Emperor's Bane

Chapter 765: Hated by People and Hated by Dogs
"Sigismund."

"Do you think the Primarch can convince the Sigillite and the High Lords?"

"I don't know: but it's not likely."

Sigismund slowly relaxed his breathing, letting the rising adrenaline drain from his mind, and his cold and calm eyes slowly swept over the two imperial guards who were only ten steps away from them.

Frankly speaking, even Sigismund would feel a little nervous when facing these notorious killing machines with nothing in his hands and bare hands.

Not to mention, these arrogant guys seemed to know Sigismund: during the half-hour confrontation, the guards' eyes were always searching between his yellow-gray armor and white-black robes.

He knew they were just making sure the Imperial Fists didn't carry any weapons.

Of course he would not be so stupid: Sigismund was now standing in the Imperial Palace of Terra, the place that he, his father, and his brothers had sworn to protect with their lives.

Even this sword-crazed man who had no interest in fame or politics would puff out his chest with pride when he thought of the honor of the 7th Legion, the Terran Guard: he had done this in front of countless battle-brothers from other legions.

This time is no exception.

When the Imperial Guard's gaze rested on him again, the Imperial Fist glared back without fear: but strangely, faced with such a blatant provocation, the Imperial Guard who came over was only stunned for a moment, and then looked away as if nothing had happened.

Interesting: He didn't know that there were some good-tempered guys in the Imperial Guards.

I don’t know who taught me this?

Sigismund, feeling bored, punched like a cotton ball and could only look around: as one of the few areas in the Terra Palace open to the public and also the office of the high lords, the luxury of the Grand Council Hall far exceeded people's imagination.

The Imperial Fists even suspected that these High Lords had spent at least ten sectors' worth of tax revenue on just decorating their facades.

For comparison: the military parade and warmaster ceremony on Ullanor seemed to have only used the tax revenue of a single star sector.

But all the splendor did not attract Sigismund's attention: what he really cared about were the three statues at the door. Compared with the splendor around him, they were made of hard marble, which gave him a sense of security.

The imperial double-headed eagle statue stands high on the archway of the hall: To be honest, from an artistic point of view, the aesthetic value of this double-headed eagle is very low. The image designer that the emperor found when he founded his empire was definitely not a professional.

Sigismund had seen even more majestic double-headed eagles in Avalon, Macragge, and even Chogoris.

However, the statues on both sides of the gate deeply attracted the attention of the Fist of the Empire.

The statue on the left depicts a human warrior slaying an evil beast, the famous St. George slaying the dragon: it is said that this statue was chosen by the Sigillite Malcador himself to express the determination of the emerging human empire to pacify the galaxy and wipe out all ghosts and monsters.

On the other side is an unnamed statue favored by the Lord of Mankind, said to represent his own ambitions: the main body of the statue is a strong mortal man, raising his hammer high, and using force to recast a sword into a ploughshare.

As a warrior, Sigismund did not quite understand the metaphor.

Even if he understood, he would not agree.

Turn swords into plowshares?

What a beautiful thought.

But go talk to the countless enemies lurking in the shadows of the galaxy.

Go and talk to this world that has never really stopped fighting.

The Imperial Fist laughed, and his smile not only attracted the attention of the Custodians, but also caused a frown from his brother beside him.

"What are you laughing at, Sigismund?"

"Nothing, Akamus."

The company commander put away his smile and looked back at the gate.

"How long has the Primarch been in there?"

"Forty-four minutes."

Akams blurted out, his condition seemed to be ten times worse than Sigismund's: It was understandable, after all, Akams was the captain of the Huskal Guard and the chief of the guard beside Dorne.

Seeing the Primarch, without any weapons and without anyone to accompany him, go to negotiate with those famous High Lords was enough to make him feel cardiac and respiratory arrest.

"I am worried, Sigismund."

Akams tried his best to lower his voice and muttered quietly.

"Are you worried about those high lords?"

The company captain turned his head.

"That's true. After all, those guys just persecuted Guilliman and Limit..."

"Not them."

Akams retorted viciously.

"It's the Primarch I'm worried about!"

"Primarch?"

"Forty minutes! Sigismund!"

"think about it!"

"Lord Dorne was alone with the high lords for forty minutes without anyone to accompany him, and they were still discussing: Who do you think can survive for forty minutes in front of Lord Dorne's full-fire mouth?"

"Even if he had to engage in a verbal battle with the High Lords for four minutes, it would have been fatal!"

"..."

Shit! That makes sense...

Sigismund stroked his chin.

"You say: Did the Primarch accidentally anger some High Lord to death?"

"Are they rescuing you now?"

"It's not impossible."

Akamus sighed.

"After all, what he wants to say..."

"Ah... not much stronger than Guilliman..."

"Is it?"

The captain was stunned for a moment: he really didn't know what the Primarch was doing in such a hurry back to the palace after just returning to Terra?
"What is he going to say?"

"Only one thing: that ..."

"boom!"

Before he could finish his words, the door of the hall was violently pushed open. The Primarch's footsteps sounded like the roar of an armored vehicle. Even the Imperial Guards guarding on both sides instinctively took a step back, saluting this powerful force that far exceeded their own.

"grown ups!"

Sigismund looked up and saw Dorn's gorgeous armor shining.

He immediately moved forward, although Akams was one step faster than him: the Huskal guard captain carefully examined every inch of the primarch as if he was examining a child, and only breathed a sigh of relief when he was sure that there was no problem at all.

But Sigismund noticed that the Primarch did not look very well.

It's not anger, but exhaustion.

"Did you succeed, my Lord?"

As he asked the question, he slightly turned his body, walked around Dorne, and looked at the council hall behind him.

The two guards were closing the gate diligently, and Sigismund only had time to take a glance inside: he saw the Scepter standing there like a tin soldier, quietly looking at Dorn's back, and there seemed to be several high lords surrounding him.

The room was tidy and there were no signs of an argument.

"Success."

The Primarch nodded and smiled at his two sons.

For Dawn, it was a very rare, relaxed smile.

"Really, sir?"

Akamus was still a little bit unbelievable.

“They actually agreed…”

"Let's talk about it when we get back."

The Primarch waved his hand and strode to the end of the corridor. When the two men, who were half a beat slower to react, came to their senses, they needed to jog to keep up with the Primarch's pace: even judging from Dorne's background, it was an irrepressible briskness.

"He hasn't been this happy in a long time."

Sigismund turned his head.

"Last seen in Ullanor: during the celebration of Horus' election as Warmaster."

Well, not long actually.

"So, why exactly is Lord Dorn so happy, Akamus?"

The Imperial Fists looked to his brother.

"tell me."

"It's actually nothing."

Akams sighed, as if he still couldn't believe what he was about to say next.

"The Primarch's visit this time is to reach an agreement with the High Lords."

"A...very overreaching agreement"

"Trespassing?"

Sigismund raised an eyebrow.

“Is the content too much?”

"In fact, it's just one sentence."

------

"from now on."

"The High Lords Council of Terra, if you want to launch any military action of any scale against any Primarch, a Legion, or the country they rule, you must report to the two Primarchs Dorn and Leman Russ in advance, and wait for the results of the consultation before executing it."

"Because Dorn and Russ are responsible for the defense of Terra and the Solar Region respectively, they need to be responsible for all potential crises that may threaten these two regions, including armed conflicts between Terra and the Legion."

"So, they have the power to police both sides of the conflict."

"Whether it's the Legion or Terra."

"This...this is really..."

"..."

The actual controller of the empire maintained an astonishing silence, allowing the Law Marshal beside him to sigh.

Sometimes hesitant, sometimes regretful.

It wasn't just him: most of the High Lords in the room remained in this state as well.

Rather than anger, there was more surprise or emotion on their faces.

"Honestly, Your Excellency the Master of the Seal."

After sighing for several minutes, the Law Marshal managed to organize a sentence.

"If it weren't for the fact that I and my fellow high lords present here already knew Lord Dorne's true nature, and had already heard the Emperor's words of praise for the loyalty of the entire Imperial Fists Legion..."

"Based on what he just said, we have reason to let the Custodians in."

"But you won't do that."

Malcador turned slowly and looked at the Arbitral Marshal he had personally promoted.

"Even if I'm not here, you won't fall out with Dorn over this, right?" "...That's right!"

The Law Marshal was silent for a while, then he nodded like a deflated ball.

"After all, we all know Lord Dorne's loyalty and his usual...language style."

"If other primarchs had mentioned this to us, we would have needed to carefully consider their hidden motives behind it. But since Lord Dorne has spoken, what he wants to say must have been written down on paper."

"In the final analysis, the Terran Guard is asking us in disguise to stop conflicting with the Primarch's kingdom."

Having said this, the Law Marshal smiled bitterly.

"So they all think we really want to provoke another Badab Crisis?"

“It has nothing to do with what you think.”

Malcador shook his head.

"Now that we have done it, we can't expect others to remain indifferent."

"Rather, Dorn represents the thoughts of most of the Primarchs. They regard us as powerful usurpers and are secretly on guard against us. However, the Lord of the Imperial Fist has the ability and conditions to speak out."

"They even forced us to sign the agreement: although this is what we wanted too."

"indeed so."

The Law Marshal thought about it.

"Then, Master Seal Holder, do we have to strictly abide by this agreement from now on?"

“Why don’t you comply?”

Malcador glanced at him.

"What? You want to have another Badab Crisis without the help of the Imperial Fist?"

"No no no!"

The High Lord immediately shook his head, and there was some sudden cold sweat on his temples.

“Even with their help, we definitely don’t want to open it again.”

"That's scary..."

"A direct confrontation with a legion..."

"That's the point: Dorn helped us, and you, unintentionally."

Makado paced back and forth, seemingly planning to take a rest.

"After all: there won't be any need for us to use force in the future."

"As for the rivalry with the Primarch: it will be resolved in a more elegant manner."

"You mean?"

"Do you know the Terrafar area?"

"of course."

"Our Warmaster immediately began his plan after returning to the Wolf Kingdom."

"He announced that he was going to promote the Federation Law District: a distinct competitor to the Terra Law District."

------

"Federal District?"

Zhuang Sen chewed on the name, then frowned quickly.

"what?"

"Why is Horus messing with him? Is he trying to get some benefits from him privately?"

"It's a great benefit. And this time he can make a fair profit."

Luther leaned back in his chair, discussing with great interest this new thing which, in Jonson's opinion, had no meaning at all.

"If I'm guessing correctly, our Warmaster wants to open a new track and compete with Terra in this way: in a war without bloodshed, Horus is prepared to use words and interests to win as many supporters as possible from Terra's system."

"Supporters? What is he going to do!?"

The lion king's tone suddenly changed.

"Don't worry, don't worry."

Luther quickly pressed his hand.

"If I'm guessing correctly, Horus probably just wants to surpass Terra in terms of power and influence, and through propaganda, laws, and political systems, he can take the top spot in the grand order left by the Emperor."

"And then force Terra to the negotiating table."

"Can you understand it as: Cold War?"

"..."

"trouble making."

Zhuang Sen seemed to think for a moment: but he could not think of anything that had anything to do with him.

He just thought that the Wolf Shepherd God, who had a lot of ulterior motives, was once again trying to defend some false reputation.

This is not surprising.

"Why are you telling me this?"

The Lion King looked at Luther.

"I just want to ask the highest leader of the Caliban Alliance if I can be given a certain degree of autonomy to decide whether Caliban should temporarily align with one of the parties."

"Terra holds the materials we need for our future development, while Horus's proposition is beneficial to our independence. Considering the competition between them, perhaps the winner cannot be determined in the next fifty years, then Caliban can probably take..."

"A more flexible stance?"

"..."

The silence of the Lion King.

"position?"

"Don't worry, it has nothing to do with loyalty."

Luther quickly added.

“It’s just a slight adjustment in publicity documents and public statements.”

"Then you decide for yourself."

The lion king didn't even think about it.

"You're asking me about this? Don't you have anything serious to report to me?"

"I said: the list of hostile worlds near Caliban is in the cabinet next to me."

"I see."

Zhuang Sen turned away, seemingly no longer interested in continuing the conversation.

"Is there anything else you want to say?"

"Nothing urgent: maybe we can talk about something personal, since we haven't had a good chat in a while..."

"Then I'll go back and rest, Luther."

"..."

After selectively obtaining the information he wanted to hear, the Lord of Caliban strode to the door.

But just as he pushed open the door, he suddenly thought of a key question.

"Luther."

Zhuang Sen turned his head and didn't notice that his adoptive father's face looked a little strange.

"You've made a mess of this nice place: where is my old room?"

“Just where it was.”

Luther studied his fingers slowly.

"Remember: your room is next to Morgan's private guest room."

"Don't worry, they've been renovated: I personally supervised the renovation of both rooms."

"fuss."

The corners of the lion's mouth rose slightly.

"So which room is mine, the left one or the right one?"

"You'll know it just by looking at it."

The old knight turned away.

"The more broken one is yours."

"The better one is Morgan's."

"..."

I don’t know how long the silence lasted, then the Lion King slammed the door and walked away.

"List!"

Luther lay in the chair and shouted towards the corridor at the top of his voice.

"..."

The silent footsteps stopped, then reluctantly approached.

A few seconds later, Zhuang Sen, with a gloomy face, pushed the door open and grabbed the list that Luther handed to him.

Then, he ripped the door open again.

"That's a relic of the Knights."

"..."

Then close it gently.

------

"whispering sound--"

After Jonson was completely gone, the old knight finally couldn't help laughing.

Finally.

Jonson has finally grown up.

I've reached the age where everyone hates me.

Shaking his head and admiringly, Luther picked up the document on the desk.

Well, a diplomatic document.

"The Word Bearers' Crusader Fleet has applied for military access and port stationing rights on Caliban..."

"And: a list of volunteers to serve as guards of Caliban's cages..."

(End of this chapter)