Warhammer: Start with a dog

"..."

Angron Petra hid himself in the secret door and looked carefully into the corridor outside. He did not bring any guards or servants with him, because his current behavior neither wanted to be seen nor Don't want other people to make any more noise.

A few drops of imperceptible sweat trickled down from the original body's plump red hair and disappeared into his collar.

Now it should be okay to go out and go through the passage.

He thought about it, he didn't feel "that" nearby, someone was arranged to delay it today, and he specifically asked his fourth brother about the path he took today. Normally no one would take it and no one would pay attention. It reached a path that was barely large enough for the original body to pass through.

"Of course we have other secret paths here," he remembered his black-and-white plush fourth brother telling him at the time, "but that's for me, not you." There was a hint of brown almond-shaped eyes. A wave of resentment and sourness looked at the majestic Twelfth Primarch from head to toe. "This is the only way you can go with your size." By the way, Angron selectively ignored Perturabo's recent remarks. "I think it's a very efficient way to deal with this little thing" that troubles him - for example, maybe adding something to the macro cannon shells when they are cast may have some magical additional effects.

After all, this is something he is responsible for, especially what he told him about the other loyal primarchs and warriors who originally existed here when Lamiza was sitting resentfully behind his desk, eating pancakes for his work meal and serving it with coffee. The deeds and their goals also include a time when they need to find all the people.

All right. Indeed, Angron did not encounter anyone after using this dark road route in the first two days. Except for a slight bump here, it was fine. As long as he arrived at that place, he could close the door and install the temporary office he set up for himself from the inside. Zuo himself is not in it - the rest is left to his reliable, loyal and excellent descendants to figure out a solution.

But today.

He looked around again, and saw that the quiet outer passage was empty and bright, and the golden sunlight lumens from further away illuminated the ground. There was no one within sight of the naked eye.

The small tool room door used to store the cleaning robot was sixty feet diagonally opposite the secret door where he was. At the speed of the original body, he would definitely be able to reach there and complete the opening of the door within one point and five seconds, and then go in and close it. This series of actions came to the door.

Then the tall demigod had to bend down and walk through the various tools. Under an inconspicuous wall covered by thick dust and rags, there was a door that required entering the Iron Lord's private password before walking in. If so, after verification by several warning stone formations and mechas, the innermost high-speed self-propelled tunnel, which is very small for the original body, can take him to the place where he should have gone to work - they need to decide. and too much to deal with.

He thought while assessing the timing of the sprint here. Countless matters involving multiple threads of fate need to be dealt with urgently, not to mention that there is a super hodgepodge of treasures or super big troubles stuck at their feet. Even if there are three and a half primarchs sitting here, it will be difficult to handle everything properly in a short time.

And a large part of Perturabo's resentment is that although they are now fortunate to have horses... Kadu'er, a super hard-working and capable laborer, is there, but his own limitations prevent him from further processing. These "line" matters can only deal with the production and import and export trade of several planets, as well as placing more spies on each ship and other tasks that don't even require thinking.

The last loyalists on Istvan III did indeed escape their original fate, but the amount of data and the huge computing resources required to arrange them and their follow-up made Petula Afterwards, Bo angrily smashed the ledger data pad in his paw into his face.

Oh, and his fourth brother is really handsome and cute, although Angron did get angry for a second at how he could treat another Primarch like this but, um, but border collies are really cute, pads of flesh. It is also very, very thick and elastic... Lamizane's description was absolutely correct!

Then he took the data pad in his hand, flipped through the contents a little, and realized that this thing was just a catalog: the outline of the work project catalog alone contained the workload of six scribe families for fifty-five centuries - well, Angron had to admit that his furry fourth brother had indeed sacrificed too much for the future of the Iron-Blooded and the entire galaxy.

Another twenty seconds passed, and he had a scheduled joint meeting to be held in thirteen minutes. If he failed to show up on time, there would certainly not be any gentle comfort and postponement - after all, this This kind of thing was originally done by him.

Well, Angron thought, maybe I've just been too paranoid about "that" in the past few days. Although this is very disturbing for me, it is also a very novel experience.

He visually checked the distance between himself and the small tool door for the last time.

Still sixty feet away, everything was quiet, not even the flow of the breeze in the hallway had changed.

He pressed the opening button of the secret door, and at the same time, his muscles were perfectly synchronized with the electronic muscle bundles in the power armor at the moment the door opened. He rushed towards the target faster than a cheetah. His excellent and extraordinary His vision accurately captured the handle of the door. Oh, the door was even slightly opened a crack, as if he couldn't wait to welcome his arrival——

opened? !

The original body's metal boots made a sharp friction sound on the smooth surface of the ship's road, and a stream of green smoke emerged from the soles of his feet due to the heat generated by the excessive resistance.

"My lord my primarch, I am glad to—"

A wave of unrepentant fatigue and a familiar hot feeling of rage enveloped the Twelfth Primarch at the same time.

"I told you, stop calling me that and clinging to me! Lucius."

Angron Petra has always had a very, very good temper towards his children and others, and there are only a few people who have the privilege of witnessing the true anger of the conqueror - after all, ashes or pieces of flesh usually do not speak - but now genes If the primarch's rage had any substance, it seemed to make the decks of the Queen of Glory tremble.

"What exactly do you want?! I am not your original body. What would Fulgrim think if he knew you called other people this way? Will he forgive you?"

Lucius, captain of the Thirteenth Company of the Third Legion of the Emperor's Children and a survivor of Isstvaan III, boldly raised his head - he had knelt on the ground before and saluted the Primarch - with his purple eyes Now radiant with pure joy, his beautiful charm, which had always remained innocent and malicious, radiated unreservedly.

"No - that's different," the swordsman's handsome face showed a sincere and vivid expression of grievance and injury, which was enough to make an entire theater audience scream and throw handkerchiefs and bouquets at him, and then several of them fainted in excitement. "But since I fell into your hands and gained a glimpse of your power, your higher and stronger world - you reshaped me on Istvaan III, you are to me Like Fulgrim, you are my father."

Angron Petra exhaled a deep breath from his throat.

"So your wish remains unchanged?"

"My Lord, my Primarch." Lucius said, feeling a wave of fear rising from his body at the thought of what he was doing and what he was asking for, but was immediately overwhelmed by more indescribable excitement. .

"I want to fight you in the gladiatorial cage."