Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 834 Stop! You judge, don't use my name...!
The tens of minutes before the judges were brought in
Ironblood's "Battle Captain's Office"

-

Perturabo BC worked silently, the room filled with the sound of sharp, grinding claws striking plastic and metal, like a rapid rain. He sat in his fearless vehicle, cloaked in his humanoid disguise.

Ramizan also wore camouflage that allowed him to blend in with ordinary people; the LOGOS was something Peturabo BC insisted he get used to wearing in this era rather than taking it off frequently.

"In case you get ambushed or fly off to some godforsaken place someday, it might keep you alive until we find you." This reason is cowardly and lazy, perfectly in line with someone's habits, so this person now wears it in the office.

The pigeons perched on their perches, tucking their crowned heads under their wings, seemingly finally asleep from exhaustion, appearing to anyone just like ordinary white pigeons.

The figure beside it would undoubtedly attract more attention from others.

Diocletian Kroos was clad in gleaming gold armor, his helmet and belt adorned with burnt-brown gemstones that symbolized his royal guards, which shimmered against his golden attire.

A red cloak embroidered with an imperial eagle cascaded gracefully down to his feet, which were clad in golden combat boots.

He looked dazzling and radiant, worth at least a prosperous business planet.

Even more striking than these were the silver trays he carried, the enormous trays holding cups of two different sizes and other small items, making him appear to be a male servant.

Well, you can't just see imperial guards in full gold armor everywhere, right?
“Hmm, look here…” Ramizan moved Peturabo’s fingertips across a notebook filled with the smell of ancient ink and decaying parchment.

"Gregor Eisenhorn's life was legendary even within the Empire."

His infamous reputation spread throughout the Scalus sector and even the courts of the Misty Starfield; even the judges of the Calissis sector had heard of him…

He originally belonged to the Pure faction within the Alien Inquisition, and at the young age of 21, he began serving as an interrogator (assistant and apprentice to the Inquisitor Master Hapsant) and at the age of 24, he successfully rose to become a full-fledged Inquisitor…

Over the centuries that followed, he endured numerous pursuits, murders, injuries, love and death, joys and sorrows, and temptations from the devil. He was twice convicted of heresy and wanted by the Inquisition. On the second occasion, his student, Guidin Ravenno, as a formal inquisitor, had to hunt him down because the Inquisition only gave Ravenno two options: strip him of his inquisitor status or hunt down his former teacher.

The transformation of the Wendao School...

AlphaRes...

Ark Eldar...

Chaos Space Marines...

The last time he was seen was reportedly while he was chasing a man known as the King in Yellow...

The book they brought out from the City of Dust supposedly contained the true name of the King in Yellow...

Constantine Waldo…

Ramizan hurriedly examined the contents related to Gregor Eisenhorn in the Ironblood Grand Library. Surprisingly, yet unsurprisingly, the entries under the name of this Inquisitor contained so much information that it was almost like a new microcosm, and the amount of information required to understand it might be more than the entire life experiences and entanglements of all the people in some Imperial agricultural worlds.

This caught a librarian off guard, who had thought he could get a general idea by glancing at it beforehand, and he had to do a lot of quick browsing at the last minute.

Both Peturabo BC and Magna Dorn remained remarkably silent, making no attempt to remind each other of the many ways they could instantly infuse knowledge into the extraordinary mind of a Primarch.

When Ramizan's moving lips seemingly unintentionally uttered a name, Diocletian's gaze, behind his eyepiece, radiated extreme shock at the appearance of the first commander of the Imperial Guard.

Diocletian clearly wanted to speak, just as he and his three hundred original brothers had done ten thousand years ago before the throne of some dark-haired man, but a stern gaze came like a thorn from the direction of Perturabo, and at the same time the sound of pigeons echoed in his mind.

[Don't do anything foolish, Diocletian. I don't want to lose you so soon. Don't disturb 'his' thoughts right now. I'm quite certain that Number Four's weapons are already at full power, aimed at you, and the safety switches are on.]

【My lord? Is it you? Is it really you?】

"It is I, do not move. Your most important task right now is to be a perfect golden stand carrying trays and coffee, Diocletian. This is more important than anything else."

I do not understand, my lord.

[Don't worry if you don't understand. As long as you remain an "office servant" in his perception and consciousness, you are safe and won't disturb what he's doing. If you interrupt him now, frankly, I have to order you not to move until he calls you. This is an order, not a request or a wish, Diocletian.]

【As you wish, my king.】 The subtle movements of the guards' muscles shifted, and they returned to a state of quiet readiness. Peturabo BC's predatory gaze seemed to have softened.

"...Alright, I can see those swirling vortexes in your head! I'll provide some necessary explanations to prevent you from causing us even more trouble. You're still not convinced, aren't you? About Ramizann Carlosini's existence and his attitude towards everyone, aren't you? Be honest, don't overthink it."

"Yes, my lord. He seems utterly a usurper, a non-human being. Even if I weren't a soulless being like Kerriel, I would know he could be anything, but definitely not human."

Who among us has truly been human in the traditional sense?

The pigeon described such a terrible thing in such a calm tone that the mighty body of the Imperial Guard almost swayed and went limp, and high-energy reactions began to appear on Peturabo BC's body again.

[...Stand at attention, Diocletian Cross!]

But you should be human! I once thought we had lost you as a human being...

[A pigeon's body can never truly connect with a 'human' one. If you still want what's best for me and everyone else, you should acknowledge this. Making him believe he is human is more important than me appearing as one. For this, I am willing to appear in a form 'he' deems appropriate.]

The Imperial Guard blinked behind his eyepiece.

You mean...?

[It's truly not wise to tell you too much now, for knowledge is both a blessing and a curse. So, let me think of a way to make you truly value this matter. Perhaps you should know that I intend to make you my Shield of the Eagle.]

My King! But it is you I long to protect...

[I know, but I am far, far safer here than you can see with your naked eye... as long as you don't provoke 'him' into abusing his power. Protecting his peace is protecting me, and you are even protecting the future of all humanity... protecting the dream I was once given.]

This burden is too heavy. My lord, why me?

Because 'he' believed that you were the one who gave it meaning. That's all, such terrifying power, seemingly arbitrary, yet inviolable. Number Four and I are both confused, yet walking on thin ice, Diocletian. Don't let your personal recklessness ruin everything.

[I...] [Back then, among three hundred people, you possessed the unique ability to see the truth, and because of that, you harbored a deep-seated fear of me, didn't you?]

【I…! My King! I…!】

[It is alright, I will now only tell you peacefully. Remember my words, Diocletian, if you still have any doubts, just look with your own eyes, but never, ever, ever go against the will of Ramizan Carlosini. You may deceive him, you may guide him, you may even argue with him, but never disturb or anger him. —Take any disrespect he may do to you as a form of training, a trial, a practice from which you can learn.]

I understand, my lord.

Meanwhile, Ramizan seemed to have finally finished reading the ancient book in his hand, and Diocletian also received a message on his communication channel that the Inquisitors and their party had arrived.

-

Diocletian hesitated for less than a second before finally stepping forward and bowing respectfully for the first time to the bodies of the Silver Skull Chapter Master, the Consul of the Carlosini Dynasty, and Peturabo—if a member of the Imperial Guard is truly determined to lower himself, he can do so better than anyone else.

The pigeon exuded a sense of relief, as if to say, "My child has finally grown up after all these years," which earned it several undisguised eye rolls from Peturabo BC.

However, the person being bowed to clearly appreciated it, even seemed a little flattered. "Oh! Oh! Um, cough cough, um, what's wrong? Diocletian?"

“I received news of Eisenhorn and his party’s arrival, Your Excellency.” Diocletian carefully adjusted his voice to be friendly but not obsequious, subtly adding a hint of reluctance. Sure enough, a smile appeared on the other person’s face. “Should I bring them to you?”

"Of course, of course. Thank you for your help. Well then."

So the Imperial Guards came out of the office and met with Loken and his men, who were astonished to see him. When he returned, he was carrying a large sack on his back.

"what……?"

Dirk opened the sack and dumped the "people" inside onto the office carpet.

Cherubel's appearance immediately made the Imperial Guards frown, while the boy made their gaze unreadable. As for Eisenhorn, it seemed that with just one order, this Imperial Guard, who had previously been considered one of their comrades, would not hesitate to kill them all on the spot.

"Why a burlap sack?"

“I’d like to know too, sir. But this sack you’re carrying is truly remarkable; I can’t tear it. It’s quite amazing.”

The judge dusted off his coat and used his cane to support himself.

They heard the body enhancement devices implanted in his body strongly supporting his aging form.

Ramizan sized him up, and as he knew, Gregor Eisenhorn was now dressed in his signature attire: a high-necked coat, belt, trousers, and boots, with his shaved head for the implantation of enhancement devices; a psionic rune staff with its head carved into the shape of his own skull was stuck behind him, and he held the head of his staff in his hand—which was actually a staff-sword forged by the special psionic sword Barbarisat, though he did not wear the Inquisition Rose Knot on his chest.

He looked like a tired middle-aged man due to the rejuvenation surgery, but the indelible signs of aging in his soul silently told his true age. Yet, a wolf-like spirit in his bones was still evident and pure, especially in such a desperate situation.

"It was you who personally came to empty us out, my lord. I thought the Imperial Guards were always loyal, never yielding, and would never betray the Emperor and the Empire."

These words were undoubtedly directed at Diocletian, who was standing to the side. They were extremely impolite, but the intention was also clear: the special status of the Imperial Guard meant that everyone's reactions and words afterward could immediately reveal more information to the judge.

“That is indeed the case.” Diocletian’s inaction and the respect in his voice caused Judge Ai’s brows to furrow deeply. “I fulfill my duty and am proud of it, Judge.”

"Then, may I have the honor of knowing the names of the esteemed guests at the head of the table?" Eisenhorn appeared cautious and serious for the first time since entering the room.

As soon as Cherubel appeared, he tried to blend into the shadows beneath Eisenhorn's feet and hide.

However, it was clearly unsuccessful. The demon host only slightly transformed and probed under the office floor before immediately starting to scream—oh, it humanely covered its mouth with its hand, and then immediately floated up with its body, which seemed to have been bitten by something, its toes only a few centimeters off the ground, trembling behind Eisenhorn's coat.

If he hadn't been sealed inside the body of an adult male, this situation might have been somewhat pitiful; now, it feels utterly absurd and bizarre.

Zão Eifelnetti, the boy, cautiously got up, carefully approached and stood to Eisenhorn's side and slightly behind. He kept his head down, but his eyes darted around, curiously examining every detail of the elegant and bright office, filled with all sorts of novel decorations.

"Hmm...can you guess what we're called?" Ramizain looked at the book in his hand, a sudden inspiration striking him. "It's okay if you guess wrong."

"There aren't many beings in this galaxy who could make a member of the Imperial Guard willingly and immediately switch sides to serve them. As far as I know, the range is small, my lord, but the High Lords and the bishops of the State Church can certainly be excluded."

Lamizain smiled at the unfunny joke, and the old judge carefully observed his micro-expressions.

“But I do not consider you to be the emperor, Your Excellency.”

"That's true."

“But this guard is clearly obeying your orders, and I believe he should be a true guard.”

"Yes."

“I have had one or two friends from the Mechanic school, and they are very easy to identify with the characteristics of their ships.”

"Haha, you're much more humorous than I am."

"The subspace here is more tranquil and clear than Wanderport. There is no stench of decay, and not even a trace of the ubiquitous chaotic impurities in the air. Even the aura of Cherubel is clearly suppressed. There is a powerful being here that can calm the spatial turbulence."

"Well..." I don't know what happened either, after all, I only asked for an air purifier. Ramizain swallowed the rest of his sentence.

"Therefore, I believe this is the moment when we are closest to the core of this phantom..."

The judge suddenly drew his staff-sword, the Barbarisat steel blade, engraved with psionic runes, flashing with blue lightning.

"In the name of our Divine Sovereign Lord!!! Shatter this illusion that this great enemy has created for your people and for us! Zamio! Support me! Cherubel! Carry out my command!"

The psionic blade hurtled relentlessly towards the back of the desk, while the demon that had been cowering just moments before suddenly leaped up, radiating light.

Enveloped in pure white light, it hurtled toward Ramizan, who had no time to react, with an incredibly eerie trajectory, even faster than the Inquisitor.

In that instant, Diocletian seemed to hear his master swear, though he was very uncertain.

(End of this chapter)