Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 733 In short, the problem definitely doesn't lie with Lord Horus.
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Although the next briefing meeting has not yet been scheduled, the members of the Council of Four Kings have already met again on the Path of Glory and Remembrance outside the Strategy Room.

It wasn't that they didn't take the work requirements assigned by the war commander seriously, but a message that had just been sent to the entire ship through the war commander's attendant made both the most senior and the youngest members among them feel deeply uneasy.

One of the members of the Council of Four Kings felt it necessary to convene them to discuss the matter, lest their fiercest and most powerful warrior offend his brother without knowing the warlord's intentions.

Company Commander Ezekiel Abaddon's helmet was chained to his waist, and beneath his high-tied braid, his face still etched with anger, stood Horus Asimand the younger, shorter than him, who was gently comforting him with the face that most resembled the Father of Genetics among them. Taric Togarden arrived with Gavial Locken, who had just canceled all his other appointments to come here, his face, the most distinct from the other three, etched with the caution of a newcomer.

"Even the Primarch of the Iron Warriors cannot treat the Spirit of Vengeance as his own backyard, moving in and out with impunity. The Legion's honor must be respected!"

Abaddon spoke as if a muscular super bully was talking. Although Horus Jr. was also a robust warrior like a mastiff, he was slightly inferior to the company commander in terms of imposing presence and destructive power. At this moment, he added aptly, "But he is also the commander's brother, Azeroth." He emphasized at the end of the sentence, "Brother."

"Come on. You and I both know the Commander's attitude toward the Fourth Army—it's different from the Seventh or Ninth Army," Abaddon said grimly. "Frankly, I don't understand why Father has been getting so close to Lord Peturabo lately. I see absolutely no need for it. Even if we do nothing, we can still easily send Iron Warriors to the front lines or leave troops behind."

“Shh—” Togardon interjected, “The Primarchs always have their own secrets and strengths. Perhaps the Commander has some new information and is considering other options. We shouldn’t act without his permission.” He turned to Horus Jr., “Did you call Fakus and the others back?”

The person being asked nodded, while Loken asked in surprise, "The First Company has deployed the Widowmakers?"

Horus nodded almost imperceptibly. "After hearing that the Lord of Steel was spying and inquiring around on the Soul of Vengeance, Azekel immediately sent his elite troops to follow Lord Perturabo. The Katuralan squad hadn't fully recovered yet, so it was Gastalin from Fakus's team who went. If I hadn't held him back, he would have rushed over to try and 'politely' escort the Lord of Steel back to his room."

Is this the source of the confidence of the most outstanding and renowned hero warriors in the Shadowmoon Wolves and even the entire Astartes Legion? To go and stop a Primarch? Loken felt that this was indeed a bit reckless, but at the same time, he was captivated by the powerful and confident aura that Abaddon and Horus shared.

However, he hadn't forgotten his duty as an accepted member of the elite inner circle of the Council of the Four Kings. After a moment's thought, he suggested, "Perhaps we should collectively submit an audience request or a written request for permission to the Commander before proceeding with the next step, otherwise..."

At that moment, a voice came through the communication channel inside the power armored ship, interrupting his speech.

The four of them heard Malhohorst's distinctive voice, slightly weak after his injury, ring out on the channel: "...By the will of the Emperor, the Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Guard, the Eye of Terra, the Sixteenth Legion, the War Council, and all the Warmasters of the Astartes Legions, no one may, for any reason, obstruct the actions of the esteemed Fourth Primarch, Lord of the Iron Warriors, and Tyrant of Olympia, in the Spirit of Vengeance and the Legions. If ordered by the Lord of the Iron, all shall obey, provided they do not disobey my own orders... The presence of the Lord of the Iron shall be regarded as my own..."

The four company commanders looked at each other, and finally it was Togarden, who was best at smoothing things over, who spoke up.

"...What kind of spell did the Lord of Steel cast on the Commander?"

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"This is incredible."

Inside the Imperial Fist Primarch's cabin, Third Company Commander Efred said this.

The message just now was from the ship's internal communication, using the shared channel between Astartes and the Imperial Army, so the Primarch of the Imperial Fist and his two companies also received the notification. He clearly didn't like a certain name mentioned in the broadcast, but his tone remained calm and impartial.

"The title and authority of War General are bestowed by the Emperor himself. Why would Lord Horus so easily entrust such a powerful weapon to...that one? Given the Iron Lord's temperament and his recent erratic behavior, authorizing him would undoubtedly be quite risky. Such a casual decision, even without holding a staff meeting, is also not in line with Lord Horus's usual style."

Dorn was reading a book in his hand. Today, the Primarch was not wearing armor, but rather a simple and elegant Invit summer outfit. A scarlet short-sleeved cloak with beautiful patterns embroidered in real gold along the edges was cinched at his broad shoulders with a leather belt and hung down from his elbows.

His expression remained unchanged throughout the broadcast, and he did not say anything.

The third person in the room responded to Alfred's words, "Not necessarily." Sigismund's blue eyes held a hint of contemplation. "Actually, when I saw the Iron Lord before he made those outrageous moves that day, I had a strange feeling."

"What does it feel like?"

The Imperial Fist Company Commander, wearing a black and white battle robe over his near-golden yellow armor, shook his head regretfully.

“I can’t quite describe it in words, but…” He paused for a moment, “I feel like he’s become…less angry and less tense and aggressive?”

"You mean he's become more lenient? Is his offense against the Primarch a gesture of goodwill? Perhaps that's not so bad for our cousins. Personally, I think there are still some Iron Warriors who deserve respect, and it would be better if we could avoid such confrontations."

“No.” Sigismund frowned, his face displaying the caution unique to a highly talented warrior. “I mean, the instant he grabbed the Primarch, I wanted to pull him away or stop him, but I couldn’t find any opening in his defenses. For a moment, I even thought he was…”

He pondered, his gaze shifting to the dark void outside the porthole.

"Indifference, ruthlessness, irresistible, overwhelming nothingness and vast...despair. He is like...this boundless deep space."

The sound of the book closing broke the heavy atmosphere in the cabin.

The Primarch of the Imperial Fist spoke slowly, his voice firm and deep, yet surprisingly gentle, like the steel strings of a cello: "In any case, this matter is currently an internal affair of the Sixteenth Legion. We will soon be returning to Terra as ordered, to begin adapting to our new responsibilities in the defense of the Royal Palace and Terra. This matter is of utmost importance at the moment."

He paused. "Whatever Peturabo's intentions, we don't need to create any unnecessary trouble before our return. Adapting to any eventuality is our consistent policy since being chosen as the Terra Guard."

The two company commanders received orders simultaneously.

(End of this chapter)