Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 679 The chess game has already been decided
"I am so heartbroken."

The pharmacist expressionlessly slapped a piece of chilled dressing on the white dove's noble "nose bridge".

"Alas, Clarks, I recall when I first found you..."

"... If you want to get a little more spanking while the doctor is here, you might as well go on. I'm listening."

Corvos Clarks smiled with Wannas' handsome and evil face that was almost like a Dark Eldar and said, "But I want to remind you that I remember everything now and can see everything, okay?"

The pigeon king immediately shut his mouth.

Hong Suo then politely took his leave from them one by one, and returned to his post with a gloomy temperament to wait for orders.

The chief steward of the royal court tidied up everything in the room with an air of relief and served hot drinks to everyone again.

Black tea, lemon slices, white sugar, warm milk, and a huge three-layered dessert tower with both sweet and savory flavors.

Leman Russ asked the butler for an extra glass of the cafeteria's special mushroom whiskey, which he poured into the teacup and stirred under the disapproving gaze of the ancient sage.

"And what is your situation now, Clarks? Are you in the same situation as Perturabo? Where is your own body? Is it stored somewhere else? Or is someone else using it?"

He seemed to have recovered quickly from the violent emotional fluctuations just now. The wolf king's emotions came as violently as a storm and hail, and faded away as completely as melting frost and snow. He was obviously thinking of some new ideas, but he didn't tell anyone.

"That's still a little different." The Raven Guard Primarch straightened his body, and they saw that his power armor turned into a matte satin-like cloth like soft darkness, and then turned into a decent - well, a little too unorthodox for their identities, black civilian clothing - but if this style was seen by Ramizar, he would probably praise him for his good fusion of Gothic style and 3K modern tailoring.

For some reason, Leman Russ felt that the look in Clarks' eyes, who was in the body of his descendant, looked at him with a hint of apology, a hint of nostalgia, and a little tenderness.

So how many fucking things have happened in these ten thousand years that he doesn't know about?! Why is he looking at me like that? It's like I'm going to die in front of him! By Fenris! I'm going to find out!
Clarks was one of the youngest among them. Being stared at by such a young brother with such a mature and kind (? ? ) gaze, Leman Russ couldn't help but rub his back against the back of the chair quietly.

"The part of me that is not easy to carry, uh, has been 'left' on the Savior Star. I am now working in several places and several jobs. Labor makes me feel fulfilled. If I must say," he turned his gaze to the white dove, "I am a bit like my father now."

"Do your descendants know that you have escaped and are running around? What is their attitude?" Rus's question was not concealed, and it was obvious that he had something to refer to.

Clarks obviously wanted to avoid this question. "I will tell them when the time comes," he promised, "I will go back to see them often, just like before."

However, Magna Dorn agreed with Russ on this matter.

"You'd better not suddenly become like our father in this matter, Clarks." The golden-armored machine soul flashed unceremoniously, "From what I understand, what you mean by taking care of the offspring is the kind of care that allows the previous chapter leader to be killed by the warriors of a mini alien empire? I advise you to be more direct. Although Wannas's identity is embarrassing, it is not impossible for you to go back and take a look."

Anger appeared on the faces of the two Primarchs at the same time. Russ's attitude even contained surprise. "Where did this new alien come from that is so bold?! Come on, take me to Fenris first. I will gather my hunting group, and then we will lead the fleet to start hunting!"

Clarks's anger was more of self-blame. "This is my mistake," he admitted, with sadness on his pale face. "I am not a saint, and I don't think our existence is the salvation of the galaxy... but I want to do my best to make up for it... to atone for my sins. That's why I finally survived, and that's why I'm running around now. I know that enemies in the shadows are often more difficult to deal with than those in the open, and the iceberg on the water is just a miniature of its underwater part. So I will become an invisible front to defend against the inanimate enemy."

"Thank you for bringing us such a poetic narrative - who do you work for now? When do you plan to tell your offspring the truth? From what I know, the Raven Guard misses you very much, and our plan also requires your help to subdue the nomadic fleet you once exiled."

The first half of Magna's sentence left Clarks speechless, while the second half surprised him.

"Now that the Great Rift has opened, I can return to the Savior Planet at any time depending on the situation - but - since when did you include the children of Kirin in your plans?"

"From the very beginning." Magna flashed unceremoniously, "You don't think we would leave such an excellent source of troops with a very delicate attitude towards the Empire without considering getting them. We didn't go there at first just because it was too far away and someone had a deep-rooted belief in the mind that in order to recruit troops, we must have a stable rear base with sufficient depth and abundant resources to support the population. And now that we have become somewhat established in the Calixis sector (Russ widened his eyes), it's no big deal for me to say it out."

"But they are now guarding the Ghoul Stars. There is no one else to guard that place except them. Those high lords will not think of sending people to guard the place after they leave. If they do so, the place will soon no longer belong to humans."

"There are too many monsters in that place. The development cost is obviously much higher than the development value, unless... No, that's not appropriate. After withdrawing the nomadic fleet from there, the Empire can completely shrink its defenses and build continuous fortress worlds in normal areas. This is a practice they are very familiar with. It is not necessary to have the Ash Claws to guard that place. You were exiled or exiled back then, and you know it very well. Clarks."

"Really? You're using this to accuse me? After all, your... true self... Tsk! What on earth were you thinking when you were charging in the iron cage with them? Doen?" Clarks didn't get angry but laughed instead, and he fought back without losing the upper hand at all.

The words left his mouth like an arrow shot from a bow.

The leaden silence weighed down between them like a gravestone.

"Hi." Pallas tried to ease the atmosphere, but Russ took a look at the youngest brother present and immediately took over the job that required a little shamelessness.

"I say, stop it. Although I don't know what happened between you, and I don't know what happened to me during this period of time that I haven't experienced, but since we are now gathered together, why don't we use good wine, good food, and laughter to lubricate our relationship?"

"That's right." Pallas quickly followed up, "We should talk and resolve the tense situation thoroughly at the dinner table, and don't let it be left on the battlefield and make our enemies laugh hatefully."

"Well, if you have anything to say, why don't you just sit down, eat something and talk it out. You can tell PAPA anything that's on your mind. We're all family, so why bother..."

"That's the last thing you should say." "Old Deng, just shut up and eat your sandwich." "Why are you talking like that?" "I didn't know you could say that."

The atmosphere eased after the Primarchs quickly reached some consensus on someone.

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"The Legion's attack schedule? I can't make any guesses about that."

In response to the question from the Primarch's personal chronicler, Utherma Atla smiled politely, "Magnus and the Legion's plans have always been coordinated with the Great Crusade. Such a trend that can easily affect the fate of billions or even tens of billions of people is not something that mortals like us should be able to comment on casually."

This answer can be said to be very humble and cautious, completely in line with the identity of an ordinary scholar, but it is impossible for someone to say it. Callimachus was visibly disappointed and relieved. "That's true." The old man said vaguely, "Sometimes mortals should not try to interpret things that we are not allowed to interpret."

“Ignorance is a privilege. Don’t give it up.”

The narrator of the Primarch took a deep breath and straightened his body. "That is true."

"Let's have a drink before this fine wine gets too hot."

They chatted for a while longer, the topic gradually shifting from what happened at the Council of Nikea to the ancient city ruins that Camille was going to explore with Captain Carlophis, whether Lemuel's mentor Ahriman had any hope of waking up soon, and Calista's handsome suitor and Uthelma Atla's next business trip plans.

Just before they were about to pay, the waitress brought the bill quietly.

Utherma Atla quickly paid the bill and announced that Lemuir would treat them to a feast at the best barbecue restaurant next time. The tipsy narrator and the psychic apprentice also agreed with a smile. Callimachus looked very tired, so the old narrator left first, while the others were waiting for the sedan chair they had booked to arrive.

Birds are singing, flowers are blooming, and the comfortable sea breeze blows up the quiet dust on the ground in the alley.

Suddenly, a harsh, discordant suffocating gurgle made everyone immediately tense up because of the fear in the biological instinct.

Camille screamed.

The two men turned around and saw that the beautiful Callista Ores was stiff all over, with thick blue veins protruding from her slender neck, and her limbs twitching and shaking as if she had been electrocuted. She fell backwards, and her extraordinary beauty disappeared in the strands of saliva flowing from her white eyes, exposed gums, and clenched teeth.

Fortunately, Camille was holding her hand, which prevented her from smashing the back of her head on the cobblestone ground.

"Calista? Calista?! Damn it! She's having another attack! Lemuel! Quick! Let me hold her down so she doesn't hurt herself! Quick! Her medicine! It's in the bag!"

"Where is it in the bag?!" Lemuel rushed over and opened his friend's bag in a panic, searching for some pens, some papers, a portable recorder, and more women's items. "I can't find it!"

"Look for the green glass bottle! It looks like spoiled milk inside!"

"I think it should be here... It's not polite, but we have to do it in this emergency."

A soft, slender, bony hand reached out, picked up a seemingly ordinary chronicle of the empire's conquests, and then opened it - the inner pages of the book were cleverly hollowed out, with a small green glass bottle embedded in it.

Passersby had gathered around worriedly, and among them was a kind-hearted doctor who came to help Camille hold down Kalista who had begun to howl inhumanly.

The seemingly slender and frail narrator now seemed extremely powerful, and both of them could hardly hold her back as she frothed at the mouth and waved her limbs wildly.

Calista suddenly threw away the person who was holding her down. Many capillaries in her eyes had burst. Blood and tears flowed from her wide-open eyes as she stared at the hand that brought the green glass bottle. That look made Lemuel feel cold: that was definitely not the look of Calista Ores that he knew. That was the look of an extremely ancient and cunning inhuman being.

"Too late!" she hissed at them, spittle dripping down her chin. "The wolves will betray you! His hounds will tear your flesh! Burning! Ravens covered in blood! Betrayal of a brother! Murder of a brother! The worst of wrongs for the best of reasons! It should not happen! But it must!"

Her bursting eyes stared in horror at a certain point in the crowd.

"Oh my God! A hundred! A thousand! A million eyes in glass! They're moving! They're looking at me!!"

"Oh. What terrible gibberish. You should probably take your medicine, ma'am."

Uther pushed aside the stunned crowd, walked over, pinched Kalista's chin and forced her to drink the potion in the bottle.

She looked extremely reluctant, yet totally unable to resist those long but strong hands, her fingers scratching around, as if trying to grab her pen and paper.

But the drug soon took effect, and Calista began to fall into a sleepy state and calm down.

"Hurry up and send her back to rest first."

At this time, three sedan chairs also came to the alley, so Lemuel and Camille sent Kalista back to her residence together, and planned to guard her together until she woke up.

After watching his frightened friends disappear at the end of the alley in the sedan chair, Uther stayed where he was and drank the remaining light golden wine in the glass in his hand.

The unique brewing taste made the young man curl up his lips in nostalgia. Ahriman's grapes and his winemaking skills were indeed great. The wine brewed by the chief instructor of Black Crow can now be sold in such a picky restaurant. If it weren't for those things that happened later, Ahriman's retirement plan would have been very smooth.

He turned around. The hotel garden was unusually quiet. No one was walking around. Even the breeze was frozen in this small, isolated space.

"Then let me see..."

Utherm Atla stepped back to the fountain in the hotel garden and grabbed something struggling in the ripples of the pool and pulled it out.

"You can't stop it!" The shadow of the blurred primordial Obliterator screamed in pain, his incorporeal body gradually dissipating in the power of Utherma Atla. "You can't stop this! Foreigner! Under the new moon, those with eyes are destined to become those without eyes! Horus is destined to be killed and then transformed into the will of the gods! Magnus and Leman Russ, the Thousand Sons and the Space Wolves are destined to perish under my plan and send us the help of wizards! This matter has long been destined on the chessboard of the gods! It cannot be changed! Even if I tell you where this will happen!"

"Oh? Then where will it happen?" The green-eyed young man looked at it quietly, his ebony face was shrouded in the refraction of colorful psychic glow. For a moment, it looked as if countless open eyes appeared all over his body.

"Davin! Davin System!" The thing panted triumphantly before dissipating into the rune-covered parchment he pulled out. "It's no use knowing it! The game has already been decided! It's too late for you to stop it!"

"Really?" Utherma Atla rolled up the parchment. "Then we'll see."

(End of this chapter)