Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 732 So that's how it is, it was free for me -
“Once I’m here, I can’t leave my position as ‘Horus Lupecal’ or ‘Warmaster’ and move around freely.”

Peturabo cut to the chase, "You've asked me so many questions, don't you realize that since I'm so familiar with the procedures here, why should I patiently repeat the same conversations with them?"

"Isn't it because these are all things that have never happened to them before?"

"..."

Peturabo paused for a moment, then subconsciously began to rub the bulging veins on his temples.

If anyone could hear the Primarch's inner thoughts at this moment, it would most likely be, "Hold on, hold on, you made your choice... stick to it to the end, think of the peak you're climbing, Peturabo!"

“That’s not how it works.” He lowered his hand and said, “Although the old man sent us here to try and switch places, the position of Warmaster ‘Horus Lupecal’ is too important to the fate of this timeline. There has to be one no matter what. To make things easier, the old man moved him elsewhere, so there has to be at least ‘a Primarch’ here to fill that position. We can’t just leave his body here like that—as a result, Erebas, who rushed over, sent him back to the Temple of Davin—do you understand what I’m saying?”

"Oh, I see. So you're basically playing Horus here, saying what he's supposed to say and doing what he's supposed to do?"

Lamizain twisted Peturabo's facial features together again.

"I had successfully fooled myself into forgetting he was with me... Thank you for reminding me!"

"You're welcome. If I didn't have to, I wouldn't want to remind you of this."

General Peturabo frowned.

"But you were successfully inserted into this world by the old man because you successfully changed the fate of Olympia. In other words, you no longer exist in this time and place in this spacetime. So... perhaps you understand what I mean?"

"..."

Ramizan's blank stare and expression showed that he was frantically thinking with the extraordinary brain of Peturabo's main body, capable of simultaneously calculating the real-time weapon fire control, ballistics calculations, and deployment of an entire fleet.

...To be honest, when trying to fool him into not coming up with all sorts of bizarre end times, I really hoped he would be a little stupid, but seeing that blank, thoughtful expression on my face still made the Primarch unable to hold back.

So after struggling to keep that expression on his face for four seconds, Peturabo decided to interrupt the other person's behavior, which was causing his blood pressure to rise.

“What I mean is,” he said, trying to be as gentle as possible, “that you are now a ‘free man.’ While all the rest of us must act within the grand framework of this galactic spacetime, you are, in a sense, free to act because you are not within this spacetime loop. The fate of Olympia and the Iron Warriors, through your… efforts, has found its own stable new course of destiny, so as the ‘Iron Warrior Primarch,’ you can be considered ‘not here,’ and therefore you can ‘leave the established order’ to conduct appropriate investigations or interventions… Do you understand?”

Ramizane's eyes lit up, and a look of sudden realization appeared on the face of the Iron Lord.

"I see! Why didn't you say so sooner! I understand now!"

Peturabo let out a long sigh of relief—only then did he realize that he had been clenching his fingers tightly.

So they then discussed for a while whether or not to deal with the Malhohorst threat ahead of schedule.

Ultimately, before they all returned to their own bedrooms, Peturabo's opinion on how to deal with the warlord's servants prevailed.

They will spare the Twisted One's life for now, but will also observe him more closely in secret for a period of time.

So Peturabo, the Fourth Primarch, the Lord of Steel, the black-and-white tyrant, with a sense of regaining his human form, power, and a certain positive expectation for this change, went to bed and snuggled into (?) a simple but fairly comfortable bed, and fell soundly asleep.

As it turns out, Peturabo, though he thought he had explained things clearly enough, had not explained them clearly enough.

The next morning, just as he got up and started washing up but before he had breakfast, the general's attendant rushed over to request an urgent audience.

With a sense of foreboding, Horus listened to the explosive news reported by the other party in the bedroom:
The Lord of Steel is wandering around on the Soul of Vengeance.

"...Stroll? Say that again? How dare you use such disrespectful words to describe my brother, a Primarch, a son of the Emperor, a commander of the Legion? Malhohorst!"

“My loyalty is as clear as the sun and moon. I have absolutely no intention of offending the majesty of the Emperor, you, or the Lord of Steel, my respected sir.”

Malhohorst knelt down with difficulty, his expression and tone heavy, "But please forgive me, I really can't find a better word to describe what happened this morning on Vengeance Spirit."

"Then report back to me a more suitable vocabulary list!"

The general's attendant was clearly taken aback by the general's unusual and somewhat unreasonable response, but as a seasoned assistant, he quickly rallied and reorganized his thoughts.

“I was too hasty and frivolous, sir. To be precise, we began receiving sighting reports and requests for instructions from various parts of the Vengeful Spirits sixty minutes ago.”

"Then why didn't you come to find me sooner?"

"At first we thought Lord Peturabo just wanted to take a walk, because Lord Sanguis would also come out for a stroll when he came to visit, but Lord Sanguis usually returned to his room quickly."

"……go on."

It seems Lord Horus is also displeased with such a lack of manners and respect from a Primarch. After all, this is the flagship of the Shadowmoon Wolves; it's simply unacceptable for the Lord of Steel to walk around so casually here. Malhohorst pondered this as he began his report.

"The eyewitness accounts can be summarized as follows: 'An awe-inspiring colossus walked past me, I can't believe it, it's like a dream,' 'My God, I think I witnessed a Primarch! Was it a real Primarch?!' 'We are unsure whether we should block the Iron Lord's path, so we can only send our Guards to follow behind the Primarch,' and 'We request instructions from the Warmaster on which areas to open to the Iron Lord.' The eyewitness area extends from the guest room bedrooms to the entire upper and middle decks."

The attendant looked at the data panel with some confusion. "According to the latest eyewitness report, the Lord of Steel seems to have been asking other people where the library and canteen are."

He heard his master snort coldly, followed by footsteps.

"My lord?"

He paced back and forth a few steps as if deep in thought, and then the familiar, gentle voice of the Wolf God, familiar to Malohost, rang out above him once more.

"Get up, my old friend, my loyal servant. The news you just heard has indeed surprised me greatly."

Malhohorst bowed his head with difficulty, his still-healing wounds making him tremble, but the Primarch's timely outstretched arm warmed him, and the fire of his determination to serve the Primarch and follow him wherever he went burned brightly and intensely in his heart.

"Draft a notice for me, to inform the entire legion and the personnel on board the ships..."

The attendant's bloodshot eyes widened in disbelief.

(End of this chapter)