Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 648: Stuffing thousands of wolves into a room is considered torture
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Gasper Ansback Hauser only just realized when he stood up from his kneeling position that he had begun to sweat again.

The sweat was cold and sticky, and was now seeping down his back, wetting a large area of ​​the lining under his clothes.

But this is already good.

For only a dozen feet before him were the steps to the base of the throne where sat the man who made him dizzy and tears well up in his eyes just by looking at him, a man as brilliant as the sun.

Even at the request of the Grand Marshal of the Imperial Guards himself, he did not dare to look directly at the great glory.

And on the left and right of the noblest savior of all mankind in the galaxy sat two of his descendants, the two Primarchs.

The bard suddenly realized that, as mortals, he and his fellow Astartes were facing the cautious gazes of the Emperor and the two Primarchs.

No one could do better than he did now when he was the center of attention, because Hawser was sure he heard the soft whimper in the wolf's throat beside him - it was like a beast that had discovered it had encountered a more powerful and invincible enemy, so it exposed its soft belly to ensure its own survival.

Hawser, a mortal with a strong body who had undergone reconstructive surgery, was merely sweating, and he believed himself to be quite decent in comparison.

As early as when they were summoned to the audience hall and the bard was squeezed out of the room by his companions, he had already begun trying to think about something.

Namely: why there had been such an unexpected summons from a noble being, and whether there was any connection between it and the scene they had seen at the edge of the theatre, after the Emperor's punishment had been struck.

It would not be surprising if the summons at this time required the Wolf Lord and the Wolf Priests to come. After all, the Wild Wolves were obviously deeply involved in today's events, and if Hawser was not mistaken, Russ and the Space Wolves were the ones sitting in the prosecutor's seat - a bit abrupt, but considering the personalities of the Primarchs that he knew or heard about, it was natural that Russ sat in the prosecutor's seat instead of Mortarion.

Moreover, Magnus's angry psychic attack was obviously directed at the primarch of the wolf pack. If anything unexpected happened to the Great Wolf, it would be natural to go after them.

Just as his thoughts were spinning faster than light in just half a second, his eyes fell on the wild bear beside him.

The wild bear's neck was bent low, but its head was raised, like a beast with its ears tucked tightly against its skull. It was looking ahead with a frown in confusion. The broken ceramic steel with obvious traces of battle on its body and the hastily treated wounds underneath reminded Hawser of its existence and who caused it, where and how, with the smell of blood, herbs and mud.

Yes, this must be the reason.

Although later we learned from the Wild Wolves that the Guards and the Sisters of Silence finally lost the evil spirit wearing the red armor of the Fifteenth Legion, the Thousand Sons warrior who called himself Amon, the attendant of the Fifteenth Primarch.

But because of the presence of the Guards and the Wolf Warriors, the various reports that the evil spirit had personally admitted to, that he had manipulated Hawser to infiltrate Fenris as a spy many years ago and that he had attempted to interfere with the proceedings of the Nikaea Conference today, had undoubtedly been submitted to the Lord of Mankind in a timely, sufficient and reliable manner, and had provided that honorable man with important evidence that played a decisive role in the outcome of the judgment.

In such a situation, although it seems unusual that the witnesses and eyewitnesses were summoned for re-questioning, it is still reasonable.

Although the bard also witnessed the daring act of the sudden appearance of the Fourth Primarch at the edge of the theater - as a former member and leader of the Terran Society of Archaeology, he had also heard about the Iron Warriors' fighting style and their history.

- But as Leman Russ angrily rushed towards his brother who dared to interrupt the All-Father's judgment and disobey his orders, Magnus, who was equally furious, finally tore off the disguise of a gentle scholar he had been wearing and used his astonishingly vicious witchcraft. The terror and light released by the witchcraft forced everyone to close their eyes, turn their heads or find cover.

After a few breaths, no one knew what happened. A curtain of light enveloped the venue. Imperial Guards and Sisters of Silence swarmed in from everywhere, quickly taking away and diverting the crowd, and "blasting" the wolves and him back into the inner halls where they had originally stayed, and forbade any of them to go out again.

The reason why the word "boom" was used was because Hawser felt that he could not find a closer but less derogatory word, but in fact they were not that rude. They just asked them to return to the dark room immediately and wait for the next order from the Emperor himself to decide their fate. Before that, no further comment could be made.

So during the waiting time that followed, in these rooms that were like the magma version of the eternally cold halls of Wolf Fang, the bard witnessed the greatest abnormal commotion and nameless panic he had ever seen while staying with the wolves. The rune priests who were usually responsible for comforting the Wolf Lords and Wolf Guards were not only of no help to the situation, but their situation was even the worst.

Ogwe had to work with Skarsson to hold down the Rune Priest Orn Evilwinter, who was holding his head and howling, rolling and biting his head. Nayut the Lead curled up his huge body like a lone wolf cub who had lost his parents, and let out a sharp whine. Othrel Wildmark had red eyes, curled up lips, and exposed fangs. The cold light of runes floated and shone on his head and around his body, but because the silent sister guards outside the hall isolated his spiritual energy, he made uncomfortable and nauseating sounds.

Seeing that Othrel was vomiting and vomiting so hard that his internal organs were about to turn upside down and he was about to drown in his own vomit, and the other Rune Priests and Wolf Priests were not much better off, Lord Gunn of the First Company let out a long howl to the sky, then strode forward, clenched his fist as big as half a barrel and smashed it on the heads of some of the guys who were obviously about to lose control one by one, in order to calm them down from the pain and subsequent dizziness.

This did have some effect, but the smell of uneasiness and the damp smell of fear in this makeshift hall were getting stronger and stronger. The bard had to squeeze himself into an inconspicuous corner as much as possible, hiding behind tables and wine barrels, and hoping that someone would come to break the situation or at least make him leave the hall before the commotion of the wolf pack reached a critical point - even being locked up in a solitary cell after leaving was better than this.

Perhaps his wish was heard by someone, for before more wolves could join in, twitching their noses uncomfortably and staring at him with golden eyes, there was a heavenly sound of the door opening, and the Custodians came forward to convey the Emperor's orders and some news that Leman Russ was still alive and here.

Although they were not sure about the latter's feeling, the news immediately made the beasts in the hall feel much less. The wolf lords quickly cheered up, regrouped, grabbed the mead on the table that was warmed by the magma and poured it on the priests' heads to sober them up again.

Then they quickly (and with great speed) selected the person they thought could best understand the facts and the representative their Primarch needed most at the moment. The remaining relatively rational old wolves were left here to suppress the three Great Companies of Space Wolves that filled this hall - yes, this was a situation that even the bards who had spent decades with the wolves would be truly afraid of.

The wolves sensed the change in their leader, and the guards in their haste crammed too many wolves and one of them into one room.

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"My God," Fulgrim Pallas could not help but comment, "cramming two or three thousand Space Wolves into one hall... is this considered abuse?"

"Who are you looking down on? My little brother, the sons of Fenris know their limits."

Rus took a sip of the wine sent by the officers' mess. It was a golden honey-colored wine. It was said that the recipe was a secret kept in the mess, but Pallas knew that the wine was also called "honey wine" by the crew because of its color and taste.

But unlike Fenris honey wine, this honey wine is truly sweet and smooth, made from unique grapes and blended in an exclusive way. When it is served to their table, a constant temperature ice bucket is attached to ensure that it is chilled to an accurate 7°, so that the aroma and flavor of the wine will be the best when it is drunk. Although he had been mocking since the moment he saw the exquisite wine bottle, "Fake honey wine! Even the women of Fenris only drink this sweet water as water!", Russ's drinking speed of one glass after another could not hide the fact that he actually liked this expensive wine very much.

and……

Pallas looked again at Magna, who was pouring a bottle of freshly brewed wine into an original-sized, delicate and fragile crystal glass goblet, and then handed it to Rus seemingly unintentionally.

The former leaned back in his chair carelessly, picked up a piece of sweet cheese from the wooden bowl with one hand, and took the wine glass with the other hand smoothly. Although the wolf king was covered in fur covered with mud and burnt edges, even Fulgrim felt that the way he held the crystal goblet was impeccable.

...was it his imagination or had Magna always been there...?
...It's okay, it doesn't matter. As Dorne's best truant partner and guide, Pallas doesn't need to say anything at this moment, he just needs to assist.

"This hall and the halls that it is connected to are large enough to accommodate three thousand warriors. Although the surrounding magma makes the room very hot," Russ said, "it is not torture to just let them stay there and wait."

"If the soldiers standing here were from other legions, then that would be true. Even more so, I believe that if there were three thousand Raven Guards here, this hall would still seem very empty, but these are three thousand Space Wolves."

Pallas said as he began to pick up a new bottle of mead and stuff it into the temperature-controlled ice bucket.

There's a reason why mead isn't served in the officers' mess but is hidden away in the armory's storeroom.

Not only can this stuff knock down an Astartes, but if you drink too much of it it can even get the Primarch drunk.

Don't ask Pallas and Magna why they know.

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While the bard was still thinking rapidly about the situation, the impatient wolves were already begging the All-Father for the whereabouts of their father.

"Please let us see him! All-Father! Our pack is in turmoil! Where is our Gene-Father?"

But when they were informed by the Grand Admiral of the Custodes on behalf of the Emperor that the black and white canine sitting high in the chair beside Perturabo was not the Iron Lord's pet, but who it was, there was an awkward silence.

"How can he not be a wolf?!"

The first wolf who finally remembered to speak when faced with this situation even forgot to use Gothic when he knelt down in front of the seat of the black and white plush primarch. He spoke in surprise in Uvik, and then repeated his question in Volgan.

The black and white sheepdog snorted coldly, raised his paws covered with frosty white fur and tapped the input device, and everyone saw a line of words displayed on the projection of the output screen.

He said, "I'm not a wolf." Damn you, Othreil! Is there any logic in the witchcraft changes in the Underverse?! Why don't you care about what will happen to your Primarch now that he has turned into an animal?! And! How come no one of you recognized me the moment I stepped through this door?! I mean, this useless nose you have is just a decoration on your face, right?!

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"Hey!" Leman Russ had already finished two large wooden bowls of grilled steaks and was now using a spoon to slurp up large amounts of bacon, roast potatoes and mashed potatoes. He widened his eyes in surprise. "Wait! Wait! Wait! You didn't tell me there was this! Why does Perturabo's dog form seem to understand the war language of the Fenris Wolf?!"

"As I said," Magna said, "Perturabo's ability to 'understand' is unmatched in the galaxy."

"It's really surprising." Pallas agreed, and took the opportunity to pour a glass for Ruth, "Hurry up and take another sip to calm your nerves."

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Ramizane sat there without moving, trying to control his facial muscles and only raised one eyebrow.

—Pepe, I have imagined many levels, but I didn’t expect it to be a test like this, and their first reaction would be this sentence.

——There are many things you haven't thought of. Ruth's offspring, huh, anyway, this is all the old man's fault. It's a pity that you didn't slap him twice when I was away just now.

——Is it too late now?
--snort.

The second wolf walked forward impatiently. He was strong and muscular. He knelt down carefully like the first wolf, remaining alert and showing necessary suspicion. However, his doubts also disappeared when the black and white shepherd dog's paw tapped his nose.

“It tastes good…” They heard him make a guttural sound, and Magnus tried to curl himself up even smaller to hide his body which was struggling to hold back his laughter. “He’s too small! So small! The wolf monster could swallow him in one bite, and it wouldn’t even be enough to fill the gaps between its teeth!”

The fur dog of Perturabo BC had something like blue veins visibly jumping on its head.

On the other side of time and space, a tipsy Leman Russ laughed wildly.

"Good boy! Wild bear!"

(End of this chapter)