Emperor's Bane

Chapter 608 Mongolian Top
"Do you know what the entire Great Crusade is discussing right now?"

When Chemos Phoenix and his Goshawk brother met again after many years, these were the first words he spoke: Amidst the gleaming silver threads, the flawless face concealed his inner thoughts.

But even so, some essential problems could not escape the Khan's eyes, but he was too lazy to point them out: because all past experience told Chagatai that if he gave an answer that a primarch brother did not want in front of that person, it would often mean the beginning of a long quarrel.

He didn't want to get involved: Morgan was enough of a fool like that.

"I do not care, Fulgrim: I suppose that is none of our business."

"No, it matters a lot, bro."

"But I'm not surprised that you can't see that."

Phoenix's smug tone made the luxurious and gorgeous armor on him seem pale in comparison: Jagatai Khan never thought that he could describe the armor worn by a Primarch as luxurious and gorgeous, but his brothers always managed to break his rules.

But they take it for granted.

"Let me tell you something, brother."

The Phoenician was still smiling, but this time there was at least some sincerity, no longer the pure mockery as before: the Khan moved his fingers a little further away from the hilt of the knife, and he still had enough patience to tolerate Fulgrim swaggering in front of him from the tarmac that was wide enough to accommodate an entire fortress, and walking condescendingly into the passage where there were no flash lights.

"I'm really sorry for you."

The Khan snorted lightly and signaled his descendants behind him to retreat to a distance.

The two Primarchs stood face to face, sizing each other up as if they were strangers: while Fulgrim nodded secretly at the eagle wings and dragon heads woven with gold, emerald and silk on Jaghatai's armor, the Khan was already suffocating by the scent of his brother's body.

This is more unbearable than the filthy grassland left by the migration of cattle and sheep.

Chagatai took a look at the useless and superfluous decorations, the horse-hair-like tassels extending from the helmet to the ground, and the various small ornaments made of gems and rare metals, which would impatiently begin to jingle when the Phoenicians stepped forward: hunters like these would only starve to death on the grassland.

The Khan gave his own evaluation in his mind first, and then nodded, indicating that Phoenix could continue.

"I am listening, Fulgrim."

"Tell me, what kind of topic has anything to do with us?"

"Of course it's about: the leader."

Fulgrim's words and his arrogance did not escape the Khan's expectation.

"You mean, Warmaster?"

"No, not just the Warmaster."

Phoenix shook his head, and as his fingers waved casually in the air, he subconsciously brushed across the double-headed eagle on his chest: this huge source of pride now occupied almost his entire chest, and the Khan even suspected that his brother would one day remove the two eagle heads and replace them with his own head, becoming the Imperial Sky Eagle that he had always dreamed of.

"Besides the Warmaster, will there be any new leaders in the Great Crusade?"

The Khan's question earned Fulgrim a rather sly glance, and before the Phoenician could even speak, the Khan had already anticipated that the Phoenix's next words would surely be a sarcastic one, and that he would say it with a compassionate tone.

"You surprise me, Chaghatai."

"If you don't consider yourself a leader, then how can you lead your legions and fleets in such a long expedition? You can't be leaderless, right? Even true barbarians have their chieftains."

The Khan listened quietly, and when he and Phoenix looked at each other, he quickly smiled.

"No need to worry, brother: my legion has no such baggage."

"I simply never had the arrogance to think I represented the entire Great Crusade."

A crack of anger flashed across the Phoenician's statue-like face, but the Khan did not give him a chance to fight back.

"Do you really think those mortals care about my name and status?"

"Of course!"

Phoenix raised his voice, and he immediately forgot Khan's previous offense and regarded it as an unnecessary friction between brothers, although his smile became a little forced: in Khan's view, this might be the few good qualities of his Phoenician brother.

Phoenix at least was able to restrain himself and not do anything really stupid.

Of course, this is not to say that the Phoenician's character is so noble, but that he dare not challenge the rules set by the Emperor: Compared with most of his brothers, Fulgrim is actually a more law-abiding person. He is very satisfied with his current treatment and honor, and lacks the motivation to take the initiative to break all this.

The Khan was well aware of this, and he also knew that among his other brothers, the only one who agreed with Fulgrim in this regard was the Prince of the Five Hundred Worlds: although the Khan recognized the mainstream evaluation of Guilliman's ambition, he did not think that the Macragge's ambition would be revealed in a short time.

The reason is very simple: under the existing system of the Empire and the Great Crusade, Guilliman and his Kingdom within a Kingdom are the undoubted beneficiaries, so he has no reason to break it all. But when the Empire's system or the Emperor's will no longer conform to the interests of the Five Hundred Worlds, Guilliman's loyalty will be as empty as bubbles.

So does he himself.

As for Fulgrim...

"You greatly underestimate our role and status in the hearts of mortals, Chagatai. You are remiss if you do not see yourself as a leader: because our ability and authority mean that we are born to lead everyone, whether it is our warriors or the people of the empire."

Fulgrim never changed.

The Khan sighed softly, and the sound was lost in the Phoenix's impassioned speech.

"We need to lead them and guide them onto the right path, so that the achievements of the Great Crusade will not become yesterday's flowers, but will continue to the glorious days of ten thousand years later. This is not a task that can be accomplished by the Warmaster alone. If we want to accomplish this goal, then each of us must go all out and become what I call a "leader."

"Same to you, brother Chagatai."

“As a leader, teach everyone what a perfect life is.”

“That’s what we’re all about.”

Fulgrim's impassioned speech made the Khan nod silently, but before the Phoenix could feel proud of it, his brother turned around, stretched out his finger, and pointed at the apron where the Phoenix came from: at this time, the remnants of a magnificent feast were still placed on it.

"The teachings you mentioned also include four hundred kilograms of flower petals, perfume, and silk carpets?"

"Or is it a one-time thing?"

The Phoenicians looked in the direction of the Khan's finger: he had just held a miniature boarding ceremony on the tarmac, which he swore was very simple and lasted less than ten minutes. His descendants even felt sorry for him.

Khan is particularly allergic to all this.

"It's actually 600 pounds, bro."

“Numbers mean nothing.”

The Khan shrugged absentmindedly.

"After all, I don't see what practical use these things have."

"Oh, come on, bro."

Phoenix held his chest exaggeratedly.

"Even you should understand the value of art."

The severity of this sentence is such that it sounds like a condemnation.

"Chagatai, I heard that you conquered your home planet with blood and fire. I have no intention of pointing out the difference in our methods. After all, this is a difference in reality and cultural customs. But what I really want to say is: when your saber slaughtered those cities with ancient cultures, weren't you moved by the art in them?"

"Didn't those treasures that have been passed down for thousands of years give you some feeling?"

The Khan snorted.

"I have indeed destroyed several civilized nations that were addicted to so-called art."

"And the only impression they left on me was that when I burned a city full of artworks, the stink in the air was more pungent than the smell of burning: a thousand years of decay, that's what it should smell like."

“But they are priceless!”

"In this world, anything that can't protect itself is worthless."

The Khan looked away, seemingly losing interest in the argument.

"Listen, Fulgrim: if so-called art can be destroyed by fire, then it is a product of a small minority trapped in the Dimension: such art has no value to society as a whole, but is a tool for a few fools to indulge themselves and feel superior to others."

“True art cannot be destroyed by any means: just like you cannot destroy the vastness of the grassland, you cannot erase the brilliance of the stars, and you cannot eradicate people’s yearning for beauty in the midst of suffering. Only things that can be passed down from generation to generation and known to everyone are truly worthy of praise.”

Khan's voice was powerful, but Phoenix remained silent.

"I think they usually call that kind of thing vulgar, Chagatai."

The Khan just glanced at him.

"Fulgrim."

"Ok?"

"Zifeiyu, know the joy of fish?"

"……what?"

The Phoenician was unable to react to these sudden and confusing words, and he instinctively asked another question.

"What... are you talking about?"

"Art." The Khan laughed.

“A treasure passed down through the ages.”

Then, the Khan ignored Fulgrim's red face and strode towards the tarmac: behind the grand performance of the Phoenix that no one was watching, the shuttle of another Primarch had arrived, it was Guilliman, whom everyone was waiting for.

"Hopefully he brings good news."

Chagatai whispered.

But deep down, he knew...

------

"it's out of the question."

Leaning back in his chair, Guilliman first glanced around at his brothers present: Morgan, Fulgrim and Jaghatai Khan were all waiting for the Macragge's speech, but for some reason Jonson was late, leaving his seat empty.

really interesting.

Guilliman thought.

In order to save the face of the commander of the Eastern Front, they chose to gather on the Dark Angels' warships despite having five Glorious Queens: of course, not on the Indomitable Truth, but on the Sword of Caliban of Corswayn.

This ship also has a rich experience: this special battleship was a gift given to Luther by the Spider Queen herself when he was the commander of a squadron under Morgan when Luther was just established in the Far East frontier.

The raw materials used to build this battleship came from the ores and metals obtained from the first large-scale trade between the Far Eastern Frontier and the Five Hundred Worlds. The one responsible for its construction was the Forge World Ryza, which was allied with Morgan, but the battleship was organized into the Dark Angels' fleet. After Luther returned to Caliban, the Lion directly assigned the ship to Costwain.

Guilliman liked it here.

"Listen, everybody."

The Macragge spread his hands.

"I admit that my calculations were wrong. I originally planned to call another 50,000 people to join the Ullanor Expedition, but then I remembered that I had already transferred 50,000 people not long ago. If another 50,000 people were transferred, the number of Ultramarines participating in this expedition would exceed 250,000, which is slightly more than the upper limit of the entire Ultramar 500 worlds."

"It's incredible that your legion can withstand the upper limit of 250,000."

Fulgrim exclaimed, while Chagatai next to him took advantage of the opportunity.

"It's incredible that the Thirteenth Legion actually has an upper limit."

"The Ultramarines are just a legion. It is normal for them to have an upper limit, both of you."

Guilliman certainly heard the sarcasm in these words, and he looked at his two brothers with dissatisfaction, especially at the Khan: compared to Fulgrim, who always had a good reputation, Guilliman was more worried about this erratic guy, who was really too mysterious.

The people of Makrag have never been able to believe in Chagatai Khan's principles, and even further doubt his loyalty: How can the loyalty of a Primarch who always wanders outside the core area of ​​the empire and figures out his own affairs in the marginal areas be guaranteed?
So, how many people were there in the end?

Morgan didn't look up, concentrating entirely on the new plan Guilliman had handed over.

"Two hundred thousand."

Guilliman crossed his fingers.

"really interesting."

Fulgrim smiled and then quietly looked towards the only gate.

"So, with the help of Jonson and the Dark Angels, we need to increase our forces?"

Guilliman did not dispute this statement.

"Jonson's plan forces me to increase the corresponding military strength."

"You are right, Fulgrim. Without the Dark Angels, I would only need 150,000 men on my own. But with the Dark Angels, 200,000 men are needed to prevent their situation. This is already the minimum number."

"That……"

Fulgrim looked at Morgan.

"What if I let you cooperate with them?"

Guilliman thought for a moment.

"So……"

"I think I'll need at least three hundred thousand men."

……

When the Calibanite pushed the door open, exhausted, Jonson only saw Fulgrim laughing in his seat, the Khan pursed his lips, enduring something, Morgan covering his face with the plan, and Guilliman staring at him nervously.

The atmosphere in the room was a little weird.

The lion narrowed his eyes.

He instinctively sensed that something bad seemed to have happened here: the Lion King's inquiring gaze did not even affect Morgan, and then quickly swept across Jaghatai, stayed on Fulgrim's body for a moment, and then locked all its strength on Guilliman's face.

No evidence, no inference: this silly face speaks for itself.

The lion king was complaining in his heart, but on the surface he maintained his dignity and even nodded to the Khan as a greeting. As for Fulgrim who was waving exaggeratedly, the lion just gave him a look, which was far less respectful than that for the Khan.

In fact, Jonson liked Chagatai Khan as a brother. They both had the shadow of silently devoting themselves to the empire. He believed that Khan could rank in the top five among his friends, perhaps only behind Morgan and Conrad, and maybe that bastard Leman Russ: but their friendship was superficial. After all, Jonson never liked to put his personal friendship on the table.

Even Morgan: In the Empire, not many people can be sure how close the relationship between the Lord of Caliban and the Spider Queen is. Even the Primarchs dare not guarantee it. After all, these two are thorough mystics, and they have not lived together for a long time since the war.

But Jonson never worried about that.

【You're late, bro.】

Morgan's voice called to him: like a real sword, it would never fade.

"I know."

Johnson nodded.

"It took me a while to dispatch more knights here."

These words made the air stagnate.

"You are also increasing the troops?"

The Caliban frowned at the odd emphasis in the Phoenician's words.

"Yes, just a few knights."

Jonson was evasive.

"Originally, I was planning to send these troops to the Ghoul Stars to support Conrad's expedition plan, but Conrad just changed the goal of his Ghoul Expedition and no longer explored inward, but chose to establish a semi-permanent base on the periphery: my knights were useless there, so I directly transferred them all here."

The Primarchs remained silent, only Morgan, who had a deep understanding of the matter, raised his eyebrows.

Did Jonson actually call back all the knights that he thought could deal with the Ghoul Stars? You know, the Calibans are one of the few guys who have a clear understanding of the Ghoul Stars, so there is no need to say more about the strength of these new reinforcements.

What are you going to do, Jonson?

Morgan then asked.

"nothing."

The lion king sat on the main throne, with his two brothers sitting on each side.

"It's just that after carefully considering the new plan proposed by Guilliman, I feel that I need to mobilize more troops just in case: to prevent any special situations from happening on certain fronts, fleets or legions."

“This is the minimum number.”

As soon as these words were spoken, after a long silence among the Primarchs, only the laughter of the Phoenix broke the silence.

"Excellent deduction, bro."

Having said that, Fulgrim's eyes were turned towards Guilliman.

"I think I can't wait to witness the next war."

“That’s what it will be: Legend.”

"Especially when..."

Phoenix turned around, his cunning eyes wandering between the Lion King and Morgan, the arrogance and expectation in his eyes were frightening.

"I have already given the good news that the Eastern Front Corps has seized a valuable opportunity."

"When I informed the Wolf God."

(End of this chapter)