Emperor's Bane

Chapter 685 Horus's Worry
Although you had expected it, you never thought this day would come so soon.

It's like a dream: the most beautiful dream of your life is smashed in your face in such a direct and brutal way that even the Primarch has to be stunned. When everything starts to work, you realize belatedly what is waiting for you.

Family love, honor, trust, power...

Maybe, there are more: but you don’t have the energy for distractions right now.

You wake up from a dream, confused, and the memories of the past few hours or even days are mixed into a mess in your brain, like a sandwich that has been smashed to the ground and stepped on again and again with leather shoes. You can't pick out even a trace of pure color: What have you done in the past few days? The answer to the question may be harder to find than lettuce blown away by the wind.

All you remember is that ever since the last team of mortal auxiliary troops from a distant front whose name you couldn't even remember walked past the iron platform of the Emperor and the Primarch, announcing the end of the parade that was gradually turning into an execution ceremony (you even heard Vulkan heaving a sigh of relief, forgetting to comfort the tired mortal soldiers), you have never had even a slightly normal rest time.

There is still a lot of work to be done.

And it's worth it: at least you think it is worth it now.

In the following days, you rushed around, you were busy, you kept drinking and chatting with all kinds of people, filling every precious hour of your life with eyes immersed in power and flattery. Sejanus and Mahlost took turns following you, the electronic boards and recorders in their arms were rustling all the time, and every name and itinerary on it controlled your body like a puppeteer controlling his work.

You thank them for their dedication and their outstanding abilities. If they hadn't reminded you, you would never have remembered so many names and titles. God knows how many people you have met and how much shamelessness and greed you have forced yourself to endure from them. Compared with these mortals, the meeting with Guilliman and Morgan a few days ago seemed easy and pleasant.

And Mortarion?

Oh! His stinky mouth! In contrast, he looks like a lovely angel!

In contrast, your blood brothers may be ambitious, greedy, and petty, but their smiles and faces can at least make you breathe a little easier. You don't have to pretend to know everything about their pitiful achievements and past, nor do you have to distinguish their faces that have become increasingly unbearable due to excessive life-extending surgeries and beautification projects.

God knows how you managed not to pull out the World Destroyer when facing those smiling faces that didn't have even a hint of humanity.

All of this makes you sick, whether it's the socializing or the transactions, or even the power behind it, but you still hold them tightly, clearly recognizing and saying everyone's name: they came from all corners of the empire, just to complete one last futile flattery in front of your father before he returns to Terra.

The most foolish among them are those who actually think they can change your minds. This is the worst problem that has arisen from the establishment of the High Lords system. Now, any leader from anywhere thinks he can dictate the decisions of the Imperium and the Great Crusade, especially those bastards from Terra. They regard the victory of the High Lords as their own victory, and they are almost so proud of themselves.

You despise these people, not only because of their ugliness, but also because they are able to occupy high positions not because of their abilities and achievements, but because of their backgrounds and their unscrupulous means. But you have to admit that even among these dirty rocks, there are still uncut gems that can catch people's eyes.

Their status comes from courage, wisdom and conviction: even though they are mortals, you respect them from the bottom of your heart.

These names are forever engraved on the electronic board in Malohurst. Although you have already memorized them by heart, you still keep reading and memorizing them over and over again until you can name their positions and experiences anytime and anywhere: they often have what you need.

You talk with the military lord, the commander-in-chief of the Imperial Mortal Auxiliary Army, and the Supreme Navy Lord like a brother, because you know that they are the Emperor's most reliable arms, and each of them holds the manpower and transportation resources that you lack most now. If you really want to use blood and fire to clear out the Wolf Kingdom given to you by the Emperor, then the friendship between you and them must be as strong as steel.

You had a long conversation with the consul and steward of the Star Language Court, as well as representatives of various psychic institutions and societies in the empire, because you needed to establish your image in their minds, and at the same time, to get the information you needed indirectly: you have always been weak in psychic powers, and although these representatives and lords are numerous and talkative, as long as the base of intelligence collected is large enough, they can always deduce valuable clues.

The so-called infiltration methods and agent skills in those mortal movies are ultimately deceptive. Real intelligence operations are based on massive information collection and scientific screening methods. Real agents will only walk around cocktail parties and street alleys like you, instead of walking on a tightrope among a bunch of infrared rays.

The ones who need you, the Wolf Shepherd God, to take so seriously are naturally the other Primarchs.

Take your relative on the Far Eastern Frontier, for example, Morgan: What kind of person is she, and which disguise is closest to her true self? What does she think about the future of the Empire and the Primarch? Can she stand on your side?
These are all unknowns, and they are the key points that are worth your personal attention.

Rumors are no longer credible because any verbal statements can be manipulated, but no matter what, a person's career, which she regards as her life, can definitely reveal her true character and inner thoughts. This little trick is easy for you to master.

The Spider Queen's think tank plan and psychic codex, which have been promoted day after day for decades, are the best examples: you have carefully collected all the efforts Morgan has made in constructing these two psychic systems, as well as how she made each move, and are ready to use this to deduce the Spider Queen's inner thoughts so as to decide how to get along with her.

This is a very important matter: seeing that the Emperor is about to leave, the conflict between Terra and the Far East is already on the verge of breaking out. If you want to benefit from their tit-for-tat, you must have a good understanding of their leadership, and Morgan is obviously the core of the Three Kings of the Far East.

Although you believe that Guilliman's obvious ambition is the reason why the Far Eastern kings are becoming more powerful and more eccentric, the Macragge's position in the overall foreign policy of the Far East is obviously not as good as that of the versatile Spider Queen: they must have their own division of labor, and Morgan occupies the position with the most foreign voice.

Her opinion is crucial.

So, you have to be quick: the next visit to Morgan is on the agenda.

but not now.

Because apart from this, the most important thing is to meet with Mars's Forging General Carl Bohar, and countless Titan Legion Commanders and Knight Family Patriarchs with whom you have deep connections, because you can gain the full support of tens of thousands of steel behemoths through friendship with the latter two, and in the conversation with the Mars Forging General, the other party's blatant solicitation also makes people happy.

You are certainly not stupid enough to willingly run errands for Carl Bohar just because of a few hints from him, but considering the future situation, it is always a good thing to let Mars give priority to the goods ordered by your legion in the production sequence when using its huge production capacity.

For example, the latest power armor of the Mark IV model: the Luna Wolves must be the first to be fully equipped. This is what the Forge General promised you. In return, you promised that the Wolf Kingdom will open the door to the Martian fleet in the future and let them pass freely.

It's easy to imagine: these guys will definitely cause trouble for Riza.

It's nice to see, isn't it?

But this pleasant cooperation does not mean that you have to rely entirely on Mars. Behind the smile, you have actually already scheduled talks with representatives of the Forge World including Goth, Mezoa and Lucius. These believers of Omnissiah scattered in the Wolf Kingdom are the forces you really need to win over. If their production and military strength can be unified, they will not lose to Mars and Ryza at all.

You have the confidence to do this, because although the Wolf Kingdom given to you by the Emperor looks desolate and dangerous, it is also vast and fertile. As long as you are willing to calm down and work hard, you can certainly use countless resources and achievements to win over a behemoth that is no less than Morgan's Far East Industrial Alliance: you know that your sister tamed her allies with generosity and means, and you believe that you can do the same.

As for completely taming the Forge World and making it his subordinate like Guilliman did?

Hmm... I can't learn it, I can't learn it...

Such an ambitious approach is not something that a simple-minded person like you can accomplish.

And, you don’t need to worry.

In the past battles, relying on the long years and the appreciation of the Emperor, you have been able to form friendships with countless Titan legions and knight families, and fight side by side. Their conservative and traditional values ​​​​are conquered by your personal charm. Their patriarchs kneel to you in private and perform the etiquette of a vassal. You know that you can count on their strength in any battle. If we only talk about the number of these steel behemoths, the number you control may not be less than that of Mars.

And as far as you know, Morgan is not as good as you in this respect: at least she doesn't have any powerful knight families serving her.

Of course, your brand new Martian friends don't need to know these little details.

When the Forging General's team left satisfied, this series of long conversations entered the most tedious and tiring stage: you even deliberately went to visit several of your brothers in advance, releasing your fatigue in the conversations with them. After all, the next person you are going to meet is the insect that you hate most in your heart.

Planetary governors, sector lords, fleet masters, auxiliary corps commanders, plenipotentiary consuls of powerful departments, and personal representatives of some bigwigs who couldn't come...

Every part and every tentacle of the huge bureaucracy of the Human Empire involuntarily moved closer to you, lured by the title of Warmaster, eager to meet you, the freshly-minted next helmsman of the entire Great Crusade. Behind their respectful smiles are their own thoughts, which they are too lazy to even hide.

You have to admit that these people are indeed capable: it would be much better if they had not used all of their unique abilities in scheming, conspiracy, betrayal and fighting for power.

You meet them: the more you meet them the more you despise them.

It's really strange that after meeting these outstanding mortals, you have become more aware of the great power and superb wisdom contained in this collective of mortals, but you did not appreciate them for this. Instead, you became more contemptuous of the concept of mortals as a whole: there are indeed excellent ones among them, many excellent ones, but the impurities of others are so many that even these excellent ones cannot recover.

Even these excellent people themselves are full of impurities: talent and corruption are not incompatible.

You can't help but sigh: sigh for the naive wolf shepherd god from decades ago.

You can't understand: in just a few decades, in just a blink of an eye, the power system that you and your father left for the entire human empire and the Great Crusade, which was originally clean and efficient, has been corroded and riddled with holes. You handed over the power and obligations to these people who believed in the past, or their elders, but in the next moment, they threw away the oaths they made and the worship of their meritorious elders, and then one by one became hateful beasts.

Become the bastard that you and the Emperor once wanted to defeat at the cost of blood.

Is this the Imperium of Man under Malcador?
Father: Are you really going to give the empire you built together to these people? Once again, you feel confused.

You have been confused many times before, decades ago, when rumors of the Warmaster and the Emperor's retirement first appeared. You have been confused, bewildered, and angry, but to no avail: until today, such emotions have never been so strong.

You have seen so many of the mortal elites that Malcador described. The Rite of Ullanor is an opportunity you have never had before. You have witnessed their abilities and greed, their beliefs and sins. You do not deny that each of them is indeed a dragon among men. You can only despise their personality rather than their ability. But you also realize more and more clearly that these people, at least a considerable number of them, are unable to die in defense of the Emperor or the Empire.

"..."

How ridiculous!

They! They clearly hold the highest power in the entire human empire, and have resources and treatment thousands of times better than the soldiers fighting on the front lines. But even if they are only competing in the most basic thing, a thing that is not even used as a test standard for soldiers on the front lines, "loyalty to the emperor", it is so rare for these guys who hold power.

Did Father really feel it was safe to leave his empire to these people?

You can't help but think of the moment when your father told you about this decision. It is a moment you often dream about, and it is the increasingly rare and precious time you spend alone together.

Of course you are not blind. In your father's clear eyes, you saw an emotion he had never had before, a kind of longing, almost ideal dream: although you still don't understand why, it is obvious that handing over the empire to these mortals to govern is your father's biggest dream at this time.

You will not disobey him.

Even though you are very unhappy.

And this is also the biggest reason why you have never explicitly opposed this matter.

Malcador, the fool, thought that he was limiting your dissatisfaction with mortal politics through constraints and power. Did he ever think that you had never fought at all: for the dream you saw in your father's pupils, you endured the humiliation given to you by the Sigillite.

May he be consumed by fire.

You can only convince yourself, convince yourself to believe the words of the Emperor and Malcador: those High Lords who are personally selected by the Sigillite to control and manage the highest power in the Empire are rare talents, and are capable of shouldering the entire Empire. But after you spent a long time meeting with powerful officials from all over the Empire, such self-deception was finally shaken.

Completely shaken.

Because you quickly realize there's a dead end.

You have never met the High Lords, so you don't know what their abilities are. You can only selectively believe Malcador's conclusion: although the old man is annoying, his ability and attitude are unquestionable, and you know very well that he can indeed select the best talents.

But now, a new question is lingering in your mind: Look at these powerful governors from all over the empire, look at these provincial governors who control the important power joints of the empire. Each of them can easily influence hundreds of worlds and more people. They only need to use a word or a fantasy to easily destroy an entire expedition fleet that took a whole generation of efforts.

All it takes is one fool to imagine a new palace, or something else that only mortals would need, and he'll use his power to tax and revolt worlds: an expeditionary fleet of millions will be wasted the efforts of a decade earlier.

It is this group of people who represent the joints and muscles of the entire Galactic Empire. Any order of the Supreme Lord needs them to be implemented and guaranteed. They are the most important. They should be capable, efficient, honest, responsible and enterprising: you are even too lazy to emphasize this basic requirement of loyalty.

But look at these people again.

How many of them can meet these standards? Their pedantry and greed cannot even be covered up by amazing acting skills. Even if you can really convince yourself that those high lords are amazing talents, even if they can enact the best laws, how can these pathetic parasites ensure the implementation of laws and decrees?
Even the orders cannot be implemented.

Even loyalty cannot be guaranteed.

Handing the empire over to these people: what's the difference between that and letting it destroy itself?
What's the difference between watching everything you and your father worked so hard to build burn to the ground?
"..."

This thought takes possession of your mind and has not been gone since.

It was also prompted by it that, although your spirit and senses were extremely exhausted after meeting the above-mentioned dignitaries, you still forced yourself to ask Malohurst to invite the next group of people without stopping: a group of guys who should not be qualified to meet you, but they have an important position in your future plans.

These people are also governors, but they are not like their powerful colleagues. They come from the most desolate world, either a newly occupied colony, or a backward world that cannot produce laser rifles on its own. But they have one thing in common: their countries are all located in the north of the galaxy without exception, and they will all become your new governors in the future.

They will be the arms you use to rule over the entire Wolf Kingdom.

Among these people, only a small number came to Ullanor. Their status was so low that they could not even sit in the audience at the subsequent Nicaea Conference. They were naturally grateful for your reception. You used the posture and etiquette that you had already mastered to listen to their words appropriately. At the same time, with the help of Sejanus and Malohurst, you carefully observed your subordinates who were waiting to be confirmed.

Their abilities, their character, their loyalty, the sincerity in their words and thoughts: You didn't want to rush to this point, but after your first large-scale contact with the [Mortal Elites] in the Empire, the urgency in your heart finally prevailed.

And the fact is just as you would expect: the identities and resumes of these newly established colonial governors are mostly clean and simple. They are either meritorious soldiers who have just retired, or explorers who have enough ability and ambition to lead a colonial fleet to travel far away.

You don't know if it's your subjective thoughts that are at work, but you feel that compared to those hinterland governors who have ancient heritage and are born into wealth and glory, these barbarian kings in remote areas are more in line with your definition of outstanding mortals: they even appear to be more loyal, perhaps because they are more aware of their situation and know that apart from the great Emperor and the Human Empire, they have no one to rely on in this galaxy.

Unlike those mortals who had surrendered to the Empire a hundred years ago, they may fear the power of the Emperor, but they know nothing about their actual situation and the source of their power. They actually think that they have obtained such a status just by relying on their noble blood: if there is an emergency in the Empire, a considerable number of these heroes will not abide by their solemn oaths.

Of course, there will be exceptions, there will definitely be truly loyal people, but in this matter, you'd better believe it.

Even the new governors who are more likable before you are no exception: they may seem loyal now, but who knows what they will become in the future? Even if they themselves are not ill, what about their descendants who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths?
Those mortal governors who have made you so angry, their predecessors, and even many of them, were once war heroes who were personally commended by the Emperor.

These mortals who have not received the gift and transformation of gene seeds are ultimately fragile and fickle. Unlike you or the Astartes warriors, they do not have a firm spirit of loyalty and tenacious will. This is also what you are most dissatisfied with the Emperor's mortal governance policy: in this galaxy that advocates ability, belief, tenacity and loyalty, it is obvious that the Astartes are the best shepherds under the Emperor.

Why should he fall in love with mortals?

He could have chosen you.

He should have done that.

Maybe he was just wrong, maybe he was just blinded for a moment, maybe he was just too close to Malcador and too far away from you to see the truth of the matter: or maybe he already knew it, but just didn't want to admit it, waiting for you to take the initiative to find him and ask him.

Just like before: this is a little secret between you and your son.

"..."

That’s right: That’s it.

Maybe: Maybe you should talk to him.

Just tomorrow.

On the day he himself places the Warmaster's wreath upon your head.

It will be your day, and it will be his day as well.

This is the day that belongs to you and your son together.

A good day.

……

You know the Emperor, you know your dearest father.

On such a beautiful day, he will not refuse your request.

(End of this chapter)