Emperor's Bane

Chapter 701: I Swear by Macragge
[To be honest, Mortarion, your suggestion is indeed good. I have to admit that I am a little tempted: but before that, you seem to have overlooked a small problem. ]

[Magnus is my brother, my dearest friend, my closest relative: he is the chief advocate of the Librarian Project, the master of the powerful Thousand Sons Legion, he not only has psychic powers comparable to mine, but also has countless potential followers across the Imperium who may be willing to die for his cause.]

[You want me to betray such a person while violating all the above conditions? ]

[Mortarion of Barbarus, my good brother: Is your price a bit too low this time? ]

……

She was easier than he'd thought: or was she greedier than he'd thought?

Never mind, the result is the same anyway.

The gray corridors of the Endurance always remind people of the end of life: every time a visitor enters, a smell of decay and death will hit the face, allowing visitors to understand in advance what kind of survival concept the master of this ship pursues.

Mortarion pursued tenacity, Mortarion believed in death, and the legions under his command followed his example, living proudly in this cold steel tomb, and learned to coexist with the [Breath on Barbarus].

As a result, these damp and gloomy ghostly auras ran rampant in the corridors and rooms of the Endurance: until the gloomy footsteps of the Lord of Death echoed between the walls, all the unpleasant auras would disperse and flee from the true master of this battleship.

In the past, the sallow-faced mortal servants would have chosen to flee to avoid the Lord of Death's unpredictable wrath: but today was different, soldiers and mortals alike had to stand on both sides of the corridor until the Primarch and his most distinguished guests passed by, acknowledging their insignificant respect and obeisance.

Amidst the thousands of terrified eyes, the team did not seem large: Mortarion led the way, followed by the other two Primarchs, and their respective seven servants, a total of only twenty-four people, but further behind were hundreds of servants following closely, carrying two huge metal boxes.

The Lord of Death lowered his head and strode forward, leading his subordinates and guests to the reception room that had been prepared more than ten days ago: he did not look at the road at all, but moved forward relying on the physical memory developed over the past few decades. Under his pale forehead, a pair of bronze eyes moved from time to time, and all his cunning thoughts were written in them.

Mortarion wanted to laugh, he wanted to laugh out loud right now, letting the fire of joy in his heart shatter the darkness around him, but his strong will and the respirator that covered most of his face stopped him in time: but his breathing was still uncontrollably heavy, and the dark green poisonous breath was like a wide ribbon floating in the air, tightly tied behind him.

This made him nervous for a moment, but fortunately Morgan and Guilliman who were following him did not seem to notice anything unusual: the two Far Eastern princes were now whispering with their lips moving and in voices so low that they were almost inaudible. It seemed that Morgan was interrogating Guilliman about what had been said in the meeting ceremony just now?
Guilliman said nothing.

Mortarion thought with disdain.

Without Morgan's help, the Macragge man could only utter a bunch of dry polite words, as dry as his courage: Guilliman was not worthy of attention, but Morgan's attitude gave him a huge surprise.

Looking back, the Lord of Death, immersed in joy, certainly did not notice that the Spider Queen glanced at him unintentionally. He was reveling in the beauty of the smooth negotiation: just a few casual chats after the meeting solved the problem that he was most worried about today.

He could never have imagined that Morgan's attitude towards Magnus would be so cold. After just a moment's thought, he actually agreed to sacrifice the Primarch of the Thousand Sons. The Spider Queen was even unwilling to pretend to bargain with him, and was more concerned about the "compensation" promised to her by the Lord of Death.

Seeing the smooth development of the situation, and thinking of his own worry and deep thought in the past few months, Mortarion could not help but take a heavy note of Magnus in his heart: If this red-haired bastard had not boasted to the outside world about his long-standing and passionate friendship with Morgan in the past few decades, making everyone including him believe it, why would he have bothered about such a simple matter for so long?

This lying bastard!
The Lord of Death frowned, and became more determined to declare war on Magnus and his witchcraft on Nikea, but at the same time, he knew that things on Morgan's side could not be resolved like this: as his once most hostile brother, Mortarion had collected Morgan's information very carefully, and he knew very well that the Spider Queen was now behaving very abnormally.

How could this guy, who would not give up until he saw the rabbit, sacrifice Magnus so easily? Although the Primarch of the Thousand Sons was arrogant and stupid, he was not a negative asset after all... right?

And how could Morgan ensure that she would benefit from this? Would her external reputation be affected? How would she handle her relationship with Chagatai Khan? Or was it the Khan who had already instigated this, and even the Chogoris abandoned Magnus?

There were too many problems. Even if they finally reached an agreement, Mortarion could not completely trust Morgan: after all, he knew very well in his heart that even if he promised to protect the interests of Morgan and others, if the situation on Nikea was "very good", he would certainly have enough reasons to completely pull the entire human empire out of the quagmire of black witchcraft.

As for Barbarus's oath?

Why should he care about that world?

Moreover, who can guarantee that Morgan didn't plan in the same way, intending to take advantage of the benefits he gave and then deny it: there are many other things to worry about.

but……

When the end of the corridor vaguely appeared in his pupils, Mortarion turned his head slightly, looked at his two blood brothers, nodded, and motioned them to follow him in.

In any case, things were going better than he had imagined: even if he could only get rid of Magnus this time, Mortarion would be content, even if Morgan and her think tank escaped.

The Emperor is returning.

Horus was about to take power.

A new era of arbitration by force and authority was about to dawn on the Primarchs and their Legions.

There were still many days ahead: Mortarion would have the opportunity to let Morgan's kingdom of sorcery burn before him, to make the arrogant Spider Queen kneel at his feet and cry like a helpless babe, clutching his cloak tightly in regret for the mistakes she had made.

And he will kindly hold her hand, help her up, face with her the wrong path they have taken, and then guide her and Chagatai Khan on how to move towards the true future: Magnus is hopeless, but Morgan and the Khan's abilities are obvious to all, and Mortarion does not mind becoming their new mentor and teaching them the right way.

However, before that...

"Welcome to your visit, brothers."

------

"I have prepared a gift especially for you."

The three of them had just sat down, and before Morgan and Guilliman had time to get used to the chairs carved out of Barbarus rock under their butts, Mortarion clapped his hands and signaled the death shrouds waiting nearby to bring up two boxes. The Lord of Death opened it with his own hands: two divine weapons lay quietly in the bright red silk.

"When I just returned, the Emperor gave me an energy pistol named Lantern as a gift. It was a trophy he captured in a battle and had been kept in the armory of the Bucephalus until I fell in love with it at first sight."

Talking about the past, the Lord of Death carefully took out an energy pistol with a rich brass style from the box. His and Guilliman's names were engraved on both sides of the barrel, but if you look closely, you will find that the name of the Macragge people is obviously newly engraved.

“That’s a good gun.”

The Lord of Death placed the energy pistol on the circular table in the center of the three people, and then took the [Lantern] from his waist: the two energy pistols were surprisingly similar, but the new one was obviously made by Mortarion himself, and his pride also proved this.

"After that, I have been trying to create a weapon of equal quality, and this one, called Reason, is the one that satisfies me the most among all the imitations. I give it to you as a gift, Brother Guilliman, because you are undoubtedly the best shooter among all of us."

Guilliman nodded, accepted the gift with gratitude, and temporarily placed it on the round table. He turned around and signaled Auguston behind him to bring up his box, and then placed his own gift on the round table with his own hands.

They were two exquisite ship models, every detail of which was lifelike, as if they really existed and were ready to sail, fight and gain glory at any time: the Lord of Death's pupils couldn't help but dilate, for he recognized these two ships that had a close connection with him.

"The Death Scythe? The Fourth Horseman?"

"Your first ship, wasn't it?"

Guilliman smiled as gently as he could.

"One hundred years ago, when our respective legions fought side by side for the first time, you were on these two warships: The Endurance was undergoing a major overhaul at the time, but this did not delay the heroic performance of the Death Guards. Your Captain Garro was the first to board that battle."

"You remember it very clearly."

Mortarion smiled, and he looked back at his Captain of the Seventh Company, the ancient memories gradually becoming clear in his mind, and with them came great pride: in the hypocritical smiles between each other, the Lord of Death glanced at Guilliman's gift with pity.

The two gifts were placed together. Compared with the powerful weapons, the two exquisite ships were so luxurious and useless, which really fit the thought of the decadent atmosphere of the Five Hundred Worlds: he didn't even want to find a room to house them, because it would pollute the purity of the Endurance.

Shaking his head, Mortarion began to recall the furnishings in his private room, trying to find a suitable place inside to reluctantly put down these two useless things: just put them where he could see them every day when he opened his eyes, as a warning to himself.

perfect.

The Primarch raised his head complacently, then turned around and took out his second gift: compared with the pistol given to Guilliman, this huge sickle that was almost as tall as Morgan himself seemed quite sincere. Even from the most discerning perspective, it looked exquisite and gorgeous enough, with a long black handle with a silver edge and the sapphires dotted in between were Mortarion's pride.

“I call it [Judgment].”

The Lord of Death puffed out his chest.

“It’s my own work, too.”

【In terms of your values, creating it is more sincere than the gift itself. 】

The Spider Queen took this weapon with both hands. It was too luxurious even for the Emperor's Children Legion. She could hardly believe that it was the work of Mortarion, but she still nodded gratefully and smiled.

[Thanks, bro: my last weapon just happened to be vulnerable.]

"Fragile is also an uncommon word for the Primarch's weapons."

The Barbarusian's overly sarcastic tone was back, but Morgan didn't care because of the gift he had just given.

[It's just an ordinary weapon, but it has reached the end of its useful life: I'm not sure if I can get used to using a sickle. After all, if possible, I still want to find a primary weapon similar to a one-handed sword. ]

【But anyway, thank you. 】

Morgan smiled, then asked Lana and Ahriman to carry up his gifts.

"and many more."

Mortarion's eyelids twitched, and he stared at Ahriman, who was silent. "As I recall... you are a Thousand Sons?"

"Ahriman, son of Magnus."

The Thousand Sons saluted with neither arrogance nor servility, while the Lord of Death was calmer than expected.

"If I remember correctly, you haven't been with the Thousand Sons for a long time."

[A hundred years ago, Ahriman was assisting my Think Tank Academy in Avalon. ]

Seeing the situation in front of her, while Guilliman next to her was still a little dazed, Morgan had already walked forward, took the boxes from the two people in person, and then motioned Ahriman and Rana to stand behind her again, facing the gloomy face of the Lord of Death under the hood with her smile.

"Is it."

Mortarion nodded.

"Smart choice: Tell me, what do you think of tomorrow's meeting at Nikea?"

Ahriman hesitated only for a moment as the three Primarchs looked on.

"I will obey the Emperor's will: whatever his ultimate will may be."

"Everyone can say nice things."

The Lord of Death snorted.

"If he guesses Magnus, will you voluntarily give up your psychic powers?"

Faced with this question, even Ahriman himself did not expect that his inner reaction would be so calm. He just took a deep breath out of concern for his father, and did not even notice that his concern was purely for the Father of Genes: and as for the question of whether he would still be able to use psychic powers in the future, Ahriman did not even have any worries in his heart.

His answer came instinctively.

“My thoughts don’t matter.”

Ahriman's voice was hoarse.

"Lord Mortarion, when the territory of the human empire still remained on the land of Holy Terra, my brother and I were already members of the Thousand Sons Legion. I have experienced the early years of the legion and the empire. I remember more clearly than anyone else that in the beginning, no one in the entire Thousand Sons Legion was a psyker. We were all warriors, pure and ordinary warriors, fighting for the Emperor with dedication and loyalty."

After saying this, Ahriman took off his helmet. His smooth forehead made the two golden service spikes look so dazzling that even though all those present were Primarchs, they had to listen seriously to the Thousand Sons' words.

"It was not until the Great Crusade began that the Emperor gradually brought the light of psychic power upon us. Since this was a gift from the Emperor from the beginning, it is only natural that he would want to take it back. Even without the blessing of psychic power, the Thousand Sons Legion can still fight for the Emperor and the Empire, just as we did when we were first founded. We will continue to use our dedication and loyalty as weapons and proudly devote ourselves to the next Great Crusade."

"..."

"good very good!"

After carefully listening to the ambitious words of the Thousand Son in front of him, the laughter of the Lord of Death echoed in the room for a long time, and even the dark green aura around him trembled: he looked at the others while laughing, first smiled at his brothers, and then patted Typhon's shoulder in a slightly intimate manner.

"You know, I've heard that sometimes children are wiser and more decisive than their fathers. When their fathers are old, they even need their children to decide the future direction of the entire family and become their new pillars. Before this, I didn't believe in this theory. It was not until today that I was enlightened."

"So there really are Primarchs who are surpassed in enlightenment by their descendants."

Mortarion patted Typhon's shoulder.

"Unheard of, isn't it, Typhon?"

"..."

"Yes, my lord."

Typhon smiled as best he could, hiding his dark eyes.

"Well said, Chiko."

The Lord of Death waved his hand arrogantly.

"Stand down: I hope Magnus will have the same awareness as you tomorrow."

“It will be a lot easier for all of us.”

Having said that, Mortarion sat down, and then realized that he seemed to have forgotten something.

He looked at Morgan, and the Spider Queen held up a piece of shiny metal.

【I think you'll need it: perhaps tomorrow on Nikaea.】

"..."

The Lord of Death did not reply. He looked carefully at the gift that Morgan had put forward: it was a breastplate carefully crafted with various precious metals. It was obvious at first glance that it was a masterpiece made by the Primarch, but the meaning behind it made everyone frown.

"You think I'll be the one on defense?"

【Who knows? 】

Morgan blinked, so innocently.

[After all, Magnus is not a clay statue, and since everyone knows you're going to hound him, he might have some tricks up his sleeve: Prospero has a long tradition of oratory, and I don't think you'd want to experience it.]

"Of course, Mortarion."

Guilliman wanted to seize the opportunity before the Lord of Death could make any move.

"If you are willing to compromise, such as respecting and retaining all the achievements of the think tank system, I think Magnus would not want to make a scene in a public place like Nikaea. You just need to nod and we can help you convince him."

"..."

The Lord of Death did not answer immediately. He looked at Guilliman seriously, until he was sure that every word of the Macragge was sincere. Then he smiled casually and pointed to the wall, where there was an oil painting depicting a scene of Barbarus.

"It seems I need to say it again."

The primarch nodded.

"I swear by Barbarus that as long as you are willing to sacrifice Magnus, I can temporarily withhold my condemnation of the Think Tank: the judgment on Magnus is the only thing I want to achieve on Nikaea. Of course, the specific result still needs to be determined by the Emperor."

"And you, Guilliman?"

"I?"

The Lord of Five Hundred Worlds frowned. He seemed to have some resistance, but he didn't care.

"Well, if you are willing to give up your criticism of the Think Tank system and swear never to mention it again, I am willing to swear on Macragge: we will stop thinking about further expanding the Think Tank system and properly file a complaint against Magnus for his misconduct."

"..."

"..."

For a moment, the two looked at each other.

They don't believe in the right oath.

Because they also do not believe in their own oaths.

After a moment's silence, Guilliman looked at Morgan almost instinctively.

"Won't you say anything, sister?"

[Not yet.]

"Why……"

【because……】

【Because I really have an Avalon. 】

(End of this chapter)