Warhammer: My Biological Father Emperor and My Demigod Brother

"Please tell your father that meals will be provided on this trip. His Majesty has prepared a professional team with specific tasks, and it is impossible for talented people to be neglected."

Aaron saw the group off with a smile.

As for providing meals, they did provide meals in Egypt back then, but at that time it was for making military weapons, such as catapults. The craftsmen had to go on expeditions with the army to maintain those machines.

However, for the elderly father, as long as meals were provided, that was enough.

Anyway, he'll just be slacking off inside; doing any work? Forget about it.

After the outsiders left, the old man was released from the house, holding Xiao An upside down by one hand as Xiao An tried to do sit-ups.

"Why get involved in this? Where are we supposed to build a sky garden for them in this day and age? Providing meals is one thing, but if we eat their food and don't get anything done, wouldn't we look like petty people?"

Aaron exclaimed in surprise, "Father, you have such awareness?"

The old man tossed Little An to Marum, clapped his hands, and said smugly:

"So I'm prepared to unilaterally deny this contract and treat it as if the king invited us to dinner. Since that's the case, we're here as guests for a meal, not to work for them, so there's no need to worry about whether this hanging garden can be built."

Aaron thought to himself that this was indeed the case, but he did not have the intention to blame his father. This kind of mentality was a strength that he sometimes needed to learn.

If many younger brothers could be this optimistic in the future and take things in stride, perhaps many tragedies could be avoided.

The family waited until the afternoon and received another carriage from Bordeaux, who would also accompany them as the official in charge of the matter.

I heard that other cities are doing their best, but Quatland, though just a small border town, doesn't even have a local official come out when they send craftsmen there. What will the people in the capital think of that?

The king himself probably wouldn't care; as long as the craftsmen come, that's fine.

But others wouldn't do that; they might even submit a few petitions, since the profits that border cities receive from passing caravans are enviable in the long run.

Bordeaux was therefore sent to accompany the emperor, lest he be attacked in court and have no one to speak to.

“We have plenty of time to travel. Since your family uses a donkey cart, it’s alright if you go a little slower.”

Bordeaux sat in the carriage at the front and gave a few words of advice.

But when it was time to set up camp for the night, they were surprised.

The horses in the carriage were already showing signs of fatigue, but the donkey, which didn't look as fat as itself, didn't appear travel-worn at all.

The burly man who gave them the impression of being able to tear a living person apart was now respectfully brushing the fur of a donkey and preparing top-quality fodder.

Judging from the quality of this fodder, even the king's royal cavalry might not be able to afford it.

It's the best food for the living.

On the contrary, the family members ate the leftover pancakes from lunch that evening, and their food was not even as good as that of a donkey.

How strange.

When they set up camp for the night, the family pulled out a tarpaulin to cover the donkey cart, using it as a tent. Bordeaux saw this and wanted to buy a donkey cart like that.

Could this family have really been traveling all the way from Egypt like this?

They didn't rest immediately after setting up camp. Marum lit a fire, and the group gathered together, with someone keeping watch at night.

Xiao An couldn't sleep, so she leaned over and asked Bordeaux:

"Uncle, the king built the garden for the queen, so shouldn't the queen be satisfied? Whether it's in the air or not is meaningless."

Anda, on the donkey cart behind, had a peculiar focus and said listlessly, "Call him uncle? Do I look older than this fat man?"

Aaron pulled the tarpaulin tighter so the old man could go to sleep and rest.

He sat down by the fire and echoed Xiao An's words:

"As long as the princess's wishes are met, the craftsmen can still design good buildings."

Bordeaux looked around. The guards accompanying him had placed bells in the distance to guard against wild animals in the mountains and forests at night. It would take some more time.

Then he spoke in a low voice:

"The queen is a princess from the Kingdom of Media, which used to be an enemy state. There was no public discussion after the marriage. I think the king wanted to build the garden as a great achievement during his reign, and he just used it as an excuse to ease the queen's homesickness. That way, even if future generations talk about it, they will think the queen is just being difficult."

When the officials of this remote border town talked about these so-called inside stories, the truth of which could not yet be verified, their eyes gleamed with excitement, as if talking about this dangerous and thrilling topic made people incredibly excited.

This is a stereotype that older people have mentioned, and middle-aged men like to talk about it.

Aaron, following up on the topic of the Median Kingdom, asked:

"Aren't you going to destroy the Median Kingdom? My father said that Nebuchadnezzar was a very good king, whether it was the one from five hundred years ago or the one now. Or are your two countries like Sparta and Athens, where you fight every now and then, but because of your shared culture and beliefs, you don't really want to completely destroy each other?"

Upon hearing these words, Bordeaux felt even more aroused, and a desire to command the world and give orders began to surge within him.

The king should appoint himself as a minister, rather than confining himself to a small town as an official responsible for collecting corvée labor.

Aaron ripped the zipper off his mouth in an instant, and all his so-called political vigilance and sensitivity vanished. As if he were drunk, he rattled off a string of words:

"Isn't it because the old king of Media is still alive? The marriage alliance is just something we all agreed on. We'll keep things peaceful for a while, and there won't be any trouble while the old king is alive."

"But that old man won't live much longer. He'll probably pass away in a few years. The queen's brothers who ascend the throne are not capable of handling important matters. Even if they become wise rulers in the future, as long as we kill them and our country makes the queen's son the heir, we can take over the Median Kingdom, right?"

"As for letting the child of the foreign queen succeed to the throne, that's something to be discussed after the conquest of Media."

Chapter 512 Midnight Lord: My Dad's Lost! (3K)

"You're just mumbling something I don't understand. I never intended for you to run the country in the future."

Anda, who was perched on the edge of the tarpaulin on the donkey cart, listened for a while, then found it uninteresting.

He was thinking of getting some sleep as soon as possible, preferably until he reached Babylon before waking up.

This saves you from the hardships of traveling.

Although he mostly lay down along the way, the bumpy ride of the donkey cart on the road made it difficult for him to get proper rest, and he was probably even more exhausted.

Thinking of this, Anda took advantage of the fact that there was no one on the donkey cart at this time, and proudly spread his arms out in a "big" shape, occupying all the space on the donkey cart. Just as he was about to fall asleep, he felt a cold wind coming from in front of him.

He couldn't dodge in time and was struck on the side by a broken hand that fell down, making a crisp slapping sound.

It was Coz's little hand.

Are you one or two deliberately trying to make things difficult for me?

Anda grabbed the severed hand, even thinking of eating it since it was just a hand and the rest of the body was still there.

The little hand trembled and curled up in the father's large hand, not daring to move, until the old father calmed down before daring to convey her thoughts:

"Father, I'm lost."

Anda had finally given up the idea of ​​eating her son when she heard this baffling statement.

"What? Are you stupid or am I stupid? You're right here, what do you mean you're lost? I didn't eat you, so don't even think about telling your brother! I should teach you bastards a lesson about what manners and shame are!"

He blushed slightly, realizing he was indeed sweating quite a bit, and cautiously explained:

"It's the humanoid Koz, the one with a face."

Anda thought carefully for a moment, then slapped his forehead, as if the father, who had forgotten whether his son was in sixth grade or seventh grade, had finally realized something:

"Oh—I thought this was what you would look like in the future. I was thinking that the power armor you would wear would be very small, or that you would have to go through something to turn back into a human. Turns out there are two Koz. You are the extra one."

His memories of the future depend on how much his future self missed. For example, he only had a vague impression of the time 30,000 years from now, and knew nothing about the specifics.

Therefore, I often find myself having contradictory perceptions, because Adachi's ideas are sometimes purely based on his own life experiences, and he can ignore things from tens of thousands of years in the future.

It's enough to just know that such a thing exists; you won't become the Lord of Humanity or the King of Darkness prematurely because of future memories.

The little boy, too lazy to correct his father's idea, said eagerly:

“I need my brother’s help to quell the impending chaos. The Primarch has suddenly disappeared, and the Midnight Lords are looking at the other legions with suspicion, fearing that I have been captured by some force.”

Anda sat up straight, took Koz's little hand, and her expression became more serious:

"Tell me the whole story."

Little Hand hurriedly explained that, since his last meeting with Magnus, Koz had secretly started a project within the legion.

Even Koz's Little Hand himself was unaware of the project's secrets. Koz simply instructed him to focus on stealing food from before Christ and did not assign Little Hand any task of managing the legion.

Little Hand himself only knew from hearsay that this project might be related to some kind of prophetic ability.

Koz may have foreseen a truly dire situation, and therefore wanted to verify its accuracy himself.

Anda was stunned for a moment, then asked in a muffled voice:

"What year were you living back then? How could you still believe in prophecies? Even your mother knows that stuff is used to deceive people; it's all just a placebo. So many tragic stories throughout history have been written as fatalistic because that's how stories are written. Otherwise, they wouldn't be artistic. A bunch of writers just made them up out of the blue."

The little hands seemed quite hesitant at this moment, conveying their own opinions:

“Father, I don’t know what I’ve prophesied. Also, I can’t see another version of you, and I’ve never heard you explain these things before, or do anything to comfort the Primarch.”

"You always deal with Primarchs with just two sentences."

Curious, Anda asked with a grin, "Don't just say it's a perfunctory response. If I can refute your questions in just two sentences, I'd consider myself quite clever. What are those two sentences?"

With her little hands clenched and her body straightened, she clearly and distinctly pronounced a word:

"roll!"

Anda chuckled and reached out to slap the other hand, only to find that it was actually just a hand. The gesture looked more like clapping and celebrating with a small hand.

This moment of confusion gave the little hand a chance to process, and the latter quickly explained:

"That's the first sentence."

Anda, his eyes vacant, swung his wrist, wondering what the human hand would taste like if it were fried in a pot. He asked:

"And what about the second sentence?"

Little Hands said seriously, "Go ask Makado."

Anda was furious: "Do I look like an idiot? Makado isn't even a fertilized egg yet, where am I supposed to ask him!"

The little hand added, "The second thing you said was 'Go ask Macado.' You said it most often to Peturabo. And when I was about to ask you about more secrets beneath the throne, you just told me to get lost."

Anda couldn't afford to argue with just one hand, and both answers were within his expectations; they were both his own faults.

Now he had no one to blame but himself, and could only sulk silently, muttering to himself:

"Alright, when your brother comes over later, go find him and you two can figure out where you really went."

"Damn it, how can someone this old lose himself, especially a son like Primarch whom I carefully nurtured? I never worry about losing you guys, it's always been him who worries about losing me."

The little boy couldn't comment on his father's complaints, so he could only wait patiently for his brother to return to the tent.