Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 590 The Office Before Six O'clock
At a quarter to eight minutes past five, Robert Guilliman was already sitting behind his desk.

Sitting at the desk opposite him was only Perturabo, looking resentful, reminding Guilliman of the Iron Warriors Primarch he had rarely seen ten thousand years ago. Magnar Dorn and Fulgrim Pallas were not present today.

This was because Ramizarn had somehow convinced Perturabo that the two of them only needed to learn how to work in the afternoon, and could study various other subjects in the morning - mainly reading books in the library, and also participating in some racing or hunting. However, Fulgrim seemed to be going to the armory too frequently - to be honest, Guilliman himself now had a very subtle attitude towards Fulgrim Pallas.

Firstly, although Ferrus Manus and the so-called "Fulgrim's possible being in another time and space" both returned to Medusa at the junction of the Segmentum Obscurus and the Segmentum Pacific, and although they also explained to Guilliman how they brought the cloned Fulgrim out of the ship laboratory of a fallen son of the Phoenix, he was undoubtedly Fulgrim in the physical body, and the several members of the Phoenix Guard who stayed here with him also needed to go to the infirmary regularly to receive treatment for the residual effects of their past.

But in Guilliman's eyes, he also had impressive silver hair and lavender eyes, skin as white as an ivory statue, natural elegance and perfection, and every move that attracted people to watch and be attracted by him. But after spending some time together, he really couldn't regard him as Fulgrim at all.

Firstly, Fulgrim Pallas's skin did not show the perfect luster of the Fulgrim he once knew, carefully maintained with essential oils and other things. Instead, it showed signs of being frequently corroded by trace amounts of steam, radiation, or other harmful substances commonly found in workshops, and then repaired by skin care products, indicating that he spent a lot of time in armories, reactors, hangars, and similar places;
Secondly, his beautiful hair was not always carefully maintained like Fulgrim's, which looked very natural but in fact every angle might have been strictly checked a hundred times before leaving the room, or like Sanguinius, who always had countless servants and descendants eager to serve him and dress him up in the most sacred and perfect way in their minds; he just used what he could find in the morning to tie it into a ponytail or a casual folded bun, and it was obviously not to show his perfect neck but purely to avoid blocking his view or getting his hair caught in it when he was working.

He was certain of this because Guilliman himself had seen the young Fulgrim using his hair up at least twice, using a screwdriver he had pulled out and a piece of cable rubber removed from a piece of mechanical equipment. Although it did not detract from his beauty in the eyes of others, it was no longer a sign of carelessness about appearance in the Third Legion, but rather an act of horrific decadence.

No wonder the chief of the Phoenix Guard named Flavius ​​looked like he had lost his parents but still got up early every day and waited faithfully outside the young Phoenix's bedroom. Guilliman strongly suspected that if the chief of the guard had not rushed in fifteen minutes early every day, he would definitely see Fulgrim Pallas one day, with a buzz cut close to his scalp for ease of grooming and wearing black power armor. Wait, does this look familiar?

He thought about deleting and throwing away the image of "Fulgrim's head in Ferrus' power armor" from his memory, and then leaned back in the comfortable office chair. This Primarch-engineered office chair was provided by Perturabo. It was extremely comfortable and different from the hard and cold chairs and thrones in the Empire, which were gorgeous, expensive and filled with all kinds of divine thoughts.

Guilliman, as usual, ignored Perturabo's increasingly gloomy expression and made several improvements to it personally, making it one of the most suitable chairs in his hundreds of years of waking life, second only to the chair he had in his childhood.

To be honest, despite Hong Suo's preface, the Thirteenth Primarch now began to wonder if his previous misunderstanding of Perturabo was really too deep. At least from the several brief conversations between him and Ramezane, he had opened up some new perspectives on the past and the overall situation. Sometimes just an unintentional word could make his excellent brain start to deduce more new paths, and he benefited a lot from it.

Guilliman asked himself, perhaps ten thousand years ago they were all too confident, arrogant and aggressive. Even someone like him who claimed to be humble did not deeply realize that Dorn's repeated concessions were not a sign of weakness or voluntary submission to others. On the contrary, Ramezane reminded him that Dorn's actions now often seemed to be the words and deeds of a mature leader, because his sincere pursuit of a greater goal ultimately allowed him to overcome his mundane, low-level, personal desires, driving him to accomplish things he was unwilling to do.

This is easy to say now, but when Ramezane said as a matter of course, "If you put yourself in Dorne's mood and situation at the time, you would feel...", something that no one had dared to remind him of before broke into his heart without question. Perhaps it was because of their appearance and precocity, the Primarchs had almost never had such casual communication and were asked to think in another person's way - just as Ramezane said, they used to be brothers and family members, but they were also competitors. Competition actually exists in the family and will not be reduced in the slightest because of the veil of family affection.

"For ordinary people, this may just be that the parents favor someone more, or the dish that is cooked more often for that person... But when there is really an heir to the throne in your family, and your empire happens to be the size of a star region and the Milky Way," Ramizane said casually when they were sitting in the office, drinking a thick porridge soup invented by his fourth brother, which was milky white and added with a lot of flavor and nutrients, to "warm the stomach" during work breaks, "then it is really 'The Emperor has no family affairs'."

The speaker did not mean it, and it seemed that this was just the most popular and widespread truth, but the listener took it seriously. Some innate parts of Guilliman's mind could not help but think automatically, and he thought a lot.

However, what made Guilliman find it easier to accept was that Ramezane also thought that some of Perturabo's actions during the Great Crusade were indeed too personal, intense and sharp, but he had to admit that if he really put them on the scale one by one, Perturabo's behavior was not particularly...outstandingly bad among the brothers. On the contrary, some of them had too high expectations of Perturabo or asked for too much, but failed to realize that one-sided demands were unsustainable, and could remind them - but when they continued to discuss, Perturabo began to sneer and sneer at this topic and interrupted their conversation, saying that they might as well think about what they wanted to eat for dinner, which was a more eternal topic.

Can 10,000 years of life experience and fighting really change a person so much? Sometimes Guilliman felt as if he was still in the court of King Konor. The next moment, Lady Euden would walk out of the door of the office, holding a scroll, and Ionid Hill would stand one step behind her with his favorite butter pastry. The part about his fourth brother being called Ramizane really made him feel like he was back in the days before the Great Crusade began. Guilliman couldn't help but start to imagine whether he would become so free to see the entire universe after 10,000 years of experience. It was really inconvenient that he would be physically divided into two halves.

Anyway, the chair was now extremely comfortable and healthy, which was good, because they all spent a lot of time sitting in their respective office chairs every day, except for the man in the central bed who worked on a bed-trolley. Just a few days ago, his ankle had just improved, and he immediately announced that he would go to Wandering Port with Perturabo to stroll around and check on the progress of the project.

In his own words - "I'm almost growing mushrooms from lying down! I want to see our blueprint become a reality. This is real. You draw a picture and they build it for you! I really want to see how big the new changes are after the construction!"

And because everyone took it for granted that the illusory "sprained ankle plague" could not cause a great primarch who had already sprained his ankle to sprain his ankle again, not even Perturabo stopped him.

So now, Lord Ramizane was gloriously lying back in bed because of the severe pain in his ankle caused by excessive exercise. In addition, the busy pharmacy master's roar against the patient who did not follow the doctor's orders, which made the office dome tremble, echoed in the office: "When I said 'stay in bed as much as possible'! My lord!!! You'd better understand the meaning of every word!!!! This does not mean that you can only rest when you sleep!!!"

He placed the empty coffee cup beside him. Ahrin, the last of Perturabo's Trident, appeared silently at Guilliman's right hand and took the coffee cup away silently.

At first, the Thirteenth Primarch was not used to his brother's offspring being so elusive and silent, but then he found that he and the Trident Aide-de-camp actually cooperated very well. Just like now, he nodded at the other's figure and said, "Next, just concentrate, don't worry about it, and send the intelligence about the movements of the aliens in Caliss and the surrounding star regions in the past thousand years here."

The aide saluted him, touched his heels with his combat boots, and then left. Then Guilliman lowered his head and began to deal with the thick stack of documents in front of him because of his four-hour rest. Since he came here, the micro-matters that Perturabo needed to deal with have been visibly reduced. He was able to maintain the continuous operation of certain macro-accounts when someone's wetware efficiency decreased. Guilliman was surprised to find that he had become the actual executive officer of the civil affairs and some military operations of this galaxy. Although the total military force they could mobilize was not much, he was still quite moved by this attitude of trust.

So when he was busy dealing with the thriving affairs here, the Thirteenth Primarch did not notice that the two "reborn Fourth Primarchs" who were lying and sitting in the middle of the office were exchanging glances and having a mental conversation with each other.

[Uh…what happened in the chapel? What happened? Wasn't Sigismund sent there before? I can't imagine that he took so long to deal with it, how come even Vannus was sent there now? Only Ahalin is left in the office now. I found out when I asked him this morning.]

[……] Perturabo BC bared his teeth on one side, and the aide who was sorting out documents felt a chill down his spine in his Iron Knight Terminator armor.

[After Little Robert and the others disappeared, strictly speaking, there is no proper presiding priest there. Pastors Levi and Geratos are now active in Wandering Port and its surrounding areas all year round. The number of combat monks on the Iron... Destiny Steel is not large, and the rotation is also frequent. I thought it was basically vacant. Uh... why is the auspicious observation instrument there also turned off? ]

"Those are just normal damages," the Border Collie said gruffly in his mind, "They haven't been replaced with new ones yet."

[Is it really not necessary to transfer more people back? This is our flagship. ]

[No need. Sigismund and Vanus can handle some of the remaining problems caused by the disturbance caused by the opening of the Great Rift during the warp navigation.] Perturabo's furry tail coiled around him guiltily. Fortunately, Ramizarn couldn't see it from this angle.

[Just lie down and read a book today. It is your priority to heal your legs first. Otherwise, if something unexpected happens, you won't even be able to squat down and hold your head to let LOGOS shoot freely because of the pain in your legs! ]

The border collie was so angry at this point that he successfully used his righteous duty as a weapon to throw at Ramizane, attracting his attention. [My steel body was destroyed by you! Now Guilliman and others may not say it, but they all think my body is as fragile as porcelain! I have lost all my face!!!]

[Uh, well, I will try my best to cooperate with the treatment... But as the Primarch, your weight puts a terrible pressure on your ankles. Hongsuo hasn't figured out why. This shouldn't be a problem on the ordinary physical level... It's totally against common sense that you would feel pain after wearing the outer armor! ]

【Humph! 】

A series of communication sounds interrupted their conversation. Ramizarn picked up the data pad and a name appeared on it.

"Hmm...? Oh! It's him! Let him in!"

Guilliman, with a curved crown around his forehead, raised half of his face from the work in hand in confusion, and saw that his brother's face suddenly became very... indescribable. As the Primarch of the Ultramarines, a rare and very bad intuition suddenly arose in his rational mind.

"What's wrong? Who is it? Which distinguished guest makes you so excited, my brother."

"Varo Diglis," the other replied. "The greatest psionic master and prophet of your line," he said. "He has come from Macragge across the Milky Way and the Crimson Road. Would you not like to meet him?"

So at six o'clock, the Chief Think Tank was teleported directly to the outside of the Chapter Commander's office before he had time to see clearly what he looked like when he landed in the hangar.

He stared for a long time at the two honor guards who wore tunics that resembled those of the Silver Skulls Chapter but reminded him more of an ancient Legion.

A Terminator dressed as an Archon walked out of it. He had unique genetic characteristics, but because it was too incredible, Diglis thought it might be a coincidence.

"Come with me, the adults are here to see you."

(End of this chapter)