Warhammer: Start with a dog

Iron Blood

Council Hall of Twelve

——

It was now one and a half Terran standard hours after "Perturabo" appeared on the bridge. Honso and his companions, who had been ordered to take the imperial navigator captives to the Iron-Blooded, had already boarded the flagship of the Chaos Primarch.

In fact, they were hosting a dinner in the Dodekatheon hall of the Ironblood, which was originally used for serious war games and reviews.

Yes, dinner.

Dusty gold and silver lamps were hung from the ceiling, scrubbed, and lit. The soft and bright light illuminated every corner of the hall. Ingredients, furniture, tableware, and various decorations that had been left untouched for a long time in the stagnant warehouse After the logo is removed and used, the entire banquet looks elegant and gorgeous with a gathering of delicious food.

Although everyone present at the meeting - well, not everyone, at least the new war blacksmith Honso, the owner of Kallan-Gol Fortress, still looked thoughtful - all had a look on their faces: "Have I already He was so corrupted by Slaanesh that he had hallucinations." A look of fear and confusion.

The dishes and drinks were precious and delicious, but they still ate what was put before them with restraint, under the watchful eye of the Daemon Primarch, not daring to eat too loudly, too quickly, or too slowly.

This made the atmosphere of the banquet somewhat awkward, but overall, the Iron Warriors controlled themselves as always. Since the original body wanted a dinner, it should be like a dinner.

Dassadra raised the silver cup filled with wine with the long-lost noble etiquette. The hastily smoothed relief on it also told the legend of the Primarch's arrival in Olympia.

He secretly rubbed it with his fingertips while observing the expression of the gene father.

Although he was destined to be disappointed... No, he was shocked to see the Primarch feasting.

It's over, he thought desperately and melancholy, Aharin was right, there must be the despicable hand of the Prince of Darkness in this.

——

"I can't believe it." Perturabo's voice in the psychic communication sounded like gnashing teeth in a physical sense, and every word could take a piece of meat from Lamizane, "You are my heir. Let 'I' lose face in front of mortals!"

"Where's the loss of dignity? Just because we sat down and had a cup of Reca coffee and now we're having a dinner party?"

"Do you know what you are doing! The power of iron! And you! Are causing the order of steel to collapse!"

Perturabo's deafening roar made Lamizane feel guilty, but he did not intend to follow the Iron King too much on this matter.

In addition, he wisely locked the external lock of the survival backpack compartment in advance.

"I think it is right and necessary to let your captain and some of your descendants adapt to 'your' changes as soon as possible."

Lamizane covered his mouth with his hands and burped. All the Iron Warriors noticed, but they all looked away without mercy.

He had just served the meal with a glass of ice-cold apple sparkling wine, and presented another piece of Glocks steak grilled with garlic butter. Although these materials could theoretically be regarded as products from ten thousand years ago, the sensors of the Armor of Origin had analyzed Since there were no food safety issues, Lamizane could eat with peace of mind.

"I think it is your mortal soul that cannot resist worldly desires and allows yourself to indulge in weak and harmful pleasures, turning the fine steel into a pile of rust." Perturabo said gloomily. He obviously recalled some bad memories.

"If eating a steak that has expired for 10,000 years is considered indulging in desire, this universe is too bad, really." Lamizane picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth, and at the same time responded to the stinky-faced Bian Mu through the psychic communication. , "I've thought about it, you and I are completely different people, how can I keep pretending to be you? Rather than showing my feet in worse situations, I chose to let them get used to me from the beginning."

"Then what do you want to do?!" Perturabo bit his tail hair angrily, with obvious displeasure and annoyance in his voice, "Is it possible that you have to tell me what your plan is next? Taking my heir and running back to continue working for that withered skeleton in despair? Let me tell you, Lamizane Carosini! This is absolutely, undoubtedly, and absolutely impossible!"

"Of course not, of course not." Lamizane immediately used a negation to press the button on the teleportation of the Iron Lord, who was so angry that the hair on his body was exploding. "I promise you that this will never happen. And don't be angry. Yes, I left you a large portion of Glocks tenderloin and pure milk - so can you first let me trick... to recruit Honso in front of you?"

——

"Then you are what I have always heard about, the new man who will carry on Balban's legacy."

"Perturabo" - or rather, Lamizane, raised a goblet filled with wine and asked as if unintentionally. His voice caused a slight echo in the hall where the drop of a needle could be heard.

It was obviously the first time to participate in such a "too normal" social event. The young Chaos Astartes looked slightly surprised, but he quickly learned to raise his glass in response, "Yes, Lord of Iron, I am Hong So."

There was a faint noise from the mechanical breathing device from the side of the banquet table. The companion that Honsou was meeting this time, the Stone Forger Thortan, breathed heavily from his breathing mask, as he had followed him since the 30th millennium. A veteran of the Primarch, he obviously believed that Honso's attitude towards the Iron Warriors Primarch was extremely disrespectful and unsafe.

But before he could speak, the "Iron Lord" raised his hand and stopped the old stonemason's round.

His gaze passed over Hong Suo critically, and in an instant, dozens of electronic eyes and sensors, either external or hidden in the armor of origin, started to work spontaneously, analyzing every minute detail for his reference.

The mixed-race man has pale skin that is slightly sickly, rough and gray. The traces of gunshot wounds show that bombs have hit him directly more than once. The long-term resentment and thinking have left deep wrinkles on him.

Hong Suo's left eye was covered by a mechanical device, and his right arm was replaced by a silver-black bionic prosthesis. His thick steel power armor was hung with iron chains that could not wipe away the mottled blood, and his scarred shoulder armor had a dull gray luster. There is no decoration except for the broken yellow and black striped paint, and only the repaired scars mark the countless battles the owner has experienced.

His body shape and height clearly showed everyone the temperament and appearance that came from the Imperial Fist gene, which made him very easy to identify among the Iron Warriors and an easy target for malicious intent.

While he was studying the hybrid Astartes, Honso was also boldly observing "Perturabo" in front of him with his peripheral vision.

For some reason, the aura of the Iron King who holds the reforged Furnace Breaker in his hand and is wrapped in a silver and iron armor as thick as a sarcophagus, in addition to the coldness, majesty, and precision that matches the rumors, Hong Suo He was keenly aware of a strange inconsistency, as if he didn't know how to describe it, but it didn't disgust him.

He didn't know what it was, but as a "hybrid" Astartes who was born in Bayer's laboratory by chance, at this moment, this unexpected banquet and the distant premonition made Honso Something moved in my heart.

He lowered his eyes respectfully and listened to the Iron Lord's speech.

"I have heard what you have been doing recently, and I think I need to add an apothecary to my flagship."

In the eyes of Honso who gradually became shocked, starting with this sentence, the rest of the content did not waste much of Lamizane's words. He simply asked Honso to temporarily hand over Karan Gower to him. The half-breed himself was to serve aboard the Ironblood, where he would be given the position of personal apothecary of the Primarch and go on a small expedition with the Iron Lord.

The other Iron Warriors immediately took it as a commandment, though, and apparently managed to stifle the flames of jealousy that raged within them. But when the servitor began to serve desserts on the banquet table, Honso had already thought about it and gave the Lord of Steel a positive answer.

"I will make it happen for you, Lord of Iron." He stood up and made a respectful salute.

"Perturabo", who was sitting at the head of the table, let out a chuckle, and invisible shudders passed through the banquet guests again.

"You are indeed very bold, unlike my other descendants... Although Sulaka's gene seed unfortunately fell into the hands of Fabius Bayer, you have a good chance of inheriting his talent in medicine."

After reading the relevant information from Perturabo in a quarter of a millisecond, Lamizane said carefully.

"Sulaka? Who is that?"

"Apothecary. He was the old lord of the temple hall and has been dead for thousands of years."

"I haven't heard of him."

"There are enough ghosts of the past," the Primarch turned to the bold young scion, "We need to do something completely new to deal with this increasingly complex universe."

"Your will, Lord."

During the psychic communication, Perturabo, who had been watching coldly for a long time, snorted, "He is indeed an interesting little thing, but his attitude, huh, I can't see the slightest awe from him, although theoretically most of his body It's the seed of Suraka, but with his perfunctory attitude, he doesn't really regard you and me as his original body or father." He commented, "The craftsmanship of that disgusting hunchback is really unflattering."

"Well, you actually know the word perfunctory... I mean, then we'd better let him feel the fatherly love you and I have for him as soon as possible, lest one day he sees Rogal Dorn and suddenly feels it."

"Hmph. He dares."

"Hard to say."

"you……!"

Lamizane shrugged and asked the servitor to pour wine for everyone. He toasted to each other with Honso, who had never seen with his own eyes what kind of virtue Perturabo was ten thousand years ago, and the host and guest exchanged glasses for a while.

——

Soltarn W. Bronn felt that everything that was happening now was like the despicable poisonous fog in a deep dream. From the moment he walked into the hall, he was trying hard to digest the content of the entire banquet he saw and the relationship between his genes. His father had undergone such an astonishing change that he even felt that he had encountered a huge conspiracy against the Iron Warriors that might have come from the Crystal Maze or the fallen Emperor's Children.

Just like it happened thousands of years ago, it was not the first time - the power of the Supreme Heaven and the shameful betrayer coveted his genetic father. That time the abominable Third Legion and Fulgrim deceived the Dark Prince's will. conquered everyone, and ultimately led to Perturabo becoming a demon.

So this time, what is it? Who is it again? Which companion should he trust?

The stonesmith slowly adjusted his overly shocked thoughts under the respirator.

Then he saw his primarch raising his glass and nonchalantly announcing the second and third things.

The old stonemason's pupils dilated with uncontrollable surprise and shock.