Warhammer: Start with a dog

"This is totally unexpected."

Talos - now completely taking off his power armor for the first time after centuries of service and changing into a simple linen robe - the former has been strongly required to return to the armory for overhaul due to extremely poor hardware conditions and even worse machine soul conditions that have caused all the mechanical priests except Dietrian to start chanting strange binary prayers.

At first, these oil men were a little hesitant to serve, and they had to cover up their precarious loyalty to the human incarnation of Ohm Messiah. After discovering Dietrian's simple but extremely rich military database and the S·T·C· template fragments promised by the Lord of Night, now everyone is eager to serve as a mechanical donkey for the Eighth Legion.

That is the STC template fragment promised by the Emperor's heir of the second vision who may be the best in the universe (as for whether it is a demon, the machine souls have given extremely positive signals at present)! Even if he doesn't have it now, judging from the excellent performance of the Night Lord in fighting and ruling in Tessaguarza for several months, it is certain that if this person says he can have it, he will definitely have it!

"Indeed." Valer sat aside and swiped the data board in his hand. This former pharmacist from the Red Pirates and the apprentice of the Corpse Lord looted the infirmary of the Crown Coronation and now has upgraded his weapons and made the only pharmacist brother of the Third Company run around in circles. This poor Astarte was so busy just remembering Valer's instructions that he would never repeat twice, such as ward rounds, medicine preparation, sampling, testing, and report writing, that he was so busy that his feet were hitting his head.

"I didn't expect that after ten thousand years, the probability of new colonists on Tessaguarza producing psykers through natural mutation alone would be so high. Although this place was once our Legion's second home and corpse world, it was so remote and barren. At least before we left it for the last time, there were actually no Unliving Beings or Soul Sea Rifts here, and even the Warp Channel was mediocre. I have never seen such a psyker production rate - perhaps the Wizard Star of the 15th Legion can be comparable to it, but I haven't seen it with my own eyes."

"Rumors about that planet - it's better not to have the experience of seeing it with your own eyes. I heard about the Thousand Sons wizards when I was in the Hell Iris. The Scarlet King seems to be a little bit off lately."

"You mean the rumors that he is beginning to lose control of the Legion?"

"Exactly. Although being a warrior under the wizards of the 15th Legion is definitely not something that people would flock to, and the servants of the Lord of Change have always been unpredictable, too many inexplicable actions are taking place in every corner of the universe at all times."

"But there are also their figures in the Black Legion. Abaddon's interest in more powerful prophets has never stopped. I guess this is a part of everyone who tries to be the leader. It was not a pleasant experience when he recruited me. Lu Wen is really a complete idiot."

"Excuse me, Talos, until I Before we met the Lord of the Night, I always thought that you insisted on bringing our entire ship to this border corpse world with your feverish delirium. It was an irresponsible and crazy act that didn't know what you were doing, just like your father. Of course, now you are the greatest prophet brother in the history of the Eighth Legion in the mouths of all the fierce claws. I heard that they have recently begun to think that you may be the greatest prophet among the twenty legions in the galaxy in the past ten thousand years. "

"Ahem! Don't mention this in front of the Primarch. My talent is not even one-tenth of my father's - but the Thousand Sons were still loyal to their father in the past."

"That's true. But I also heard a thing before leaving the Great Vortex. The silver towers of these wizards appeared in places they would not normally appear. Let's not talk about them... By the way." Talos stood up slightly, and the densely packed tubes on his body moved with his movements. The pink implants and suture scars of the new wounds were neat and beautiful, showing the superb and calm technique of the caster - carefully taking out the sympathy gifts and snack boxes in front of his bed and putting them away - the sympathy gifts could of course only come from Septimus and Octavia, a couple who really lived together on this ship, and the snack box decorated with midnight-colored wrapping paper and red wax claw marks came from the residence of the Lord of the Eighth Army. He had to hide them all before others knew about it and came to rob them, especially the snack box that he was reluctant to open. "How are 'those'?"

Valier stopped fiddling with the instruments beside Talos's bed and raised his extremely light-pigmented eyes. "Two hundred and thirteen failed, and one hundred and nine were ready to be harvested." He answered briefly, "Sixty-one succeeded, all in a dormant state in sterile tanks."

"Does the Primarch know?"

"I haven't told him yet. If you want, I can just destroy them or write them in the next report."

"... Tell him. After all, I didn't intend for you to die here with us, Valier."

"What do you mean? You mean you didn't intend for me to fight to death with you in this worthless hell?"

"We are the reverberations of the past, the echoes of the curse. We come back here and die here... Yes, but you are different. You are a Night Lord, but you are not cursed. You hold our final future in your hands... Malcharion and I were planning to send you away before the last landing."

Valere took a breath. He seemed to be smiling, but it was more like he was using a smile to suppress his anger. "Do you know that your words are really annoying sometimes, brother?"

"I rarely see you lose your temper, Valere."

"You always asked too much of me and expected too much from me before, Talos."

"But now it's okay. Our father, our Primarch, our Legion Master has returned."

"Yes. And he looks more like a human father and Legion Master than ever before."

For a while, they were all silent, and only the smell of instruments and disinfectants filled the brand new infirmary.

As one of the facilities that the Primarch required to be rebuilt, this place was completely different from the place they remembered, which was filled with densely packed rusty steel dissection beds, filled with bloody smells, full of broken limbs and painful groaning wounded, and the ground was always wet and with sticky blood and suspicious biomass, like a slaughter market.

Talos lay back on the white linen pillow, letting the back of his neck, which was coated with anti-itching and anti-inflammatory ointment, be gently and comfortably supported.

"You did a great job, thank you, Valer." Finally, the worst pharmacist of the Eighth Legion sincerely thanked him, "Although you slapped me twice, I am still very grateful that you were willing to come with us at that time. You are a true member of the Night Lords." "Thank you, I also think I am very professional in my field of work. And, we no longer owe each other anything, and there is no need for such special thanks. This is what I should do when I leave the Maelstrom and wear the winged skull of the Night Lords. I will always stand with you because we are brothers who will die together, Talos. No matter what, we have come together until now, and we are all members of the Eighth Legion." The prophet lay on the pillow with his eyes and mouth closed, so the pharmacist could not see his expression. He adjusted the nutrient intravenous drip inserted into the combat potion interface of Talos's wrist to a low speed, and then walked away quietly.