Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 654: Would the Emperor of years ago be enchanted by Perturabo?
"Never. Taunt. Me! Never. Try. To provoke. Me! You evil devil!"

As they heard Mortarion speaking these words at a distance too close to be smelled, along with the hot air and barbarus gas from his respirator.

Magnus suddenly realized that as a master of psychic powers, he had greatly underestimated the bull-like strength of the Lord of Death and the destructive power that could be caused by his scythe, which seemed to have ordinary attack power.

"Silence", the crackling and shining giant sickle with power teeth, was illuminated by magma, braziers, black marble and gold. It "cut" through Magnus' thick psychic barrier in a way that almost broke everyone's cognition, allowing the giant in bone-white armor and his equally huge weapon to savagely squeeze through the pale blue energy crystal-like existence.

The fifteenth Primarch was so surprised that he even half opened his mouth and stood there in a daze.

"How is this possible?!" he muttered. "How is this possible?! How can someone rely on brute force--"

"Don't say it's impossible!"

Ramizarn - using Perturabo's vocal cords, shouted, "He is using his own natural psychic energy! Rough! Never polished! Contained in his flesh! But it can make his power very strong! Magic pony! Think of a solution quickly!!"

Although I don't understand why the fourth brother suddenly called me "Magic Pony", which sounds a bit childish, but the name "Magic Pony" doesn't seem to have any problem in the vast ocean.

Magnus, who was startled by the reminder, quickly cast another layer of psychic field before Mortarion, who was almost in front of Ramizane. Then Ramizane immediately moved to Magnus' side, "[Ancient Terra swearing], Magnus! Use a few of your strongest defensive spells to trap him! You don't want the advanced spells that you and Tizca have studied for thousands of years to lose to Mortarion's self-taught folk magic in a place like this!"

"Folk magic!" roared the enraged Pale Lord, pressing forward, gritting his teeth, refusing to stop at the increasingly horrified energy spells Magnus cast to stop him. His voice sounded hoarse and strangled like a man with a severe case of strep throat, but he refused to stop roaring. "Are you accusing me of witchcraft, Perturabo?"

"Don't slander me with your favorite witchcraft rhetoric! Perturabo! You blind man! These are all true scientific principles! The numerology I developed is a science that helps me stay away from and defend against you witchcraft heretics. It is the real weapon I have developed to deal with magic and witchcraft! It! Is! Not! Magic! And! Witchcraft!"

The distance between the Lord of the Death Guard and the Lord of Iron was so close that even though his Silent Scythe could no longer strike down even a little bit under Magnus's strenuous efforts, the distance between Mortarion and "Perturabo" was already close enough to a certain extent -

Something close enough to make the suspicious and wizard-hating Lord of Death twitch his nose and sniff repeatedly to frown.

"W-What did you do?!"

"You smell so clean..." Mortarion took a deep, almost greedy sniff of the scent emanating from "Perturabo", even though no one else could smell any extra scent from the Lord of Steel. "You smell like dry snow, old grain, and fur on wood... You don't have that disgusting witchcraft smell at all. No!"

Mortarion's fury soon grew. "Perturabo! You don't stink of sorcery at all! You smell cleaner than anyone here! Why! Why did you join them? You should be on my side! I would welcome an ally like you! We are not corrupted by the psychic energy either! So pure!"

The look in Perturabo's eyes changed immediately, and Mortarion could see clearly at this distance and height (the Lord of Death was much taller than the Lord of Iron).

If the look in Perturabo's eyes just now was just a condescending smile (Motarion refused to analyze that look as tolerance or patient friendliness), then now the Lord of Steel's eyes were very clear: You and Magnus are just two three-year-old super fools.

Malcador and the Emperor both maintained a neutral attitude in this renewed and still sudden brotherly conflict, and the rest of their brothers ostensibly did the same - at this time, the father of the Primarchs and the only Emperor of the Imperium was present, and no one could bypass His words to mediate.

Or perhaps the Emperor was taking this opportunity to silently observe Perturabo, just as when Mortarion met Him he ignored all the red tape and etiquette in front of the Emperor, but also won His favor and the honor of being alone with Him and talking with Him.

Or maybe, as Malcador had promised in His name back on Terra that Mortarion would be allowed to attend the Trial of Nikea, to come here to accuse the establishment of the Think Tank and the use of psykers, thus appeasing Mortarion and in exchange obtaining the service of the Emperor from his son and his descendants who hated sorcery and refused to serve the Great Crusade. These were just conversations between two people, and it was impossible for the two parties in these conversations to confront each other, so who knows?
Not even Malcador knew what was in the Emperor's mind.

"Shut up, Mortarion. Do you know what the hell you just said?"

Ramizarn took another step back and tried to get out of the man's reach. "Rather than that, it would be more practical and more practical to talk about bringing your captain of the first company, your good brother Karas Typhon, to verify his identity in person..."

Sudden.

A roar.

It came from far away, bringing with it rolling cold rain and wind, just like thunderclouds riding the Siberian cold current from the sky above the North Sea and rushing south into the sea within a day. The door of the hall suddenly opened under the pursuit of golden and blue lightning, and a black and white animal slammed into the body of Mortarion, who was many times bigger than him, before anyone could see clearly.

This time Perturabo BC was clearly furious and unreserved, for he rammed a nearly cracked crater in the Death Lord's bone-white armored ceramsite like a cannonball, the loud buzzing sound of the impact reaching everyone's ears only after Mortarion was unwillingly pushed several meters away and even more unwillingly beaten dizzy.

"Aa ...

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A moment later, the place was cleaned up again. Mortarion, who was mysteriously knocked unconscious by a dog, was placed in a quiet room nearby, guarded by the Sisters of Silence and the Imperial Guards. The pharmacist and the royal medical team had already rushed over.

The black and white dog, still angry, jumped back onto the backpack of the wild bear, whose face had been wiped clean, and raised its paws to ask the young and brave Space Wolf to carefully wipe the white hair and claw gaps on its feet.

The wild bear, who had personally experienced the actual power of this set of dog claws and turtle fists and the toughness of this indestructible dog fur, was obediently wiping his feet with a soft cloth, but his clumsy way of wiping the dog made a certain Lord of Steel frown and wish he could take his place.

"Well! Since Mortarion is unable to attend for the time being, I suggest that we take Karas Typhon to the other side of the room to wait for orders. We can make plans after Mortarion wakes up... and discuss the next matter. Otherwise, I don't know how long it will take. Whatever can be resolved today should be resolved today."

The Imperial Chancellor's eyes when he looked at the Fourth Primarch were almost turning into the look of "Are you done yet?", but the Lord of Mankind still did not object. On the contrary, he seemed to also pursue today's work today, so the next agenda was brought up in front of everyone.

That is: Should they hold Magnus accountable next?
Magnus, the leader accused of abusing psychic powers and sorcery, attacked his own brother in front of a theater filled with thousands of mortals and Astartes. Not only did he launch the attack, he even used a spear that was rubbed by hand on the spot by psychic sorcery, which had an immeasurable negative impact on the entire conference and the audience of Nikea.

Even if the verdict is changed, should the issue of disturbing the imperial presence and attempting to murder siblings be dealt with?
"But now Leman Russ doesn't intend to pursue the charge of attempted murder. Since the person involved doesn't intend to pursue it, can we skip it?" The Lord of Steel spoke again, "Right? Russ? If you intend to pursue it, please say it through the input device. If you don't intend to pursue it, well... say it too."

"Does he really not intend to pursue the matter?" Magnus looked at him with suspicion. "Just half a day ago, the primitive shaman psychic user under his command was trying to accuse and prove that my legion and I were heretical wizards and users of blasphemous rituals!"

"Your research and attitude toward mortals deserve a lesson." Ramizarn leered at him. "We'll have a serious talk about this later. But not now."

The black and white dog seemed to be reluctant to wipe the bear's feet, but the reply was important at this moment, so they saw "Leman Russ" type a line of words on the screen, "There is some huge conspiracy in today's events. Why is it impossible that we all think we represent justice and the right side, but the fact is that we are being used by someone with ulterior motives? This is a good opportunity to stir up rifts between legions and brothers. At least recently, there is no better opportunity than this."

"Who would dare to do this? Who would be so bold as to use several Primarchs and our Legions? Even in the presence of our father?" Sanguinius could not help but ask, "Does the conspirator think that we are all blind, deaf or stupid?"

"Ah, well..." Ramizane couldn't help but glance at the Emperor, Malcador, and Valdor, and muttered softly, "I can't say."

Perturabo BC went on to write, "Given the number of worlds known and conquered by the Imperium of Man, and the number of men and women serving in our Great Crusade, I have no doubt that there will be ambitious and conspiratorial individuals among them - even among the most traditional parents, there will be individuals with very different personalities and intelligence. Brother, from what I have just questioned my offspring, this incident today seems to be full of doubts. Some of the events must have happened in the lair, some outside the lair, and perhaps some at the same time on the other side of the mountain, but you cannot say that they are unconnected, just as you can't see the meaning of a puzzle when you look at it separately, but when you put them together, you will get the result that the puzzle maker wants."

"Your written grammar and metaphors in High Gothic are surprisingly good, Russ." Suddenly, the Emperor spoke. "It seems that despite your frequent military career, you have not neglected your cultural studies."

A line of words quickly appeared on the screen in response to this sentence.

"It could also be that border collies are more focused than wild wolves, more adaptable to managerial work, and better at learning skills related to writing and written language? Now that my body has changed, isn't it a blessing that my mind has changed to a more organized direction? Full Father?"

The shepherd dog tilted his head, his black ears drooped slightly, with short hairs clearly visible at the tips, which turned into soft curly hairs in the middle, and then flowed down, merging with the long, frosty mane, guarding the impeccable and perfect dog face in the center. As he spoke, the shepherd dog pursed his lips majestically and nobly, and his bright and beautiful brown almond eyes were now staring intently at the human master who was speaking, while he tilted his head left and right and turned his pink ears.

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——This is the critical strike scene seen by a certain white old pigeon, some primordial beings watching ten thousand years later, and people ten thousand years ago.

"Guuu!!!! It's perfect! The black and white furred demon lord! I can't refute it! I can't refute it! Damn it! Damn it! Guuuu!"

"What kind of bird disease did Lao Deng suddenly get?!"

Fulgrim Pallas grabbed the pigeon that was flying around excitedly and pressed it back on the table, feeling in surprise the ripples that seemed to have fulfilled some wish.

Russ, who was gently swaying the golden wine in the goblet, had a half-smile on his face. Magna Dorn's eyepiece flashed with the light of high-speed calculations and equipment connected to the treasure house deep inside the Iron Blood.

(End of this chapter)