Emperor's Bane

Chapter 262 The Heights of Propaganda

"Morgan, our sister."

"Second Legion, our comrades in arms."

"Um……"

"I have to confess to you, Horus, that I really don't seem to think much of these things."

"I seem to... pay little attention to her."

"..."

"It doesn't matter, Sanguinius, it's not too late, I think you still have enough time to get to know her before you can officially meet her."

"By what?"

"Through a book, her book."

------

On the flagship of the Shadow Moon Wolf Legion: the ancient and great [Spirit of Vengeance], countless magnificent ceremonies and grand ceremonies inherited from ancient times were recorded in incomparable detail, each one rich in history The steps of precipitation are all carved stroke by stroke on the stone slabs that will never rot, to welcome those distinguished guests.

As the first returning son of the Lord of Humanity, the eldest brother of the Primarch, the God of the Shepherd has this honor and special status, allowing him to have more access to these ancient treasures that symbolize honor and trust, and Of all the Primarchs, he is probably the genius who knows how to use these grand rituals best.

The sun-like inner and innate ingenious calculations allow Horus to accurately arrange these spectacular ceremonies, bringing just the right amount of respect and kindness to each of his guests, and any visitor to the [Spirit of Vengeance] Or, no matter what their characters, goals, and desires in their hearts are, when they finally leave, they will become friends, confidants, or followers of the Wolf Shepherd.

But even so, some of the grandest ceremonies are almost never performed, because they belong only to the two most important individuals in Horus' heart.

One, is his father.

The other, is the angel of all.

The Emperor, and Sanguinius.

Although the Wolf Shepherd has always longed to be worthy of the admiration in the eyes of everyone, to truly become the Horus who treats everyone equally and never makes mistakes or is violent, he also has to admit that in the galaxy, in his In my heart, these two people have a unique and unshakable position.

Only they can make the entire [Spirit of Vengeance] open the greatest and most solemn welcome ceremony, which will be the most noisy moment of the entire Queen of Glory class warship: and today is such a day.

"They are discussing [Warmaster], a freshly released term, but like Venus who has not yet washed away the noise of the sea, it is full of a predestined charm."

"Everyone: Primarchs, Astartes, mortal officers, noisy tax collectors, chattering narrators and artists, even those mechanical priests and navigators, everyone is concerned about this topic, afraid and looking forward to it."

"Who can replace our father, who can carry the banner of all this?"

"Could that be you, Horus?"

"I'd rather be you, Sanguinius."

The Shepherd God smiled, his face was filled with wholehearted sincerity, which is an extremely rare and noble quality.

The Primarch of the Luna Wolves was accompanying his blood relative from afar, the noblest of the Primarchs, and they walked and chatted side by side in the halls of glory of the Queen of Glory, just as they did each other. Just like the years when we first met, relaxed and comfortable.

Behind them, two teams of elite soldiers of the Honor Guard in shiny armor kept a suitable distance from their own Primarch. Relaxed posture: no one will doubt that the fighting brothers around him will hurt themselves, just like no one can doubt the sincere friendship between the wolf god and the archangel, this is a unique truth.

"Me? Horus, my brother, stop joking. I will not be the Warmaster. No one wants me to be the Warmaster, including myself."

The angel laughed, his figure in golden battle armor and fur shawl was as breath-taking as ever, his noble face was surrounded by brilliant blond hair, and his giant snow-white wings unreservedly declared The existence of a mythical creature.

"But I support you, Sanguinius."

"I support you too, Horus, and more brothers will support you."

"Actually, not that much."

The God of Shepherd laughed, his smile made it hard to tell whether it was bitterness or relief.

"Ten pillars of the sky are enough to overcome a million wastelands: Horus, my brother, you don't have to worry so much. Among all our blood relatives, few people would care about the title of Warmaster , not everyone is willing to bear the responsibility that glory brings."

"You're always so polite, my angelic brother, as if you really came from a better heaven, a place that doesn't need sharp things."

"I am happy to do this in front of you, Horus, since the God of the Wolf Shepherd took the initiative to become the vanguard of crushing all opponents, why don't I take this opportunity to relax a bit, after all, I still have a softness in my heart that is not suitable for war. "

"I can see it."

"That would be great."

The archangel of Baal laughed. It was a smile that could turn the terrible ruins into a holy heaven. It was a radiance that no one could resist: even the wolf god.

The two Primarchs continued their conversation as they turned down a hallway past a rowdy crowd of narrators and artists, Sanguinius standing before two distant paintings from Holy Terra, his fleeting nuance A smile that made all the artists scribble away, allowing the two Primarchs to slip away.

The Wolf God spoke again.

"You said just now that not all brothers are attached to the Warmaster."

"Can you imagine Leman Russ, Jaghatai, or Vulkan leaving their kingdoms and reaching out for status and power: Even if the crown is placed in front of them, their hearts will only be thousands of miles away. Homeland outside."

"Indeed: what about Fulgrim?"

"Our phoenix is ​​a little more complicated: if you ask him about the Warmaster's great honor, you'll be kindly held by the hand, and you'll hear the story of Proxima and the Imperial Aquila. "

"Leave me alone: ​​I've heard it no less than twenty times."

"I am thirty times."

The two primarchs laughed again.

"Not about Fulgrim, whose vote must belong to Ferrus."

"Be magnanimous, Horus, if you can't win without an opponent, then it's not called victory, because it doesn't have the sweetness of being tempered at all."

"You are right, and Ferrus is indeed the best group of our brothers: whether it is his strength, or the strength of the Iron Hand, or those brothers who are close to him: Fu Grim, Vulcan, even Perturabo."

"He's perfect, isn't he?"

"True: but you can't ignore other people."

The wings of the archangel fluttered, and he stared at the dim sun beyond the porthole.

"Others? Who else?"

All of a sudden, the Shepherd God couldn't think of the answer to this question.

Sanguinius grinned.

"Jonson."

"You have to understand, Horus, you have to understand the temptation and attraction of the title Warmaster for a knight: after all, Jonson doesn't have his own Imperial Skyhawk."

"……indeed so."

The Wolf God nodded solemnly.

"Ferrus and Jonson."

"Ferrus has Fulgrim, and possibly Vulkan and Perturabo."

"Jonson has..."

"Um……"

"..."

"The Dark Angels are undoubtedly a powerful army, and they still have confidence."

The archangel of Baal added this sentence in a timely manner, causing the God of Wolf Shepherd to nod involuntarily, and pretended to cough twice, covering up his hesitation and pause just now.

But it was at this moment that he remembered something.

"Jonson might have Morgan."

"They came close: maybe."

The words of the God of Wolf Shepherd made Sanguinius pause for a rare moment. After thinking for a moment, he shook his head very honestly.

"I don't know her, Horus, I don't know our blood relative."

"After all, you haven't met, but she is indeed a trustworthy person. I think you can get to know our sister first through other methods."

The Shepherd God walked a few steps quickly, he pushed open a door, and quickly took out a hard-packed book from it.

"Fulgrim borrowed it from me, and he said that I can read the contents inside, but I feel that the content and narration of this book may be more useful to your legion."

Sanguinius frowned.

"a book?"

"Yes, Morgan wrote it."

"...another Holy Word?"

"..."

"No, it's not that bad, trust me."

The archangel nodded dubiously, caressing the cover casually, and glanced at the name that was too long.

"Basic tutorials on think tank professionalism and reference to solutions to various common psionic out-of-control problems"

The Primarch's brow eased slightly, and in his ear, Horus enthusiastically introduced what he knew.

"I've read this book, Sanguinius, and although I don't have much research on psychic power and think tanks, I can still feel that this is a very cautious book, and it exhorts more than encourages , it has more practical cases than false reasoning, it does not boast of the power of psychic power like other psychic books, but reveals a darker and more real side."

"Perhaps you should read it, Sanguinius. I know that your Legion, like the White Scars of Jaghatai, is experimenting with the Think Tank system: it may help you."

The angel didn't reply, he just stroked the cover of the book, was quiet for a while, and then turned to look at the wolf god.

"Actually, I don't really want to read this book right now, Horus. After all, I haven't met Morgan formally yet. Reading this book written by her too early may affect my feelings towards her." impression."

"I can assure you that Morgan is a trustworthy blood relative."

The Wolf God took a step forward and patted Sanguinius on the shoulder. His smile was the kind of sincerity that could not be questioned or guessed, even for Sanguinius.

"Look at it, you should know our blood relatives as soon as possible."

"It's not necessary..."

The archangel of Baal muttered these words in a low voice. He squinted his eyes, turned over the first page cautiously, quickly scanned the preface and scattered testimonials, and then randomly flipped through the contents of the table of contents. A few pages of those that most interested him.

He read very quickly and rarely, adding up to less than ten pages, just a few seconds.

But when he closed the book, the corner of Sanguinius's mouth was already smiling. He looked at Horus, and apologized gently in the unsurprising sight of the wolf god.

"You are right, Horus, this book is indeed of great benefit to my Legion, and it is enough to be a boon to any Librarian and psychic beginner: I am even a little looking forward to meeting our sister. "

"You have a good impression of her?"

Horus smiled and asked back, while the Archangel held the book under his arm, showing a shy and emotional smile, his eyes sparkled, like a joke, or an unintentional sentence persuasion.

"If this is what our Morgan blood relative uses to promote her image and output her opinions, then she is really a terrible character: Frankly speaking, Horus, just glanced at this book , I can no longer completely hate her."

"For the first time in this galaxy I have seen such a cautious attitude towards the Warp, unlike any book I have read on the power of psionic powers: especially those from Prospero...you understandable."

"Ah, of course."

"Then, you don't mind if I borrow it temporarily, do you?"

"Of course not. Fulgrim brought back many copies, and I even gave one of them to Mortarion."

"...He didn't throw it away?"

"At least it wasn't thrown away in front of me."

------

"boom!"

"Get rid of it, Karas."

The Primarch of the Death Guard is back on his flagship, having just returned from a visit to the Luna Wolves and having a decent time.

Except for that awful gift.

A psychic book, from his wizard blood relative...

Mortarion took a deep breath, and the breath in the whole room became more Babarus: In the respect and love for Horus, the Lord of the Death Guard barely supported himself to take this filth to the battleship, but after that, he didn't want to see it again.

"give it to me."

Accompanied by the wave of the Primarch, a figure walked out from the side of the throne room. As a close friend of the Primarch, Karas-Typhon casually glanced at the book, and his body trembled unconsciously.

"Get rid of it, that's all."

The Primarch rubbed the corners of his brows, and quickly devoted himself to other things. He didn't notice at all that when Typhon left with the book in his arms, his pace was so hurried that it was a little messy.

Between surprise and panting, Callas ran all the way back to his room. He looked around carefully, then quickly shrank in the corner, and opened the inside of it with a feeling of trepidation like opening a treasure chest. one page.

At this moment, the second-in-command of the legion, the leader of the psykers of the Death Guard Legion, who concealed his psychic talent and had never received formal psychic education, was even so excited that his fingers trembled a little.

……

……

"Oh!"

"So it is!"

"Mortarion, you fool! You lost a treasure!"

(End of this chapter)