Warhammer: Start with a dog

The white-haired old man wearing a simple old green civil servant robe leaned his flaming golden eagle staff beside the armchair, drank tea and slowly began to screen the private individuals who would go to the world of Oksos next time (Note 1) Agent selection.

Opposite him was the Iron Warrior who had put himself in various positions according to his comfort and was diligently preprocessing various raw materials for Perturabo (providing his own wetware brain computing power to process) while drinking coffee. The body of the Legion Demon Lord, the Fourth Primarch, with his attendants standing beside him.

On the right side of the white-haired old man, sitting behind the central desk, is a beautiful black and white dog, with its gorgeous and thick mane surrounding his noble dog face calmly.

Perturabo was surrounded by countless floating datapads, servo-skulls holding them or other files - which were still in heavy use due to replacement costs, interoperability and inventory issues - as well as other projection panels and input devices. People who walk in cannot see the existence behind them at the first time.

This was the first scene that Priest Geratos of the Black Templar Saint’s Redemption Expedition saw when he walked in.

——————

It is true that as a person ten thousand years later, even a monk Astartes, Geratos should not have recognized the true identity of Kadu Er Malcador.

But he now has the vision of an Emperor's Champion to get to the point and reveal what lies beneath the surface.

So of course (not of course).

When he cast his piercing gaze filled with righteous divine fury first sternly at the heretic wizard psyker who seemed to be full of evil power.

Geratos was horrified to find that not only did this old man have a bright halo, but an indescribable magical power was silently transmitting a message into the depths of his consciousness, telling him who this was. The built-in monitoring system of his power armor began to sound an alarm on his physiological index at this moment.

Because the great power given to him by the God Emperor clearly told him: This is the hero of the empire, the former regent of the empire, the prime minister of the empire, the saint of the national religion, the Alpha + level psyker (note 2), the magic pattern Malcador.

About a day ago, they pointed their fingers and weapons at Malcador's nose and cursed him as a heretical and blasphemous evil wizard.

Feeling on the verge of suffocation, the priest turned his gaze to the other side of the room, and then he met a pair of friendly ice-blue eyes.

The being on the twisted throne grinned at him.

"Are you OK?"

——————

"What's up with him?"

The former Imperial Regent in the room was still leisurely taking notes and flipping through books, and the busy Border Collie Primarch behind the desk had no intention of condescending to come over and see the little priest.

So before their noble Primarch could move himself, the Acolyte moved from his standing position to the unconscious priest with an agility unbecoming of a Terminator.

After some inspection.

"I think he suffered a cardiac arrest. My Lord."

"What?" Lamizane sat up half his body. "Does he have a heart problem? Ours is not a tiger's den or a dragon's pond. What about now?"

"His power armor's built-in first aid system has injected epinephrine and started an AED. His heartbeat has begun to return, my lord."

"Oh." The fourth original body slowly lay down again. "Having given first aid, let professionals take care of him quickly - send him to the Desert Ark's infirmary to observe the situation first. It is not appropriate to move the patient at this time."

"As you wish, my merciful Lord!"

——————

Geratos looked into those eyes.

True vision allowed him to see things that no human being in this world should ever see.

No, no, is this still a real thing or existence?

No, no, it exists...it's not anywhere...it's everywhere...

So vast, huge, complex, and numerous...

He couldn't tell.

His soul flew forward involuntarily like a comet attracted by a star.

The soles of Geratos' feet were empty, and he fell into the long stream of time roaring in the high sky.

——————

"I see!"

Lamizane shook his head as if he suddenly understood, and the biological cables bundled behind his head swayed back and forth with his movements.

"It must be because they are black beasts... Black Templar! They are different from other war groups. They truly believe in the state religion, and Geratos is the priest of Black Templar. Oops, I have no experience with this type... It's true that I didn't take it too seriously. If I had known better, I would have called Kevin Li from the Destiny Steel to vaccinate poor Geratos first... I vaguely remember that they can see a lot as long as they are sincere enough. A mark that others can't see, right? It's kind of like, um, a halo in your eyes to tell you who is the most powerful and threatening person here, and then you've been strengthened to fight with him? Very idealistic, no wonder they are called black orcs.”

He took a sip of hot coffee and said, "He must be frightened by such a perfect, powerful, and calm dog like you. Hey, you are so fragile. I'm starting to worry. The three monks who went on a business trip to Wandering Port are really fine." ?"

"Why do you need to change your words? Why don't you just say this name out loud?" The black and white dog snorted teasingly, snorting out a puff of air from its nostrils, and began to speak for the 671st time this week. An attempt to balance the books a bit.

And did not refute the remarks about perfect power.

"You can't say it too fluently, otherwise you can't help it normally..."

The fourth Primarch's body had one leg resting on the armrest of the sofa, one arm resting on the backrest of the sofa, and the remaining hand holding a cup of "self-deception" milky Reka coffee without sugar but with his latest invention of caramel flavoring.

Such a salty fish posture was praised by Ahlin as "so elegant and leisurely, your every move represents supreme nobility!"

Although the man's dog, His Highness Perturabo BC, made a comment that sounded very strange to others: "It's a pity that you don't wear a vest, big shorts, shark slippers, and a palm leaf fan to eat watermelon."

This time, Angron Petra had wisely slipped away early to "breathe some fresh air" on the bridge.

"It seems that you have indeed experienced many interesting things that we have never experienced, Perturabo." A huge parchment notebook was spread on the knees of the former imperial regent. His quill pen was still writing intermittently. The golden pen tip engraved with a small magic circle moved on the paper, making a rustling sound.

"Hey, little thing, has no one told you that it is actually rude to record other people's words without permission at any time?"

"Little thing? Alas, alas, as expected, you don't even bother to use some etiquette to show your respect for the elderly. Alas, who made you have soft fur now? Then I ask for a permission now? The honorable Olympian tyrant Perturabo?"

"No sincerity!"

Ahalin grabbed his black combat boots and quietly dragged the unconscious Geratos out of the office.