Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 769 Never mind, just shoot first.
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As time has passed, the story of 63-19 and the "Emperor" has become a thing of the past.

With the last ship of Expeditionary Fleet 63 setting sail, the world was left behind, leaving the new planetary governor and his forces to face the gaze of the entire planet.

Shortly after Commander Valvarus arrived with the remaining forces of Expeditionary Fleet 63, the navigators and star speakers reported strange spatial oscillations coming from the far reaches of the star system where Murder Star was located.

Although no similar fluctuations have been recorded before, all readings indicate a high probability that a large fleet is approaching, but the Empire has not taken any such action recently.

“I think we should form a battle formation in advance. My Red Tear can provide flank support for your Vengeful Spirit.”

On this day, Saint-Gilles proposed, while accepting the soft white rice bread that "Petulabo" handed him.

This food is said to be the latest creation of the Lord of Iron. Although Baal is by no means a fertile land, and Saint Gilles is not a person who indulges in gluttony, the Lord of the Holy Blood Angels' diet has always been clean and exquisite, but also emphasizes restraint.

However, it's hard to resist this fluffy, soft, round white bread, sliced ​​in half, filled with freshly scrambled eggs and bacon, and topped with some cold butter.

—I should probably restrain myself a bit. Lately, the way Radoron and the others are looking at me has become worried, and my well-fitting power armor seems to be getting tighter around my abdomen…

“Try this one?” His brother, who was previously known for his gloomy, irritable, sensitive and suspicious nature, enthusiastically handed him another plate of food. Saint-Gilles looked down at the food for a few seconds.

The oil frying process creates a thin, crispy crust on the pancake made from flour coated with sesame oil and chopped leaves and stems of a certain Amaryllidaceae plant. The edges are stained a golden brown by the Maillard reaction. Even more wonderfully, a flat-fried egg is placed on top, its edges also charred and fragrant while the inside remains tender and moist.

His extremely keen sense of smell also told him that there was a layer of richly flavored sauce spread under the egg.

After struggling for a few seconds, Saint Gilles told himself and Peturabo, "I'll just try one."

"Give it a try! It's fine to eat and chat at the same time!"

"This is really impolite...crunch crunch...you shouldn't talk while eating."

"That's just formality for others, brother. What can't we discuss at the dinner table? It's just the two of us here. Come on, have a cup of this fake Imperata cylindrica water; it'll cut through the grease and make your meal more palatable."

"Crackling sounds... What you said makes sense... This kind of informal meeting is indeed much more relaxed... What kind of plant is Imperata cylindrica? Where did you get it from? The taste is really unique."

"Ahem! So I think we can compromise on your suggestion."

Across from them, Zhan Shuai, who was holding a coffee cup, raised an eyebrow and immediately interrupted the conversation, which was starting to turn sour.

“We should adopt a suitable defensive posture, but not deploy an overly aggressive formation,” the War Marshal said. “For example, the Red Tear can stay a little further away with the other fleets, while the Vengeance Soul can form a cluster in front with Fleet 63.”

"Click click... That's a bit too dangerous for you. If the attackers are hostile, you'll be the first to be hit, and it will take time for the support maneuver."

“They won’t come with ill intentions,” said the Lord of Steel. “This time, it should be a human civilization originating from Terra, and they won’t strike first.”

Saint Gilles raised one of his elegant eyebrows and sized up the two masters of the Fourth and Sixteenth Legions.

"What information are you hiding from me this time?"

“I haven’t kept this from you, my dear brother,” said the Warlord. “Petulabo, the greatest calculator of the world, has just deciphered more information from those man-made objects, and you are the first person besides me to know this.”

"Ah, this makes me feel much better. What message is it?"

"Hmm... I figured since these thirty flying objects look like industrial products, they must have manufacturer labels, interface instructions, or other information. So I took two apart to take a look."

"result?"

"There are indeed similar counterparts to 'made in XXXX'... Thank goodness that humanity's thinking has remained almost the same for tens of thousands of years. Their creators should be a civilization called Interrex, hmm... obviously, they took a completely different path from the technological styles of Terra and the Solar System a long time ago."

"You mean they used alien technology, or..."

“Neither.” The Lord of Steel shrugged, pushing another glass of water toward Saint Gilles. The Lord of Angels then realized, somewhat awkwardly but politely, that he had unknowingly finished the entire plate of delicious egg pancakes. “You’ll see in time. This might have been what Terra’s human civilization was supposed to become.”

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As Peturabo said, when Sanguis personally witnessed the elegant sailing of those huge, silver-white warships from the jump point on the bridge image of the Red Tear, with their unique, scepter-shaped, simple, and streamlined hulls, he understood the unspoken meaning of the other party.

Under the wise and powerful advance instructions of the War General, the Star Speakers of the Soul of Vengeance remained composed and polite when faced with communications from the other side that could simultaneously reach the Imperial communication channel and the Star Speakers' ears.

So, after several rounds of questioning and answering, the Interxians accepted the Warmaster's explanation of the misunderstanding and began diplomatic exchanges.

Finally, the three Primarchs will receive the first visiting Interrex delegation on Vengeance Soul, as the Warmaster has instructed them, "We are the offspring of the Terran Emperors."

The other party quickly responded, saying that they would take the initiative to pay a visit to "the princes from Terra".

“There is no doubt that they still value the name Terra,” said the Iron Lord. At this moment, the Warmaster’s attendants, the Council of Four Kings, and the company commanders and other officers were all around him. Three thrones were arranged on the bridge, with two Primarchs flanking the Warmaster in the center. The scene was majestic, magnificent, and extraordinary.

"We shouldn't have talked to them!" Chief Company Commander Abaddon roared. "Their human blood cannot cover up the fact that they do not conform to our key principles! This goes against the Emperor's will! It is entirely reasonable for us to wage war against them immediately!"

This is ridiculous! Why start a war when everything is fine? The Interrex haven't even fired a single weapon. Abaddon is being incredibly unreasonable.

But when Ramizann discovered that Abaddon's supporters made up the vast majority of those present, he frowned.

"Well then," the Lord of Steel said slowly, "it seems impossible to start a war at the moment, but can any of you summarize for me why you think war should happen? What are your reasons?"

"They don't exterminate the Xenomorphs, they merely imprison them! They subdue the Xenomorphs, yet assimilate them into their own civilization! This is the difference between us! This violates the laws personally bestowed upon us by the Emperor when he led us on this expedition: to annihilate all Xenomorphs, to destroy civilizations that do not obey us. The only way for rebels to survive is to submit to the Emperor of Man as the sole Emperor. This is the foundation of the Empire, and this imperial decree is unshakeable!"

“Oh,” said the Lord of Steel, “you know what, I suddenly remembered some historical records.”

“Petulabo,” the warlord said, and Sanguires keenly caught the tension in his brother’s voice.

“Those histories aren’t exactly pleasant, you know, Azekel Abaddon.” The Iron Lord rose gently, his armor gleaming as if black and gold lightning danced across it.

"Petulabo!" The war commander raised his voice, and suddenly a faint smell of burning spices and ruins began to fill the air.

The chief platoon leader suppressed the urge to retreat, a sense of impending death... no... annihilation gnawing at his soul.

“My Lord.” A gentle, persuasive voice came from behind Abaddon. A figure in grey Mark IV power armor stepped forward and gently soothed the Primarch, who was clearly about to vent his anger on Abaddon, with earnestness and composure.

"Please calm down. We must unite against a common enemy at this moment and not engage in disputes here."

Just one glance at that face covered in scriptures and armor was enough to make the Fourth Primarch stop in his tracks as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over him.

"...Eri...Bass?"

“It is an honor that you have heard of me, sir.” The chief priest of the Word Bearers, who had followed Valvarus’s fleet to the Vengeful Spirits, bowed to him.

"It's finally here!"

The Word Bearer raised his eyelids in surprise and just in time to see the flames of the four-barreled Stormblaster pressed against his forehead.

Then, this spacetime returned to a certain loop point.

"What the hell!"

(End of this chapter)