Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim.

Chapter 60 The Emperor's Night Banquet (Part 1)
Countless carved beams and painted rafters, flags and reliefs lined the landscape, a tapestry recounting its glorious history since its birth, stretching for thousands of miles until it disappeared into the horizon of Casca.

Terra Palace.

The silvery sky was still shrouded in light snow, the delicate snowflakes falling and contrasting beautifully with the rocks covered in fine snow.

The golden city stretches for thousands of miles on the plateau, and its area covers the entire plateau.

With light footsteps, they traversed the vast, pristine stone ground once inspected by countless Titan-level creations and soldiers. Kasgar and Fugrim, standing beside him, finally stopped before the towering palace gates, hundreds of meters high, to be inspected by the golden-armored gods.

Logically, as the Primarch and the Emperor's banquet, only Fugrim should have received an invitation.

But somehow, the Emperor's invitation also ended up in Casca's hands.

Two portions.

One was for Fugrim, and the other was for Takasgar.

The Emperor invited Casca to join him for dinner.

"Wait, you mean I'm involved too?"

"Yes. Apart from number three, the Emperor also invited you."

"I hope you won't let him down."

Even when the imperial guard who delivered the message handed it to him, the displeasure in his eyes was so intense it seemed he wanted to devour him alive.

After placing the invitation letter woven with gold thread in Kasgar's hand, the guard left Fugrim's gate with lightning speed.

The Emperor invited me to the meeting?

I am Casgar Sherlock?

An ordinary son of an emperor, chief lord and commander.

Why did he invite me?

Casca has no answer.

But since it was an invitation from the emperor, he couldn't possibly refuse.

After changing into a gorgeous and elegant evening gown, Kasgar, accompanied by Fugrim, who was wearing a purple Stogar robe, stepped into the main gate of the palace.

He then presented his invitation to the two guards at the gate.

After scrutinizing him, the Imperial Guards did not choose to let him pass.

“Mr. Casca, the Emperor’s banquet is extremely grand.”

"Please make sure you are properly dressed before attending the meeting."

Is there something wrong with my instrument?

Casca bent down and inspected his evening gown.

Made to order by one of the finest garment artisans in Terra, its fabric and workmanship are among the best of the Emperor's Sons.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with your attire."

And what about these lipstick marks on your face?
The Imperial Guard pointed at him helplessly.

Upon hearing this, Casca's face immediately fell.

He glared fiercely at Vorgrim, who was snickering to the side.

"terribly sorry"

“But she said it was a declaration of her ownership.”

It was practically a public execution.

With lipstick marks all over his face, Casca lowered his head even further.

Looking at her purple eyes, which revealed schadenfreude and triumph, one could reasonably suspect that this was Forgrim's revenge for his decision to go to the Iron Hand Legion.

She seemed to enjoy it.

What a bad woman.

But what can Casca do?

Even her pelvic bones were just glued on.

Facing the strange gazes cast upon him by the imperial guards and ordinary servants from all directions, he had no choice but to lower his head and continue walking toward the center of the towering palace hall.

The banquet was held in the center of the palace.

Perhaps because the palace, which stretches for thousands of miles, is so vast, even Casca has no idea which floor of the palace this is.

He only knew that he had passed through countless gates inlaid with jewels and gold, and entered countless palaces with elaborate and magnificent decorations and sculptures.

Finally, the two stopped in front of a magnificent hall with a luxurious dining table that stretched for tens of meters.

It was very magnificent and resplendent.

Casca had probably used the word "magnificent" countless times in his mind, but it seemed that in Old Huang's aesthetic sense, this word was synonymous with the best architecture. Of course, it wasn't just architecture.

His seat at the head of the table was even more magnificent than the palace itself.

When Casca tried to see his true face, it was still shrouded in mystery, just like before.

It was so blurry that I couldn't see anything clearly.

The same was true for Waldo, the commander of the Imperial Guard beside him.

Equally tall and imposing, equally magnificent and resplendent.

And he also had an incredibly ugly mohawk.

This is also an unsolved mystery that has puzzled Casca for a long time.

Logically speaking, the Imperial Guard should have reached the pinnacle of human achievement in both philosophy and art. Even if any one of them were chosen as the governor of a sector, he would be an absolute philosopher-king.

Therefore, a perfect human being possessing the strongest philosophical and artistic abilities.
Under what circumstances would he choose a mohawk as his hairstyle?

Kaska didn't know.

The only thing he could clearly see was the old man in black robes sitting beside him.

The overly long hood concealed his aged face in shadow, and he remained silent, leaning on a psionic staff that was rather long for him.

Magic Pattern Macado.

Besides them, several Primarchs had also gathered at the banquet.

That’s it for now, let’s eat first.

The seating arrangement at the banquet, excluding the Emperor, Waldo, and Macado, proceeded in the order of the Primarchs' return (excluding Alpha).

First up was Horus, the Lord of the Shadowmoon Wolves, who seemed both excited and nervous.

He seemed nervous about the upcoming announcement of the War Commander position.

Below him was the wolf king Lemanrus.

He is eating.

Beside him was an empty chair; the leader of the Second Legion had not yet arrived.

Next came Philus, who greeted Fugrim and Kasgar with a smile. Fugrim was seated next to her.

Surprisingly, the seat with Casca's name on it was also here.

He was ahead of the Primarchs who returned later!

He sat down, somewhat flattered.

Next to him were Vulcan the dragon and Rogdorn the rock king, who were engaged in a lively conversation.

They didn't seem to resent him for ranking higher than them.

After all, the Primarchs are all adults and wouldn't throw a tantrum like children on the spot.

At least the few that have returned so far are.

And at the very end, there's the guy who's frowning and looking them all over, as if he's always preoccupied with something on his mind.

Robert Roberts—

Kiriman!

He definitely doesn't look like a good person.

Kaska muttered to himself as he met Guilliman for the first time.

No wonder people always say he's ambitious.

After he was seated, a waiter from the other end of the magnificent table served him several dishes he had never seen before.

At the very center in front of him was a sizzling steak.

Amidst the overflowing aroma of caramel and the faint steam of heat, he easily cut off a small piece of the buttery, tender meat and savored it slowly.

The succulent juices, like those from the finest ant beef he had ever tasted, burst forth between his lips and teeth with the aroma of carefully roasted meat.

Good times.

There were also some fruits arranged on exquisite porcelain platters. They looked somewhat similar to the grapes I remembered from Casca, but their fruity aromas seemed even richer and fresher.

Take a small bite, and the burst of sweet juice instantly fills Casca's mouth.

Its slightly fragrant, fruity color makes it almost too beautiful to eat.

Sometimes, being transported into Warhammer isn't all bad.

Casca thought to himself.

　Kasgar: I'm also part of the Warhammer universe, so why don't I feel the despair and darkness? ～(∠ω<)⌒★
　　
　
(End of this chapter)