No, you couldn't — but you wouldn't have been the first to make such a grave miscalculation, either. [ His smile remains broad across his face, but as he watches her from his side of the table, it doesn't quite reach his eyes. ] I don't know if they believe me to be nothing more than an empty-headed glutton, or if they think themselves far cleverer than they are, but the galaxy has no shortage of fools who believe themselves sharp enough to outwit a man who has survived countless centuries by the trust of nothing but his own blade and his own wits.

[ He always appreciates those with wits to recognize that he poses just as much danger with his sword sheathed as he does with it drawn—but, in truth, that is not where his thoughts linger now. ]

You would think being our Primarch's chosen Champion would lend me some manner of my brothers' loyalty and respect — but, of course, that would be a foolish thing to assume. [ A low laugh hums from his throat, and he shakes his head. ] After all, we were a legion of men possessed by only our own selfish desires. Why should any who have come to serve beneath my banner since bear loyalty to anything but their own advancement? If any one of them believed he could depose me without consequence, he wouldn't hesitate to drive his blade deep into my hearts himself.

It is tiresome, that need to perpetually anticipate and distrust even what seems benign. We are both lucky, to be able to speak to one another without it.