Warhammer: Start with a dog

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Varo Tigris has not left his library for many days. It is said that he has been receiving very strong revelations recently, so that he can't even sleep well.

This not only makes Lord Macragge secretly worried, but also makes several major officers of the regiment a little surprised. Although the power of the Chief Librarian is a valuable and useful asset to the regiment, the identity of a powerful psyker is not as respected in the Ultramarines as in some regiments. At least Tigris himself and some warriors do think so in their hearts.

However, today the Chief Librarian suddenly left his meditation room and went to the Temple of Rectification in Hera Fortress.

He wore a linen robe representing an ascetic over his power armor and psionic hood, covering his haggard eyebrows. The rough robe was only tied with a rope of bark fiber around his waist, which meant that he believed it was necessary to purify his mind through asceticism.

Such a Chief Librarian was still noticed by many pilgrims of the Empire when he walked into the Temple of Rectification. They murmured prayers and saluted to him, some of them burst into tears, and some tried to touch his robe corners and cane carefully.

Guarding the only proof of the Empire that the past ten thousand years of night and the records of Astartes were not the illusory things in the myth, the honor guards of the place where Robert Guilliman rested raised their weapons and saluted the Chief Librarian.

Tigris' mouth was bitter.

His feet carefully stepped on the patterned marble floor that had been rubbed shiny by the soles, palms, foreheads and knees of pilgrims for thousands of years, until he stopped in front of the high platform in the center of the temple where the names of thousands of gilded martyrs were surrounded like stars.

The Master of Prophecy and the First Librarian of the Ultramarines knelt with his staff in front of the monument of the eternal death scene of the Father of Genes.

The pilgrims farther away did not dare to disturb him but peeked at him curiously.

He had discovered that only here...

The haze that had been lingering like a ghost on Tigris' soul recently became a little thinner, as if he was shocked by the golden names of countless sacrifices and the holiness of the primarch, allowing him to peek into the source of the one he really cared about from countless futures that emerged and shattered like fleeting bubbles.

He lowered his head, letting the sackcloth hood cover his face, and sincerely repented and meditated.

And for the first time in centuries, he sincerely hoped that his prophecy would be wrong.

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In the bustling town under the mountains where the Hera Fortress is located, the owner of the agricultural product shop watched the purchasing power sled of the Hera Fortress go away, turned around and looked at the shop that was still crowded with people, nodded to several clerks, and then hurriedly turned into the alley behind the shop as if he wanted to leave temporarily to buy a cup of coffee.

But for a long time, no one saw this thin and pale man walk out from the other end of the alley.

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Varo Tigris frowned.

In the sacred candlelight, he suddenly saw the echoes of the rebels ten thousand years ago echoing over the Hera Fortress. The wings and swords of the First Army turned into the bloody flesh wings and pale skeletons of the Eighth Army. The shadow of the Midnight Lords returned, no doubt, but he could neither ignore such an obvious omen nor provide Calgar and his regiment with more relevant information. He could only issue warnings and ask them to maintain more combat readiness.

This made his comrades complain privately recently. After all, there is only a thousand days of thieves, but there is no thousand days of guarding against thieves. Every bit of strength of the Ultramarines is important. Behind the idyllic star zone are the dedication, fighting and even selfless sacrifices of countless soldiers stationed outside.

He saw the enemy walking among them, and its bright red tongue left marks on each of them, causing the Chief Think Tank to frown in disgust.

More and more bat wings covered the sky, blocking the sun's light.

Where exactly? Where? Where will the traitor warriors break through?

He called for the help of countless martyrs, he begged for the protection of his gene father, he urgently surrounded himself with power, trudged through the sinister vortex of the High Heaven and the edge of the dark abyss, resisted the claws hidden under the wings of the waving arthropods or the claws that were eager to grab his spirit around him, and only resisted the wailing storm that tried to swallow him, looking for a ray of light in the fascinating and colorful black.

This is a battle for the Chief Librarian alone, even a strong and warm person like Calgar can't help him behind the curtain.

Here, there is only him, the candlelight in front of his tomb that faintly illuminates him, and Robert Guilliman's gaze that has been staring forward for dozens of centuries.

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It's time to prepare for breakfast, and the stone kitchen of the fortress is bustling with people coming and going.

Steam and smoke filled every corner. On the huge stove with fierce fire were equally large soup pots and barbecue grills. Next to it were stone bread ovens lined up in a row, which could accommodate several adults. Bakers were taking out the freshly baked bread with long-handled flat bread shovels and carrying them in baskets to the servants' dining area.

This is the place where all mortals in the Hera Fortress are provided with three meals a day. In addition, designated chefs and servants are responsible for cooking and supplying food to the Space Marines. The food of these noble warriors of the Emperor will not be added to the food when they are out on duty. There are many mortal ingredients, but when he is stationed and on duty on the ground, Lord Calgar still does not hesitate to instruct fresh fruits and vegetables, pickled olives, olive oil, toast and wine to be added to the daily recipes of his warriors. of.

After all, the Ultramar sub-sector alone has more than six rich and productive agricultural worlds and garden worlds. The people here have not known what hunger is for a long time.

The owner of the agricultural product shop walked leisurely among these busy and hard-working servants, admiring the bustling daily work here with a bit of tourist-like curiosity.

None of these people in uniforms and aprons seemed to have seen this visitor. Only the abnormally stirred milky white water vapor vortex under the sunlight passing through the window lattice silently marked the traces of a certain figure that had just passed between them.

The pale man stopped next to a large boiling soup pot, curiously looking at the bubbling oatmeal inside. Then he saw a man who looked like a head chef walking hurriedly, followed by a man holding a long serving. Anglican priest of the Scrolls.

He curled his lips in disgust and watched silently as the priests began to consecrate whatever they were about to pour into it. , please us and the food we enjoy, for which we are grateful for the blessings bestowed by the God-Emperor", he grinned very strangely.

After waiting for the lengthy blessing ceremony to end, the head chef began to shout for the servants to come forward one by one, pouring fine ceramic powder, trace element powder, protein powder and amino acid solution into the oatmeal, and finally he stepped forward himself. , carefully season the oatmeal with a pinch of salt, sugar and lemon.

The visitor frowned at the unique taste and noted with rather malicious pleasure that the lemon zest they had thrown in came from a box bearing his own trademark - part of the produce he had just sold to them. .

When the head chef announced that the first bowl of this pot of amino acid ceramic oatmeal would be presented to the table of the great Lord Calgar later, and began to ask the servants to carefully wipe the large-sized exquisite tableware, the agricultural product merchant shrugged and He poked a finger into the soup pot, as if he couldn't feel the high temperature, dipped it into the oatmeal, then put it into his mouth and licked it to taste, then he poked it in again with a frown on his face. Taste as if to confirm.

——Well, well, for him, the flavors are so complex that it makes people feel like they are playing a game of "telling how many elements are added to this meal" in one bite. In fact, the seasoning is very good. It's too bland and not tasty enough.

Then he walked to the loaf of bread that was said to be delivered to the table of the monks of the Astartes, waved his hand in front of a girl who was cutting the bread, and then took advantage of her dazed moment to take away a loaf of bread. , broke off a piece and stuffed it into his mouth to taste it.

The white bread that has just been baked is browned on the outside, soft on the inside, steaming with the aroma of fresh wheat flour, and has a very light taste of salt. Well, it is more delicious than baked starch cakes and those navy rations, but It's just okay to eat it while it's hot. He glanced at the bread in his hand. After it cools down, this piece of bread will become as hard as a brick. Swallowing it is like swallowing sandpaper. Maybe it needs some milk or soup. Made soft and easy to swallow - oh, oatmeal, no wonder.

Although the chefs added large amounts of prepared spices and honey to the heated wine in flasks, he still found it unpalatable.

These purple-red liquids are sweet but have the astringent taste of fruit acid and tannin. I really don’t know why some people like to drink it so much... It’s better to have a cup of his recently invented drink "Assassin's Blade", which is suitable for drinking in the morning. Open the mind of a wise man. This thing has the same color as blood, and the taste is very exciting. One sip can make people wake up instantly. It is also an excellent treatment for headaches and dizziness caused by hangovers. Next time, let the cargo ship bring a ship. The major bars here promote...

After personally inspecting the breakfast diet of the Ultramarines and mortals in the entire Hera Fortress today, the agricultural product merchant came to the conclusion that the Thesa Guarsa was now controlled by the insufferable Octavia herself. The trained cooks are even better at their craftsmanship, and they can ask their kitchen to bake medium-rare, juicy steaks with extra brain sauce for them early in the morning. This is much more delicious than oatmeal and bland toast.

At this time, the first batch of servants who were preparing to serve had already filled the dining cart brought by the cart servitor with covered dishes. He heard the head chef telling the servants to "go and give these to Lord Calgar and your Lordships." ”

So he smiled and stuffed the bread into the arms of a passing servant - the latter blinked and didn't understand why he suddenly threw himself on the table and hugged a loaf of bread that was missing a piece.

Then he quietly stood in the group of servants delivering meals.

It doesn't matter if you don't know the map here, right?

Human beings always need to eat. If they come to the kitchen and follow the instructions, they will find the person they are looking for. The prophecy has told him clearly.

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Tigris's face was as white as paper ash, and sweat oozed from his forehead, condensing into streams, some of which flowed into the recovery pipe of the power armor, while some dripped down his nose onto the marble floor, gathering into a small pool of reflection.

The oppressive feeling of the huge shadow came from top to bottom, from inside to outside, getting closer and closer.

But Macragge and the surrounding galaxies were always calm.

There is now a communication channel in his power armor that connects the space monitoring station and other monitoring facilities. One of the reasons for his recent insomnia is that he has been distracted by their movements. Among them, he is most concerned about the missing Indomitable, but there is still no news about it so far. They can only wait for Galenus's investigation ship to return.

Like the terrible calm before the storm, it is terribly peaceful here. He anxiously and carefully searched for clues behind the veil of reality.

He saw that the Hera Fortress was shrouded in shadows, and his lord, the great Calga's warm face was covered with a faint gray haze.

He saw the Temple of the Strict crumble and burn in the darkness of terror.

The Chief Librarian's hearts pounded, and he forced his eyes, full of concern, grief and admiration, to leave the direction of the Gene-Father's shrine for a while and look up -

Look up -! Varo Tigris! Try to raise your eyes and see what has caused such a haze, casting conspiracy and darkness on the sacred resting place of Macragge, the Ultramarines and Guilliman -!

Tigris's spirit desperately raised his head in the dust, fire and ruins of destruction, rolling his eyes, trying to take a look at the prophecy out of sight.

And his body in reality twitched as if he had a fever, his neck was stiff, his joints were cramped, his cervical vertebrae made a crackling sound under the heavy load, and small psychic lightning emitted a blue jumping glimmer under his hood.

Behind him, the people who had been watching him from the beginning began to whisper uneasily, and were soon asked to leave by the guards who rushed over. The noisy sounds in the Temple of Rectification gradually disappeared, and only the staff in the hands of the Chief Think Tank made a light sound on the marble.

Look up -! What on earth is it...

Tigris saw a huge outline, a familiar...

Suddenly, he heard a voice saying: "Oh, a very good prophet... can do this... but now is not the time. If you see it, it will not be realized..."

Then, a pair of pure black eyes suddenly opened almost close to his face. The eyes were as distant as the deepest night. Looking closely, the deepest part of them contained endless stars.

Tigris was shocked.

Then he stepped back, subconsciously kicking his legs, waving his staff, and the psychic lightning crackled and burst towards the indescribable future things -

- a broad and solid embrace caught him.

"Tigris?"

It was Calgar!

The vision faded like a tide, and the colors of reality returned to his vision.

He opened his mouth anxiously and was about to say something to Calgar...

"We were looking for you." He saw the fifth captain behind Calgar with a worried look on his face, "Galenus and the others need to report what they found to you and let you review it."