Emperor's Bane

Chapter 686 The Days of Horus (1/3)

"The ceremony is ready, my lord."

"The army is ready, the troops are in place, the salutes and flags have been checked thirteen times, and the road leading to the steel platform was cleaned spotlessly nine hours ago. We have mobilized more than one million people for this purpose, not to mention the additional labor force provided by the Mechanicus: Casting General Kalbohar asked me to tell you that the power of Mars is willing to serve you at any time."

"Yes, my lord. The Martian delegation was the first to arrive at the Iron Platform. They occupied the best position. I met them when I was supervising the layout on site and chatted with the Forge General for a few minutes. But they were not the only ones to represent the Forge World."

"Riza, Huangquan No. 8, Shana, and Lucius. At least thirty-six Forge Worlds sent their high-level representatives. Lord Morgan and Lord Dorn took a long time to arrange their respective positions. In addition, other bigwigs are also very troublesome."

"The Minister of Internal Affairs, the Lord of the Arbites, the Ambassador of the Navigator, the Presidents of the Astronomican and Astronomican, the Commander-in-Chief of the Mortal Auxilia, the Supreme Admiral of the Imperial Navy, the spokespersons for the Charter Fleet, the Rogue Traders, and the Archives Department, and about a third of the High Lords: these are the main guests, and they will witness the moment when the Emperor bestows the title of Warmaster upon you."

"With their testimony, no one will question your authority and power as Warmaster."

"In addition to these people, there are also elders, generals, leaders, governors, captains, poets, judges, and ambassadors plenipotentiary. Most of them have already arrived. Although they are not qualified to sit in the best seats, I can guarantee that this ceremony will also receive their blessings."

"Of course, all the Primarchs have arrived. Lord Dorn and Lord Fulgrim were the first two to arrive. They were keen to make the final arrangements for the ceremony. Before I left, I also saw Lady Morgan: she will be asked to stand beside the Emperor today, taking the place of the Sigillite."

"Also, there is one more thing..."

Malohurst's whispered report had lasted for more than ten minutes, and it looked like it would continue for at least the same amount of time. His voice was still so familiar and unsettling: low, hoarse, and as heavy as an iron coffin buried deep in the soil. He methodically spat out names and numbers one after another, and then slowly deduced the conclusion he thought.

Every assurance he made sounded like a fact that had already happened, making it impossible not to believe his words: no matter how ridiculous the words themselves sounded, Malohurst had the magical ability and determination to make his ridiculous words come true.

Therefore, you always like to trust him.

You will habitually assign all the most difficult, most important and slightly dark tasks on hand to him, and those bright and glamorous tasks will be assigned to Sejanus. The two of them are your left and right arms, your Guilliman and Jonson.

It was a shame that no one could take Morgan's place.

You shook your head secretly, but heard the low voice of the report suddenly stop. You looked up and found that Malohurst was holding his electronic board, looking at your direction with some concern. The members of the Four Kings Council were surrounding him, plus the two Gastalins guarding the door. These were all the members in this not-so-small tent.

They are the only ones who can make you feel at ease.

Of course, you habitually ignore the mechanical servants who are dressing you in a full set of ceremonial armor. When they complete this stage of their work, they dare not even speak out to remind you to turn around. They only dare to wait for you to spontaneously realize this and turn around, and then start the next step without stopping: the time of departure is approaching bit by bit, and if there is a delay, no one will think it is your problem.

You wouldn't feel that way either, you're too busy trying to comfort your restless offspring.

"Don't worry, Marlowhurst."

You smiled, the muscles at the corners of your mouth slightly stiff because of something you had repeated too many times in the past few days. You weren’t sure if the smile would work, but when you reached out and patted your offspring’s shoulder, you saw the smile return to his face.

You quickly continued.

"I'm just curious about one thing: you said Morgan took over the position of the Sigillite?"

"That's what Lord Morgan said himself."

Your child nodded.

"There will be two million guests attending today's ceremony. Although only one percent of them will be able to enter the palace, the rest of the attendees will also need careful arrangements. After you are crowned the Warmaster by the Emperor, the Emperor will take you to the terrace. Two million attendees will also cheer for you in the square. Beyond them are millions of Imperial soldiers."

"I don't like this arrangement."

You frowned.

"They should at least let the bloodied soldiers stand together with these nobles."

"The conditions do not allow it, father."

Malohurst did not speak, and it was Sejanus, your Guilliman, who answered for him: For today's ceremony, his hair, which had been flying like wild weeds, was forcibly combed into a docile look.

"The best we can do is to put the Astartes in the front row. We must be very creative in the order of the queue to ensure that the warriors of each legion can see you and the Emperor: the Sigillite is very communicative on this issue. Like you, he does not like dignitaries from other places."

"It's just the arrogance of the Terrans."

You heard yourself laugh, then turned around to allow the servitors around you to take care of some details on your back and legs. You took this opportunity to look at yourself in the huge floor-to-ceiling mirror and adjusted the position of the wolf skin on your shoulders with your own hands.

To be honest, this wolf skin purchased decades ago is too old, but you have never found a suitable replacement. Apart from that, everything now seems perfect. The pure white ceremonial armor is enough to be a qualified protective gear even on the battlefield. The huge scarlet Eye of Horus is your unique symbol. The smooth top of your head has been harvested by a razor and turned into a sleek throne, waiting for the arrival of a golden olive crown.

Look at you: you definitely deserve that crown, don't you?

If there is any problem.

"Do we really have to do this?"

You asked the question somewhat helplessly, because in the reflection of the mirror, you witnessed with your own eyes how the mechanical servants behind you hung a huge burden on your shoulders: the crimson velvet cloak was seven or eight meters long, dragging on the ground without any suspense, just like any monarch who joined the Renaissance or Victorian era must have experienced. From this moment on, you have to take these soft silk products into consideration with every step you take.

"It is necessary, Father."

Unexpectedly, several heirs present reached a consensus on this issue. Even the two Gastalins at the door nodded silently. They looked at the golden Eye of Horus and the imperial double-headed eagle emblem on the cloak with pride, as if they dreamed of seeing you dragging this thing that was at least seven or eight meters long to review the thousands of troops on Ullanor.

"If it's troublesome, we can choose two of us to drag it for you."

It was Torgaddon who spoke first, and he seemed eager to try out his idea. Several other warriors also made the same gesture. The only one who remained silent was Malohurst: you could see that he had the same desire in his heart, but he stopped himself.

"This is the only way."

You nodded reluctantly.

"Ezekel, Ajimand, the two of you will help me drag it and roll it up as much as possible, otherwise I'm worried that my brothers will have nowhere to stand. Are they dressed so strangely?"

"Dressed up, my Lord: I did see Lord Morgan in a dress."

"skirt?"

Morgan would wear that thing?
Oh, yes: her female...

"Snow-colored, gold-threaded, and a red velvet cloak like yours."

You let out a long sigh.

"It turns out I'm not the only one who's embarrassed. I feel much better after hearing this."

"Everyone is acting strange today. Even Khan is wearing a long robe."

Torgarton chuckled, and his laughter was indeed very contagious. Even Malohurst had a smile on his face, and the atmosphere in the room became clear: Sometimes you will think that this is the most important reason why you kept Torgarton in the Council of Four Kings. He is like your Fulgrim, who can always inject uplifting momentum into the dead air.

Therefore, Torgaddon, Sejanus, and Malohurst were the three attendants you kept with you most during your time in Ullanor. Ezekiel and Aximander were neglected, so you chose these two to stand behind you to attend the Warmaster's ceremony.

They are the people closest to you.

Sejanus is your Guilliman, Torgaddon is your Fulgrim, Malorhurst is your Jonson, and Archimandre is your Mortarion: he may not be very capable or have a good temper, but he is diligent and will do his best to fulfill any mission he is given.

What a shame, if his abilities had improved over the years, he'd be your Perturabo or Dorn.

Nobody Can Be Morgan: You feel bad about this again.

Ah, and Ezekiel, he is your Horus: Actually, this position is not quite suitable for Ezekiel, because you are very sure that you are the Emperor's favorite son, and no matter from which perspective, Ezekiel is not the most perfect heir in your mind.

But you just feel that: Ezekiel-Abaddon is your Horus.

Maybe there is a reason behind this.

In addition, there is Loken, who is your Sanguinius: although you have only known each other for a short time, he is indeed one of the people you trust the most. You will not keep him by your side, but let him guard one side outside. The Luna Wolves in the square are listening to his command.

I wonder if he feels the same way about this extra cloak as you do.

You laughed, the image of Chagatai Khan in his robes crossing your mind.

Then he laughed even more happily.

"Sometimes I wonder what my brothers keep in their closets: it's like they each have their own unique way of dealing with this unnecessary ritual, but I'm the only one who needs your help."

"Don't be so dejected, father."

Of all your children, only Torgarton dared to do such a rebellious thing. He winked in your direction, trying his best to make you smile a little longer.

"Today is your day: everyone is busy for you."

"Yes."

Sejanus chimed in.

"I have never seen people so positive. All the steps were arranged perfectly before we conducted the inspection. I really feel that my inspection is nitpicking. The attitudes of the Primarchs are also very optimistic. They arrived several hours earlier. Even Lord Jonson showed goodwill to us."

"The Emperor too?"

That's all you care about.

"of course."

Aximand smiled.

"The Emperor was almost the first to arrive: he even seemed a little nervous."

Hearing this, you felt that the air in the tent became a little fresher. You did not hear what Aximand said next, but the smiles and faces of his descendants were clearly imprinted in your mind: they are all the closest people to you in this life, aren’t they?

Looking at them, the anxiety and tension in your heart gradually faded away. This was the best medicine: you noticed that even the two Gastalins standing guard at the door were watching the situation in the room. You smiled at them, grateful for their diligence.

The reporting of the Council of Four Kings continues.

"In addition to the Emperor, the Guards and High Lords also arrived very quickly. The others were only a little slower than them. I remember that the ceremony would not officially begin until nine o'clock, but at five in the morning the place was already basically full of people. Some high-ranking officials had already left in the middle of the night. They were afraid that their makeup and hairstyle would be messed up, so they simply sat upright in their chairs and slept."

"The Ministry of Internal Affairs was even worse: they simply pulled all-nighters."

"In short, everyone is waiting for your arrival now, father. You don't have to worry about any issues related to the ceremony. Someone will naturally take care of it for you. You only need to show up at the door of the hall after the guests have been waiting for a few hours, as the most important element of the entire ceremony, and then walk steadily to the front of the emperor. That's it."

"It's like..."

Sejanus hesitated slightly, but Ezekiel happily took over the conversation.

Without even thinking, he uttered the first words in his mind lightly.

"Like a bride in a mortal wedding: the few I saw on the Far Eastern Frontier were all like this."

"..."

For a moment, there was silence in the tent.

------

The two Gastalins silently turned their gaze back to the outside.

------the same as you.

Only in this way can you quietly put down your clenched fists.

------

Sejanus's statement about the timing of the ceremony was actually somewhat wrong.

As you dragged this uncomfortable bright red cloak from the makeshift camp where you had stayed for half a month and headed towards the steel platform, you had to force yourself to think about some unnecessary things in order to relieve the pressure that was rising up in your heart again.

This is necessary, you always need some means to adjust the millions of admiring eyes that are staring at you: first it was your descendants, then those mortal auxiliary soldiers who had fought alongside you, and then, the dignitaries and soldiers who gathered from all directions. Besides them, there were many other gazes, not admiration, but curiosity and exploration.

That's your next group of conquerors.

The road from the camp of the Luna Wolves to the Emperor's Terrace is actually not that long. A distance of more than ten kilometers is not even a short assault for you under normal circumstances. But today, you are destined to spend several hours on the road, stopping to watch the victory parade and the gleaming faces among the countless orc skull torches.

This parade, in which only the Luna Wolves can take part, is naturally not as grand as the military review held a few days ago. It is more in line with the traditional standards of Terra: let the soldiers take a tour amid the sound of gunfire, holding the trophies that symbolize your life's achievements, and announce to the world that you have the confidence to accept the position of Warmaster.

On Ullanor, such spoils were naturally everywhere: tens of thousands of Luna Wolves held the tattered flags and emblems of the Ullanor Orc Empire, as well as the skulls of the largest greenskin leaders they could find. The skull of the Ullanor Beast King even required the combined efforts of at least four Luna Wolves to lift it.

They set out from the hill that determined the fate of this world, the holy place where you and the Emperor shed blood together, and then advanced all the way to the platform of the Lord of Mankind, followed by thousands of flags of the Ullanor Orc Empire, and behind them were all kinds of other trophies from your more than a hundred years of conquest.

The team set out in the early morning, like a silent dragon, traveling across the red sandy land of Ullanor. The journey was quiet and solemn, with only the shrill whistles and commands ringing. Everyone raised their heads proudly, and they refused to compromise even if their bones ached.

How shocking it would be to see a hundred thousand Moon Wolves marching in formation: perhaps only those involved would know.

When the Sixteenth Legion was halfway through its advance, two large groups of guards holding torches lined up on both sides of them, lighting up the iron-gray sky as bright as day: the soldiers and guests who had heard the news looked at the torchlight parade in awe and saluted the symbol of the Eye of Horus.

The helmets are shining, the horses are marching in formation, and in the illumination of the natural fire, the alien skulls are so terrifying, and the rebel flags seem to still be fluttering, slapping the breath of blood in their faces: people should know that without the fighting of the Moon Wolves, all this would have become a reality.

They won't question your merit.

But what is truly impressive is this army of more than 100,000 people, holding high 50,000 military flags: each flag symbolizes an extremely brutal battle, a world that once bowed to the Empire, and the determination of the warriors of the Moon Wolves who once roared for the Emperor: Throughout history, which legion could bring so much honor and victory to its lord, the object of its loyalty?

Only your legion.

Even though you were not there, you can still hold your head up with pride: because you can imagine the scene at that time.

Aliens, rebels, and independent worlds that are unwilling to submit to the Emperor's majesty: the flags are the best proof. A full 30,000 blood-stained military flags tell everyone that your status does not come only from the Emperor's favor. They are held upside down by your descendants, and they walk through the buildings and ruins of Ullanor and arrive at the square in front of the steel platform.

In full view of all your primarch brothers and millions of witnesses, thirty thousand flags of the defeated were ruthlessly thrown to the ground and piled together to form a colorful red carpet: you will walk on this red carpet to the final hall.

On both sides of the red carpet, more than 100,000 Astartes warriors from 19 legions lined up in order. Even the powerful mortal dignitaries were only allowed to stand behind them and cheer: this scene well illustrated where the power of the empire came from.

You walk through it, reviewing the ranks of soldiers and loyalists, waving in the direction of the crowd every few steps, and the response you get is different each time.

The Luna Wolves will cheer for you, singing the Legion's battle cry loudly with such pride that it almost feels real. The crowd behind them is the most fanatical. In comparison, the warriors of other legions are much more restrained: when you walk past them, wave and smile at them, these veterans who have survived hundreds of battles will bow their heads and politely express their admiration.

You are certain that it was your previous efforts that earned their respect: Malcador and Dorn had intended to allow only the Luna Wolves to appear at the ceremony, but you, as the Primarch of the XVI Legion, insisted that warriors from other legions be allowed to participate as well.

You did not intend for your Warmaster ceremony to be a show of strength for the Luna Wolves alone.

This is too narrow-minded: not what a Warmaster should do.

You must tell everyone: you are willing to be their warmaster and fight for everyone.

Fight for all Astartes.

This is your slogan.

Thinking of this, you spread your arms, passing the same joy to the Astartes warriors on both sides. They are the Dark Angels and the Dawnbreakers. Of course, these two legions seem to have never been separated. The veterans from Terra maintain their dignity and nod to you. You return the greeting with the same courtesy, quietly witnessing the faces of each of them.

You are still trying: trying to learn to care for their souls as well.

Dark Angels, Dawnbreakers, World Eaters, Ultramarines, Salamanders, Space Wolves, Night Lords, Raven Guard...

You know, if you want these people to fight for you, then you must learn to respect them. The past opportunism is no longer applicable. You must learn to unite the strength of everyone here: because the new enemy you set up in your heart is so powerful, so powerful that you have to learn the value of unity.

They are just ahead: waiting for your challenge at the Emperor's side.

The Sigillite is their leader: the Empire is their everything.

Yes, no matter how much you despise Malcador and the bureaucracy he established, you will not deny their power at this moment, and their ambition to devour the world: only by uniting all your blood brothers, and all their descendants, can you resist the greedy offensive from Terra on the invisible battlefield after the Emperor leaves, and defend the results you have fought for with blood.

This is necessary, because you have witnessed the Sigillite's all-pervasive power and the Emperor's inexplicable trust in him: just imagine, an entire legion, an entire Astartes Legion with outstanding achievements, as long as the Sigillite wants, he can make them disappear without a trace.

So what if they are guilty? Your lost brother and his legion did not even receive a fair trial: does this mean that in the days to come, Malcador and his servants can easily wipe out today's legions one by one by accusing them of guilt?
They have already done so, they have proven that they have the power to persuade the Emperor to wipe out an entire Legion, and to silence everyone else: just a slight tread on the line of treachery and fault, and the Sigillite's knife will be at their necks.

He didn't even bother to hide it: With the reminder of Fulgrim and others, you finally began to pay attention to the dispute between the Five Hundred Worlds and Holy Terra in the Maelstrom region, but unlike your other gene brothers, the more you explored, the more cold sweats you felt on your back.

Malcador's tax collectors only had to flick their fingers on their log books, and the Thirteenth Legion was singled out, alone and powerless to face the will of Terra: If you Primarchs cannot unite, then what awaits you in the future will surely be the dilemma that Guilliman faces today.

Today it is Guilliman, tomorrow it might be Morgan, the day after tomorrow it will be Lorgar or Konrad: there are only so many Primarchs, and when others fall one after another, will Malcador's pen let you go?

At that time, who will speak for you, the descendants of the emperor?

And when you all fall, the Emperor will be surrounded by only the useless Guards.

"..."

You shuddered, but became more determined in your heart.

This is a war, a desperate resistance.

Defend the realm you and the Emperor built from the corruption of mortal men.

You are willing to give everything for it.

In the soil of the soul, a seed called responsibility was solemnly planted.

You continue to move forward, memorizing every face that is willing to stand here: the road from the Moon Wolves' camp to the steel platform seems so long that it will never end, but it is so fast that there is no time to react: as if in just a blink of an eye, your iron boots stepped on the first flag of the Alien Empire.

It's more uncomfortable than you thought. You hear the low complaints of Ezekiel and Aximand who are dragging your cloak behind you, but you are not willing to slow down because of this: every step you take is made of the blood of your descendants. You put away the lofty ambitions in your heart, step over the flag under your feet with silent gratitude, lower your head, and remember your past sacrifices.

You can't turn your back on such a great sacrifice, can you?

You ask yourself, the answer is self-evident.

Keep moving forward, the steps of the iron platform are within reach, and you seem to be able to see the Emperor's shadow imprinted on the ground: your soldiers are cheering beside your ears, and the tens of thousands of soldiers who hold the legion's trophies here are all your most loyal guards. They are moved to tears of gratitude and inexplicable excitement just because they can witness you, their most beloved gene father, reaching the pinnacle of his life. Their shouts reveal the blood from the depths of their hearts, and their battle cries are a little chaotic at first, and then quickly turn into a united voice.

The sound was of hammers, of trumpets, of maces striking upon heavy doors: no servant of Malcador had to announce it, for all in the hall knew it now.

You came.

The Warmaster is here.

You raised your head, looking at the heirs standing here with gratitude. You can tell the name and merits of each of them. Now, you must be even more proud, because your figure represents more than just yourself: in that hall, in front of the Emperor, the Primarch and everyone, you are the incarnation of the Luna Wolf.

You have to be invincible.

The sound of iron boots stepping on the white jade steps echoes far away. Your footsteps are slow and heavy, and every step you take will create ripples in the hall.

You heard it: every step was accompanied by a lengthy ceremony. It was the Imperial ceremonial officers who came all the way from Terra, trying their best to imitate the steps taken when the Empire was founded. They loudly praised your father's achievements and sang the praises of the Empire's glory so far. Finally, they read out your name loudly. In a corner that even you yourself didn't know, there were so many titles on the neck of the Wolf Shepherd God.

"The son of the first return!"

step.

"Lord of the Shadow Moon Wolf!"

step.

"Father of the Sixteenth Legion."

One more step.

"Brother of the Primarchs."

"Lord Cthonia."

"The destroyer of the Ullanor Empire."

"Defender of the Emperor, the Imperium of Man, and Holy Terra."

"Molo, Druun, Davin, Dacinta, and the pacifiers of the borders of Isnim."

"The exterminator of a thousand alien forms."

"A thousand punishers of tyrants."

"The Proclaimer of a Thousand Worlds."

"The Emperor's eldest son."

"The Shield of Mankind."

"..."

"Warmaster of the Empire!"

"Horus... Lupercal!!!"

The last cheer that resounded throughout the world was drowned out by the sound of you pushing open the door.

Greeted by 20,000 pairs of eyes and watched by 2 million soldiers, you strode into the Emperor's Hall with your head held high. The cheers of the crowd seemed a little boring at this moment. You politely waited for the storm to pass, and then stood there like a statue.

People are watching you.

You are watching them too.

------

Wuhu! Fully revived!

Let me first take a look at what kind of crap I have written these days...

Ahem... Anyway...

This is a super long chapter, and I estimate it will take three chapters to finish it (yes, the title doesn’t mean three chapters, but I will try my best to finish it).

(End of this chapter)