Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 574 Interlude It is impossible for Lao Deng not to cause trouble on the day of Ascension Day -
Destiny Steel

Simulated Terra time 15:15PM
"Lead the men I send you to strengthen the defense of the chapel before midnight tonight. You must defend it as you would defend the palace! The loser will be punished for such weakness by being whipped eleven times!"

Sigismund was in charge of calculating the amount of desserts, drinks and training room usage time lost by both sides in the cafeteria attack and defense, when he suddenly heard such a gnashing and rather retro command from his mechanical senses.

The voice was very distinctive, very much like Lord Ramizane's, but lacking that lingering laziness, and with a barely perceptible electronic synthesized tone in the tail tone - it was Lord Perturabo.

The Templar leader's thoughts flashed across the neatly arranged biochips like lightning, and he replied in the next millisecond.

"The order has been received. All personnel not on duty will be summoned to the chapel defense line in thirty minutes and begin reinforcement work."

"twenty minutes!"

"…The order has been received. Correct the time again and begin issuing assembly notices to non-duty personnel."

"Be outside the chapel in ten minutes to receive the two teams of iron rings I sent. And - is he still silent? Was he also silent when Fulgrim and the others arrived?"

"No, Lord Perturabo." The mecha's electronic eyes, emitting a faint blue light, moved quickly over the lines of settlement data, sending the data to the kitchen, while continuing to deal with his new boss, who had recovered a bit of good mood from his bad mood after being obviously bossy. "Rogal Dorn's amniotic fluid chamber is still stable, with no abnormalities. Do you need me to send you another copy of your surveillance footage?"

"Humph! No need! I can see for myself! - He was once your genetic father, Sigismund, you should use a respectful title for him!"

"As you wish, my lord. Lord Rogal Dorn's amniotic fluid chamber has been running smoothly in the past week, with no abnormalities."

"Hmph. Remember your mission."

With a distant electronic prompt tone, the Templar Commander sent the data packet of all the ruling results to the officers beside him. Two seconds later, the file sent to the kitchen also showed that the transmission was complete. The soldiers gathered around him heard the roar of his core reactor increasing in power - those who knew him well knew that this was the sound when he was about to start short-distance transmission.

"The referee's settlement is over. I have to go. Temporary mission."

"Where are you going, Lord Sigismund? Is there anything we can help you with?"

The one who dared to ask the question was an eager member of the First Company, a former Imperial Fist, a tough guy who was selected into the First Company of the "Silver Skull" based on his excellent qualities. Now, this weathered veteran looked at the Astartes-sized mecha with such burning eyes that it was as if he was looking at his favorite glove of pain.

"No, we have enough manpower." The Templar Knight Commander's calm voice came from behind his visor. "Your task tonight is to decorate the entire dining hall and prepare your tribute program. As far as I know, Lord Magna will definitely come with Lord Guilliman tonight. Your task is to make them happy and don't let anything else disturb the adults' good mood tonight."

"What about Lord Ramizane and... Lord Perturabo?" The Astartes felt the slight tingling of the electric charge before teleportation on their facial skin after taking off their helmets, and they all retreated to a distance.

"It's hard to say." A narrow space rift formed, and the Knights Templar stepped into it. "If I complete my mission well, they will appear. So don't slack off. Even in the Terran Palace, it's not often that more than three Primarchs can gather together. This is a big event, don't mess it up."

When the last few fragments of the space rift returned to their proper field of vision, the people who were left behind began to have a heated discussion.

“A mission that even Lord Sigismund would say is bad…” The Astartes left behind in front of the cafeteria looked at each other in bewilderment. “I wonder what kind of powerful and unimaginable opponent they are.”

"Nurgle's army? Don't Wandering Port and the fleet still have quarantine ships?"

"It's done. I heard that our Chapter Chief Apothecary brought those cousins ​​from the Death Guard and killed all the Nurgle believers who were mixed in with the Cadian refugees. They even took out the ion flames of the reactor for disinfection. To be honest, why would anyone still believe in Nurgle in a place like that? Isn't it chaotic enough?"

"Perhaps it's the Ork Warlords? I heard recently that they are actually quite rampant in other parts of the galaxy. They should produce giant individuals strong enough." A former member of the Warhounds said thoughtfully, "My axe is thirsty!"

"That has nothing to do with us. The orcs around the Calixis sector routes have been mostly wiped out by the Iron Hands. There will probably be no more orcs in the places they have dealt with in the near future."

This was a warrior of the former Emperor's Children. These survivors of Istvaan III, after being shocked for ten thousand years, smoothly and calmly met their descendants ten thousand years later. Although they did not choose to return to the current company of the Emperor's Children, the two sides still kept in touch and exchanged information, so he was more informed.

"I once worked with the Iron Hands nine thousand years ago. It was nostalgic... But I heard that their fighting style has changed a lot now. If they don't grow orcs, does that mean they don't grow living things either? But orcs are like mushrooms, they always pop up somewhere. Maybe, the Tyranids?"

"The tentacles of the Hive Fleet are attacking from the other side of the galaxy, far from us. However, they will reach us sooner or later. I still respect the people and warriors of the Empire today, but I am afraid that they have too many things and will not be able to resist them completely in the end... I don't know if it is for the sake of being prepared, but I heard that the Chapter is selecting a special operations team to target the Tyranids."

"Is this true? Why haven't I heard of it?"

"Didn't the simulated training hall add various types of Tyranids to the enemies it synthesized recently? That means there will definitely be related actions in the future."

"I see! Some of those bugs are really hard to deal with. They can even evolve themselves, which is the most difficult thing. This means that there are fewer options."

"If it's none of those, then what is it?"

"The Eldar have not shown any obvious signs of war with humans recently. All of a sudden, these pointed ears have shrunk. I heard that quite a few Eldar mercenaries dressed as adventurers and merchants have appeared in Wandering Harbor."

"What mercenaries? They are just pirates and spies in my opinion! These pointy-eared people are not trustworthy."

"But according to Lord Ramizane, Wandering Port is now called the 'Free Trade Pilot Zone'. In theory, all alien species can come in and trade as long as they can pass quarantine and security checks. I heard from my juniors that a group of blue-skinned aliens appeared in the Far East Star Region, causing a little bit of a stir."

"That's none of our business. Lord Guilliman himself is also commuting between Port Wandering and here for work. He didn't say much to these aliens, and I guess Lord Perturabo shouldn't say too much either. After all, as you know, those are Lord Guilliman's Five Hundred Worlds."*A silent smile swept across the crowd.

"Hey, make way! Make way! Clean up! How are we going to set up the venue if we don't clean up the ruins?! Don't stand here or I'll classify you as large non-combustible garbage!"

The one who was furious was the one who didn't get to take part in this match. Those who didn't get to take part were also responsible for cleaning the battlefield and removing all the solid waste, so naturally they were full of resentment.

Behind them followed a group of new Cadian crew members who were carrying laser guns and holding shovels, brooms and other cleaning tools, and were stunned. Although a certain Border Collie declared that his ship did not need "unreliable, uncertain, and fragile" mortals, he finally agreed to recruit a group of Cadian mortals as the new Seleucid auxiliary army ten thousand years later to receive naval training. Of course, this was also seen as a kind of goodwill from the Destiny Steel to the 30 million Cadian immigrants.

So all the people who were chatting shut up and started helping them clean and decorate the cafeteria.

"Why do we need to set up a temporary dining hall to celebrate the... death... and ascension of Lord Sanguinius? Regardless of why we are celebrating this... don't we have a chapel? Isn't it more suitable for everyone to gather together to participate in the festival ceremony?"

"Compared to this, I simply cannot imagine how we would face this situation if we had cousins ​​from the Ninth Legion here. The atmosphere would definitely become more solemn than setting out to kill ten Hive Tyrants."

"…Oh…thank goodness, my toes are already digging into my boots. It's a relief that we don't have any of Lord Sanguinius's descendants here…"

--------

Destiny Steel

Simulated Terra time 15:25PM
In front of the chapel
"It's great that you're here, sir!" Maxim, the current adjutant and temporary leader of the 10th Company, hurried forward and saluted Sigismund who appeared here.

"How's it going?" He nodded in return, and the young Astartes, who was once a Star Knight, across from him became visibly excited.

Although Sigismund's multifunctional multi-spectral mechanical bionic eye had discovered a lot of clues after scanning for one second, he was still willing to ask the young officer first. This was more in line with a wonderful sense of ritual, and a sense of ritual was something that was very needed today.

Maxim's power armor and helmet were covered with traces of flames, bullet pits and knife cuts, and the original color of ceramic steel was revealed in many places. The closely arranged and beautiful lines on the gun steel-colored texture were shining silver, and there were traces of gold on it, which made Sigismund's bionic brow muscles jump: the ceramic steel base material of these little guys was actually a composite material of refined gold and moon silver, which means that these power armors were finely crafted power armors that had been greatly improved in terms of psychic power usage, resistance, physical resistance, etc., and were comparable to the pure gold armor of the Imperial Guards in some aspects. No wonder they could resist here for so long.

Judging from the way the lines were arranged, Sigismund was very familiar with it. It was produced by the Armory, but the original design must not have been drawn by Decima. Decima, an expert in dismantling balls and a firepower maniac, could not draw such a calm yet elegant and beautiful line. It could only have been drawn by one person.

…Lucky descendants, he thought.

For a split second, he really wanted to take them and throw them into a steel cage. He wondered what would happen.

Sigismund's mechanical prosthetic eye blinked, and some pink-purple and bluish-purple magic fire that had just tried to ignite on the biochip was extinguished by the "field" that was formed in an instant.

"We just repelled a new wave of attacks three minutes ago! In addition, two teams of Iron Ring Robots arrived here a minute ago, but I don't have their permission documents, so we are still in our positions now. We will not retreat without orders."

"I have their authorization papers and yours. Take a look."

Sigismund nodded, transmitted the data, and took out the authorized and stamped written document for the other party to compare.

"They will be commanded by me personally, so you don't have to worry about it. You have been defending here continuously since six days ago, and it is time to take turns to rest. Tonight in the cafeteria, not only will the primarchs be present, but there will also be many tribute programs, as well as a sumptuous Ascension Festival dinner prepared for us by the big kitchen. I think you will definitely not want to miss tonight's menu - now has everyone in the Tenth Company been prepared?"

"Yes, sir. The twenty-seven of us have moved to the rear position, and the Fearless Brothers have also begun to retreat. But I think the next wave of attack will begin soon."

"Very good, now just hand your position over to Tiehuan. They will be in defensive position in ten seconds. Now that your shift change is complete, you can go back and rest."

"Yes, sir, thank you. Although you are on duty for us, I still want to wish you a happy holiday."

Ah ha, they are indeed very polite and likable juniors. I heard that they were trained by Perturabo himself... Hehe, if the Lord of Steel had cared half as much about his legion back then...

"Happy festival, Maxim, take your brothers to wash up and enjoy the festival."

The adjutant of the Tenth Company saluted him again, and then the sound of footsteps in power armor faded away along the corridor.

"Well... let's see. It is said that your powers have increased since the Great Rift, and I will now have the honor of experiencing it firsthand."

The chapel's exquisite but smoky golden relief door slowly opened a crack.

Sigismund stood in the center of the line of specialized mechas, drew his sword, and placed the blade's spine against his forehead.

Flames were burning under the skeleton's visor and black power armor.

Behind the silent army of the dead comes...

The glorious figure reflected the sun's golden color in Sigismund's blue bionic irises.

(End of this chapter)