Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 790 How many things are you still hiding from me?!
"I had come up with many reasons before."

Ramizan said, while viciously tugging at the animal skin cloak on someone's back, and the Primarch remained silent.

"But I never imagined it would be this reason!"

He tugged hard at the monster's pelt—yes, it was actually the pelt of an alien monster, supposedly taken from a world conquered by Horus and the Shadowmoon Wolf—though it looked more like a giant Italian gray wolf.

"..." The Primarch remained silent, simply reaching out to pull the animal skin cloak back into place.

"So it turns out you and your father made a deal, which enhanced the stability of this cycle to the point that you could pull off a stunt here and force a one-life breakthrough! And you even planned to use the current situation to help Horus get through the trials of Devon Moon and Devon Temple?"

"More or less... to put it simply, that's it."

"So what did he promise you?"

"...He came to tell me that the situation in Wandering Harbor, Carrick, and Bellacarn is not optimistic. They have been attacked by a large orc army from the direction of the landing port. In addition, there is an internal force of the Empire active in the port: the Calicus cult, the evil aliens, the Eldar, the Dark Eldar, and several Astartes... We need to return in advance to prevent the Ironblood and other things from having problems ten thousand years later. This is very important, but this deal cannot be without a price."

"Are you sure the information he provided about our hometown and base is reliable? And can he really get us back in time?"

Ramizan did show a rare concern, but he was clearly still somewhat wary of the pigeon's credibility and ability to grant wishes.

"The formulaic answer is that it matches the observation and calculation results. Of course, what you want to hear is the fact: I have other sources to confirm this."

Is this source reliable?

"Just as reliable as Conrad Coates' new degree."

"What kind of talk is that... Fine, then I'll take it as you wanting to finish this quickly and go back, so you turned on a history hack and started cheating. Then why didn't you take me with you? I'm still playing the stealth game! I also want to have some fun without any worries. Oh, and can we go and go on a rampage right now? If I kill Eribus and the others, can you revive them all? Will they remember this?"

If Perturabo was inwardly terrified, at least he didn't show it on Horus's face.

Instead, he patiently explained to Ramizan in the most comforting way possible, in a way that best showcased the charm of this mysterious body constructed through genetic engineering and other efforts.

"...That's not what you call having fun. I've already explained to you why things have turned out this way. I'm essentially doing three jobs at once. If you really want to experience doing three Primarch-level data jobs at once, I can give those jobs to you..."

"let it go."

Ramizan was deeply moved, but then resolutely declined Peturabo's offer of kindness.

"You should take on more of the work since you're capable."

"Hey, are you really not going to take it? I can reluctantly try to figure something out with the old man..."

"No need, no need, really no need. I think saving the galaxy is something you guys should do. After all, your old man Deng claimed that he really created you for that purpose when he created you, right? Uh, is that so? It can't be that he created twenty sons to conquer the entire galaxy and kill everyone except the humans he defined, can it?"

"...Yes, it's the former. Then I can only continue with my work. I hope you can lend a hand when you have time."

“Well…no problem, I’ll let you know when I have time.” Ramizain slowly turned his gaze to the porthole beside him. “The weather is really nice today…”

Horus looked regretful, but he and the audience watching from the observation belt breathed a sigh of relief.

But then, the man opposite him, who seemed to have "many questions," seemed to remember something.

“Wait, if you’re working alone on Horus, Loka, and Perturabo right now, then remember me clearly, there was a big event related to Vengeance.”

He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming. "Euphrates Kira was called the 'First Living Saint' by the Church of the Holy Word because she publicly used the Emperor's power to repel the summoned demons in the 'Soul of Vengeance,' which influenced Kyrel Sindman, and even the subsequent Istvan incident, the voyage of the Eisenstein, the founding and establishment of the Inquisition, and the events of the following thousand years... What do you plan to do with her?"

"This matter," Horus said with a strange expression, "I thought you wouldn't ask."

"...Leaving aside the fact that she was involved in so many major events, which I can't forget even if I wanted to, and also the fact that it doesn't make sense that she can possess the old man now but can't play a role or pass messages to the old man in the Istvan incident and afterwards...But I remember very clearly that the witch Euphrates abducted Sigismund in the old man's name! How could I forget?"

Zhan Shuai's lips drooped noticeably.

"Sigismund is the son of that broken stone, why do you keep thinking about him? Aren't my Felix or Honso good enough? Can all those things compare to this?!"

"Huh?" Ramizam peeked out the window. "Didn't the sun rise in the west today? Why are you suddenly standing up for your sons? Even Honsau? Is it raining crystals from the Brass Throne?"

"Stop with the nonsense! I didn't!" Perturabo said angrily, his face contorted with Horus's expression. "But isn't it the truth?! In what way is Iron Warrior inferior to him?!"

"Indeed, he's not inferior to anyone. Iron Warriors are great, all of them are great, but who made him create the Black Templars and, over the past ten thousand years—let's not even talk about whether they've gone astray—they've at least flourished into a vibrant black-clad organization spread throughout the entire galaxy..."

He cleared his throat. "On the other hand, Felix, despite his exceptional planning abilities, has spent ten thousand years in a state of utter despondency, practically living in seclusion on Medrengard, achieving nothing. Just when he was finally trying to rekindle his spirits on the Heart of Hydra, he was blasted away by a Titan's cannon, leaving Honsor's path to power unobstructed... Tell me, who's to blame for this? And tell me, why would I want to recruit such a capable and skilled Sigismund to our unit... no, what's wrong with our warband working for us?"

Zhan Shuai's expression was uncertain. Clearly, the question of "who should be blamed" had touched a nerve, but the fact that "it's just about recruiting people to work" made it much easier for him to accept.

"Besides, didn't we suddenly have a lot more manpower after he arrived on the Ironblood? He can manage both the Black Templar and the Imperial Fist! Since he's already a mech, his uses are even more extensive! — Anyway, mechs can easily blame the chip program for everything they do."

"Well, that's not wrong..."

"So can you answer my question now? What do you plan to do with Euphrates and her 'deeds' in the deal you made with the old man? You can't just leave them alone, can you?"

"Uh." Zhan Shuai grumbled for a while, "Uh. It's like this, you see, because we need to stabilize this fragment of the cyclic universe, we obviously can't rely on the current 'Emperor,' and we can't influence... the observer effect too much... so..."

"You're not saying all this to tell me that Old Deng came in person, are you?"

"Uh."

"Which old Deng?!" Ramizam's voice suddenly rose an octave.

"Pigeon." "Oh." The person who seemed to have expanded beyond their bounds just a moment ago sat back down on the sofa.

In the Star Room of the Vengeance Soul, psionic engineers from other fleets exchanged alarmed reports about the void storm that had occurred and vanished before they could even issue a warning: most incredibly, they had just seemed to be at the eye of the storm, but that was impossible.

“That’s not right.” Ramizan looked around the War Marshal’s small living room/office with a puzzled expression. “Where’s Old Man Deng? Isn’t he here? I haven’t seen him around. He couldn’t have crawled into Saint Gilles’s wing, could he?”

“Uh. No. He didn’t like those wings. To be honest, if it weren’t for the fact that everyone else liked them, Saint Gilles might not have kept them.”

"Then where is he?"

"Uh. He's with his son right now. That's part of the deal."

"Huh?" Ramizan stared at Perturabo's Horus-like face.

"At that time, Horus happened to make a strong wish, and through this wish, Old Deng crossed over to make the deal..."

"...Huh? Wait, are you saying that there's a part of the future Emperor from ten thousand years in the making on this Vengeful Spirit, running around with Horus now? Do you think this is the kind of text combination that should be here?"

"This is a set of words that accurately describes the current situation."

"How much more are you hiding from me?!"

"That's why I say I'll answer every question. How am I supposed to know which answer to give you if you don't ask me?"

"Where are those two terrifying father and son duo now? You're just letting them wander around here? Aren't you afraid something will happen?!"

"For now, the old man is keeping a low profile while also monitoring Horus, because Horus is actually quite hard to listen to the rest of us. He only trusts Old Deng right now, so I haven't interfered for the time being..."

A knock coming from behind the bronze doors of the strategy room interrupted their conversation.

"Who?"

The door opened, and a Tyrant Terminator descended the stairs, placing his hand on his breastplate in a salute.

"My lords, Warmaster's squire Malhohorst requests an audience."

Did he explain his purpose?

"He said he had urgent matters that required a meeting with the commander-in-chief and to report to him personally."

--------

When Warmaster's squire Malhohorst, leaning on his cane and limping, entered the living room, he saw the two Primarchs, one writing furiously and the other lounging by the window, gazing at the scenery.

He frowned almost imperceptibly, inwardly scorning the Iron Lord's habit of slacking off at every turn, despite his full capacity for diligence. Then he walked up to the War Commander and bowed respectfully.

“Mar, there are no outsiders here. You know you don’t have to act like this in front of me.”

"My lord, this is only out of my personal respect."

Malorhorst struggled to lift his head, which twisted at the end of his spine, and even the squire, who was closest to the duties of a secretary in the entire legion, now had a fanatical expression on his face.

"First of all, I would like to congratulate you on your outstanding performance in Zenobia. At the same time, thanks to your advance arrangements, we have already blockaded the Zenobian fleet within their anchorage, eliminating their possibility of pursuit and allowing for an orderly withdrawal. The Imperial Navy is amazed by your ingenious deployment and innovative tactics and has sent a congratulatory telegram."

"I'll be thankful if I can convince these Terrans to do what I say. You've done a lot, Mal, thank you for your hard work."

The attendant bowed and touched his chest. “It is my duty, my lord. Your prestige in the fleet is now unparalleled, surpassing even that of the past. The glory of the War General is known to all. We, the Shadow Moon Wolves, share in your honor.”

"Oh? No one has raised any questions? Like, 'This can't be explained by Imperial Truth,' or 'This doesn't comply with the Nicaea Resolutions.' I'm sure there are psionicists and think tanks who will look at this from their professional perspectives, right?"

"Given the fact that you have saved so many lives and your status, would anyone dare to question the righteousness of your use of any power? My lord, if you hear such rumors, please inform me, and I will certainly have men arrest these traitors and throw them in prison. Upholding your honor and ensuring that your will prevails is my inescapable duty."

Horus laughed, while the Lord of Steel looked at Malhohorst with the eyes of someone seeing him for the first time.

"Alright, Mal, so what made you come all this way to knock on my door while I was dealing with official documents?"

"I have brought you an urgent request for an audience, Your Excellency."

"Oh? Whose? In the last 24 hours, the line of people eager to see me could stretch from here to the Red Tear Ship, and there are many more on their way. I don't want to be disturbed by this."

"Based on some personal opinion and earnest request, I believe that it would be beneficial or harmless for you to meet this visitor when the waters are still and deep on the ship."

"Oh? Why?"

"because……"

The general's attendant seemed to be searching for a suitable metaphor, but in the end he touched the folds in his robe and then placed what he had pulled out onto the general's desk.

"It's hard for me to say, sir. You'll know when you see him."

When Ramizan straightened up and looked over, he found that the object was a silver coin that didn't look like it had been handled much. The oxide film made its silver color appear slightly dull, but the pattern on it was a wolf howling at the sky with its head raised and a crescent moon.

“Aha,” he said, “Let me guess who it is. It’s so hard to guess.”

(End of this chapter)