Warhammer: My buddy has too many secrets!

If Guilliman could be awakened without anyone noticing, everything would be much easier. Guilliman could then meet his father, use the special weapon bestowed upon him by the Emperor to become the Son of Revenge, and ascend to the position of Regent...

You know what, this approach is much more direct and convenient than waiting for those nerdy Terran soldiers to arrive!

The problem is a lack of manpower and opportunities...

Lancelot was envisioning the future when, at that very moment, the joyful words of Malakin, the leader of the Weeping Warriors, came through the sound channel.

"Elder Lancelot! We have received a reply from the Blood Angels and the Ultramarines! Commander Dante is leading the Blood Angels on their way! According to the think tank's assessment, we should be able to meet in a month!"

So fast?!

Lancelot was slightly surprised.

Interstellar communication takes place in subspace, a place devoid of time, so it should theoretically be incredibly fast. However, due to the presence of those monstrous beings, it's already quite an achievement that the message reaches its destination accurately. I never expected the Holy Blood Angels to handle it so swiftly!

Could there be some weasel spirits in here?

Lancelot muttered to himself, after all, the Holy Blood Angels were very far from where the Weepers were. Lancelot had only hoped that they wouldn't encounter any trouble along the way, but the situation turned out to be surprisingly good.

"What's the situation with the Ultramarines?"

Lancelot stood up and asked.

"Not very optimistic!"

Chapter Commander Malakin quickly stated, "We received a request for assistance from an Ultramarines strike fleet. They intended to reorganize the agricultural world on the edge of the Ultramarines planet Calezos IX, but found that the entire Calezos IX was occupied by a powerful Greenskin army."

"This orc army is formidable in size and strength! The Ultramarines are trapped on the tracks! This might be the same orc force targeted by the Corinth Expedition launched by Chapter Master Kargar!"

"What are you going to do?"

Lancelot first consulted with Chapter Master Malakin about his thoughts, and the chapter master did not hesitate much:

"I am ready to go and provide support! As children of Sanctuary, we will remember the help of our allies! The Ultramarines helped us in the past, and the Lamenters will never forget that kindness!"

"At our current speed, we should be able to reach a Magnus IV forging world in just two days! After settling the mortals, I will prepare to lead the Lamenters to the rescue!"

"I respect your choice, Warband Commander."

Lancelot naturally didn't say anything about the Wailers' decision, but he still felt a little reluctant when he thought about the battle that would follow.

Although sacrifice is the cornerstone of the Warhammer universe, Lancelot would never want to see sacrifices made in vain.

The quality of the weepers deserves to be treated better... but unfortunately, Lancelot doesn't have the power to turn the tide of the battle at present.

Perhaps the Dreadnought could do it, but Lancelot didn't want to go into that iron coffin.

"We'll meet with the Chapter Master of the Blood Angels in two days. We should have Dante send more transport ships to the Lamenters; maybe that way we can turn the tide of the tragedy at Slaughterhouse No. 3!"

Lancelot thought this through, and after a month of sailing, the Geller Field and propulsion system on the Cobra-class frigate were finally repaired to a basic level, sufficient to support short-range warp jumps...

……

And so, just as expected, the two ships arrived near the Magnu IV Foundry World.

As the Mother of Tears Monastery ship slowly entered the gravitational pull of the Magnus IV Forged World, the mechanical priest on the bridge began to chant a binary prayer in a low voice.

The navigator's fingers slid across the patina-covered dial, and the previously blurry spots on the screen gradually coalesced, revealing the forging planet controlled by the Cult of Mechanics.

Lancelot paused at the watchtower, gazing at the distant sea of ​​metal.

Warhammer is a space opera world, and in Lancelot's understanding, Warhammer's space naval battles are probably not much different from the collisions of ships on the high seas in the Middle Ages.

However, Lancelot somewhat underestimated the grandeur of this opera on a cosmic scale. When the magnificent fleet, which could almost encompass the entire galaxy, and the rusty red metallic planets appeared before his eyes, Lancelot was deeply shocked by their imposing presence.

Looking out from the void, the Forged World was enveloped in a thick, murky atmosphere, a mixture of gray-yellow and dark red, like smoke and dust that could never dissipate.

Occasionally, a few pale beams of ion fire pierce through the clouds, drawing fleeting arcs in the pitch-black universe—the giant furnaces on the planet's surface releasing excess heat.

The orbits of planets are the truly breathtaking spectacle.

A ring of dense, almost menacing metal structures revolves around the star, a ring composed of an orbital dock, a refining space station, a defense platform, and a giant assembly plant.

Countless flashing signal lights, like the countless electronic eyes of a mechanical god, rhythmically flickered in the darkness.

The massive transport ships moved among them like worker ants, some towing huge cargo holds filled with ore, others fully loaded with newly produced Leman Rustank, and still others carrying Space Marine power armor parts that had not yet been painted, heading toward the Imperial fleet waiting on the outside.

Lancelot could see many damaged ships docked at the interstellar dock, with numerous mechanical priests' repair bays attached to the surface like parasitic honeycombs, and countless mechanical tentacles busy on the metal shells.

"A large number of patrol aircraft of the Christian Guard have been detected, and the orbital defense platform has identified our identity code."

Sounds came from the sound array channel. As they got closer, the Mother of Tears was finally able to unload the Cobra-class frigate that had been pulling it along, and Lancelot was finally able to see the whole picture.

In short, this event turned an entire planet into a melting pot of industry and faith.

There is no ocean, no forest.

There are no traces of nature.

Some of the continents on the surface were fragmented by a crisscrossing network of pipes, chimneys, and forging temples. Towering refining towers pierced the clouds.

The exhaust fumes covered the surface, but could not completely conceal the terrifying mechanical creation and the enormous gear structure.

Occasionally, a meteorite will stumble into the galaxy, but before it even gets close to a planet, it will be instantly vaporized by the laser defense system in orbit, turning into a cloud of dissipating dust.

Everything operates under the precise control of the Mechanicus, with billions of years of geological activity being replaced by the industrial tide, and the laws of nature giving way to the will of the Om Messiah.

This is just a remote forging world; I can't even imagine how wealthy those Martian gentlemen must be...

Lancelot, thinking this, headed towards the ship's command center. As the Mother of Tears docked, a small transport boat emerged from the ring and approached the Weeping Ones. The boat's hull was emblazoned with the intertwined double-headed eagle emblem of the Empire. A cold, hoarse voice came through the communicator from the Mechanic:

"Imperial ships, follow the designated route and dock at Shipyard No. 7. Open the hatches for trade items. Deviating from the course is prohibited. Scanning the core forging area is prohibited. Aircraft are prohibited from leaving the ship without authorization. Violators will be considered heretics and destroyed."

The voice was anything but polite; the three prohibitions were infuriating, but the weeping crowd was used to it.

As a product of the cursed legion, the Mechanicus treats this chapter with a tainted lineage with absolutely no respect, almost as if it were a potential adversary.

At that moment, Lancelot even saw a large number of weapons aimed at the warships of the Weeping Ones.

Just after the Mother of Tears completed its docking, a fleet of Imperial Inquisition ships happened to dock there. After the Lamenters docked, the Blood Angels had not yet sent any messages, but the Inquisitors stationed on this planet had made contact.

"I am Judge Declan of the Inquisition. The Lamenters Chapter, you were lost to the elements hundreds of years ago during a warp storm and were deemed likely to perish, but two years ago, the High Lords received news of your return."

"Following procedure, but before that you need to prove your loyalty to the Empire, I need all members of your chapters to undergo psionic screening and Chaos Mark testing in turn, and you must not disobey."

"Open the chapter’s Gene Sanctuary, submit all existing gene seed samples for the Mechanicus’s biological sages to test their purity, and hand over all navigation logs, combat records, and casualty files from the past three hundred years for the Inquisition to examine one by one."

"Commander Malakin, you need to be interrogated alone and give a full account of your warp drift."

The sound from the sound array channel was exceptionally jarring, and Lancelot's expression changed slightly.

They only recently sent out the interstellar message, yet those old men on Terra received it two years ago? That's typical of the Trough's subspace behavior.

However, Lancelot really didn't want to get involved in the trial at all!

The Dark Angels are possessed, but only in matters related to the Legion's secrets; however, the Inquisition's possessive behavior is pervasive throughout the entire Empire.

From sector governors, church saints, and Primarch-blooded Space Marines to ordinary people on the street and wild psionicists, if an inquisitor doesn't like you or thinks something is wrong, they'll arrest you and interrogate you. If they say you're a heretic, then you're a heretic, and there's nowhere to appeal.

Other forces have to follow procedures, obtain approvals, and report to superiors to get things done. The court doesn't follow any of these rules at all; its power is outrageously large, and one person is the entire judicial system.

For the lamenters, the Tribunal is also a difficult hurdle after their return to the Empire.

After all, having drifted through the warp for hundreds of years, the first reaction of the judges of the Inquisition would not be to offer condolences, but to conduct a full-scale screening! They would not overlook even the slightest trace of the Chaos Corruption!