Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 725: You, Me, and Him Meeting
Now that we are here, we should make the best of it. ——Collection of speeches by ancient philosophers before the first millennium
It's a pity that a beautiful Border Collie can stand up angrily and beat his owner with his paw pads and be forgiven with "Oh, you're naughty", but a Horus cannot stand up angrily and beat his weak and helpless "brother" -

——This was definitely not because the moment he had this thought, a person in the painting on the wall turned his back and showed a face with long hair and pointed ears, winking at him quickly, and in the reflection of the mirror of the decanter, a blue soft monster was holding its face and shouting at him, and on the surface of the liquid inside, a champagne-colored transparent Nurgling was crying——then he silently raised the handle and poured a whole pot of wine into the collector below, and then picked up a tablecloth to cover the painting.

"Then again, although you... Oh, Horus has been named Warmaster now, but since the Luna Wolves haven't changed their name to Sons of Horus as Lao Deng wanted, and even their paint scheme is still pearl white..."

Ramizane, with the optimistic and resigned (? ) spirit of a super-indifferent Seris librarian who was taught to be open-minded and believe in the light, quickly accepted the words of his beloved dog (? ), and began to think about more things at leisure.

He looked at the layout and color tone of the bedroom and came to the following conclusion.

"...Does that mean there are still many things we can change during this time? For example...!"

Ramizane, who immediately perked up, suggested immediately.

"Let Hastal Sejanus report here immediately! I want to see what the Moon Wolf, praised by Loken for his extraordinary beauty, looks like! Then I can 'protect' him in my personal capacity..."

Perturabo, who was too familiar with his temper, immediately saw through his true intentions and poured a bucket of cold water on him.

"Sejanus died, just three months ago. The funeral and memorial service were held."

He said calmly.

"What! This is such a bad coincidence! The death of Sejanus is seen as a symbol of the beginning of the Horus Heresy. Oops."

"Yes. So you can also regard this point in time as a result of... well, a multi-party game. No one here is willing to leave an extra share for the opponent."

"Oh, now... then..." Ramizarn racked his brains to recall the information he knew, "Then the 63-19 world with the "Emperor" has been taken down?!"

"Yes. Otherwise, we wouldn't be in the resting fleet. In fact, we are now floating in the orbit above the third planet of the 63-19 system," Perturabo tapped the table. "The old man's effort is not entirely without merit. At least he remembered to find a reason for us to be here in a hurry, better than a clock."

Ramizane immediately twisted his face into a distorted expression, as if he didn't want to recall certain moments.

"Can you please not mention that embarrassing incident, Pepe! I swear I just wanted to reach out and touch the fur and grab a handful of tail hair!"

"--Best remember to keep calling me Horus or Warmaster here." Perturabo glanced at the other party and reminded him.

"The scene we appeared in was actually because we went back to the bedroom and slept as usual after having supper that night, so the posture was indeed the posture we lay in, and the whole thing was just moved here."

"Besides, I have already tried it. The reason the old man implanted into other people's minds was that the Warmaster urgently summoned the Lord of Iron to discuss the newly discovered lost technology and historical records here. You and I talked all night and imagined the future. It was already late, so at my enthusiastic invitation, we brothers slept side by side."

"…Thank you, stop talking. I'm so embarrassed that I can dig out an entire Iron Blood with my toes. - Can't he come up with a more reasonable explanation that's not so embarrassing and far-fetched? Is it reasonable to imagine that it's us sleeping with our feet touching in the future?! It's more credible that you said it was an archangel!"

"If he's so good at making logical arguments, why do you think his psychic direction is more focused on certain aspects rather than serious negotiations or something else? And why have you been mentioning Sanguinius since you woke up?"

"Uh - this, because I remember that Jidabuluo had described Sanguinius wearing casual clothes and being in the same room with Horus..." Ramezane said uncertainly.

"Then you'd better remember it wrong, after all, the last time they were recorded to be in the same room was quite tragic." Perturabo said disapprovingly in the voice of Horus. "And from my experience, it's actually not necessary..."

"It's a great relief for him that he can't just stuff old Dengge in his pocket and take him along on the trip—" Ramizarn immediately changed the subject, giving Perturabo a preemptive and suspicious look.

"Where is Horus? I asked you several times but you didn't answer this question. Could he have been teleported to our ship? Just like Russ? Can Old Deng and Magna control the two of them from fighting on our ship?"

Perturabo immediately shut up, as if considering whether to answer the question that could no longer be avoided. Finally, he said, "Don't worry about the two of them fighting."

"Oh?"

"Because he's still here."

"Horus?"

"Correct."

"where?"

Perturabo said nothing, he just looked at Ramizane quietly.

"..."

After a few seconds of eerie silence, the Gastalins guarding the door of the Warmaster's private chambers heard the Iron Lord's signature deep bass scream for the third time today.

——Seeing is believing. It turns out that Lord Perturabo is a more lively person than Lord Fulgrim or Lord Sanguinius... I really don't know why he could do such a horrific thing to his own offspring.

----------

"If you scare me like this again, I will have a heart attack right here and there."

Lami Zain, who lay back in the chair and patted his chest to catch his breath, was indignant. "No wonder you have been unwilling to answer my questions."

"Primarchs don't have heart attacks," Perturabo explained again patiently. "Besides, answering your question won't do anything except make you feel worse, so why do you want to know?"

"I can feel bad, but I can't be kept in the dark. Do you understand? You little stinky dog..." When the fingertips turned around with a smile and were about to touch someone's nose as usual, they shrank back as if burned by hot melt.

“It’s poisonous! I want to go back to the Iron Blood right now! Your body is simply infected with the Nantong virus! Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!”

"Then don't treat me like a sheepdog," Perturabo said helplessly. "In any case, when Dorne comes later, you must restrain yourself..."

"Who?!"

"Rogal Dorn."

"Where are you coming?!"

"Spirit of Vengeance, here."

"What is he doing here?!"

"Because it is you, me, and him who will be meeting next," Perturabo said calmly. "Malohorst has sent servants to change our clothes."

(End of this chapter)