Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 342 The Ninth Legion
"When the Nur transport ships arrived in Terra, the upper-class nobles flocked to them and frantically bought up these luxury goods, which never reached other star systems."

A look of understanding flashed in Saint Gilles' eyes. He had seen it before in Terra: when the merchant ronin's transport ships arrived, the noble shuttles would immediately swarm onto them.

Now he understood.

This wine is incredibly fragrant and delicious, making it irresistible; no wonder it's so popular.

“Under normal circumstances, within the human empire, I would never be able to obtain this except as a gift from a noble.”

As Horus spoke, he deliberately emphasized that it was the human empire, excluding the Nur stars.

He took a sip of wine, savoring its aroma, a playful smile on his face: "A nobleman was transporting supplies home when he was robbed by pirates along the way."

"Out of duty to protect the imperial nobles, I eliminated the pirates, but unfortunately, after the battle, the cargo on the nobles' ships disappeared without a trace..."

At this point, Saint Gilles understood perfectly well that, under Horus's instructions, the cargo had been secretly moved back to the Soul of Vengeance.

The angel smiled brightly. There was no doubt that the brothers' way of sharing pranks had brought them much closer.

He just didn't expect that his talented and ambitious brother would do something so unexpected.

"Luckily, it was me who ran into you."

Horus curled his lips into a strange smile: "If we encounter Rus, pirates, nobles, and supplies, none of them will escape."

Saint-Gilles didn't respond; he declined to comment on his brother, with whom he had no contact.

It's not hard to detect a hint of belittling in Horus's words; he seems to harbor a strange aversion to the existence of Riemann Russ.

With a topic to start, the two began to chat, taking advantage of the relaxed atmosphere of the banquet.

As the host, Horus was cheerful and enthusiastic, with so many topics that it seemed he could talk about them endlessly.

Saint Gilles was a guest, so he rarely took the initiative, chatting with his brother and occasionally offering his own opinions.

He also noticed that Horus's conversations mostly revolved around his situation, where he came from, and his local customs.

This is clearly a probe, an attempt to glean important information.

After careful observation, Saint Gilles quickly realized that his brother had not done this intentionally; his probing was entirely subconscious.

In return, Horus also introduced each of the brothers he had met—Riemann Russ, Doom Norwick, Moribas Solas, Feralus Marus, and Fugraim.

He had his own opinions about his many brothers.

He was never stingy with praise for his brothers' areas of expertise, and the pride between his brows was never hidden.

Saint Gilles nodded to himself. Although Horus had flaws, he was also genuine, generous, and upright.

On certain issues, he is extremely stubborn and will not compromise or tolerate any wrongdoing.

The only thing that made Horus lose his composure was when he spoke of the emperor, his eyes filled with longing memories, which even affected his judgment.

It is clear that he respected the emperor more than anyone else, and his words were full of protectiveness.

The Emperor Horus speaks of is the perfect father of the Primarch, the greatest leader of mankind, wise, mighty, and incomparably glorious.

There seems to be endless things to say about the Lord of Humanity.

Sometimes he would whisper very carefully in Saint Gilles' ear, sharing some of the days he spent alone with the emperor.

"What is your impression of Doom Norwick?" Saint Gilles asked Horus abruptly, ending the conversation about the Emperor.

His voice was clear, like the gentle murmur of a spring, instantly silencing the whispering Superman warriors.

The Legion warriors knew perfectly well that the Father of Genetics rarely mentioned the King of Warriors in private.

There are many reasons for this, and they can see that the Wolf God has a very unique feeling for the King of Warriors.

Horus's flushed face faded, and his expression instantly froze, as if he hadn't been the one who had been speaking so eloquently just moments before.

Seeing the changes at the banquet and his brother's expression, Saint Gilles quickly realized that he might have said something wrong.

The conflict between the two was much deeper than he had imagined.

He quickly tried to change the subject to avoid an awkward situation, but Horus stopped him.

"Don't worry about it." Horus waved his hand, his expression gradually relaxing, dispelling the gloom of the banquet.

The Shadowmoon Wolves in the banquet hall all pricked up their ears, as the Father of Genes spoke of the King of Warriors for the first time in front of the public.

"Hmph!" Horus chuckled, taking in his sons' expressions, and smiled helplessly. "It's nothing really." His expression gradually changed, without anger or any other emotion, but rather a little embarrassed.

Saint Gilles looked surprised; his brother had never shown such an expression before.

“I envy Doom.” Horus’s voice was deep, and he smiled. “This is the first time my brother has asked me this, and it’s the first time I’ve expressed my opinion.”

"Perhaps among you brothers, there are others who envy Doom, after all, he has a free Star Empire."

“But my envy is different from others’; it’s never about strength and power…” His voice trailed off, and he didn’t finish his sentence.

Saint Gilles listened quietly, a sigh of relief washing over him, realizing that his brother was not a narrow-minded person.

As for what kind of envy it was, he could guess a little; the Emperor's high regard for Doom was obvious to the naked eye.

Anyone who is not blind can see it.

Not to mention Horus, even I myself, after knowing how much importance was placed on it, couldn't help but feel envious.

Needless to say, the other brothers also had similar feelings to some extent.

“I’m envious,” Horus said, raising his hand and pinching the air between his index finger and thumb, almost touching it together. “It’s just this little bit.”

Seeing his brother's stubbornness, Saint-Gilles raised his glass and clinked it with his brother's, giving him a knowing look.

The two continued to toast each other, and the topic changed, becoming more relaxed and enjoyable.

The legionary warriors stopped paying attention and focused their attention on the banquet.

The father of genetics envied Doom, and they once envied Doom.

The cousins ​​were deeply favored by the emperor, who personally designed the legion's armor, allowed them to use radiant gold, and granted them extremely high status.

The welcoming ceremony was filled with enthusiasm, with Legion soldiers engaging in lively discussions and Primarchs exchanging feelings.

During the banquet, Saint Gilles repeatedly wanted to inquire about the specifics of the Ninth Legion, but ultimately suppressed his thoughts.

Doom had previously indicated that the Legion was doing quite poorly.

In such a lively party, mentioning these things might spoil the atmosphere, so I had no intention of asking.

All we need to do is wait quietly for them to arrive, and once they see their offspring in person, the truth will come to light.

Horus was also puzzled. Saint Gilles never mentioned the Ninth Legion, so he assumed his brother already knew but simply didn't want to talk about it.

After all, it's the Ninth Legion...

The banquet soon came to an end, and Saint Gilles bid farewell to Horus, returning to his warship amidst the brothers' poignant parting.

He must be fully prepared for the arrival of the Sons of God.

The fleet will remain in the star system, awaiting the arrival of the Imperial Ministry of the Interior to claim the planet on behalf of the Lord of Humanity.

A minor incident occurred during the wait: instead of the Ministry of the Interior officials, the ship collecting the tithe arrived first.

Faced with exorbitant taxes, the newly subjugated world could hardly bear the heavy burden, and rebellions broke out in an instant, resisting the tyranny brought by the empire.

Horus was furious, feeling that the frozen world had defied him, and rejected Sangilius's offer, personally leading the team to quell the rebellion.

Time flew by, and a week later, the first fleet of the Ninth Legion arrived in the Reunion System.

Those warships that broke out of the subspace were a terrifying deathly gray, exuding an aura that kept the living at bay.

Saint Gilles sensed the pulse of his bloodline and couldn't wait. He arrived at the warship's deck ahead of time, lowering his status to await the arrival of his offspring.

As the transport plane docked and the hatch opened, before the genetic offspring were even seen, a strong stench of corpses and blood assaulted the angel's nostrils.

His expectant expression changed, his fingers twitched unconsciously, and an ominous premonition welled up in his heart.

Amidst the lingering stench of blood, the Space Marine emerged from the cockpit, his crimson power armor scarred by battle, his expression cold and lifeless, his eyes devoid of any life force, filled only with indifference and numbness.

The Space Marine saw the waiting figure, an incomparably holy angel. The stirrings of his blood did not lie; it was his genetic father.

As the transport plane's engines shut down, a deathly silence fell over the scene. The Primarch and the Gene Progenitor stood there, gazing at each other without speaking.

Sanguiles remained expressionless, as did the Space Marines.

The archangel saw the alienation in the eyes of the progenitor, and the Legion warriors met the Primarch's gaze, only to glimpse a deep sorrow.

(End of this chapter)