Emperor's Bane

Chapter 861 Wolf God’s Feast

Even if you just stand in the distance and look at its vague outline, the Black City of Horus, known as the thousand-year-old capital of Konya, is still a wonder of the world that is enough to inspire awe in the hearts of the bravest people.

Even when its foundations were laid out on blueprints by the Warmaster's own architects, the area of ​​this steel utopia had already exceeded the sum of the three greatest hive cities on Terra: even the Emperor's Palace itself could only be compared to its shadow.

Perhaps, as early as that time, some worrying ambitions had already been lurking quietly in the most glorious heart of the Great Crusade.

But before it is too late, too many people will willingly mistake it for something very beautiful: it is the ambition of a son to surpass his father, the tribute of a minister to the king to show his loyalty, and the complacency of the latecomers when looking at the road ahead.

All in all, no one would doubt the Wolf God's loyalty to his king and father because of this obvious usurpation: even the most narrow-minded high lord in the palace would not doubt the father-son relationship created with thirty years of time and the glory of the war commander.

There are so many things that can be slandered and accused about Horus.

For example, the Wolf God has never taken seriously the Peace Decree issued by the Terra government every ten years or so: this order, which aims to require the Primarchs to reduce their armies, is most thoroughly ignored by the Luna Wolves, and many people have never even heard of it.

While most of the Primarchs were also hypocritical, they at least carried out the orders once or twice out of courtesy. The Luna Wolves had already expanded their mortal auxiliary army and space fleet, the largest in the world, by taking advantage of the need to eliminate hidden dangers in the north.

Perhaps in terms of quality, the Wolf Shepherd's mortal legions could not compare with the Dawnbreaker's elite troops that had been passed down for a hundred years: how many people in the galaxy could compare with them? But if compared with the number of his followers, the Warmaster's pack of wolves was enough to overwhelm the coalition forces of the three Far Eastern countries.

In sharp contrast to this is a ridiculous reality: the peace decree that Terra had originally hoped to use to curb the armaments of the various Primarch states was, in the end, enforced most strictly by the Imperial Fists Legion stationed on Terra.

Even with the High Lord's deliberate connivance and even the entreaties of his envoys, Dorn did recruit several rounds of new soldiers, but his almost instinctive restraint and caution still bound him: after going through harsh measures accurate to the single digit, the total strength of the Imperial Fists now did not exceed 220,000 men.

Of course, these secrets that were strictly guarded by Dorne and the high lords could never fall into Abaddon's ears.

And for the captain of Horus's company, the shock brought to him by these secrets hidden beyond the stars was destined to be far less than that brought to him by the nearby Royal City of Konya.

Or perhaps, no one could keep calm when seeing the Wolf God's royal city for the first time: not even the archangels and Chagatai Khan were exceptions.

The sweat and wisdom shed for this galactic wonder are comparable to the blood shed in the ten apocalyptic wars. The ministers loyal to the Wolf God squeezed out everything they were proud of from tens of millions of planets, using strength as bricks and blood as skeletons, and on the wilderness of Baimon where the law of the jungle prevails, they sang the magnificence worthy of the master of half the galaxy.

Perhaps, compared to the Terra Palace, which has been the core of the empire for three hundred years, the Wolf God's Royal City lacks a sense of status and history. But from another perspective, this black city is like the second head of the Empire's double-headed eagle, demonstrating an indispensability that the Terra Palace lacks.

Holy Terra is like a revitalized Dusk King, sitting high on the bedrock of humanity's home planet that has been deposited for tens of millions of years: it keeps its subjects at a distance, and no one knows what is behind the towering walls of the palace.

But it also allows the existence of others, being humble enough to be only a part of Terra, rather than its entire existence, standing proudly in the place closest to the sky.

In Konya, it is the exact opposite.

As a city that has only risen for forty years, no matter how glorious and prosperous it may have been on the initial blueprints, in the process of implementation, like everything in the Wolf Kingdom, more ambitions and dreams have been continuously realized in every brick and tile of this black temple, allowing it to expand endlessly.

Just like the endless greed hidden deep in human nature, the black marble streets of Konya eventually swallowed up every satellite city and town originally planned. It defined the scale of the entire continent with walls large enough for a company to walk shoulder to shoulder.

After hundreds of changes in the expansion plan, Horus's Royal City finally became everything on the planet Baimon, rather than just a part of it.

In a sense, this orderly and irregular expansion precisely highlights the underlying color of the Wolf Kingdom: ever since the first Moon Wolf flag was planted in the land of the Milky Way North, the Warmaster's expectations for his people have never changed.

Horus will encourage new ambitions in anyone, anywhere, and in any way.

He despises cowardice, but does not think recklessness is a crime. Innovation and openness based on greed are respected by the Warmaster. As long as you have the courage to move forward and climb to a higher level, no matter what your behavior is, there will always be a place for you in the Wolf Kingdom.

Rogue traders can be so arrogant as to intrude upon routes that their predecessors avoided; the elites of the General Staff and the Military Academy can freely propose new tactics even if they seem absurd; and in the lunch box of every low-level soldier, there is a heart that wants to become a marshal.

If everyone thinks your boss is incompetent, then you won't be blamed more for overthrowing him.

Of course, the prerequisite is that you have to prove to the Wolf God that you can do better.

As for the means, it is not an important matter. What Horus values ​​is your ambition and achievements, as well as the ability behind them: if you impose heavy taxes and are overthrown by others, it only proves that you are another mediocre tyrant.

At that time, the Wolf God will allow more capable and intelligent people to repeat what you have done.

Of course, if your ability is really worthy of your ambition, then it will be just like the Royal City of Konya: no matter how many times the previous work is tampered with or even expanded on its own, the Warmaster will acquiesce to it, and he will not be bound by so-called reason and public opinion.

And as his capable subordinate, you never have to worry that he will abandon you.

Move forward at all costs, this is the promise that the Wolf God made to his kingdom.

This is a craze for expansion, a pursuit of openness and progress, and a respect for the original competitive mentality: while Terra uses its splendor to tell the greatness of mankind today, the constantly devouring and expanding Konya cleverly proves how mankind has become great.

Today, no human language can describe this black king without any foil: at least based on Abaddon's own literary literacy, the most accurate summary he can imagine is just his experience when he first saw the city.

He would always remember: when he left Baimon for the first time, he ordered the transport plane to stop in low-Earth orbit, eager to see the scale of the Royal City of Konya from space.

But the plan ultimately failed.

Even though he was standing at a height that allowed him to overlook half of the planet, one side of Konya's city wall exceeded the edge of his vision: and the most terrifying thing was that even from the perspective of standing in space, the city was still expanding at a speed visible to the naked eye.

One day, Horus's Royal City and Baimon will become the same concept.

Build the world into a city.

Perhaps, when this overly arrogant remark reached the ears of the Wolf God through the mouth of the Midnight Ghost, it became a long-cherished goal of Horus.

But these grand plans were also useless to Abaddon. He was just glad that he didn't have to walk into them: walking in the streets of the royal city of Konya was like stepping into a maze the size of a continental plate. Tens of millions of streets of various shapes and mixed military camps made it more complicated than the aggregation of a hundred hive cities.

Sometimes, a company captain would even have an illusion: the reason why the Wolf Shepherd God had so many wonders built was not because he had such a great preference for these things.

But for the Royal City of Konya, which is already extremely vast, the people there really need some wonders that can be seen at a glance to serve as landmarks to guide the direction.

What's more, their shadows stretching across the sky can indeed inspire awe.

At least that's what Abaddon thought.

When the transport plane landed steadily on a higher hill, the company captain first took a few seconds to adapt to the never-ending strong winds on the prairie of Baimon Star, which brought almost deadly smoke and dust, and the endless howling of wild beasts in the distance.

It is hard to imagine that one of the greatest cities in the galaxy stands in such a poor and barren place. It is also hard to imagine that under such an extremely fierce and extreme climate, there is a piece of extremely rich soil.

Perhaps it is just as the Primarch said: crisis and opportunity always go hand in hand.

But Abaddon didn't care about that, and before Sejanus and the others called for him, the captain of the first company seized the moment: every time he returned to Baimon, his favorite thing to do was to look at the outlines of those magnificent wonders from a distance.

This can give rise to a strange feeling of power.

The Primarch Palace, standing like a giant, will always be the core of the Royal City of Konya. No matter how much the four territories expand, its status will be as unshakable as the stars in the sky: what supports this is not only the identity of Horus, but also the doomsday weapons in the underground warehouse of the Primarch Palace, which are rumored to be true or false.

The Tower of Soveraignty, a far greater symbol of the Warmaster's status than his palace itself, has continued to touch the surface of heaven and space for the past forty years: one day, perhaps it will be closer to low-Earth orbit or even the stars than the airport on Baimon.

Further away, the arc-shaped dome structure of the Hall of Unity can accommodate five million pairs of excited eyes, and the Victory Hall is carved in detail with every victory of the Legion. It is also extending underground to accommodate the endless future of the Shadow Moon Wolves.

We must always consider the glory ten thousand years from now: just as the wolf god said.

The Great Crusade Plaza itself is a magnificent building complex. This imitation of the Forum of Heroes in the Imperial Palace is even better than the original. If the surrounding small halls and places of worship of heroes are taken into account, most of the hive cities in the galaxy will be inferior to it.

Next to these glorious monuments, the city railway of Konya Royal City is as complex as the blood vessels in the human body: the city has expanded to such an exaggerated scale that even traveling between two distant neighborhoods requires the use of transportation such as railways or even airplanes.

The starting point of the Konya Railway is the part of the entire city that makes Abaddon most happy: in front of the main gate of the Wolf God's royal city, which is big enough for the warlord Titan to pass through proudly, the Avenue of Glory connects the largest airport and barracks on the planet Baimon. They are the few buildings that cannot be accepted by the royal city.

Every brick and stone of this Avenue of Glory is paved with pure black marble. It is wide enough to accommodate the entire Moon Wolves Legion to march on it. At its edge, every sixteen meters, there stands a statue carved from a whole piece of rock. They are all people who have made great contributions to the Wolf Kingdom and are considered by Horus to be qualified to guard his royal city forever.

Among them are Astartes, mortal elites, and even those from outside the Wolf Realm: the completion of each statue requires the personal approval of the Primarch, so even for the Shadow Moon Wolves, it is a matter of pride to be able to gain a seat among them.

Even Abaddon is no exception.

Naturally, Abaddon's statue was one of the first to be completed, but the company captain only went to see it once from beginning to end: because he felt that the statue was not well carved and did not highlight his wise charm.

“So, these mortals are still a little bit lacking in the field of art after all.”

Abaddon spoke to his battle brothers beside him as if complaining, but when he was guided by someone and saw the banquet venue standing on the wilderness, even this usually tough-talking company commander had to change his tone willingly.

"Of course, they do have some talent in civil engineering. Even compared to the Imperial Fists and Iron Warriors, the buildings built by mortals have their own merits."

"Who says it's not?"

Loken nodded beside him. "When the Primarch gave the order, we thought he was joking."

"But the efficiency of these mortal workers is far higher than we imagined."

"Come on, brother: I hope we haven't missed the first drink at the party."

Abaddon nodded, then took one last glance at the banquet venue.

In order to avoid strong winds, the venue was built in a circular valley. The nearly circular terrain here was naturally suitable for use as a theater and arena. The skilled craftsmen among mortals only needed to do a little decoration, and a grand banquet hall that could accommodate tens of thousands of people rose from the ground under the shadow of thousands of warships.

The largest tent Abaddon had ever seen in his life was tied tightly above the valley with tens of thousands of iron chains, blocking out the scorching sun and wild wind. Instead, there were endless footsteps and complex languages ​​from thousands of different worlds.

Tens of thousands of well-dressed servants were busy at the several entrances and exits of the valley. Abaddon could see them busy carrying exquisite cushions and relatively simple food: large pieces of fresh meat sizzling with the sound of boiling oil, priceless wine shaking in exquisite silver pots, and fresh fruits and vegetables were used as embellishments, wrapped in a transparent cover to block the wind and sand.

If one considers the noble status of the people at the banquet, these relatively simple military food may be an offense to them: but being invited by the Wolf God says it all, and the food and location are equally unimportant.

"Follow me."

Before going in, he felt a sense of nervousness for the first time in a long time. He turned his head and glanced at Frank who was standing behind him: If there was no mortal deputy who was proficient in the titles of various big men in the Wolf Kingdom, Abaddon would suffer next.

"Understood, my lord."

The young man lowered his head, showing a humble attitude that pleased Abaddon the most.

Then they walked in together.

What a grand sight it would be to have tens of thousands of noblemen reveling in a palace at the same time: Abaddon had never really had any idea of ​​what this would be like before.

But when he followed his brothers into the cave, even one of the three most experienced Great Crusade heroes could not help but be stunned for a moment.

He had certainly seen far greater numbers of people, fighting bloody battles on battlefields, but the perception was completely different: they were in a banquet hall that looked like the ancient Roman Colosseum, with long stone tables and chairs carved from precious cork arranged on the steps, priceless eternal lamps and elegant waiters moving around to arouse the interests of the dignitaries.

At the top level were participants of relatively lower status, and the lower one went, the greater the power and authority: the Primarch's throne was at the very core of the entire banquet hall, and in front of him was a wide flat ground that was large enough to support the bloody fight between two companies of Astartes.

Like the emperor of ancient Rome.

As Abaddon walked down the stairs one level at a time, he first noticed the loudspeakers that were arranged so densely: even if Horus was just humming in the softest voice, everyone present could hear it clearly.

Then, all kinds of faces, familiar or unfamiliar, surrounded the company captain with false feelings: Abaddon had to keep in private contact with his mortal deputy, and once again admired the shrewdness and strength of the young man behind him.

I'll give him a promotion when I get back! A raise!

To those who can, shall receive more: as the Primarch said.

Abaddon, who had never considered such a thing before, thought naturally.

And the sound continued.

"This is Admiral Liburn. The 1384th Expeditionary Fleet led by him defeated a greenskin fleet forty times its size not long ago, and the entire fleet did not suffer any casualties in a single battleship."

"The one with red hair is Moff Jervis. His family has deep connections with at least two Forge Houses and three Knight Dynasties. He is also one of the earliest supporters of the Warmaster. He even rejected the temptation to join the Terran Senate."

"And the lady who doesn't want to travel with anyone. Her name is Hejinlina. She is one of the strongest psykers under the Warmaster. Her psyker potential has been confirmed by both Primarch Morgan and Master Ahriman: it is at least Alpha level, and has never been out of control."

"The wandering trader Sagu had carried out twelve successful expeditions to the outer darkness, bringing the Primarch with countless powerful weapons from the Dark Age of Technology and alien civilizations. It is said that his flagship was not built with known technology, and in order to avoid being tracked by the Dark Angels, he joined the army of Lord Horus."

"As for the battle brother standing in front of you now, his name is Hawkwood, and he is from the Gothic Sector. He was appreciated by the Primarch for his outstanding combat ability. Let me tell you this: he once defeated Alajos of the First Legion and Radolon of the Ninth Legion in an informal duel."

"However, many people, including Lord Locke, say that his fighting methods and character are questionable."

"Oh, right, there's that..."

As Frank introduced all the heroes present to him in detail, Abaddon could not help but marvel in his heart: every time he returned from an expedition, there seemed to be more heroes under the command of the Primarch who were unfamiliar to him.

Moreover, each of them is so powerful to the point of being terrifying.

And the Wolf Shepherd God was able to invite as many as ten thousand people like this.

The First Captain narrowed his eyes: nothing could stop his pride in his Primarch.

He could already imagine the 10,000 feast-goers gathered in the Colosseum. Behind them stood a huge army, a powerful force, and a terrifying might. When such a majestic hammer was transformed into the war marshal's hand, could even Holy Terra really stop its edge?

With a light-hearted heart, Abaddon followed the crowd to the center of the banquet: the Wolf God's confidants paid tribute to their genetic father with the most formal etiquette, and the Imperial Warmaster, who was chatting and laughing with several mortals, immediately stood up and stopped their behavior.

"Sejanus, Loken, Abaddon."

Horus laughed briskly.

"If even you guys are going to be so serious with me, then this galaxy is a little too cruel for me."

"Please, gentlemen: leave me a few tree holes where I can do whatever I want."

The Sons of Horus laughed and stepped forward one by one to pay their respects to their genetic father. Abaddon even bumped fists with the Primarch. The Wolf Shepherd God looked his Captain up and down and nodded repeatedly.

"You've gotten a lot stronger."

"And you seem older, my Lord."

Abaddon's words made his gene-father burst into laughter: But just as Ezekiel said, Horus's eyebrows and eyes really seemed to have aged a bit. I don't know if it was the huge workload that put pressure on him, or if something happened recently that made the Primarch upset.

But apart from that, the wolf god looked no different from when he was on Ullanor. He was still wearing a pearly white armor, but he had changed the wolf skin on his body and it was no longer as shabby as before.

In his every move, Horus was less embarrassed than he was on Ullanor, and more calm and composed, having been accustomed to holding the power of life and death.

Abaddon felt that it was difficult for him to understand the Primarch's mind through simple observation as he had done before: Horus had obviously become more complicated, but at the same time, he had become much more transparent, and some things that could have been regarded as his weaknesses in the past had been quietly erased from the Warmaster's mind.

"Did Sejanus tell you?"

"of course."

Abaddon nodded.

"To be honest, sir, even among my legions at the front, there are already rumors about the safety of the Emperor. What really surprises me is that you have been patient until now and decided to confront Terra?"

"Of course I am angry, Ezekiel."

The Primarch picked up a wine glass and toasted in Loken's direction.

"Ask Gavial. I was so angry that I almost scared him off."

Abaddon looked over, and Loken proved it for the Wolf God with a wry smile.

"But I also know that if I just let my anger take control and attack Terra without any preparation, I won't get any valuable results. So, if I really want to release my anger, I must go through careful preparation in advance."

The company commander nodded again.

"So, you're ready?"

Horus just smiled.

"not me."

He pointed to the feast in the distance.

It also points to the stars further away.

"It's them."

“[They] are ready.”

(End of this chapter)