Emperor's Bane

Chapter 872 Terra Crisis - Shameless
During the Warmaster's negotiations with Terra, the first question that came up was a question so simple that it seemed a little ridiculous to bystanders.

But it is necessary: ​​where will this negotiation, which concerns the fate of the galaxy, take place?

Terra?

For the Empire's Warmaster, this was somewhat too risky.

Spirit of Vengeance?

For Malcador and the High Lords, this was undoubtedly a loss of their little remaining dignity.

As for the Skye Orbital Platform: the only existing artificial satellite of Holy Terra, although it is suitable from a geographical point of view, it ultimately did not enter the eyes of the Sigillite and the Warmaster for one reason or another.

At this point, the answer seemed to have become very obvious: when the names of Rogal Dorn and the Phalanx were brought up, the Sigillite and the Warmaster were in rare agreement, and they even believed that this result was beneficial to them.

The only one who was dissatisfied was Rogal Dorn.

Although the Lord of the Imperial Fist never expressed it directly, in his heart, he was always proud of his identity as the Terran Guard, not because of how much honor it involved, but because this heavy responsibility proved that he and his legion: especially the latter, were dedicated to fulfilling their duties.

But now, the mortal he respected most and the brother he admired most were joining hands to disturb the pure land in Dorne's heart: the Primarch could not predict the outcome of this meeting, but he was sure that the conversation between the Warmaster and the Sigillite was destined to go down in history, but it might also be infamous for eternity.

But no matter what, this reputation that no one wants is about to involve the Phalanx and the entire Seventh Legion.

This was not what Dorn wanted.

But he chose to accept it.

The Primarch calmly made his promise, but he also made two demands of his own.

First, both parties to the negotiation cannot carry any weapons when boarding the Mountain Array. The Lord of the Imperial Fist will bring his personally selected warriors to undertake all security work at the venue.

Second: He needs time to prepare.

it's necessary.

In the days past, the mission of the Phalanx had never strayed from combat and vigilance, and a negotiation aimed at promoting peace was an extremely unfamiliar experience for this space hive: Dorn had to remove the sharp teeth and claws of this fortress first, so that it would not cut the ignorant visitors for no reason.

It was not easy to clear a sufficiently wide and safe space on the Phalanx. Just temporarily shutting down the ubiquitous defense mechanisms made the Imperial Fists busy and sweating, not to mention taking care of the torpedo tubes and lance guns that were ready to go one by one.

But before the agreed time, Dorne's descendants cleared several thousand meters of safe space. Although it was only one ten-thousandth of the entire Phalanx, it was enough: on the front deck that could accommodate more than a dozen cruisers, the spacecraft and transport ships of the two negotiating parties had already become impatient.

Even though he was somewhat resentful in his heart about the responsibility of this temporary arrangement, Dorn still did his job to the best of his ability. He selected five hundred of the most reliable Imperial Fists and even considered whether to awaken a few Dreadnoughts. He also arranged the venue in a way that no one could blame him.

When the Warmaster of the Empire stepped onto the largest spaceship ever built by human hands, what the Phalanx responded to him with was absolute silence: in an area comparable to a small satellite, Dorn's legion maintained absolute silence. If he had not known it long ago, Horus would never have believed that tens of thousands of Imperial Fists were hiding in the silence of this dead city.

You know, the Phalanx is large enough to reflect light like a planet. Occasionally, it can even create the spectacle of a second moon in the night sky of Holy Terra. This complex city thousands of kilometers long has achieved such a unified silence just because of Rogal Dorn's words: the Seventh Legion is enough to scare the enemy with just this one scene.

Everyone knows how powerful the fighting power of such a disciplined army can be: especially when they are like their father, hiding a volcanic anger under an absolutely cold surface.

“It’s really eye-opening.”

The War Marshal shook his head and threw these unnecessary worries out of his mind. Then, he sighed from the bottom of his heart, hugged his brother, and praised him sincerely.

"Before this, I thought a hive, even one in space, was bound to be noisy."

“First of all, it’s a fortress.”

The curve of his lips indicated that this sentence contained Rogal Dorn's unique sense of humor.

The Warmaster laughed. He did not take up too much of Dorn's time: Horus brought a large delegation. In addition to the Wolf-God and his only lieutenant Agnes, every participating legion sent their representatives, as well as the right-hand men who were needed by these representatives.

In the next twenty minutes, Dorn had to recall two-thirds of his brothers: Fulgrim's arrogance, Mortarion's stubbornness, Sanguinius's laziness and Jaghatai Khan's smoothness (smoothness from Dorn's perspective), as well as those Astartes warriors who were too similar to their genetic father. With just a blink of an eye, it was as if the brother they represented was standing in front of Dorn.

Especially Sevatar.

Dorn even wavered for a moment: Did his Night Haunter brother make the same mistake that only mortals would make at some point in the past?

Otherwise, how could they have offspring who look so similar?
Reality did not answer the Lord of the Imperial Fist, because the Holy Terra delegation was only a few minutes away from the Warmaster's team: when the Sigillite's tattered robes and his almost unchanging old face appeared in everyone's sight, the originally lively scene of the brothers meeting suddenly became deserted.

Leman Russ, who was following behind the Sigillite, could only force out a stiff smile, then walked silently, standing a little further away from Malcador.

Unlike Horus, the delegation brought by the Sigillite could be described as shabby, especially considering his high position and power. The number of people getting on and off the High Lord's ship was abnormally small.

Malcador only brought two colleagues with him, Madame Hesula, the matron of the Astronomican, and Marshal Rawl of the Arbitral Tribe. The stability of the former was the best evidence that the Emperor was still safe and sound, while the latter was the most prominent hawk among the High Lords, and Malcador did not dare to leave him on Terra.

In addition, there were several silent waiters beside the Sigillite, and a tribune of the Guards who was observing Horus and others: the sharp-eyed Primarch discovered that although the armor of this Guardsman maintained the same gorgeous style as his colleagues, there were some silver-white patterns on his left chest that were not in harmony with the overall gold-plated color.

When this Guard noticed the gaze of Horus and others, he did not make any further statement. He just looked back and nodded, as a greeting to Horus and others. His friendly attitude did not seem like that of a Guard at all.

But these were not the main points. The Wolf God made only a routine observation and then focused all his attention on the Sigillite: the Primarch was fully focused. As someone who had fought head-on with Malcador, he knew how difficult it was to deal with this frail old fellow who made his brothers despise him.

So the Warmaster stepped forward, stood in front of the Sigillite, and held out his hand.

"Long time no see, Mr. Malcador."

The seal bearer looked at Horus and then extended his old hand. Although there was such a huge difference in the size of the two men, when they shook hands, there was a strange sense of coordination.

"I think the best situation between us is to never say your last words, Warmaster."

Horus was amused.

"Believe me."

There was a fierce light in the Warmaster's eyes.

"If you hadn't gone too far, I wouldn't want to have come to this point."

"But the facts have proven that if I don't make my attitude clear, all I can get from you is perfunctory attitude and lies."

“There is only a thin wall between lies and reality: smart people can easily cross it.”

The seal bearer withdrew his hand, and he didn't seem to have any intention of continuing the conversation.

"That's enough, Wolf Shepherd God. There are no narrators or irrelevant bystanders here. There is no need to waste time on such things."

"I like the efficient bureaucratic style."

Horus grinned, showing his teeth.

"I hope you can give us a satisfactory answer with the same attitude later."

The Sigillite did not respond to this. He just looked towards Dorn not far away. Horus also looked over there: behind him, the Warmaster's allies were gradually gathering together, and no one wanted to miss the next meeting.

"Now, can you take us to the venue you have prepared for us, brother?"

The Warmaster held out a friendly hand, and Dorn simply nodded indifferently.

The Terran Guard knew his role. When Horus and Malcador met, Rogal Dorn's face was as dead as stone. Even if he spoke, no one would hear his words and lean towards either side.

An absolute neutralist, a person who can reassure both sides at the same time.

"I have arranged for you two to talk in Mataris Hall, which is one of the core areas of the Phalanx. There is a separate space several kilometers long to record the glory of the Seventh Legion. It is sufficient in terms of security and specifications. Please follow me, I will take you to Mataris Hall."

"But before that, please allow me to make one thing clear: Mataris Hall is extremely important to me and my legion. It is the soul of the Seventh Legion and records every warrior who has sacrificed for honor."

"If any of you take out the anger you have accumulated during the negotiations on the Wall of Honor in the Hall of Mataris, then I will keep the anger that has been generated in my heart."

"Will you expel us?"

Horus asked with a smile, even though the sentence was not a question.

"I have no right to do that."

Dorn shook his head and looked at everyone present equally.

"I don't have the authority to expel anyone from here, I just want to tell you: don't do anything stupid."

"You represent much more here than you realize."

"..."

“So, he’s trying to keep all of us peaceful in the negotiations.”

Farther away, Fulgrim lowered his voice carefully into the air.

"In a: Rogal Dorn way."

"It's all in vain!"

Mortarion's voice was still as hoarse as ever, and he was not afraid that others would hear his disrespect.

"I know the etiquette of being a guest."

The Lord of Death added another sentence to make himself sound less arrogant and unreasonable: This made Chagatai Khan beside him raise his eyebrows.

“I have to be skeptical about that.”

The Khan's voice seemed to float in the sky, making Mortarion glare at him angrily.

"why?"

The Lord of Death taunted viciously.

"Is it because I never come to visit your shabby yurt?"

“I’m just thankful for that.”

The Khan glanced at him.

"Although my people can tolerate the smell of cow and sheep feces, it does not mean that they can tolerate any smell."

"you……"

The poisonous gas generated by anger made everyone around unconsciously take a step back.

"Alright, both of you."

In the end, it was Sanguinius who had to stand in the middle of the conflict.

"Don't make it so ugly in front of outsiders."

The Archangel glanced at Malcador.

"Don't forget, brothers: we are now allies and guests of the Wolf God."

"Cannibalism is not allowed."

"I'm not interested in doing that."

The Lord of Death was angrily and shifted his gaze to another direction where there was nothing.

"A carrion bird is not worth my effort. He doesn't even know how to learn his lesson."

"That's enough, Motta..."

"Jaghatai!"

The triumphant voice of the Lord of Death drowned out the helplessness of the Phoenix and the Angel.

"I heard you hang your failures on the wall and consider them your wealth?"

"And I heard that you were so weighed down by failure that you couldn't even get up."

Khan's tone was bland.

"..."

Mortarion looked away.

Behind him was Vulkan, who had been trying to stop the sudden quarrel among his brothers, but could only throw his hands in the air, not knowing what to do at all.

He looked very lost. He said nothing more.

The angel and the phoenix looked at each other.

They all saw obvious worry in each other's eyes: especially when they thought of Mortarion's identity as their ally.

So, Sanguinius turned his gaze, passing by Kahn who was looking up at the sky, doing nothing, Angerte who had his head down, worrying about something, Felix and Santo who had no sense of existence from the beginning, and finally stopped at his brother with long black hair.

"Corax."

The angel came closer and pointed in the direction of the Lord of Death with the corner of his eye.

"Is it always like this?"

The Crow King was silent for a moment, then nodded solemnly.

"When there is no need for contact, he has always been a very reliable brother."

"Then I should be thankful that his kingdom is next to Phoenix and Salamander, and not me."

The angel smiled, his eyes casually sweeping over Sevatar, Gage and the others, but he soon discovered a problem: this team with an almost fixed number of people seemed to be missing a core character.

What about Lana?
Just as Sanguinius was about to ask, he found the answer to his question not far away.

Rana was right next to Machado.

He was handing the box in his hand to Malcador.

"What is he doing?"

The angel was confused.

------

"You mean, this is the gift that the Lord of Avalon entrusted you to give to me."

Malcador was somewhat confused when he saw the antique box handed to him. He could indeed sense a very obvious spiritual energy unique to Morgan on it.

"Did she ask anything?"

"No: Mother simply asked that no one approach the box without permission and that I hand it to you personally, that's all."

"That's it."

The seal holder nodded. He almost understood what Morgan meant.

"Then leave it to me first."

Malcador took the box. For his skinny body, the box that needed to be held up by Lana with both hands seemed too big. But when the seal holder stuffed it into his empty sleeves, the box disappeared in the blink of an eye, as if it had never existed.

Everyone witnessed this scene, but most people didn't care much about it, even Horus: after all, Lanar had never concealed his plan to give Malcador a gift on behalf of his Primarch Morgan, and the Wolf God didn't think there was anything wrong with this.

"Can we go now?"

Horus waited patiently for Malcador to finish his contemplation. After receiving the affirmative answer from the Sigillite, Dorn, who was standing in the front, began to lead the way for the guests: the Lord of the Imperial Fist took the first seat, followed by the Sigillite and the Warmaster. They were far away from the others, hoping to reach a private agreement before arriving at the meeting room.

As for Lana, he had already mixed in with the Primarchs and Astartes.

But as soon as he returned, Rana noticed that the expression of one of his companions seemed a little strange.

"what happened to you?"

The Grand Master of the Guards looked at Sevatar.

"No...nothing..."

Frowning, the Prince of Crows slowly turned his gaze away from Alpharius.

"I just feel a little sick: maybe the air is too heavy here."

"..."

"Rana?"

"what happened?"

"Do you feel that the Lord of Hydra seems to be a little different?"

"Is there any?"

"Maybe it's my illusion, um..."

"By the way, Brother Lana."

"Once we get back to the Vengeful Spirit, I think I'll need to borrow something from you."

"Please lend it to me."

------

"You're joking."

"There is no need for these boring courtesies between the two of us."

When they were still some distance away from the Mataris Hall that Dorne had mentioned, the Wolf God was the first one to lose his patience.

He looked at Malcador. The mortal in front of him was so weak that he didn't even need to attack him deliberately. The wind he summoned with a wave of his hand might blow the seal bearer to the other side: but the Wolf God didn't really think so.

Although the scars from Makado's tight grip on his throat have long since disappeared, the humiliation and powerlessness are still fresh in his memory.

He couldn't be careless.

The Wolf Shepherd God lowered his voice.

“So, I was thinking.”

"Before everything starts, can we reach some tacit understanding between us?"

"You know, the identities of the guests I invited are somewhat special. After entering the conference room, it will be unlikely for us to have a secret conversation like now. We are not qualified to ask the other Primarchs to leave the conference room."

"..."

The seal holder remained silent.

"So what do you want, Wolf Shepherd?"

"My request is simple."

Horus's expression was serious.

"I want to see the Emperor: with my brothers behind me, to see the Emperor."

"We don't need to talk, nor do we need him to come to us to meet us. We have our own way to confirm the emperor's authenticity. It is enough for us to just take a look at him from a distance. This is my only bottom line."

After saying this, Horus closed his mouth tightly. He stared at Malcador with wide eyes, not wanting to miss even the slightest detail of the old man's face. The Warmaster felt a little nervous, as he knew that the Sigillite's answer would set the tone for the entire negotiation.

And Malcador...

"..."

Machado did not respond.

Seeing this, the Wolf God's pupils suddenly became a little dim.

“Is this a very complicated request?”

His voice began to pick up anger, and the Sigillite sighed in response.

"Be patient, Warmaster."

"We have plenty of time to discuss terms."

"Maybe."

Compared to before, Horus' tone now became colder and harder.

"But let me remind you that time is not on your side, Terrans."

"Also, please know that..."

Horus paused.

"I bring my utmost sincerity: this sincerity will never appear again from now on."

"Trust me, Malcador, the first deal I offered was the most generous, and it has only been progressively less generous since then."

"Sincerity?"

This word made the seal bearer laugh, while the wolf shepherd god frowned.

"why are you laughing?"

"Nothing: I just thought of a saying I heard before I set out."

Malcador stared straight ahead, and the indifference in his pupils made the Wolf God feel very uncomfortable.

No, that's not indifference.

More like: the dead silence of total despair?
"This rumor says that when the Imperial Warmaster went to Luo, he actually brought two lieutenants with him. In addition to Agnes behind us, there was also a confidant named Malohurst."

"Nonsense."

Horus spoke calmly, not looking flustered at all.

"Everyone knows that Malohurst needs to stay on Baimon Star to take charge of the situation. He is the most suitable person to do this."

"Really?"

Malcador looked at the Warmaster, and the Warmaster looked at him, and as they were about to arrive at the Hall of Mataris, these two pinnacles of power in the Empire stared at each other for a moment: they each wanted to get what they wanted in the other's pupils.

The truth, confidence, courage, too many complicated things. Even if the war commander and the seal holder, even if they look directly into the window of each other's soul, they are destined to gain nothing: the only trace is the guarantee left by the Wolf God in the air.

"of course."

"It's just a rumor."

"If not on Baimon, where would my trusty Malohurst be?"

------

火星
------

"Lord General."

"Three minutes ago, a transport ship with an unknown code arrived at the Mars port."

"There is a passenger in the cabin: he calls himself Marlowhurst, the messenger of the Wolf God, and claims that he has important matters to discuss with you."

"We have verified his identity. He did bring a letter from the Wolf God himself. His Excellency Urtz has sent an armed train to invite him to Mount Olympus. He also claimed that the Wolf God's envoy seemed to have brought some very precious gifts and it was worth your meeting him."

"..."

"Then invite him in."

"Let me see how much sincerity our Warmaster is prepared to show to get us on his side."

(End of this chapter)