"I have done a horrible, unforgivable thing." @divinituscaptivus
Valdor could only stare at his lord when such a thing was uttered.
It was obvious, of course. Terra had fallen-- and the Imperium, in Valdor's eyes, was already doomed. Without the Astronomican, the ships could not go through the Warp. Without Terra, there was no leadership, no hub, no capitol. And of course, without the Emperor being focused enough to answer the prayers of others, it meant the Imperium's Golden God had gone silent. No other Custodians seemed to be alive, either-- at least, not the ones that were stationed at Terra.
Had it truly been back then, Constantin would have at least tried to keep hope. He tried in the Heresy, of course, as well as the beginnings of the ages afterward, but with the endless, constant, ten thousand years in the Immaterium, Valdor had changed.
Indeed, he still looked human, outwardly. Still the Captain-General that the Emperor oh-so-meticulously crafted. Yet his soul was changed. Warped. By the ancient Cognitae cults and what they believed Valdor was-- the King in Yellow.
It could probably be felt-- the way he loomed, how his eyes burned a bright yellow instead of their gentle hazel. His shadow changed when cast along the wall-- depicting a creature, a thing, with tendrils instead of legs and wings that sprouted painfully from its back, with a deer skull for a head and antlers sprouting from it. The Captain-General wore a yellow mantle, of which it hid dirtied and blackened Corinthine Warplate that was still, mostly, maintained. The Apollonian Spear rested upon his back. He was pallid as can be, his hair having grown out into an unruly mane, and warpfrost often covered the tips of his cloak or his gauntlets. The warp itself reacted to him-- and while he did not compare to Kusig's very presence, he was no longer a normal man.
He could not fault the Emperor for rising from His Throne, and yet Valdor felt silent frustration despite it-- a strong emotion, of which he finally could feel after his mantra and whatever suppression in his mind had faded, bringing about emotions that Valdor only felt in the smallest of increments back then.
Constantin had been silent during their time at the Ursa Major-- the forgotten, silent ship of the Second Legion. Valdor remembered this place, when it had been decreed that Aurelius would be excommunicated and wiped from Imperial records.
What were they to do? he wanted to ask the Emperor. Terra had fallen. Did they expect another Imperium Secundus? Merely move the capitol to Ultramar just like before? There was still the issue about the Astronomican. So many ships, being lost to the Warp. Aurelius's own ship would be lost, too, if they even TRIED to warp-jump. The closest thing Constantin could think of, would be if he delved into the Warp again and figured something out with the realm he created during the Emperor's internment-- the City of Dust... but Constantin could only do so much. He was no god.
All he could do was take a deep breath as he stayed near Kusig's side, as he always did, in the groaning halls of the phalanx-class ship.
" ... My lord, " The King in Yellow began with a slight murmur, " are you well? "
A foolish question, Constantin thought, for the Emperor was not well. Why would he be? Mankind would crumble or be subjugated under xenos and Chaos threats alike-- and they barely had resources of their own, save for this decrepit ship and a Primarch who could barely walk. Maybe they could reach other places. Mars, Jupiter... but what would that gain them? Nothing, Valdor pessimistically believed. So he supposed, silently, that he, the Emperor, and his son would only be able to watch as everything slowly collapsed. Everything they built.
At this point, returning to the Warp felt like a far more fruitful endeavor.