Knowing
Lorgar Aurelian had sat motionless for hours. Cross-legged in his private meditation chamber, he wore a simple kimono of grey silk, it's smooth fabric settled on the muscles of his tense shoulders.
He was afraid.
A new sensation for one such as he. He understood awe, understood feeling very small in the glory of one's beliefs, but genuine fear was new.
He'd seen the truth, finally. He'd been shown the depth of the Emperor's betrayal, how deep the rot of hubris had penetrated his Father's heart, and he had to warn... everyone.
Every single man, woman and child was threatened by the so-called Master of Mankind. The Primordial Truth had hit Lorgar hard. Being faced simultaneously with proof of higher beings and the depravity of his Father's lust for power was difficult to comprehend. Of course the closest thing he'd ever had to a real father, noble Kor Phaeron, had raged. The venom and bile spewed forth had almost convinced Lorgar to launch an all-out attack immediately. Try to remove the cancer at the heart of humanity's empire in one swift stroke.
But Erebus, trusted son and wise councillor, had spoken of caution. His smooth and polished voice a soothing balm to Kor Phaeron's spittle-ridden sermons of fire and blood. We must plan carefully, he'd advised. Against the Emperor alone, there can be no victory.
And so, Lorgar was making best speed from the wound in reality his Word Bearer's had discovered. Traversing the Immaterium's fickle tides, he needed his brothers. With nothing but time to think, Lorgar had withdrawn to his chambers, locking out his closest advisors, his extraordinary mind kept playing events over and over. The heartbreak of Monarchia, the pettiness of the person who could order such an act. The blind obedience of the one to carry it out. Lorgar had loved Guilliman deeply, his nobility of heart and strength of character endearing. Now he knew, Guilliman would never hear the Word of Lorgar. That he could commit the crime of Monarchia willingly, at their father's order, Lorgar knew he'd be willfully deaf to its simple truth. Guilliman desired power most, of all of his brothers; his Five Hundred Worlds a clear indicator how much he was like their Father. Lorgar had made an error, he knew that now, and his hearts ached in sorrow. He'd thought his Father worthy of the worship he longed to bestow, and Monarchia had paid the price for his mistake. Now, it seemed so clear. He'd been blind for so many years, but he'd had his eyes opened by those worthy of his affection.
As for his Father, not only was He a bastard, He BELIEVED He was right.
Lorgar couldn't imagine a more dangerous enemy.
And so he was afraid.
Never had he been seen as the strongest warrior, not even close. But Lorgar had a cunning that quite dwarfed his brothers. His multi-faceted mind as quick and capable as any of them, his Will was stronger by an order of magnitude. Knowing his truth, believing it so completely, this was his strength. A weapon to wield as delicately as a scalpel or as broadly as an atomic strike. His Will was what made him dangerous, something, he smiled grimly, he had inherited from his Father.
Some of his brothers could be discarded immediately. The Great Betrayer Guilliman, Dorn; so very cold, so calculating and lacking in humanity. Vulkan would be too willing to give their Father the benefit of the doubt, the same with Ferrus and that savage fool Russ. Russ would kill him for far less than voicing the truth, Lorgar was certain.
He needed the strongest of his brothers, the most capable. The most willing to try and understand.
He needed HIM.
He would at least LISTEN; and if he listened, he might hear the Word of Lorgar. It was a great risk, the greatest. But Lorgar needed someone on his side, he didn't want to be alone against such unfathomable odds. He would need to move carefully, this wasn't something that could be rushed. If he could get HIM to understand, together they could approach their other brothers.
But he needed Horus, their Father's favourite, first.
