The Emperess, Isis, Freya, Dolor, Ferrah and Victoria were all meeting, back on Terra, in order to have an updated Geneseed deposit made. They were all done extracting the material, now it was just a bit of a status update. They all sat at a table, talking and eating.
"So, it has been a rough few months. My forces have been working to keep the other legions supplied, my front did have to remain small. Mother, if you will allow, I want to set up a few systems of supply depots. Victoria, I shall be making supply lines to follow your efforts. But I think I shall take some time and secure the various planets." Dolor said.
"You are always so focused on the supply lines, charge forward I say." Freya said, drinking from a large mug.
"Those who rush ahead, will often get cut off from what they need." The Empress said.
"Shut up, I can forge my own path." Freya said.
The door opened, and a hooded, robed figure walked in, with a staff of a burning eagle.
"Wisdom is born from experience, and trust me, the Empress has had much experience. I think it's best you learn that before you do something that gets you fucked in more than one way." the man said.
Everyone turned, eyes drawn to this man. The Primarch and Matriarchs stood up.
"You dare insult me? Mortal?" Freya asked.
"I do, I remember you, number 6. You were always kicking in your tanks." the man said.
"Number 16, You have grown to be quite a woman, Number 3, you have also become very beautiful. Number 10, I remember you banging your head on the tank when you were young. Number 2, you have grown, you have a great weight to carry. May your legion hold well." the man said, as he walked by each demi-god.
He walked up to the Empress, who knelt down and gave him a kiss.
"Mother, who is this?" Isis asked.
"This, my children, is Malcador, the only being to be with me longer than the custodes." The Empress explained.
They all looked at the old man.
"So what? Is he our father?" Isis asked.
"Closer to Uncle per-say." The Empress explained.
Dolor walked to the man, and looked him into the eyes. They held a great weight, as if time itself weighed on him. Malcador suddenly gripped his sleeve of his cloak, his thin wrinkle hands gripping the cloth, before, he pulled it back, with near inhuman speed for his age, and showed a body covered in muscles, near equal to a male custode without armor.
He had short white and grey hair, with glowing eyes.
"NOW GIVE YOUR UNCLE A HUG!" he demanded, almost screaming the command.
The muscular arms wrapped around Dolor's waist, before lifting the primarch up, making him stand from the lifting power, and bruising the waist of the primarch.
"Oh, ho, ho! I like him!" Freya said, smiling.
The Empress rubbed her head, along with Malcador.
"It seems something is happening." He said, putting on his robes, and somehow shrinking back to a seemingly appropriate size.
The matriarchs rubbed their heads, as if there was a small pain or discomfort, while Dolor, he felt no pain, no discomfort, just....confusion.
