Emperor's Bane

Chapter 932 Ultimatum

Chapter 932 Ultimatum
Fafnir-Lan ran across the Lionsgate Airport tropospheric platform at the fastest speed of his life.

He was panting heavily and drenched in sweat, not from muscle soreness, but from something urgent that was burning within him like a raging fire, making him restless: just thinking about the mistakes he was making made the Imperial Fist's broad forehead break out in a cold sweat, the solidified sweat as hard as dried paint.

The Emperor is above, the Primal Body is above.

He's going to be late.

No, he's already too late. At the highest-level military conference convened by the Primarch himself, Dorn will surely tear him to pieces.

What bad luck.

After running for a while, until sweat began to drip down his beard and onto his chest, Lann stopped to rest for a while. He took off his helmet, wiped the sweat from his face haphazardly, and breathed in the fresh but thin air at the end of the main star bridge. The fierce wind made him squint involuntarily.

For the past few weeks, he had been in the narrow and crowded passageways of the spaceship, and then spent several hours running around the platform of Lionsgate Airport: as the main passage connecting Holy Terra to the outside world, those who have never seen it in person would never imagine how huge Lionsgate Airport is, enough to hold an army of hundreds of thousands of mortals, or even half of the Imperial Fist Legion.

In the past, Dorn had mobilized several fully armed armored divisions to conduct offensive and defensive exercises on the airport's balconies, mezzanines, and skybridges. Moreover, these exercises did not even affect the airport's daily operations: although the exercise troops occupied a 400-story building and a 20-kilometer-high area, other areas could still operate normally.

For Lann, however, this enormous size only brought him disadvantages. Finding his battle comrades and Stormbirds waiting for him amidst dozens of platforms and millions of people was no easy task, especially when he was sweating profusely, irritable, and his armor was filled with maddening heat.

He intended to loosen the seal on his armor, but considering he was currently more than 10,000 meters in the air, it might not be a good idea: even for Astartes, the lack of oxygen was painful enough.

But by the Emperor's grace, just before Lann could no longer contain his notoriously volatile temper, he finally spotted the person waiting for him in a corner of the Star Bridge.

The Fist of the Empire immediately rushed off, while his fellow fighters questioned him without any politeness.

“You’re at least four hours late, Lann.”

"I thought you were one of the 200,000 dead in that small-scale shipwreck."

"Plane crash? When?"

"It happened a few days ago over Venus."

"Several transport ships capsized for unknown reasons, and almost all the passengers on board perished."

"That might really be related to me."

As Lann climbed into the Stormbird, he spoke to his battle comrades without turning his head.

"what?"

Another Imperial Fist lowered his voice.

"I clearly heard there were no survivors?"

"Actually, they exist, but in very small quantities."

Lann waited until the Stormbirds were activated and the cockpit and passenger compartment were completely separated before whispering in his combat brother's ear.

“I was there at the time.”

"You know, I was previously sent by the Primarch to Venus to protect a high-ranking mortal official."

"After escorting him to the station, I planned to take the next transport ship back to Terra directly."

"But not long after we set sail, several Imperial Guards suddenly walked into my room. They said they were ordered to capture a group of spies of the Warlords on this ship and temporarily conscripted me to join their battle because they found that the number of enemies was greater than they had initially expected: you know, that's why I was delayed for several hours."

"The only saving grace is that the leader of the Imperial Guards with the silver badge was somewhat decent; at least he had someone drop me off at Lionsgate Airport."

"It doesn't sound like a lie."

Lann's brother nodded.

"Because the Imperial Guard just issued an order yesterday forbidding anyone from discussing those shipwrecks."

"That's best, it saves us trouble."

Lan leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed; he needed to take a short rest.

"By the way, does the Primarch have any new orders?"

"Have."

"He canceled the strategy meeting, but still required all participants to be on standby at any time."

"Has something happened?"

"I don't know, you'll have to go and see for yourself."

"Anyway, everyone's at the palace now: you should be able to get in, right?"

------

Lann was certainly allowed to enter the palace.

Or at least he could access the Terra Defense Command Center, which was under the full control of the Imperial Fist: this place was also part of the Royal Palace in a broad sense, although it wasn't when Dorn first became the Terra Guardian, but after decades of urban expansion and continuous improvements, it had become one of the internal areas of the Royal Palace.

But for Lann, this was not a good thing: even the Stormbird, the Imperial Fist of Terra's Royal Guard, could not fly into the no-fly zone over the palace without reason.

The Imperial Guards really will shoot him down.

Dorn will too.

The military airfields closest to the palace were already full: it wasn't just the Imperial Fist; it seemed that all the big shots in the Terran army had arrived in Terra in recent times. Some of them left quickly, but some were still in Dorn's command center.

This gave people a bad feeling.

Stormbirds eventually dropped Lann off at the nearest civilian helipad to Terra Palace, a distance so short that an Astartes warrior could sprint there on foot.

That's exactly what he did.

But not long after setting out, Lann encountered an unexpected problem: he had to traverse dozens of tedious streets before reaching the Gate of Eternity. These streets were lined with shops, parks, and residential areas, and the marble roads were crowded with gentlemen in suits, elegantly dressed ladies and their pampered children, unruly officers on leave, and obsequious merchants or servants serving them, who thronged like sheep, dancing amidst joyful fireworks and songs.

Damn it, he actually forgot.

Today is a special day in Terra to commemorate the glorious victory of the Ulanor Expedition.

Imperial Fist's gaze swept over the couples and friends, who were well-dressed, relaxed, and always had smiles on their faces—smiles that Lann could hardly understand, smiles unrelated to victory and honor. He saw couples whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears, he saw Boy Scouts stumbling past the adults' trouser legs, he saw the national flag hanging in the café, and an old man with a beard and his beat-up car.

This is a world so different from his own that he can no longer comprehend it.

The Fist of the Empire hesitated for a moment: he quickly chose the nearest passage for himself.

He held his breath and carefully made his way through the dense crowd, constantly reminding the mortals in front of him to make way. The crowd scattered like a flock of startled birds in front of the Imperial Fist. The small vendors packed up their stalls in fear, and even the arrogant gentlemen quickly stopped their cars, watching the pale yellow figure speed past with awe.

The Imperial Fist Legion of Rogdorath has been stationed in the human capital for fifty years. Those who can operate at the foot of the palace have long since adapted to them, but they still cannot learn to live in harmony: the nature of the Sons of Dorne makes it seem as if a pitiful, thick barrier forever separates them from ordinary mortals.

But Lann didn't have time to pay attention to that. He had to find a balance between avoiding collisions with mortals and increasing his speed. He had thought about finding a car or a flying vehicle, but after glancing at the congestion at the intersection ahead, he still felt that relying on his own two feet was a more suitable option.

As he hurried past the hot dog stands and cafes, his superhuman senses as an Astartes warrior inevitably caught a glimpse of mortals talking as he passed by, hearing them chattering about their troubles and dreams.

------

"Have you heard? My relatives in the army told me that war is about to break out."

"War? What are you thinking?"

"It's true: the retired officer who lives next door to me has even received a second draft order."

"They say Terra is going to war with the Warmaster."

"Impossible, right? Didn't they settle things on Terra more than a year ago?"

"Who knows if it will work out: maybe they're lying?"

Shh! Don't talk nonsense.

"Who knows what these important figures are thinking?"

"Then do you think Terra can beat Warmaster?"

"Of course! What are you thinking!"

"This is Holy Terra, the most powerful nation in the entire galaxy."

“Let me tell you, the officer who lives across from me used to be a big shot. He even saw the Emperor in person during the Great Expedition. He told me that if Holy Terra really launches a full-scale attack on the Warmaster, the war will end in six months at most. If we’re lucky, Terra’s army can even come back for the Emperor’s Day.”

"Really?"

"real!"

"The army of Holy Terra will launch a lightning offensive to capture the Warmaster's capital world, and they will soon surrender."

"You haven't seen the Imperial Fist's army with your own eyes, so you don't know just how powerful they are."

"Anyway, I've already made up my mind. If Terra and the Warlord really go to war, I'll send those troublesome little brats at home to the army."

"That's too dangerous."

"What's there to be afraid of? I have six sons."

"The two troublesome ones inherited my little business, and the remaining four with some ability were sent to the army. With the help of my neighbors and relatives, they should be able to make a name for themselves."

"Let me tell you a secret, they say that if you make a name for yourself in the army and achieve merit, you might even become a governor in the new colony, or at least a high-ranking official. How could my four sons not have any merits? When the time comes, we can bring the whole family over there. Wouldn't that be better than selling hot dogs in this wretched place?"

"What if you die?"

"Staying in the lower city is the same as dying: besides, what kind of battlefield could kill all four of my sons?"

"The officer across the street from my house, of his three brothers, at least he's the only one who survived."

"That makes sense..."

"So what? Let's just start fighting already, I'm just a worthless piece of trash anyway."

------

The sound brushed past his ears and was quickly forgotten. After leaving the crowd celebrating the festival, Lann was finally able to move forward without hesitation. He quickly ran into the area where he could see the Gate of Eternity. This was the purest high-class area. Even the gentlemen drinking iced drinks on the balconies wore ties imported from Avalon and Macragge.

Their conversation was no exception.

------

"Have you all heard? It is said that the Emperor's son and the White Scar's fleet are invading the Empire's eastern border."

"Have you heard? In Betangamon?"

"No, further afield: in the whirlpool."

"They say that the Chagatai Khan's fleet is like a band of bandits conquering worlds loyal to Terra. They will put a knife to the governors and generals' throats before the planetary governors' soldiers can even react, demanding that they choose to resist to the end or support Horus's cause: large numbers of worlds will defect for this reason."

"Forgrim, on the other hand, was much more polite. He wrote to every world that stood in his way, asking if they would be willing to join Horus or his own forces. Many planetary governors willingly sided with the Third Legion, but it is said that those who refused to pledge allegiance suffered particularly tragic fates: many worlds simply vanished into thin air."

"Oh my god: They've all been killed?"

"Perhaps even worse: I've heard that slavery has not been abolished in some areas of the Son of Heaven."

"More miserable than those barbarians who rejected the White Scars?"

"Who knows: Chagatai Khan, on the other hand, seems to have eradicated slavery in his territory long ago."

"Yes."

"The Khan will kill his opponents, but he will not lay a hand on those below the rank of officer."

"But Phoenix's army is somewhat special."

"Sometimes they behaved more virtuously than the Chagatai Khan, but at other times they ruthlessly destroyed entire worlds: they were as unpredictable and unpredictable as the weather on Venus, and no one knew why they did it, but many more worlds did surrender out of fear."

"However, some people have also identified patterns."

"They said that if we were to surrender, it would be better to surrender to Acudona or Vespa first."

"But we cannot refuse Aidolon's offer of surrender; those worlds that refuse him will suffer a terrible fate."

"In any case, in the past year, all the worlds in the Far East that were loyal to Terra have been lost."

“Thousands of star systems have now either sided with the Wolf God or have been completely wiped out.”

"And everything else was cut off; their connection with Terra had been completely severed."

"How unfortunate."

"So, the next step is Betangamon?"

“That’s right. If the Emperor’s Son and the White Scar still intend to follow in the footsteps of the Warmaster, then Betangamon is the only way for them to enter the Solar System. They cannot bypass this world. But I have heard that the Imperial Fist’s defenses there are second only to those of Holy Terra.”

"If war breaks out, that will be the battlefield."

“I hope not, after all, my family still has many businesses in Betangamon.”

"Who isn't?"

"Perhaps I should contact my nephew."

"Is he in Betangamon?"

"No, decades ago, he chose to join Horus's expeditionary fleet."

"I hope he can reply to me, at least give me some time to withdraw my investment."

------

No matter how many times he listened, Lann always found the words of these high-ranking mortals annoying. He admitted that there were indeed nobles among them, but most of them were still tiresome: especially considering that they had not contributed anything to the expedition and that their greatest achievement in life was simply being born into a powerful family that had bowed to the Emperor during the Terra unification war.

That alone left Lann speechless.

All he could do was leave as quickly as possible. Dorn's strategic command center wasn't far from the High District: after stopping for several necessary checks, and with the gates behind him closing tightly, the cheers of the commoners and the lively conversations of the rich were now shut out on the other side of the city walls.

The Fist of the Empire finally breathed a sigh of relief and began to walk quickly to finish the last leg of the journey.

The people he passed along the way were now ordinary officials and Imperial Fists serving the High Lord, most of them with serious or worried expressions, whispering among themselves in corners unseen by others.

This time, Lann really slowed down and listened to what they were saying.

------

"Have you heard? Those people from the Great Expedition Office just requested to see the Primarch and the Signer."

"The Great Expeditionary Office?"

"That's right, it's the organization that sent representatives from all eighteen legions."

"What are they here for?"

"I don't know, but I heard that the legion representatives who came were all in a state of high tension with Terra."

"For example, Severian of Shadowmoon Wolves."

"Shadow Moon Wolves? They haven't been expelled yet?" "Who knows: the Seal Bearer certainly won't allow it."

"But I think it should be soon."

"What do you mean?"

"I overheard them while on duty: they are deciding to urgently deploy troops to the northern star system."

"Several fleets and legions have been dispatched, and even several thousand Imperial Fists will be sent."

"So many? Wait, which north?"

"What else could it be: the one bordering the Space Wolf?"

"Why are we going there... hiss..."

"what do you mean……"

"Shh! Keep your voice down, I just overheard you."

"They say that the Imperial Fist's outposts at the front have received several ships of defeated Wolf Pack soldiers."

"Could it be that the War Commander has already..."

"Who knows: I don't think Severian and his ilk would visit Primarchs and Signets for no reason."

"..."

"Is...is war really going to break out?"

"Is this something we can decide? Anyway, I've already called my family and told them to hurry up and buy food and supplies. Luckily, I bought a house with an underground bunker when I bought it."

"Hiss, thanks for reminding me."

"I'll call my wife right now: By the way, do you still have that type of house available?"

------

Lann didn't have time to hear the rest of what was said before he rushed to the front of the command center.

A dozen minutes later, after a series of complex and ruthless checks and interrogations, he was finally allowed to enter the command room where Primarch Dorn was. When Lann pushed open the door, he discovered that there were not only his familiar Primarch and many of his combat brothers present, but also some guests who were not commonly seen.

"Salute to you, the one who holds the seal."

After apologizing to the Primarch, the Fist of the Empire bowed slightly to the old man in the seat.

“Favnier-Lan”.

Makado clearly recognized him.

"The Lords, Deacons, and Commanders of Dorne."

"Yes: I serve the Primarch."

"very good."

The person holding the seal seemed to sigh.

“You’ve come at just the right time, Lann.”

"Go to your spot, you'll be just in time to witness the most absurd scene in the entire galaxy."

"..."

Lann didn't speak, but silently stood among the group of senior commanders of the Imperial Fist on one side of the room. He looked around and found that dozens of familiar combat brothers had no desire to communicate with him. Everyone just stared at Dorn with cold expressions, while Dorn leaned against his most frequently used conference table, staring at the main door of the command room with an equally cold expression.

Silent footsteps could be heard outside the gate.

A few minutes later, four Astartes warriors, after being checked by the Imperial Fist guards at the door, walked straight into the room.

They didn't bring any weapons, but were fully armed, and the leader was holding several documents.

Lann knew that person.

Severian of the Shadowmoon Wolves Legion has an aged face and a thick beard, making him look more like a space wolf than a Shadowmoon Wolves.

But what Lann noticed most was that this warrior, who was known for his resilience and seriousness, had a somewhat chaotic expression at this moment. If you looked closely, you could even see faint tear stains beneath his rough pupils: this was almost unimaginable.

Lann's breathing became heavy for a moment.

Like the hundreds of others in the room, he simply watched in silence as Severian approached Dorne and paid his respects, followed by an Emperor's Son, a White Scar, and a Death Guard.

They stood proudly before the Primarch, gazing at Macardo, who sat high on the platform behind Dorn, and the hundreds of Imperial Fists and high-ranking officials on either side of the room: under the yellow and black double-headed eagle banner, everyone's faces swayed unnaturally between light and shadow.

“I am Severian of the Shadowmoon Wolf Legion.”

The visitor spoke.

"I speak for the war commander."

Dorn put his hands down at his waist and said the phrase he said most often.

"I am Rogdorn: What do you want?"

"..."

Severian took a deep breath and then handed the first document in his hand to the Primarch.

Dorn took it, glanced at it a few times, and then frowned.

Then he handed it to Macado.

And the person who held the seal had almost the same reaction.

Makado explained the contents of the document to the others in the room in the simplest terms.

"The Warmaster demands that we reveal the Emperor's whereabouts, or allow him access to the Imperial Palace to search for him, and seriously consider all the conditions he proposed during the Terra crisis, including massive tax cuts and the revocation of Holy Terran privileges, and allowing the Primarchs to govern within the Imperial power core: if any of these demands are not met..."

"He doesn't mind using force."

"..."

That sentence made the air in the whole room freeze.

Countless eyes were fixed on Severian, while Shadowmoon Wolf's expression was terrifyingly calm.

The one who held the seal was also watching him.

"So: this is an ultimatum?"

"Yes, that's right."

Severian nodded: his movements were as stiff as a bloodless corpse.

"The War General's patience has run out."

He wanted to know if the High Lords Council of Holy Terra would agree to his ultimatum.

"In this way, we can safeguard peace in the galaxy."

"..."

The person holding the seal paused for a moment, or perhaps not.

But Lann believed he paused: although Makado’s next words were so decisive that they didn’t seem like a decision that could be made in an instant.

“Tell your commander.”

He said to Severian.

"We cannot agree to all his demands. Some of the demands in this ultimatum ignore the logic of reality. However, we are willing to accept new negotiations and communicate with the Warmaster on all of the above demands. Terra believes that the possibility of peace has not completely disappeared. But the Wolf God's ultimatum is absolutely unacceptable."

"..."

Severian took a deep breath: everyone could hear him.

He suppressed his emotions and responded to Makado's previous words with trembling lips.

“I must warn you, Seal Holder.”

"The consequences of refusing the war commander's ultimatum are extremely serious."

Makado stared at him coldly, mechanically repeating his previous words.

"We won't agree to that."

Finally, he added one more sentence.

Severian became visibly excited, just like every warrior behind him. He unconsciously took a step forward, and before the Imperial Fists could raise their guard, Shadowmoon Wolf looked at the Handprinter and the Primarch. His voice was no longer as calm as before, but the tremor in it was particularly moving.

"The consequences of refusing the war commander's ultimatum are extremely serious."

"..."

The person holding the seal remained silent.

In the silence, everyone was watching him.

He stood up from his seat, looking like a headstrong monarch, yet also like an ordinary person under immense pressure.

His voice was cold.

"I still give the same answer."

"..."

Severian took a step back, tears welling up in the eyes of this seemingly indestructible warrior. His lips trembled involuntarily, and his hand instinctively reached for the remaining documents in his robes, but he managed to restrain himself. His gaze sadly left Macado, futilely scanning everyone in the room before finally focusing his last remaining hope on the Primarch before him.

He spoke.

It sounded more like a plea than a notification: his throat felt like it was about to bleed.

He said to Dorn.

"The consequences of refusing the War General's ultimatum are extremely serious!"

"..."

The Primarch simply watched him silently.

For a moment, Lann even believed that Rogdorn felt pity for the man before him.

But his response was also without hesitation.

“We will not agree, Shadowmoon Wolf.”

"Horus is not on the right side; he is doing the wrong thing right now."

“And I will stop him: with everything I have.”

"..."

Severian broke down: at least his heart broke down at this moment. He no longer had the courage to try one last time. He lowered his head as if he had lost the most important battle of his life. He trudged through a painful silence for a long time before finally pulling out another document from his hand.

He shoved the document into the Primarch's arms.

Dorn only glanced at it.

He had nothing, but instead looked up at the person in front of him.

“I will give you one hour to leave Terra. A ship will meet you in near-Earth orbit and escort you until you encounter the first ship belonging to Horus. After one hour, I will search the world without reservation for all those who are still loyal to the Wolf God.”

It was like a death sentence. Severian covered his face with his rough hands, but he still couldn't stop large tears from streaming down his cheeks. He bent down to thank the Primarch for his generosity, and finally turned to leave. But before he had taken more than a few steps, this warrior who had never been defeated seemed to have lost his mind and almost fell to the ground. He could only leave with the help of his comrades.

They left, and the door was closed.

Outside the door came the sound of weeping and wailing.

Inside the door, all was silent.

No one speaks.

The one who holds the seal, Dorne, the Fist of the Empire, or perhaps a mortal official: No one speaks.

They all knew what was written on that thin piece of paper in Dorn's hand, but they pretended not to know; they preferred to remain silent.

until……

"call out--"

Outside the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, a dazzling beam of light suddenly shot into the darkening night sky, bursting into brilliant flames in mid-air. Hundreds of fireworks followed one after another, accompanied by the joyous celebrations of people singing and dancing, and their songs praising peace and prosperity.

Not far from them, countless people were celebrating the happiest day of their lives.

Laughter, fireworks, and songs echoed across the cold faces of the empire's highest rulers: their happiest day here had brought them only sorrow.

Dorn slowly turned around, his chiseled face reflecting the brilliance of the fireworks, as if trying to melt the millennia-old ice with the flames.

He remained silent for a long time.

Until someone suddenly spoke up.

Is war about to break out?

Lann looked up, searching for the person who had spoken.

Until he realized that everyone was looking at him.

And Dorn was watching him too.

"..."

Surprisingly, the Primarch was not alive.

He simply nodded, then turned his back to Lann.