Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 593 If you don’t take it, you won’t get it.
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"Flattery is the handmaiden of sin." - Ancient Terra
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When Konrad Curze finally had the nerve to tear apart and skin every Adeptus Astartes ship loyal to the Empire that entered Macragge's airspace, along with the people and ships (don't ask a Primarch who owns the Cyvitarion Enterprise how to skin a ship), on the contrary, he was commanding his Thirteenth Brother's group of blue cubs with the help of Cy, who had no idea what kind of fate was befalling them.

They guided more ships of the warbands that broke through the violent torrent of chaos in the High Heavens and arrived at Macragge before the end of the assembly deadline to dock at the port, and then carried out a series of reception, inspection, accommodation and other procedures.

Although there were a few members of other founding chapters among these visitors, as time went on, the vast majority of those who came from as far away as the Maelstrom and surrounding star regions were Successor Chapters of the Ultramarines.

From the White Archons of the Dual Kings to the Nova Marines, from the Void Trident of Tarassa to the Silver Templars, and from the Doom Eagle to the mysterious Ascetic Chapter, there are dozens of them ("Even if I could see it, I still feel that Guilliman... Perhaps we could take his gene seed to find Honso and use it to enhance ours... Well, father, I'm kidding.") who inherited Guilliman's genetic bloodline. After hearing about what happened on Macragge, the great rebirth of their Primarch who resurrected, expelled Chaos, and liberated the planet, they immediately crossed the dangerous sea of ​​stars at all costs and trudged here.

Every warrior and son waited with excitement to meet their Gene-Father, a living son of the Emperor, a human god walking among them, and hoped to glorify him with their own existence, to serve him as his heir, to follow his orders and to set out into the starry sea, to bring greater glory and more glorious victory with their own courage and glory to the Primarch himself, whom they had praised for ten thousand years.

According to rumors, every warrior who entered the audience hall, regardless of their regiment's traditional culture, age, combat experience or original personality, when they finished the audience and walked out of that door, had already walked out of any shadows, pain, darkness or confusion of the past. The new mental outlook gave them new vitality, and they could not wait to prepare for the upcoming grand ceremony and the glorious journey that followed.

But when the Eighth Primarch turned his gaze to the names on the latest submitted port entry list in his hand, he laughed out loud again.

"What's wrong with you, father? I thought such boring work had drained your joy. What could make you so happy? If it's a joke suitable for children, please feel free to share it. Otani has already emptied my reserve of bedtime stories."

The smile immediately disappeared from the pale face of the Primarch like morning dew in the sun. Now there was only mockery and anger on his face. "Then you can tell her in detail how you skinned the governor's daughter alive for three days and three nights and made her scream at the global communication network. I think she will listen to it without moving."

"It's amazing, my Lord. Your sense of humor seems to be growing in direct proportion to your knowledge. The high level of education provided by Tessaguarza and Iron Blood once again surprises me. Perhaps when the mission is not so stressful, I should send Otani to Tessaguarza to be taught by Ms. Octavia for a while, or send her to Wandering Port to receive their recently started nine-year compulsory education. This sounds very good."

"I didn't save you from endless wars and the deepest darkness just to let you show off your little pet in front of me every day! Sai!"

The Eighth Primarch snorted coldly, and a few strands of his neatly combed black hair fell from his forehead. Outside the porthole, there was a huge cruiser that blocked the light from the stars. When Sevitarion felt something and looked again, he saw only the pair of pure black eyes in the shadows, reflecting the only dim night light in the office, flashing the light of a bloodthirsty beast.

In that moment of light and darkness, the silk curtains hanging from the ceiling of this elegant cabin suddenly turned into many human skins and body parts hanging on iron chains. The furniture was covered with fresh corpses that had been turned into flat surfaces. The floor turned into a deep red, a red that was almost pure black and sticky, with scattered human fragments scattered everywhere.

But as the image of the chief captain began to transform into the appearance of dark blue power armor, the cruiser slowly sailed away, and the light of the stars shone into the room again. The throne made of flesh and bones seemed to be just an illusion caused by the shadows of carved walnut and ivory decorative panels, and the person sitting on it was not the devoured, laughing and absurd ghost who lived on pain, loneliness, fear, loss of control and guilt.

In the pair of bottomless black pupils inherited by every descendant, hiding behind and peeking at the outside world is undoubtedly a rational soul with self-discipline. The light of wisdom and morality that is truly illuminated cannot be disguised or covered up. It is as dazzling and captivating as the starry sky.

So, the chief captain of the Eighth Legion, Yago Sevitarion, once the most outstanding warrior and killer in the Great Crusade, grasped the slowly emerging halberd in his hand, and slowly lowered his head towards his beloved and most regretted father.

"I have overstepped my bounds, my Lord. I am willing to accept any punishment."

The other party responded with a sneer, "Don't expect your red gloves to make money from me so easily, Sai. But I can tell you why I am laughing."

"Then may I have the honor, my Lord?"

"Look at this." The Eighth Primarch crumpled the document in his hand into a ball and threw it towards the heart position on the chest armor with a skull symbol that Sevatar had conjured up.

The latter used some unknown principle to make the breastplate actually emit a sound similar to that of ceramic steel being hit. Then he reached out and grabbed the paper ball, unfolded it, and stared at the contents on it.

The next moment, the chief captain, who had already learned about what happened before and after Tessaguassa became the new home planet of the Midnight Lords through the words of the Lord of the Night and his own talents, as well as Iron... Destiny Steel, at least part of the inside story and external rhetoric, couldn't help but curl up the corners of his mouth, making the cold smile on his face solidified by scars look more sincere.

The port entry list on the parchment clearly stated in beautiful and neat High Gothic that among the ships of the Ultramarines that came to the port for pilgrimage, there were two void ships of the "Origin Regiment" and the "Silver Skull".

"We have to... entertain them well."

"Ha, I'm sure the little fellow sitting in Hera's Fortress will entertain them well."

"Shouldn't we pay attention to the Origin Chapter? They might start asking about their missing company here, or sense that something is wrong from their contact with us, my lord?"

"Guilliman is not here. As the only Primarch present, I am now their commander!" The Midnight Lord waved his hand as a matter of course. "I am sitting on Macragge and will be responsible for the deployment of all these regiments and ships, the distribution and delivery of materials, and the advance deployment in the upcoming war operations. So of course I can choose the direction of these warriors' attack! Even if they come to me for help, can I still order them to clear their own planets?"

“But.” Koz narrowed his eyes, sensing the direction of the thread of fate that had been flowing out of the High Heaven since the Scarlet Road was opened. “Oh… is it still the same? Some guys have really begun to be completely excluded from the tapestry of fate… Well, it’s better to take it than not. Just as blessings are sometimes more like curses, curses can sometimes be blessings.”

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"Tomorrow is the celebration parade for 'The Resurrection and Journey of Roboute Guilliman'."

Malcador nodded at Julius. "At least I can assure you that even if I try my best, I cannot see through your incarnation spell. It is as good as the one used by Magnus. No, it is even better than the one used by Magnus. It is flawless. This will be very helpful for tomorrow's ceremony."

"I am glad to hear you say that, Master. It shows that all my hard work in honing my skills has paid off."

The blue-eyed priest, who used a body the size of his original body but moved like a natural, sat down opposite the former Imperial Regent, cut a piece of freshly baked stone-kiln bread that was larger than an ordinary mortal's head, spread it with goat cheese and a sauce made of basil, blueberries, etc., and then ate it quickly and elegantly. Malcador noticed that the drink he chose to accompany his meal was still a sweet drink. Apparently, some people did not teach their apprentices that they should "eat as healthily as possible and eat less sugar."

"Whether it's Guilliman or you, it's obvious that neither of you would like this extravagant and wasteful ceremony. Moreover, since you have already discovered the problem, why did you still agree to hold it beyond the standard?"

The old man's voice contained a hint of blame but more of an exhortation, "If you like form, it's best not to imitate someone else's style, just do what's necessary. Even if we're not so extravagant, we can still catch that guy on the spot - this is my current opinion, and I will also give you this advice. Of course, if you really like this, it's really harmless."

"Of course not, Master Kadur."

Julius on the opposite side had already eaten three large pieces of bread with spread, a whole plate of ham, grape and melon snacks and two large pots of honey and passion fruit liqueur while he was talking. His posture was so elegant and his speed of eating was so fast that he looked like a veteran who had experienced many battles and was always vigilant.

"I'm very curious why you put forward such conservative suggestions. Perhaps you were influenced by my fathers? Indeed, pragmatism and efficiency are higher virtues for us, but specific issues should be considered in specific circumstances. Judging from the current atmosphere in this area, if we were not so ostentatious and extravagant to the extreme level of faith and worship, and finally announced the good news of 'Guilliman has returned' at the parade, it would probably have a negative impact on the authority of the matter. Because first of all, the significance of the ceremony itself is to unite people's hearts in form, and if it is not held in accordance with the requirements of this era, then this is something that 'does not conform to their common sense' and will cause more doubts that need more explanations afterwards. Such an obvious deduction can be drawn..."

He suddenly stopped and smiled at the old man who also had a relieved smile on his face.

"I'm sorry, Master," Julius said sincerely, "I've been a teacher and guide for too long in my life, and I always emphasize what I learned from my father, so I have some inappropriate preaching habits when I don't need to be one. Obviously, the views of viewers like you on the problems of this parade are obvious."

“No, that’s good,” Malcador said, picking up the cup in front of him more easily. “I am satisfied with your answer. Now I don’t have to worry about any possible accidents in the most important procedure.”

"Here's to the crown you will win." The former imperial regent raised his glass to the other party.

"To a gift that I will preserve and give to Master Guilliman." A hint of a smile appeared on Julius's lips as he raised his glass.

The very day after the lunch conversation at the seaside, a grand ceremony and military parade began in Magna, the capital of Macragge.

Although it wasn't long since the victory in the Temple of Rectification, parts of the interior of the Hera Fortress still needed to be rebuilt and a large number of wounded and sick soldiers had not yet recovered. The number of soldiers and ships arriving was also increasing, invisibly increasing the burden on the local area.

However, the mortal governor of Macragge, who had become very idle and fearful recently due to the arrival of the three giants and the personnel changes in the upper echelons of the chapter, made every effort to organize the event based on the argument that "the people's piety should now be dedicated not only to the holy Emperor, but also to the returned Lord Guilliman. This will consolidate people's faith and dispel the darkness in our hearts."

In a short period of time, a grand parade avenue leading from the Titan Gate to the gate of Hera Fortress was ready. War engines that were rarely seen in normal times were driven here on an unprecedented scale, burned with incense and prayed, and maintained. Similarly, thousands of Astartes soldiers in bright and colorful costumes stood solemnly on both sides of the avenue - and millions of mortal troops had already started from the suburbs yesterday to march to show their military prowess.

Countless streamers, flowers and confetti fell from the sky like colorful clouds. The people of Macragge deserted the streets, with their families going out, scrambling to occupy the best and most forward intersections and high positions, ready to wave and throw flowers and ribbons in their hands towards each of the differently painted Sons of Guilliman and other brave warriors, while excitedly chanting loudly and continuously hymns and praises to the Primarch.

Millions of cheers gathered into a long-lasting wave of fanatical emotion.

The magnificent military parade began.

(End of this chapter)