Emperor's Bane

Chapter 650: Debut (Part )

"Magnus, the One-Eyed King?"

"I haven't heard anything about him and the Thousand Sons Legion for a long time."

"Me too. In comparison, His Excellency Ahriman is more famous: Throughout the empire, there are tens of thousands of Astartes Librarians and psykers who call him their mentor. Even in the narrator's team, there are a few lucky ones who can be considered his disciples of the previous generation, and they even have his portrait placed in their rooms."

Ms. Qile knows all the interesting stories about her colleagues. Her extremely amazing brain capacity compared to ordinary people supports her mastery of all kinds of trivial matters in the past hundred years, whether it is the Primarch or the Astartes: it is precisely relying on this [technology] that Qile and Mesati's cooperation is seamless.

When the magnificent procession of the Scarlet King and the Archangels passed under their tower, Qile was responsible for keeping a close eye on every face in the procession, whispering their names and achievements. Even those second-tier characters who were not good-looking would receive enough attention from the narrator, and Mesati would quickly record everything. The information would be used for further comparison to decide who they would try to interview next.

Originally, everything was running smoothly like the furnace of the Mechanicus, until the Archangel Baal on the main road, who was releasing his gentle rays in 360 degrees without blind spots like a star, finally illuminated all the creatures around him and accidentally captured Qile and Mesati, two stubborn people who were concentrating on their work.

Needless to say, the angel just raised his hand, waved it slightly, and smiled a very ordinary smile, which almost melted the hearts of the two battle-hardened ladies: Sanguinius' smile was enough to make a million-man army fight to the death for him, and his lethality to mortals was terrifying in a sense, even higher than Mortarion's poison gas.

At least the poison gas can be seen and avoided.

"But the charm of this archangel is truly pervasive and unstoppable."

Qi Le sighed softly, she pulled out a tissue from the side for herself, and then pulled out another one and handed it to Mesati who also needed one: The young narrator took it in a daze, not noticing that the neat copy in his hand had a sloppy tail.

“Who isn’t?”

When Saint-Gilius' figure completely disappeared from everyone's sight, Mesati turned his head away belatedly, then coughed softly in embarrassment, threw the paper ball dotted with bright red into the trash can next to him, and began to tinker with his own copy with regret.

"I now understand that the rumors about the angel are not exaggerated, and that he must have a good relationship with the Wolf God. But on the other hand, I have a new question. Why have I never heard of anyone supporting Sanguinius to become the Warmaster? Even among those who support the Warmaster, no one seems to have ever mentioned the name of the angel."

"He obviously..."

“It obviously has the power to move people?”

Qile chuckled.

"But honestly, I don't think I've ever heard any rumors about Warmaster Sanguinius."

"That's strange: maybe they think he's not suitable for the position of Warmaster."

"Where else can he fit in?"

The unintentional question made the elderly narrator stunned at first, and then she couldn't help but restrain her smile, narrowed her eyes, and her expression became much more serious: she answered Mesati's question in a tone that sounded like a delirium.

"Think about it, little one."

"If our great Lord of Mankind is indeed a god walking in reality as his descendant, Lorgar the Great Speaker, said, then isn't Sanguinius, who sits beside him, the natural chief messenger of God? He is the voice of the Emperor and the spokesperson of his will, and His shadow walking in the mortal world."

This rather blasphemous answer made Mesati's pupils widen.

"Ms. Qile, you..."

“That’s just my opinion.”

Qi Le took back the words in time.

But her heart was bitter, lamenting her own powerlessness: ever since Qi Le left the Terra Palace, which had turned her entire life upside down, with the instructions of the Sigillite, she had never stopped preaching, and had been trying to discover more hidden devout people.

She and Malcador both wanted to know what the future held for the faith in the God-Emperor.
Qi Le knew that she was not the only agent sent by the Master, but she doubted whether she was the worst performer: so far, she had not developed any trustworthy believers. Although this did not dampen the religious enthusiasm of the recorder, there were always more than thirty copies of the Divine Emperor's faith propagation methods for various environments piled up in her room.
Although she hasn't opened yet.

But people always have to have dreams: What if?
With such a simple idea in mind, the narrator looked towards the starport that had never stopped since the beginning: under the repeated summons of the Emperor and the Sigillite, no matter what the Primarchs thought in their hearts, they all arrived in Ullanor as promised.

The sight of more than a dozen Queen of Glory-class battleships and their affiliated fleets gathered in the same galaxy was enough to make any recorder who was fortunate enough to witness this scene so excited that his heart would stop: there were more than thirty of them lying in the infirmary right now.

Such a huge fleet could not be deployed all at once even for a world like Ullanor. Fortunately, among these primarchs who arrived almost at the same time, none of them were difficult to talk to. The blood brothers made concessions to each other, and the successive Stormbirds and shuttles perfectly staggered their stop times on the ground.

"Accurate to the millisecond, do you know what that means?"

"what?"

"This means that at least one of Perturabo, Ferrus, or Guilliman is in low-Earth orbit right now. Only they have such terrible computing power. And considering that Guilliman and Perturabo have definitely not arrived here yet, the next one should be Ferrus."

A formation of iron-gray storm birds confirmed Ms. Qile's speculation.

"It's the Iron Hands."

Mesati keeps murdering the film.

"It's strange, shouldn't they be acting with the Emperor's Children?"

"I heard there was some conflict."

Qi Le watched as Gorgon and his iron-like team carved out a silent path in the originally noisy crowd: those mortals who had cheered beside Horus and Sanguinius, when faced with the coldness and ruthlessness of the Iron Tenth Legion completely hidden behind the steel, shrank their necks like frightened birds.

Ferrus has always been like this.

Qile shook his head. This Gorgon's reputation had been so bad many years ago. No wonder he was not chosen as the warmaster. Although he could tell that he gave up on his own initiative, Qile thought that it was just a choice he made for the sake of dignity after knowing that he would lose.

"And I heard that it was after Ferrus publicly announced that he would give up the election for Warmaster that some conflicts arose between him and Fulgrim. Then the two had different ideas on issues such as territory governance. Since then, it is said that the two sides have been in a state similar to a cold war. To be more precise, it was Fulgrim who unilaterally waged a cold war against Ferrus."

"Ferus has no reaction at all?"

"According to my fellow chroniclers in the Third Legion, Lord Fulgrim had just unilaterally announced in front of his heirs that he would enter into a cold war with Feith. Before his subordinates could pass on the information, Feith had already led the Iron Tenth Legion back to Medusa in the Nebulous Segmentum. He was going to check on the one hundred worlds that belonged to the Iron Legion and were under his long-term custody."

"I've never heard of this. It turns out that the Iron Hands also have their own independent country?"

“It’s the first time I’ve heard of it, too.”

Qi Le couldn't help but sigh.

“I heard they are managing it pretty well.”

"Although Ferrus has never been interested in interfering in the livelihood issues of any world, including his home planet, they will choose those who are powerful and have decent moral character to serve as planetary governors based on the concept of the survival of the fittest and the most basic moral values, and then use absolute force to ensure the safety of each world."

"After more than a hundred years of development, the territories of these one hundred worlds have become prosperous."

"really interesting."

Mesati was writing furiously, trying her best to record the low-key Iron 10th Legion in her copy, but sadly, except for the Primarch Ferrus, all the soldiers of the 10th Legion seemed so unfamiliar to the recorder: those warriors following closely behind the Primarch should be the most important and well-known heroes, but Mesati blinked in vain and found that she had almost no impression of these people.

The same is true for Ms. Lian Qile.

"Perhaps this is the helplessness of the Iron Hands. Their territory, their achievements, and their heroes are all unheard of to outsiders like us. In fact, theoretically, the Tenth Legion is one of the most dazzling stars in the Great Crusade, but there is so little external intelligence about them."

"It may have something to do with Ferrus's personality."

Qile seemed to be thinking of something happy.

"You know, the cold war between Lord Fulgrim and Lord Ferrus has been going on for about five or six years, but it has been a one-sided war so far: Lord Ferrus seems to be unaware that Fulgrim is waging a cold war with him until now, and he thinks Phoenix is ​​busy with his own business because he is also busy with his own business." "How do you know this?"

"I have a friend who can speak to Ferrus. He raised this question in an interview, asking Ferrus whether he realized that he had not fought side by side with the Emperor's Children of Phoenix for too long. Gorgon's answer was that it was normal for the Primarchs to not see each other for ten years, and the Iron Hands Legion was not so weak that it needed to fight side by side with others all the time."

"..."

"Did he really say that?"

"What did you expect: Phoenix has unilaterally declared that the Cold War will be extended indefinitely."

"Does the Gorgon know?"

"Anyway, the Phoenix has not contacted him again. The Emperor's Children and the Iron Hands are not as close as their Primarchs. This is particularly strange. The friendship between the Phoenix and the Gorgon seems to be completely their personal matter. There is no personal relationship between the two legions."

"Isn't this normal?"

Mesati put down his pen and paper.

"Isn't it the same between the Luna Wolves and the Blood Angels? The close contacts between the Primarchs do not mean that there will be a strong connection between the Legions. I heard that compared to the Iron Hands, the cooperation between the Emperor's Children and the Imperial Fists is closer, and it can be said to be seamless."

"In my opinion, there are very few legions that can cooperate well with the Iron Hands."

"Just like in my impression, there are not many legions that can cooperate with the Iron Warriors."

"But the Fourth Legion has gained a lot of fame and honor over the years. Look at the battlefields they have ravaged. Which one is not the top priority of the Great Crusade? With the exception of Ullanor, the Iron Warriors have participated in every important battlefield in the past twenty years."

"Though their Primarch Perturabo is not always in public view."

"But this time it's different."

Ms. Qile stood up and walked to the edge of the ancient tower so that she could see the next shuttle more clearly: it was also iron-gray in color, but it had a less metallic feel than the Iron Hands. It was undoubtedly the symbol of the Fourth Legion.

Following the iron-gray was another fleet of dark green aircraft, heralding the arrival of a Primarch with a completely different reputation. The Gene Father of the Salamanders and Perturabo arrived one after the other, parked on either side of the starport, creating two distinctly different landscapes: some mortals who had received Vulcan's favor were gathering in front of the Fire Dragon Lord's shuttle, while in front of Perturabo, there was only an empty and open road.

"Come so fast?"

Mesati frowned.

"Isn't it said that Perturabo is in charge of the construction of the Nikaea venue?"

"That's right: Logically speaking, it will take him at least half a month to get here."

"However, now that he is here, this can also answer a long-standing question."

Qile rarely picked up a pen and paper, apparently preparing to record the answer herself.

"Confuse?"

"Yes, for a long time, or who knows when it started, there has been a mystery circulating in the Great Crusade: the gradual change of the Iron Warriors and Perturabo's sudden seclusion. Although this Lord of Iron rarely showed up before, in recent years, it has been exaggerated to the point that not even a photo of him has been circulated."

"This brings up a question. How did Perturabo command the daily and wartime operations of the Fourth Legion when he rarely appeared in public? Especially when commanding a war, as the Primarch, he always needs to be at the front line in person, right? If so, how could there be no eyewitness reports?"

"What's even stranger is that the Fourth Legion's operations have not been affected by this. Perturabo is definitely manipulating his legion, but it is also a reality that he has no longer appeared. Such a contradictory contrast naturally requires an answer."

"Is today the time to answer?"

“There’s no better time than now.”

Qile leaned forward, concentrating on the slowly opening iron-gray door, and ignored Vulkan who walked out beside her: in fact, it was not only her, most of the mortals present and even some Astartes, who more or less shifted their attention to the storm bird belonging to Perturabo.

Vulcan?
No one cared about Vulkan.

Just like before.

As the heavy door slowly fell, amidst thousands of expectant eyes, the first to walk out were four members of the Iron Warriors' Honor Guard. These elite warriors, whose very titles were unknown to the outside world, were not wrapped in their unique Terminator homes at this time, but were just wearing ordinary Astartes power armor, vigilantly guarding against the mortals around them.

(How should I put it? I still haven't found out what the Iron Warriors' Primarch Guards are called. Although Perturabo's iron ring robots were used by him after the Battle of the Farr Sea, he should have had a normal honor guard before that, but these unfortunate guys didn't even leave a name.)
At the same time, more Iron Guards were stepping down from other Storm Birds: The Fourth Legion seemed to have put a lot of enthusiasm into this kind of work. Until they had completely completed the surrounding alert work, extremely heavy footsteps were heard from the deepest part of the primary Storm Bird. The sound was further intensified by the enclosed space. At first glance, it sounded like a Titan advancing violently on the ground.

“It’s really creepy.”

Qile whispered.

"The previous Primarchs never seemed to give people such an... inhuman feeling of oppression."

"Yeah... it doesn't feel like a human."

Mesati nodded, and before she could say anything else, the figure that was much taller than all the Primarchs had already appeared in everyone's sight: Qile could clearly hear the incredible exclamations and gasps of thousands of mortals under the lonely tower, because she was in the same state.

This is even more true for Mesati.

"What are you doing..."

She seemed to have bitten her tongue.

"Then... is that still a human?"

"It's obviously a machine, right?"

"..."

Ms. Qile was speechless and even forgot to fill in the clipboard in her hand. She was just shocked by what she saw: the one who walked out of the Stormbird was not the long-lost Primarch Perturabo, but a robot that was almost four meters tall and could terrify people just by standing there.

A masterpiece of craftsmanship.

As one of the oldest chroniclers, Qile considered herself knowledgeable. She had seen robots that still existed in various corners of the Empire for various purposes, but even through all the memories in her mind, she had never seen such an exquisite metal creation: it looked like Perturabo himself wearing his armor, the streamlined body and the slightest details on the facial armor were enough to be mistaken for the real thing, and even the Astartes who followed the Primarch at all times could not tell the difference.

On the other hand, some necessary joints and components are not covered, clearly revealing the metal brackets and various cable ducts inside: this is a real robot. It is not that the Lord of Steel twisted himself into a metal body, but that he personally built a Frankenstein that should not exist in this world to act on his behalf.

The Iron Warriors gathered around it: honoring it as if it were their own Primarch.

Because the real voice of Perturabo was coming from its vocal organs, across millions of stars, from Nikea, from a place they could not see but had to respect.

"I see."

After a long while, Qi Le finally woke up from a dream and nodded.

"Now, I know."

"What a Perturabo-esque solution."

(End of this chapter)