Defiance of the Idealist

Gustave stood very still. This place was supposed to be his refuge. The gleaming surgical tools hung in their places, ready to save life. The stark smell sterilizing agents were a perfume to his soul. This was where he was meant to be.

This is what he had been denied.

He towered above the other two individuals. Reine Stier, despite her impressive physique, was the shortest of the three. Her height might have placed her in the upper tier of mortals, but it offered no advantage against transhuman height. She fidgeted with her glasses, pushing them back toward her steel-blue eyes. It was an old, anxious habit. Gustave could not blame her for the unease swimming within her.

The other maintained better control over his emotions, but Gustave knew his Equerry better than anyone. Florentinus Blank was an old soul, a living relic of Terra. It was those same roots that had caused no small amount of friction between the two of them. Most of the Terran legionaries seemed cut from the same dutiful stone, even after two centuries. It was that duty which held his displeasure back. It was not of the same breed as Reine's unease.

"What of the High Regent?" Reine said, her voice only a degree above a whisper.

Gustave inwardly winced at the unconscious fear. Shouldn't his operating room be the safest place for them to discuss the matter?

Florentinus rumbled in his deep voice. "He is not the same as the Emperor." His eyes locked upon his Primarch, half-accusing. "Regardless, he alone will not be able to hold the Emperor back."

Gustave knew that. It was hard for Gustave to remember people as people. It was much easier to interact with them as patients as containers of life and blood. Oh, it was so much simpler. Yet, even Gustave knew enough of the new High Regent that his liberties against the Emperor had been calculated, careful. Alexandros knew what lines he could cross and which ones he couldn't. There were times Gustave wished he possessed the same insight.*

But he also knew Alexandros was a good man, in his own way. Few among Gustave's brothers had willingly put up with his unusual personality. Had quietly supported his medical efforts. Even after... that day.

No, Alexandros could not prevail against the Emperor. He would fail. Just as Gustave had failed.

The question burning at the centre of Gustave's mind burned hotter. What if the Emperor did not return? What if Gustave did not have to live in fear of his father? Standing on the other side of that question was freedom so sweet, it pained Gustave. Could he do it? Could he damn himself? His sons? How many lives could he save if he was truly free to do what he wanted? Could he save a thousand lives in a year? Would that be worth the cost? What of a decade? A century?

Florentinus frowned as he recognized the thoughts behind Gustave's eyes. Unlike some legions, Gustave's Equerry served more as a devil's advocate than an avid supporter of his Primarch. Gustave, however, knew Florentinus would not refuse an order.

"It will be done," Gustave whispered, agony and ecstasy wrapped equally in the words. "Alexandros will not strike against us."

Silence held the room for a long moment. "And the Emperor?" Reine said, empathy and fear etched into the expression of the stately woman.

Gustave opened his mouth to reply. Paused, and then walked over to his tools. "Irrelevant."

He picked up a scalpel. "We have lives to save." [[Category:D]]