on, steady and unyielding.
"By your standards, the entire Tyron sector might as well be heretical."
"You're probably considering leading a secret strike team to annihilate all this prosperity and replace it with mountains of corpses atop the ruins of a once-glorious sector."
Greyfax hesitated but nodded. The thought had indeed crossed her mind.
"Don't bother." Qin Mo closed his eyes. "Compromise is the hallmark of Imperial leadership. If you're to be a proper Inquisitor, you ought to master it as well."
Fuming, Greyfax would have preferred more heretical rhetoric over being lectured by a heretic on how to perform her duties.
Before she could retort, Guilliman intervened, addressing her directly.
"Inquisitor, what do you truly think?"
Buoyed by the presence of a Primarch, Greyfax voiced her unvarnished opinion. "We cannot allow the Tyron sector to continue unchecked. It is better to endure a brief but intense conflict now than to face an insurmountable threat later. With Cadia and Baal secure, we have the resources for a larger-scale war."
"A civil war," Guilliman said evenly. "Even though the Tyron sector sent forces to Cadia, aided Baal's defenders, and supplied an honorable Chapter with the means to save countless lives?"
Greyfax began to protest, but Guilliman silenced her with a look, turning to Qin Mo.
"The Inquisition's suspicion stems from doubt over your intentions. Please explain your purpose to the Inquisitor."
Qin Mo's reply was resolute: "Humanity has languished in suffering and ignorance for far too long. Much of this stems from the Warp's influence on the material universe. I aim to end this."
To Greyfax, the statement felt grandiose and unconvincing. Yet to Guilliman and Ephrenia, who understood the broader context, it resonated deeply.
After a brief pause, Guilliman spoke. "Once we leave Tyron, you will return to the Inquisition and convey my order: all investigations into the Tyron sector are to cease immediately."
Greyfax stared at him, stunned. A Primarch of Guilliman's stature should possess sharper judgment. How could he side with a heretic so swiftly?
But as she sought to argue, realization dawned. Guilliman wasn't blind to the threat Tyron posed. He understood that even if the Imperium triumphed in a war against this sector, the cost would render their victory hollow. Tyron was beyond the Inquisition's purview; continued interference would only exacerbate the situation.
After ten minutes of contemplation, Greyfax nodded reluctantly.
In truth, Guilliman had deduced far more in mere seconds. If Ephrenia's suspicions were correct and Qin Mo was indeed a C'tan, then he was one aligned with humanity's survival.
Before entering the baths, Guilliman had observed Qin Mo closely. The man brimmed with pride and affection for his creations—his people, his empire, and even his personal guards.
This led to a more profound question: why would a C'tan favor humanity? Could it be that humanity was his creation?
For now, this enigma could wait. Guilliman's immediate goal had been to defuse tensions and curtail the Inquisition's meddling.
One objective accomplished; another awaited.