Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"Are you still with Morro, Apocalypse?"

Malcador stood in the shadows, his dark brown robes perfectly blending into the midnight kingdom without lights. His whispers echoed between the paintings and bookcases that stood like giants, and finally drifted to the other side of the Milky Way, to the dark star that Holy Terra could not see.

"No, I am not interested in knowing why you went into the warp again."

"I am not interested in what happened on Nikaea either."

A dry palm rested on the cold marble table. The seal holder slightly adjusted his standing angle and faced the only light source in the room: it was a single-sided transparent floor-to-ceiling window, and the other side of the glass was the debate round table in the parliament hall.

"I want to talk to you about one of your precious sons: he is causing trouble for us now."

The seal holder sighed, and he didn't even want to care about how the high lords at the debate table were arguing.

"Yes, the situation is under control. We all know that Guilliman alone cannot accomplish anything."

"I am worried about the others."

"Your Warmaster, he obviously wants to intervene in the issue of Badab. Horus's ability and energy are far beyond Guilliman's: I am not exaggerating, the envoys of the Luna Wolves are waiting outside the palace."

The dry knuckles knocked on the table, telling the ups and downs in his heart: Obviously, whether it is Horus or the Luna Wolves, their interruptions are unwelcome.

"Yes, so far only Macragge is maintaining the commotion, and your other sons maintain their rationality. They all know what it means to support Guilliman at this time: Guilliman has not sought assistance."

"The Far East is stable, but the discourse direction of the Five Hundred Worlds is already very dangerous."

"You mean Morgan?"

The knocking stopped.

"Obviously, Guilliman does not want to involve his beloved Lady Macbeth."

The Sigillite chuckled.

"Yes, I know, Lady Macbeth's metaphor is bad: but it is indeed very appropriate."

The curled knuckles slowly relaxed.

"And everyone is using it: even Ferrus specifically looked up the word."

"Let's not talk about this: how long will it take for your fleet to return to Holy Terra?"

"..."

"A year?"

The voice suddenly became sharp: as if this was Malcador's original tone.

"That's too exaggerated."

The seal holder clenched his teeth and rubbed up and down a little bit. He obviously did not expect the Lord of Mankind to give such a headache-inducing answer: even as the de facto vice king of the Human Empire, Malcador needed to think silently for a few minutes before he had to sigh in compromise.

"Okay, then I'll go and solve the small problem in Badab first."

"Yes, I plan to go to the front line of the Maelstrom in person. Guilliman should be more anxious than me now. After all, he knows that he is the one who is at fault: I plan to sign a gentleman's agreement with him in private so that he doesn't feel that he has lost everything."

"In addition: if you are done with your private affairs on Morro, then before you return to Holy Terra, you must tell me so that I can arrange the next things: we must at least make the time right."

"Yes, that's right."

A chilling light was reflected in the old pupils.

"The memory distortion of Magrus and the Thousand Sons Legion is going smoothly."

"The first batch of rumors about Nikaea has been released. The Randan Empire is indeed a good material worth recycling, and the charge of colluding with the aliens is also appropriate: at least most people can accept this statement."

"Absolutely safe: except for me, no high lord knows about this."

"Don't worry, I have selected the most skillful agents, and no one can find out where the source of the rumor comes from. It is a good idea to pick Magnus out in time, at least the original The bodies seem to be more accepting of this: they can accept the incompetence of blood relatives, especially when you personally confirm this incompetence. "

"Yes, I know that Horus and Sanguinius are the most important to pay attention to: the archangel seems to have believed most of it, and the Ninth Legion is conducting an internal review, but Horus still retains his attitude. He always believes that this change is my handiwork again, just like the Eleventh Legion he has been thinking about. "

"Yes, I know."

The voice of the seal holder is somewhat contemptuous: it comes from the Emperor's suddenly anxious tone.

"Don't worry, I won't do anything to your beloved warmaster: let the wolf god think about it himself. Anyway, even if you tell them the truth, they won't believe it. Instead, your precious sons will believe in this kind of [reasoning] result that is collected by collecting bits and pieces of rumors and then pieced together by themselves. "

Speaking of this, the seal holder can't suppress his contemptuous mentality.

"Okay, that's it: remember what I told you before."

"Also, continue to restrain the guards and Jonson. At least before I can solve the problem of Badab, I don't want to see more forces intervene in the situation of the Maelstrom. I know I didn't do a good job this time, but I didn't expect that kind of thing to happen in Nikaia."

"Yes: I did not pay attention to the death of the Maelstrom Commissioner in time."

The Sigillite shook his head: his brain still had swelling left by months of intense work.

"But there's nothing we can do about it."

"You know how bad my condition was on Nicaea: your troublemaker son caused at least three irreversible damages to my soul and brain. I didn't suffer such serious injuries during the Age of Strife. It's a miracle that I can still work now."

"Besides, I admit that the crisis in Badab was caused by my negligence, but I didn't slack off: after Nicaea, I never slept again. The entire Holy Terra government has tens of thousands of hidden dangers and holes that I need to temporarily fill. Compared with them, the Great Whirlpool is really not an important place."

Malcador spread one arm flat on the glass window in front of him. Of course, he had no reason to lie to the Lord of Mankind, and the Emperor naturally couldn't fail to understand these simple truths: in the tacit relationship between the monarch and the ministers, this was just the Sigillite taking the opportunity to vent his grievances to his lord who was more ambitious than the sky.

As he said, the Badab Crisis was essentially an "accident in the inevitable": the Imperium was already in an extremely sensitive period of power transfer between the Emperor and the Warmaster, and this always turbulent period was completely disrupted by a loud noise on Nikaea, which completely disrupted the entire Great Crusade and even the entire human empire.

Chaos, errors, crises, and all kinds of hidden dangers that were usually suppressed by the glory of the Great Crusade and the military force of the human empire: there must be some of them, because this huge black swan event was dug out of the ground, but it was the eyes of fate that allowed the first gunshot to spread in the Badab system.

To be honest, if the turmoil caused by Nikaea only stopped at the turmoil in Badab and the Five Hundred Worlds in the end, Malcador even felt that they should reduce Magnus's crime by one level: you see, in his original worst expectation, Terra might face the challenge of at least three legions.

Moreover, among the Primarchs, there are many guys who are more difficult than Guilliman.

Of course, when it comes to thorny issues: who can compare to the Lord of Humanity who just hung up his psychic communication?

The Master of the Seal only felt a little tired.

He rested for a while: a rare five-minute off-get off work time in the past few months, but he still had to go through all the notable names in the galaxy in his mind.

Primarchs, Legions, mortals...

They are all not easy to deal with.

The Master of the Seal found that the number of times he sighed seemed to be increasing day by day, and the scars in his mind were also aching.

He ignored these, walked out of the dim secret room, and appeared in a corridor leading directly to the conference hall: there were already silent monks waiting for his figure, they loudly embraced the steps of the Vice King of the Empire, and then pushed open the door decorated with fine gold and bright red satin in unison.

Malcador walked in. Dozens of officials in the hall had already stood up and saluted him in unison. The high lords present followed his figure with their eyes. When Malcador looked at them, he could see the most satisfying element in their pupils.

Loyalty.

Loyalty to the Emperor.

These imperial beasts of power, no matter how they entered the highest ladder of Terra, no matter whether they were Malcador's first choice, no matter what their strengths and weaknesses were: but they had one thing in common, a place where Malcador could choose them.

That is loyalty.

They may be the most loyal group of people in the entire galaxy to the Lord of Mankind: everyone present is willing to give up their lives and power for a word from the Emperor. Compared with their dedication, some of the Emperor's descendants are like picked children.

But this will also bring problems.

After the seal holder sat down, his eyes first focused on the Marshal of Justice: he was the toughest one among all the people present. While Malcador was watching, the Lord of the Ministry of Justice had been persuading others to impose tougher sanctions on the Five Hundred Worlds.

This is certainly not a good thing: but this is the side effect of pursuing loyalty.

The most loyal person may not have the most suitable ability and attitude: but extreme loyalty can offset this problem.

Or not?

Malcador stopped thinking about it. Now is not the time to be distracted.

"My friends."

His eyes swept over the farthest casting commander and the head of the Star Torch Court.

"I am very happy to see that you can maintain order in this sacred temple during the time I was away for something."

"..."

As the voice fell, the embarrassed eyebrows and low-cut eyes spread across the round table.

The seal bearer was naturally referring to something: the various high lords present were spokespersons who could represent the huge forces behind them, and there were many cruel or arrogant guys. The arguments and quarrels in the parliament hall had never disappeared since the day of its completion.

"Marshal of Justice."

Malcador nodded, and the Lord of the Ministry of Justice immediately stood up and bowed his head like a child.

"I heard it all outside the door. It seems that you have a new conflict with the Finance Conference."

"I dare not."

The Marshal of Justice admitted his mistake, but still held his neck straight.

"Okay."

The seal bearer waved his hand.

"Tell me, Legal Marshal: What was the outcome of your discussions?"

"One thing is accepted, my lord."

The marshal raised his neck.

"Now, no matter whether it is right or wrong, no matter what the cause of the matter is, since it has evolved into a public incident watched by all forces in the galaxy, then we must win this confrontation: even in private It doesn’t matter what you give, at least on the surface you have to win.”

"I can understand."

The palm bearer nodded.

"I remember that similar things happened many times on Terra. One time it involved two superpowers and almost destroyed the entire world with their nuclear weapons: although that crisis was resolved by each side taking a step back. , but because one of the major powers has regressed on the surface, even if it did not lose, the world still thinks that it is the loser in the crisis. "

"IMHO."

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The Marshal made an eagle sign over his heart and bowed his head.

"We're in much worse shape."

"To be clear in advance, I do not mean to insult the Primarchs, but to the current Terran government, we are equivalent to immature hunters who have just left the teachings of the Emperor."

"Before leaving, the Emperor gave us a total of nineteen hounds: but these hounds are essentially wild wolves, beasts that the Emperor has tamed from the wild. Although we hold the hands of these hounds tightly, collar, but the way they look at me is definitely not as respectful as when they looked at the emperor."

"Now, we have only tightened one of the collars slightly. Although I admit that there must be a misunderstanding, the reality we have to face is: one of the nineteen hounds has dared to bart his teeth at us. , he is gradually becoming like a wolf."

"If we flinch, if we are bitten off a piece of flesh, if we are so frightened that we loosen the collar in our hands, then how will the remaining eighteen hounds look at us? What: They will turn into their original wild wolves at any time.”

"So, I think we need to wave the whip at all costs to fight back this hound that dares to bart its teeth at us, and prove our capabilities to others, especially when the Terran government is internally weak, majesty is not important to us. It’s especially important to us.”

"The weaker you are, the tougher you have to be."

"That's what I said."

Without Maccad having to say anything, the finance minister on the other end had already shaken his head.

"Then have you ever thought about it? Do we have the ability to make a legion retreat?"

"Of course!"

The Marshal's leather boots screeched against the floor.

"The Emperor left us the largest naval fleet, more than any five legions combined. He also left an equally large and elite mortal auxiliary army. Even in the Five Hundred Worlds Stacked with the total force of the Far Eastern Frontier, I am also confident that I can crush them with absolute numerical superiority."

"What's more, Mars will definitely be on our side on this issue. The Founding Commander has just confirmed this. This means that we have more Titan legions and knight families than all the legions combined, as well as a steady stream of Logistics: The Sun Star Territory is the richest place in the galaxy, and there is no reason for us to lose to Five Hundred Worlds in terms of size.”

"Furthermore, I haven't even counted the Astartes Legions we can mobilize. As long as Terra is still the Imperial Legitimacy recognized by the Emperor, then there is no reason why all the Astartes Legions can refuse our quarrel: the Empire's Isn’t that what the Boxing Legion is like?”

"This is different."

The Rogue Trader shook his head.

"Lord Dorn and his Imperial Fists clearly have their own logic."

"My informants told me that even if the Imperial Fists have marched to the Maelstrom, they will not confront the mortal legions of the Five Hundred Worlds. They will only forcefully take over any area where the Ultramarines are infested, ensuring that every Asta The person standing across from you will also be an Astartes, not a mortal."

"Smart thing to do."

The head of the Ministry of Internal Affairs cleared his throat.

"Obviously, Dorn didn't decide to interfere with Badab out of a fit of rage."

"On the contrary: He was trying to prevent the possibility of this thing eventually spiraling out of control."

"I hope the Lord of Macragge knows what Lord Dorne means."

The chief officer of the Imperial Treasury was still fiddling with his magnifying glass.

"But then again, we obviously can't count on the Imperial Fists to help us solve the problem on Badab, but it would be too extreme to engage in bloodshed: more and more Legions and Primarchs are turning their Looking towards the maelstrom area, each of them remained uncomfortably silent."

"For sale: Every neutral is supporting Five Hundred Worlds."

It can be seen that the legal marshal is very dissatisfied with the current situation.

"That's why I propose toughness: these Primarchs clearly maintain a contempt for Terra."

"But there may not be other opportunities."

The chief officer of the Ministry of Internal Affairs intertwined his fingers.

"Maybe, and I mean maybe: we could try to negotiate with Guilliman."

"He must have his demands: Badab is not his fundamental interest. As long as we are willing to show goodwill in private, we should be able to get Guilliman's offer, an offer that can make him give up the Great Vortex."

"Is there any need to guess?"

The Grand Marshal laughed contemptuously.

"His offer must be taxes."

"As long as we stop collecting taxes, Guilliman will immediately admit his mistakes."

"But the question is: is it possible?"

"This tax is not what we want to collect!"

As soon as these words came out, the entire conference hall fell into an unimaginable silence.

That's right.

Throughout the galaxy, the High Lords are linked to stupidity and arrogance, and in all the criticisms of the people of the Empire, the unreasonable tithe tax is almost the original sin of every High Lord: but it seems that no one has ever thought about this issue.

Do they really want to collect taxes?

Do they really voluntarily set such an outrageous tax amount?

No one cares about this: even the High Lords themselves turn a blind eye.

After all, they knew better than anyone who needed the tax: although they didn't know what the tax was for, as Malcador had just said, loyalty was the only criterion for selecting the High Lords, and the loyalty of this batch of High Lords made them willing to be scorned by the entire Empire.

Let them be willing to do stupid things.

"The tithe tax is unshakable."

Among all the people present, the second most senior finance minister shook his head and sighed.

"Even if we are enemies of the entire galaxy, even if we give up any other administrative functions, we must collect enough taxes for the Emperor: anything can be compromised, but sufficient taxes are absolutely not compromised, even if Guilliman asks."

"What should we do?"

The Marshal of Justice's eyebrows were gloomy.

"How can we make the Five Hundred Worlds take a step back without mentioning taxes?"

"Who has the magic power to use the hollow teeth to make Macragge retreat without a fight?"

"And then defeat the entire Five Hundred Worlds?"

"Can anyone do it!"

"..."

"I do know..."

"There is indeed such a person."

In silence, everyone looked at the top of the round table in shock: because the person who said such ridiculous words was actually the figure under the black robe.

"That person..."

"It's Guilliman himself."

The Sigillite smiled: as if he was just talking about an ordinary thing.

"Okay, everyone: I already know your loyalty to the Emperor."

"Leave the problem of Badab to me."

"I'll talk to Guilliman."

"Believe me: Lord Macragge will understand the goodwill of Holy Terra."