Emperor's Bane

Chapter 644 What about Terra?
"Makado?"

"Who cares about Malcador?"

"He is nothing more than a tool, a precision instrument installed at the fingertips of our father, with little thought of his own: his mission as an individual is to be a lucky man with some ability and hard work, chosen by the Emperor to serve as his invisible third hand, and to benefit the great cause of all mankind in countless invisible ways."

"We need not even mention the question of reward or benefit for Malcador: to be part of such a great plan, to serve as a servant of the Supreme Being, and to have his own, small but firm seat in the pages of history, is a great reward in itself. What more could he ask for?"

"How many heroes have fought to have their words recorded in the history books? Malcador has received more than they have, more than his own ability and generosity: as a mortal man, it is a reward for his luck, loyalty and ability to be on equal footing with us demigods."

"I guess in your words, the importance of these three attributes is decreasing in order."

“For him: it is.”

Horus smiled.

"He was lucky that he had the opportunity to demonstrate his loyalty: ability was the last thing on the list."

The smell of gunpowder from war lingered on the lips and teeth of the Wolf God, unwilling to leave for a long time, even though he had been away from the Uranus front for some time, even though he chose to put aside the fatigue brought by the war and wandered in the corridors of the Spirit of Vengeance with his most admired blood brothers, smiling at each other's similarities and differences in views, but he still could not wave away the real-time impact that the long war had brought him.

It seems like everything happened just yesterday.

Goron, Ullanor, the Emperor, the Orc King and Jonson, Dorn, Abaddon, or Sigismund: thousands of names and words, useful and useless, those that made him happy and those that made him anxious, those that were worth thinking about and those that needed to be ignored: the vast number of concepts were like a group of snakes in estrus, mating wantonly, mixed into a large, wriggling entanglement in his mind, making the Primarch feel unprecedentedly bored.

When he thought about the fact that his dear genetic father was about to leave him, and the time could now be calculated in days, Horus felt a splitting headache: the pain brought to him by all the wars in the past hundred years was far less than the glory of Ullanor that was right before his eyes, this damn supreme glory!

But it brought pain!
The Wolf God himself believed that he was never someone who was good at enduring pain, and that it was his troublesome brother Mortarion who liked to endure suffering for no reason. Privately, Horus disagreed with Mortarion's point of view, and he preferred to choose a clever avoidance: to circumvent the current predicament by not talking about it, leaving enough time to think about the solution: and then to turn the tide before it was too late.

This was true for the Primarch, and also for the Luna Wolves he commanded. This can be seen from the assault and division, boarding and decapitation tactics that the Sixteenth Legion was best at: when the war situation is so chaotic that it cannot be made any more chaotic, what solution could be more effective than a successful assault and decapitation?
The Moon Wolf Legion was born for this kind of big scene that can turn the entire battle situation around in an instant.

Of course, Horus had heard of rumors like these: someone in the invisible shadows accused his Luna Wolves of stealing all the glory, using other brother units as shields or even cannon fodder to create space for their own offensive, and disregarding the safety of other lives for this.

The Wolf God was too lazy to face these ridiculous words. He admitted that when he led the various legions to fight together, he would unconsciously favor the Moon Wolf: Which father would not favor his son? But shield or cannon fodder? Such accusations are too far-fetched.

In a nutshell: All the Primarchs and Astartes are not fools. If Horus was really crazy enough to use his brother legions as shields or cannon fodder, especially the latter, then his behavior would inevitably be exposed, and one exposure would be enough to offend an entire legion: If this is the case, then how did the Wolf God have such a good reputation in the Great Crusade?
These pathetic mortals were so unskillful in their attempts to discredit him that Horus could not believe that it was Malcador's doing: he disliked the Emperor's Sigillite, but he acknowledged that the vile man was too capable to use such a method against his Primarch.

But if Malcador secretly instructed some arrogant fools to interfere with Horus while completely removing all traces of the Sigillite himself, Horus would not rule out this possibility.

In short, the Wolf Shepherd God first made a note of the seal bearer in his heart.

He remembered!

What a groundless slander!

The so-called Luna Wolves deliberately robbed the glory on the battlefield? The real fact was exactly the opposite: it was because those powerful enemies lurking in the smoke of the Great Crusade really had the ability to fight against several legions, even drag the entire war into chaos, and even suppress the Imperial Expeditionary Force in the chaos.

There are so many monsters and demons.

Whenever the battle situation fell into such a desperate situation, the only option available to Horus was to lead his Gastalin Guards, brave the arrows and stones, put himself in danger, and turn the tide by killing the enemy leader.

Abaddon and his comrades never let their Gene-Father down, despite the blood they shed: those who spread shameless rumors only saw the glory of the Luna Wolves as the most glorious Legion, but never saw the countless Gastalins and Sons of Horus fall in the final battle.

But even so, they continued to follow Horus' footsteps.

After all, apart from them, who else can take on such an important task of turning the tide?

Among the brother forces that often fight together with the 16th Legion, the White Scars' movements are graceful and flexible, but they always lack the ruthlessness to launch fatal attacks on the enemy; the Death Guard's advancement is as fierce as a hammer, but also as sluggish as a hammer. The Emperor's Children wins because of perfection, but also loses because of the tediousness brought by perfection. The Sons of Dorne are extremely reliable, but they have few opportunities to cooperate with the Luna Wolves.

So, when the battle reached a stalemate, who could Horus rely on?
What? You mean Sanguinius?

A battlefield with Sanguinius in charge will generally not fall into a stalemate.

If things really get into a stalemate, it won't be something Gastalin can be responsible for.

"After all, that is Sanguinius..."

When Horus thought of his most reliable and trusted blood brother, he felt that the nameless depression that had been lingering in his heart for many days had dissipated a lot in an instant. A smile involuntarily climbed up the corners of his mouth, which attracted strange comments from those who walked side by side with him.

"What's wrong with you, Horus?"

"Nothing, Dawn."

The Wolf Shepherd God coughed lightly.

"I was just thinking of Sanguinius: it will be days before he returns."

"I know."

Dawn nodded.

"He seems to have little interest in the council the Emperor will convene on Ullanor."

"Of course. Our archangel brothers are allergic to documents and scrolls. Flying animals probably don't like documents. I heard from Morgan that Conrad also has similar problems, but he is better than Sanguinius. At least he is still managing his own Nostramo."

Horus blinked, and when the names of Morgan and Conrad passed through his mind, he felt his heart tighten: these two names made him feel nervous, not the kind of nervousness as enemies, but the kind of nervousness as people who secretly compare themselves to other brothers, hoping that he would not be left too far behind.

In the past, the Wolf-God, who was so honored, would naturally not have such emotions, but when the glory of the Ullanor War faded, when the excitement of fighting alongside the Emperor faded, Horus stopped and looked around, only to find that everyone around him was preparing for their new era: no one cared about the Great Crusade of the past, and the topic among the Primarchs gradually shifted to their respective territories.

Even Dorne is no exception.

At the beginning of the conversation, the Lord of the Imperial Fist, in response to Horus's questioning, spoke without reservation about his fiefdom: he obtained large tracts of land in the east and north of the Storm Segmentum, with the ice world of Invert as the core, bordering Terra, Vulkan, Mortarion, Corax, and Angron, and would also be responsible for assisting in the defense of Terra to a large extent.

"Terra Guard."

Horus uttered the name.

"It suits you, Dorn. No one is better suited to guard Terra than your Legion: the Phalanx on alert and a whole fortress world heavily fortified by the Imperial Fists are more than enough to turn back the tide of war that is sweeping the galaxy. The Emperor's throne will rest under your protection for a thousand years."

"This terrifies me, Horus."

Faced with the Wolf God's boasting, Dorn's face showed a rare hesitation.

"I will not lie to you, brother. When the Emperor told me, alone between the two of us, that he was going to entrust the defense of Holy Terra to my Legion, I felt an instant of ecstasy. The affirmation shook my mind. I wanted to think rationally, but my mouth could not wait to accept the Emperor's commission before my brain could give an answer."

"I can understand you."

Horus nodded sincerely.

"Who could refuse such an honor? You have outperformed most. If the Emperor had offered me this honor, I would not even realize that I needed to think, or even that I had a brain: what is it that scares you, brother?"

“Because of ability issues.”

Dorn narrowed his eyes, and his already serious face was shrouded in shadow for a moment, appearing even more inhuman. Just looking at this face would even make others forget to breathe: the seriousness of the Wetter people originated from the ice and snow in his hometown, but now it is more intimidating than the ice and snow itself.

"Until today, I have been wondering whether the Imperial Fists can shoulder the responsibility of defending Holy Terra alone. When I conveyed this news to my descendants, they actually held a rare cocktail party to celebrate the high status of the Legion in the Emperor's heart. No one could understand my thoughts."

“But you can’t blame them.”

Horus lowered his brows. He was a little absent-minded about Dorn's answer. No one knew what the wolf god was thinking about at this moment.

"And as far as I know, you are not the only ones who have taken on such an important task. The four nearby legions are designated as the Shield of Terra by the Emperor, and the Imperial Fists are the leader among them. You don't have to shoulder all the responsibilities on your shoulders. In addition to our brothers, Terra's Custodians and mortal troops are also worth looking forward to."

"So it is with our brothers: although Jonson prefers to lead his main army to conquer rather than defend a territory, Ferrus suffers from the same fault, and Leman Russ himself thinks he lacks subtlety, their loyalty and ability are unquestionable."

"They are also worth looking forward to." "You can look forward to it."

Dorn nodded, but his words clearly meant the opposite.

“But you can’t rely on it.”

"As a Terran guard, I must be prepared that everyone is my enemy."

"Including me?"

The words of the Lord of the Imperial Fist made Horus raise his brows. He slowly put his hands behind his back, leaned forward, and tentatively asked Dorn a question. When he noticed that the Invites turned to look at him, he smiled at the right time to ease the frozen atmosphere caused by this question.

Dorn was silent.

He nodded.

"Horus, I can't imagine what it would be like to fight you on the battlefield."

"But I'll be ready."

“What a ruthless answer.”

The Wolf God chuckled and was not at all angry at Dorn's straightforward offense. He just patted his brother on the shoulder and glanced casually at the shadow outside the slanted window.

"Honestly, Dawn, sometimes I really envy your ability to act like this."

"Take me for example. I have not yet made up my mind how to rule the vast territory that my father will give me. I have decided to compensate my descendants in due time, demote the mortal veterans who followed me to fight to become governors of various places, and temporarily set the Gothic Sector as the ruling core of my Wolf Kingdom. Apart from that, I have not had time to decide on the rest of the things."

“Not just me.”

"So did Sanguinius."

"I know."

Dorn tilted his head: he was clearly not someone who turned a deaf ear to what was happening outside.

"The Baal enclave of Sanguinius is a painful territory. Among all the fiefdoms that we can obtain, the country that Sanguinius will rule is the most desolate, remote and barren. It lacks a prosperous civilized world and abundant natural resources, and it is close to a chaotic existence like the Great Vortex."

"Perhaps this is why our angel brother is not willing to come to Ullanor for the time being. He always likes to avoid these problems, as if the problems do not exist if he closes his eyes. I am actually quite curious about how Sanguinius will rule his kingdom in the end. You know, Dorn, he is the kind of person who can create miracles."

"I don't think there is such a thing as a miracle. It's just a manifestation of low probability."

"Anyway is fine."

Horus replied perfunctorily.

"Rather, when the meeting in Ullanor enters a break, we can gather our brothers as much as possible and discuss our views on rule and governance. They should not refuse. At least as far as I know, many of the brothers have shown a strong interest in rule."

"Governing a country is not a career that can be sustained by interest."

"But you have to admit it, Dawn."

"When the Primarch becomes interested, it means he is not far from mastering it."

“That’s our talent.”

Horus shook his head slowly.

“But we can’t become complacent about this.”

"I have no objection."

"And I want to say that you should not focus all your energy on Holy Terra. Don't forget that the Emperor has entrusted you with Invert. As the Lord of Invert, you should also think about your homeland full of ice and snow and the future development of southern Terra."

"But Terra is clearly more important."

"But you are not from Terra after all."

Horus smiled and shook his head.

"Listen to me, Dawn."

“To judge where a person belongs, do not look at where he originally came from, but where he will eventually return.”

"You are from Invert: but none can ever be ultimately from Terra."

"Because it belongs to mortals."

Like "I originate from Cthonia, but I will eventually return to my wolf nation."

"When the Emperor left, I was no longer a Cthonian: this is true for every one of us brothers. Our final destination lies in our respective countries, not in the Great Crusade, nor in the illusory Holy Terra."

"There is no doubt that Dorn: Terra will no longer be at the forefront of everyone's minds."

"We all have our own thrones."

"That……"

Rarely, the Primarch of the Imperial Fists seemed hesitant.

"So what should Terra do?"

……

"Leave it to the mortals."

"Isn't this exactly what our great gene father would like to see?"

"..."

Dorn frowned, and he thought about this question for a moment.

"Leave it entirely to them?"

"how to say……"

Horus patted his brother on the shoulder. He seemed uninterested in the question, but before he finally left, the wolf-god whispered a word into the Invit's ear that was destined to remain.

"You should think about this for yourself, my Dornish brother."

"See for yourself."

"Ask yourself."

"Think for yourself."

“To know: Are mortals really worthy of this honor and responsibility?”

(End of this chapter)