Emperor's Bane

Chapter 870: Terra Crisis - Enemy at the Gate
On the first day of the forty-ninth year since the Emperor of Mankind left the frontiers of the Great Crusade, a silent alarm swept across Holy Terra.

Panic came from the other side of the void, from beyond people's sight, from corners deeper than Luna and Mars, from the farthest place where the sun's light could reach: a giant wolf emerged from the shadows under the moon.

Before the first rays of dawn climbed over the walls of the Imperial Palace, the cold wind of the long night blew the wailing of the Spirit of Vengeance to the high towers of the Himalayas.

The shadow of the Wolf God obscures the beauty of the old year and the hope of the new year. Although his footsteps have not yet reached Terra, the world has held its breath because of him.

On the streets, in the houses, in the wasteland covered with yellow sand, in the hive city with towering spires, in the bustling corridors of the spaceport, and next to the muzzle of the Phalanx's guns ready for battle.

Tens of millions of voices are waiting for a name that has nothing to do with them.

Through murmurs, through whispers, through files rustling in the breeze, through harsh and unpleasant broadcasts on street corners: the fire that was originally just hidden among thousands of stars and hanging in a corner of the sky, accompanied by countless astonished gazes and heartbeats, is getting closer and closer to the country of the Terrans.

Pedestrians stopped running, officials stopped arguing, soldiers lowered their guns, children raised their heads, curious people stopped smiling, and the old man in the magnificent mansion had dry lips as he muttered to himself about the old disasters in this land that no one was willing to believe.

On the battlements of the imperial palace, the emperor's guards in gold armor and silver stripes patrolled among them, scolding their restless comrades beside them.

In the tunnel of the airport, the Imperial Fists, who were on high alert, took a deep breath, and the smoky cold air stained their armor with water droplets.

Some may pray silently, some may stick to their posts, or perhaps they may celebrate the coming of daylight and the New Year's Eve feast in pure ignorance: no matter what, when the ancient calendar turns to the next page, someone on the most glorious tower of Holy Terra is destined to lament the fate of the entire galaxy.

Then, he will leave, he will rush, he will drag his old body, step by step up to the observation deck of Bab Fortress. That is the glory of the Imperial Sanctuary, the symbol of power of the Terra Guard, and the only way to put the motherland of mankind on the table in the gamble of fate.

He walked up, and every tower in the palace rang a long bell for him. The wailing of the air defense alarm was like the clamor of a celebration in the city: when the last void shield, a symbol of malice, was slowly faded away under the shadow of the low-orbit platform, the ruler of the empire looked up at the sky as calm as a lake, and only the eagle beside him could hear the sigh.

The voice was tense and stern, but more of it was a sense of relief after the move was made.

at last……

"he came."

------

"The game is set, Apocalypse."

"But it's like you said."

"None of us guessed the real first move."

"Whether it's you or me..."

"Ah!"

"It's still our naughty illegitimate daughter."

------

"Luna's monitoring outpost just sent back a message."

"The Spirit of Vengeance has arrived and will be officially connected to Terra's orbit in three hours."

At all times, the Guards of Terra seemed to be as unshakable as his nature: whether it was the snow-white stubborn short hair, the stone-carved face, the golden armor, or the unchanging and uncompromising expression on his resolute face.

Dorne is Dorne, and Dorne will not change with the passage of time.

"Did the Imperial Guard tell you this?"

The Sigillite had already sensed the Primarch's presence when the Terran Guards stopped in front of the palace gates, but it was not until Dorn's heavy footsteps stepped up the steps and stood behind him that Malcador stopped his slow breathing, turned his head, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes reflected the golden light.

"No."

The primarch shook his head.

"Although the Imperial Guard maintains many outposts and star forts in the solar system, as far as I know, there are high priests, prophets and Eagle's Nest, but they are only willing to communicate the most basic intelligence with my legion. Regarding the information about the Spirit of Vengeance, it has always been the High Lords' Council that has maintained in-depth cooperation with me."

"That's it..."

The palm bearer nodded.

"I understand: I will tell the Custodians to open their intelligence network to you."

"Can you command them?"

Dorn frowned. He had no hidden meaning but simply questioned whether there was anyone else in the galaxy who could command those golden warriors except their king and father.

To be fair, after working together on Terra for nearly fifty years, the Lord of the Imperial Fist and his Legion had mixed feelings towards these colleagues who shared the same color preferences as themselves: the Custodians were a force that was difficult to like, but they did have their own merits that were difficult to conceal.

Their ability, loyalty, and tenacity: even the Imperial Fists would be impressed.

But their arrogance, aloofness, contempt, and deep-seated uncooperativeness: even the Imperial Fists can't stand it.

It is not so much cooperation between the two sides, but rather that after fifty years of observation, the Custodes reluctantly acknowledged the loyalty of the Imperial Fists and acquiesced to their having more autonomy of action within the realm of Holy Terra and the Solar System.

Even someone like Dorn finds it difficult to adapt to this inherent arrogance.

Although he would never express it verbally.

But Malcador would naturally know that when he was ordered to form the Council of High Lords, he had experienced the same difficulties.

"This time, there are orders from the Emperor."

The seal holder's mouth corners slightly raised, as if he was thinking of something happy.

"What's more, he also urgently allocated fifty [Morgan's Picks] to me."

"Morgan…what?"

Dorn hesitated for a moment, wondering if he had just heard something wrong.

"Nothing, you just need to know that I have the ability to control the Imperial Guards today."

The Sigillite leaned against the battlements, his thin body looking as if it would be blown away by the cold wind from high above the palace at any moment. Dorn took a few steps forward, using his broad shadow to shield Malcador from the scorching sun, and together they looked toward the hive city shrouded in smoke in the distance.

"Just today: or until the day Horus leaves?"

The Primarch was not stupid: he knew this matter would not end immediately.

"It makes no difference."

The seal bearer's lips moved, burying some disturbing information in his heart.

Even though he had been in the position of Terran Guard for fifty years, Dorn's power was still subject to certain restrictions: for example, without Malcador's approval, the Lord of the Imperial Fist could not enter the palace, so he knew almost nothing about what was going on in the palace.

This provided room for Malcador to conceal his intentions.

The Sigillite would not tell the Primarch that when the Chief of the Guards, Valdor, came to him the night before, in addition to conveying the Emperor's attitude towards the matter, he actually had an additional responsibility.

That is to call for more reinforcements.

In Valdor's words, although the situation on the Webway had never gotten out of control, it was indeed developing downwards: the threats from the Warp were growing at a rate visible to the naked eye, and even if they had never broken through the Emperor's defenses, they had ample means to cause more trouble to the Webway, which was not particularly reliable to begin with.

Although no large-scale war broke out in the Webway, and the core backbones brought in by the Emperor maintained their strength, the constant attacks and blows from the Four Gods of the Warp almost exhausted the forces of the Lord of Mankind just to maintain stability on all sides and repair cracks.

Not to mention that, apart from the Custodians, the Sisters of Silence and a few troops, the rest of the forces brought into the Webway by the Emperor, although known as the Emperor's confidants, could not be completely trusted after all: Therefore, as the business in the Webway expanded more and more, after much consideration, the Emperor finally decided to withdraw the last batch of Custodians remaining in the Terra Palace.

(In the original Webway War, after determining that the situation was irreversible, the members of the Mechanicus who built the Webway for the Emperor tried to withdraw their troops, abandon the Webway and go back to fight for Mars. This move directly led to the defense line of the Imperial Guard being broken by the demons.)
This has resulted in there being only a mere one hundred imperial guards left in the palace, a number that is ridiculously low.

But the Emperor didn't care.

He was confident that even if the Imperial Guards were reduced to only a few dozen people, it would not have much impact on the protection of the palace: without the Imperial Guards, the Terra Palace would be able to stand firm with its elite mortal troops and various protective mechanisms. As for the most important secrets under the palace, the black-armored Imperial Guards responsible for guarding there had never been mobilized.

Nothing will go wrong in the short term.

But the web is different.

The Lord of Mankind had a hunch: the Four Chaos Gods could not be ignorant, and when the crisis in the real universe broke out on Terra, they would definitely seize this perfect opportunity and launch an unprecedented offensive against the Emperor simultaneously in the Webway.

If the situation was better, they might just drag the Emperor into the Webway. But if the Four Gods chose to use their true power, then even if they could not destroy humanity's new Webway, they would have the means to trap the Emperor and his army in it, completely cutting them off from the real universe.

Until then, the Emperor must do his utmost to hold all power in his hands.

Malcador understood this, and he and his lord were prepared. When the crisis on Terra broke out, a larger crisis would surely break out simultaneously within the Webway. For the Four Gods, they only needed to hold back the Emperor, and they could watch with relish how the human empire gradually disintegrated due to its inherent hostility and chaos.

This is an open conspiracy, and it is even one that does not require much thinking to figure out.

Under the circumstances, Malcador would have preferred to have as few Custodes as possible in the palace: he trusted in the abilities of the mortal elite and the defenses against traps.

And, to put it bluntly, if the intruders can defeat the elite mortals one after another, pass through the traps that are powerful enough to murder Titans, and avoid the Sigillite himself who is on standby at any time: then even if the Custodians can stop them, they will have little chance of winning.

This is the most embarrassing thing about the Golden Guards of the Lord of Mankind: as mere personal guards or defenders, they are completely overqualified, and the enemies they imagine are either not worthy of the personal action of the Imperial Guards, or even the entire Ten Thousand Men Corps will be of no avail.

During the Great Crusade, as an elite force following the Lord of Mankind, the cost-effectiveness problem of the Custodians was not obvious enough. But when peace came, the awkward position of the Golden Warriors became apparent even earlier than that of the Astartes warriors: the Astartes at least had a large territory to defend.

Of course, these are things to follow.

What the seal holder really paid attention to was that when he came into contact with the Wolf God, he didn't have to worry about the Imperial Guards causing him any trouble: he had seen the Imperial Guards trained by Morgan, and their tempers and rationality were indeed surprisingly good.

They could even greet him with a smile.

Malcador even couldn't help but think that perhaps the Emperor made a mistake: he should have found Morgan first, and then gave every found Primarch to Morgan for education. Then, they wouldn't have to deal with all the troubles they were facing.

Morgan didn't want much anyway: if it was the Lord of Avalon who came with the fifteen Primarchs, Malcador wouldn't even have the heart to confront her.

The 100-year paid vacation that Morgan left for him had been locked in the safe by Machado.

But Horus?
"He'll have to train for at least a while longer."

"If it's two or three hundred years later, I don't mind leaving my place to him."

The Scepter placed the scepter aside and slowly stretched his body, his bones making crackling sounds. Dorn looked sideways, but his gaze quickly returned to the front. Outside the walls of the Imperial Palace, the Terra Guards looked at the streets of the hive city that were still immersed in the New Year atmosphere, and his brows furrowed unconsciously.

"Is this really appropriate?"

There was some worry in Dawn's voice.

"Withdraw the fleet, lower the void shield, and keep the ground troops on vacation. The security around the palace is so weak that even ordinary residents in the hive city have to maintain their daily routines, and they also have to hold a New Year's celebration to welcome Horus. Although I agree with the last thing, shouldn't we be more rigorous in terms of protection?"

"Are you afraid of him?"

Malcador did not look at Dorn either, he also looked at the hive in the distance.

Although Holy Terra at this time had experienced the chaos and madness of the Age of Strife, its natural environment had not been completely destroyed: on the contrary, with the perfect victory of the Great Crusade and the following fifty years of glory, the supplies and luxury that poured in from all over the galaxy allowed the human home planet to regain its new spring after a thousand years.

Although concepts such as the ocean and snow-capped mountains have given way to endless deserts, the high lords have the ability to build a better environment near the palace: the magnificent architectural areas are dotted with green scenery and gardens. Although not as good as Prospero in its heyday, it is also a unique scenery among the bustle and prosperity during festivals.

However, this mortal happiness is so close to the icy caves of the pinnacles of power, such as the Terra Palace and the Parliament Hall. Many senior officials even spent the New Year with their families last night, but today they had to walk out of their illusory happiness and wait for the Moon Wolf's footsteps in silence, with cold sweats pouring down their cheeks.

"I'm not afraid."

It's not that the Primarch didn't understand this joy, he just couldn't comprehend the current situation.

"You know, Sigillite, I am a supporter of the Warmaster Horus on many issues, and I will openly admit it even now. But this does not mean that I am afraid of the Warmaster, nor that I think it is a good idea for you to remove the defenses of Holy Terra when the Spirit of Vengeance approaches."

“This is so shaky.”

"Although I don't believe Horus will lose control, this approach itself is wrong."

"You are placing the safety of Holy Terra and the Imperial Palace itself on the whims of an outsider."

"This is a dereliction of duty, Sigillite." "The situation is not as bad as you think."

The Seal Bearer raised his eyes and looked towards the dust-free universe above the sky of Terra: the shadow cast by the Phalanx was more glittering than the sun's light, and next to this shadow that was as vast as a hive city, an increasingly bright arc of light was the mount of the Wolf Shepherd God.

"After all, your Shanzhen is still in low orbit around Terra, and you have deployed most of the Imperial Fists on it, and the Warmaster has agreed to park the Vengeful Spirit next to it. Don't forget that Horus only brought one ship with him, and Leman Russ's fleet is following behind him."

"You two are staying on the left and right. Are you afraid that the Spirit of Vengeance will harm Terra?"

"You can't take exceptions as a guarantee, Sigillite."

Dorn retorted, but he did not deny what Malcador said.

After all, this is the fact: the gesture made by the Wolf God was indeed quite beautiful. He only brought one ship and went deep into the ruling center of the High Lords. Not only did he let the whole galaxy see his sincerity, but he also reduced Terra's panic about the arrival of the Warmaster to the lowest point. Even Dorn's confidence in speaking was a bit higher.

"Because Horus doesn't care about these. His trump card is the people on the ship."

The Primarch's eyes were deep as he looked at the mortal guards outside the palace, which were ten times more than usual, and the Imperial Guards, whose numbers were suspiciously small. After some thought and hesitation, he asked the Sigillite the question that concerned him most.

"There is no doubt that the Warmaster and his temporary allies have reached an agreement, and the entire galaxy is also concerned about the same issue. How do you plan to respond to their questions, Sigillite: You know, because this is also my question."

Dorn stared at Malcador: fifty years of silence and growing suspicion had finally revealed the tip of the iceberg.

"Emperor."

"my father."

"Where... is he?"

"Is he really in the inner court of the imperial palace not far behind us?"

"..."

The seal bearer remained silent.

At this moment, even the cold wind that swept across the highest point of Holy Terra, and even the scorching sunlight without the protection of the ozone layer, had to stay away from the solemnity between the helmsman of the Empire and the Terra Guards. Just the dangerous aura that they unconsciously exuded during the confrontation was enough to frighten the mortal elites responsible for guarding the palace into fainting.

Fortunately, before the first patrol team appeared from the corner, the Sigillite took the initiative to step back, restrained his breath, and became the harmless old man again: and although Dorn still maintained his simple attitude, the Primarch obviously did not have the habit of pursuing relentlessly.

In the slightly warmer air, the low laughter of the seal holder was faintly heard.

"I thought you would keep your doubts hidden, Terran Guard."

"If your preparations are of any use to me, I would have done so, Sigillite."

The Primarch nodded, but his stubborn attitude did not waver in the slightest, and his voice sounded more like he was denouncing the Sigillite's incompetence than stating facts.

"But I see no sincerity or effort in your preparations. You have no idea how to convince the Warmaster, and you have no intention of explaining where the Emperor is. Your actions will undermine everything the Great Crusade has built, and drag the galaxy into an unknown abyss."

"You clearly know what Horus wants, and you also know how many unstable factors have been involved in the Empire over the years, but you seem to remain indifferent to this: I am sure that you and the Elderly Main Council are loyal, but because of this, your reaction makes me even more confused."

"You seem to be intentionally doing something extremely stupid, Sigillite."

"You are destroying the foundation of the human empire's rule with absolute loyalty."

The Primarch looked into the distance, at the towers and fortresses built by the Imperial Fists. Standing in the luxurious residential areas, they seemed so out of tune with the surrounding environment. The Imperial Fists, who were still performing their duties dutifully during the New Year's feast, stood in the bustling and luxurious parade, and were as conspicuous as a piece of iron among the flowers.

Even after fifty years, the Terrans still dislike these defenders appointed by the Emperor himself.

But Dorn didn't care.

He never needed anyone to like him: even if that person was the seal holder he respected.

"There are a lot of questions you want to ask."

Malcador sighed. The Sigillite seemed to be more relieved to be able to negotiate more frankly with the Primarch.

"And I can only reply to one of them."

"one?"

Dawn frowned.

"Trust me, it's enough."

The Sigillite smiled, then lowered his voice: The Primarch could still hear clearly.
"Let me tell you."

"The Emperor is inside the palace."

"For fifty years, he never left."

"Fifty years..."

Dorn's face was touched, and an inexplicable light flashed in his pupils.

"why?"

"Because he is carrying out a plan that concerns the entire human race for thousands of years. This plan is countless times more important than the most important thing you can imagine in your mind: compared with it, the survival of the empire is not worth mentioning, even if the galaxy is burned for it."

"As long as he succeeds, the glory of the human race will be more dazzling than that of the Eldar."

"Let me tell you, Dorn, all the unreasonable things you have witnessed and heard in the past fifty years, whether it is the High Lords, the ridiculous tithes, or even the reasons why the Warmaster is now on Terra, everything is paving the way for this plan: the Emperor knows them, and these are the prices he is willing to pay."

"..."

The Primarch was silent for a long time.

During this time, Dorn's lips moved unnaturally for a few times, and he seemed to want to speak. He wanted to speak very much, to get to the bottom of the matter, to find out what the important plan was: but the Inverter Snow in his heart finally overcame his instinctive doubts, and he closed his lips, but his eyes were no longer as firm as a rock as usual, which betrayed him.

It also made Macador laugh.

"Are you wondering why I didn't tell your other brothers about this?"

Dawn nodded.

"the reason is simple."

Malcador stretched out his fingers and tapped his temples gently.

"Dorn, the Terran Guard."

"Think about what you were doing?"

"Shut up."

"That's right!"

"That's why."

Malcador nodded seriously.

"Of all the eighteen Primarchs created by your father, you are the only one who, after knowing this, did not try to trace the truth within. You are the only one who, when faced with the most secret truth in the galaxy, was willing to look away and focus on your own responsibilities."

"Maybe there will be others who can do it, but it's uncertain. They may or may not be able to do it."

“We don’t dare to gamble.”

"But you are different, Dorn, because we all know you can do it. We all know your steadfastness and your indomitable spirit. We know that you are as hard as the stone of Invertur: and this is the most important reason why the Emperor is willing to entrust you with the duties of the Terran Guard."

"firm."

“Sometimes, it transcends all virtues.”

"..."

There was another moment of silence.

But unlike before, when the silhouette of the Spirit of Vengeance had gradually become so huge that even the most confused mortals on Holy Terra could vaguely see its shadow on the skyline, the Terra Guards were finally ready to leave.

Before leaving, Dorn nodded to the seal bearer as a farewell.

"I won't believe everything you say."

"So much the better."

Malcador did not look at him; he had not counted on Dorn's full support.

the reason is simple.

"Because you broke the rules."

What he said to the Sigillite before the Primarch left sounded like a personal complaint.

"We all know that now, Horus is the one who chooses to follow the rules."

"He followed the will of the people of the Empire. Now it is you Terrans who are rebelling against Tiangang."

"His request is just and reasonable: you'd better give a satisfactory answer during the talks."

"It's not my choice in this matter, Dawn."

"I know."

The Primarch's figure gradually moved away.

"But the choice is mine, Sigillite."

By the time the voice arrived, Dorn's footsteps had already disappeared.

It was not until he left that the shadows of the first team of mortals patrolling here appeared around the corner. They bowed to the Seal Bearer, who remained silent.

He stood next to a golden statue of an Imperial Sky Eagle. In the mirror-smooth reflected arc of light, the dense bloodshot veins in the seal bearer's pupils were clearly visible: also visible was the light flickering on the top of his psychic scepter.

It was a newsletter.

A heartbreaking communication.

"..."

"Ugh……"

When his hunched figure also disappeared in the brilliance of the inner hall of the imperial palace, the sigh of the Sigillite stayed at the highest point of Holy Terra for a long time.

He was sighing: because of a piece of bad news that was unexpected but also reasonable.

------

On the webway.

Something happened after all.

At the moment when the Wolf God arrived at Terra.

Malcador, lost his last possible connection with the Lord of Mankind.

(End of this chapter)