Warhammer: Start with a dog

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[……]

[……Lami Zahn!!! I’m not killing you just because I’m sick! What will happen if someone finds out that the Primarch fainted after spraining his ankle? ! ]

[Then what should I do now? ! I’ll get up as if nothing happened…? Say hello to them? ]

[……(deep sighs, unintelligible mumblings, curses)… Don’t move, just lie there quietly, pretend to be seriously ill and unconscious… Anyway, don’t say anything. I’ll handle it. ]

[Then what about this Guilliman…? Are you sure about Ishtar being so close to him? ]

[I know. I’ll make arrangements. Lamizahn. ]

[……Hmm? ]

[Be alert, don’t really fall asleep! Damn it, I told you to put on your LOGOS as soon as you get hurt, for 24 hours! You’re not suitable to take off your power armor in your current fragile state. ]

[Oh… okay, I’ll try. LOGOS is great, but who would sleep in a super-heavy composite terminator? 】

【I would. 】

【That sounds terrible, Pepe, you've suffered. 】

【... No... That's not the case, no, no, I don't think so. I am Perturabo, the King of Steel, the Lord of the Iron Warriors, wearing armor and having a heart of steel. 】

【I think you've been wronged so much that you say that? No, when they leave, let's get something delicious! I'll cook it myself! 】

【... (mumbling quietly, fortunately no one else can hear these words) 】

【What did you say? 】

【Nothing, just lie down and pretend to sleep, don't worry. 】

The reason why the telepathic and light-speed conversation of distrust between the two "Perturabo" happened is actually quite clear.

They had been collecting the time drifting bottle that Kadur Malcador had left for them with the Inquisition's trick, and the information in the bottle that had been updated made it clear: Malcador had already joined the Ark Eldar, the remnants of Belisarius Cawl's Mechanicus, the Black Templars, the Inquisitors, the Living Saints, and the Grey Knights, and successfully escaped to Macragge through the Webway Gate opened for them by the Eldar. Now they were fully manned and had already stepped out of the Macragge system to wake up Roboute Guilliman.

So -

Whose master is this Roboute Guilliman who has landed on the Iron Blood (and obviously other brothers also think he is, and he has passed a series of epidemic prevention and security tests and certifications)?

And according to the quarantine list sent simultaneously, their fleet also has a great sage Belisarius Cawl, a Marshal Amarachi of the Black Templar Drusis Expedition, several inquisitors and battle sisters, not to mention the flame-wrapped warriors and living saints who disappeared without a trace... Whose generals are these?

Therefore, the Guilliman who appeared in front of them now, together with Fulgrim Ishtar, whom they knew... Although his thick eyebrows, big eyes, blond hair and blue eyes made him more friendly and easy-going than ten thousand years ago, he became particularly hateful, terrifying and unpredictable with Malcador's message.

Perturabo BC was originally fearless - it was just a fight, so he asked Ramizane to put on his helmet, activate the LOGOS defense protocol on the spot, and summon the four nearest Iron Ring Robots at the same time. The defense could hold out for a while even if the planet was broken, and he, Magna, and Sigismund would attack together. At such a close distance, the three of them could easily take down even the Big Demon.

...But there are unexpected events, who would have known that at this critical moment, the Primarch's body would become so fragile and he would be lying without armor because of a sprained ankle.

[Do you think he was disguised by one of the Alpha Twins? After all, he passed the automatic security protocol. In other words, he is not a Chaos thing, which seems to be a little more reassuring. ]

[It's not impossible. But everything needs to be confirmed. ]

[Oh, by the way, you didn't explain what happened to the Sword Immortal you just mentioned, remember it later! Hehe, Xiji, hehe, the out-of-stock edition, I've been envious for a long time... Hehehehe Xiji...]

[... (cursing in a low voice)]

"... This is not Rogal Dorn. Guilliman."

Perturabo BC turned his grim face to the unexpected visitor in the ward. "Just as I am only a part of me."

He sneered, "Do you want to know what this is, brother? This is... the broken soul of Rogal Dorn. And I cut it from his soul, split it, polished it to my liking, and finally embedded it in steel and wetware, using technology that no one has ever fully mastered to make my flagship, the ruling machine soul of the Iron Blood. This body is the mechanical shell that contains its mind. It will also serve as my commander, conquering and ruling the descendants of Dorn in the galaxy for me - what do you think?"

At this moment, the hint of pleasure and darkness implied in the words of the Iron Lord were so real and evil that Sigismund, who was guarding the door, couldn't help but tighten his fingers.

After saying this terrible statement, Magnar Dorn took off the golden helmet covering his face according to Perturabo BC's order. The things inside made the visiting Primarchs close their eyes, and the grief that first appeared on Guilliman's face was clearly discernible.

——It was a death mask of Rogal Dorn, cast in silver-white metal. His muscles were tense and his brows were slightly furrowed, showing that the responsibilities he had once carried had not been removed from him at the moment before he fell into eternal sleep. The inexplicable sadness in his slightly open eyes looking into the distance was not known for what he was mourning.

The soul of the fourth Primarch peered out through his pupils with viciousness and bloodthirstiness at the face that might not be Robert Guilliman, trying to find the slightest wavering or discordant cracks on it, from which he could -

"Snow of the Hera Mountains!" The face that was always ambitious but pretended to be indifferent showed an almost flawless and sincere touch, "I'm sorry, Perturabo, I... maybe I once... I... I think I should apologize for my previous views on you and your offspring." He whispered, "I am still proud of my legion and offspring, but perhaps I should really look more than I think what my brothers have done for our ideals."

The thirteenth Primarch passed Perturabo BC, whose face was frozen, and walked to the bed naturally. He sighed and looked at the face that was eternally solidified by metal that was staring at him silently, and then bent down to hold the hand of the tall and pale brother who was deeply sunken in the pillow on the bed - this hand was covered with thin calluses, once strong, but now weak.

The blond demigod almost cried in front of his brother's bed.

Ferrus and Fulgrim Ishtar looked at each other.

"Thank you for your hard work... Is this one of the prices for escaping, saving and resisting? It seems that what Honsou told me is not even all you have paid, but I suspect that his cover-up is for deception. You can tell me everything, Perturabo. But it doesn't matter. Now, Fulgrim, Ferrus and I will help you. Now is the time for us brothers to make the great empire our father built great again!"

The black and white border collie's hair from ears to the base of the tail was blown up, fortunately the camouflage covered everything.

[Too - disgusting -! What - ghost - thing - is this -? ! What kind of vicious lies did you [Olympian swear] tell Guilliman? ! Honsou - ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! 】

——————————

A certain master of medicine who had just stepped off the Stormbird from the old shuttle dock that was converted into a port for internal personnel of the Kalosini Dynasty with great excitement suddenly sneezed twice in public.

"What? What happened? This is impossible... It shouldn't be!"

But his denial of the two sneezes and his protest by showing his power armor medical report were ignored by the security guards who strictly enforced the new quarantine regulations. The customs security guards wearing ordinary Type XII power armor stepped aside, and two burly men wearing Iron Cavalry Terminators came over, one on each side, stretched out their big hands, lifted up the master of medicine and stuffed him into the observation hut in the quarantine area.

"I'm not sick!"

"You sneezed!"

"I'm healthy! This is my medical report! One minute ago!"

"You sneezed!"

"I'm a pharmacist myself!"

"You sneezed! Two times! We all heard it! Then you have to go in for observation and get a new health report before you can come out!"

"...Who issued this health report?! Which idiot dared to replace my job so blatantly? Ahalin? Dasadla?!...If it was done by little Parogov, forget it."

"No one," the person who answered him stopped. Stop, "But the person in charge of operating this set of prescribed testing procedures is the newly joined brother Caleb Morrow."

"Who is this audacious bastard?! I will definitely make him suffer when I get out..."

"It's only forty-eight hours, Master Hongsuo," the other Terminator who spoke seemed to be holding back a smile under the mask, "Be patient, it's just a blink of an eye in our lives. Besides, we will also provide you with isolation packages and Reka coffee."

"It's easy for you to say! For me, I'm already..." Suddenly thinking of something, Hongsuo closed his mouth, "Okay, but I still I don't think I have any health problems. And there has never been a practice of implementing such long-distance quarantine measures in ports before. The overall quality of this group of refugees is quite good, and the environment on the ship is mostly good. I personally think that this additional isolation is an unstable factor for the mental health of the fleet full of people. I want to see the honorable Iron Lord immediately. Who asked to do this? "

"It's hard to say what the influencing factor is. In addition, this is one of the direct orders from the two highnesses. "The third footsteps sounded beside them, "Send him in... and, Hong Suo... Brother, have you thoroughly checked the epidemic prevention conditions on all the ships that followed you?"

"What?" The master of the pharmacy turned his head. The person who came over was also wearing Terminator power armor, and his paint was also silver and black stipulated by the "Silver Skull", but compared with the other two, there were more red and gold ribbons, medals and knots as embellishments. This gray-skinned, quiet and persevering warrior did not carry his main weapon except for the dagger and pistol at his waist. Instead, he held a few data tablets in his hands, and his archon helmet was hung on the magnetic lock at his waist.

The face of this senior officer was completely unfamiliar to Hong Suo, but some of the genetic features on his face made the Iron Warriors Potion Master narrow his eyes: the medical goggles showed that this was a member of the Death Guard Corps, and his genetic purity was quite excellent.

"What did you mean by what you just said? Who are you? Why can you wear the same armor as me?" Hong Suo questioned.

"I am Caleb Morrow." The other party did not laugh. The Terminators on both sides seemed silent, but they seemed to be laughing under their helmets - these little bastards! Who! Who let the young boys of the 10th Company get in touch with the Terminator so early? ! These little bastards are so frivolous, they have not been tempered and tested enough in battle, and they are simply not competent for controlling such precious armor... Wait, when I left, was the Terminator power armor already a common equipment on the street! Ha! But my precision armor is the best! Because it is a gift made by my father himself!

Thinking of this, a certain pharmacist proudly puffed out his chest again.

"I can wear the same color armor as you because I am one of the eight members of the Primarch's Honor Guard who stayed here, and the rest of the guard," he paused, "should have come back with you."

"Blood of Steel!" Hong Suo shouted loudly, speaking to them through the isolation window and filter, "What eight-member Primarch's Honor Guard?! How many people are coveting my position when I was just away for a while?! Oh my God, I really miss that simple and happy time of fighting! Because I can clearly put every guy I don't like into the infirmary!... So since we have added so many people here, where is my dear little apprentice? Why isn't Parogov responsible for taking over my job and the person in charge of quarantine? He is my pharmacist apprentice. He and I are the only pharmacists here, and he is the most suitable person to be in charge."

The Death Guard had no expression on their faces, and the ominous pause of the members of the Tenth Company on both sides made Hong Suo's face gloomy.

Finally, one of the members of the Tenth Company sighed, "Parogov is missing too, Master Hongsuo, he should have disappeared at the same time as you. We miss him too."

"What?!" The Master of Alchemy, who seemed to be at ease just now, shouted, "It's been so long, and there is no news about him?"

They looked at each other and finally shook their heads.

"You said 'you', are there other people missing too?"

"Yes, Master Hongsuo."

"...Now, I think I should really stop for a while, take this opportunity to tell me everything you know when I was away..."

"And." The Death Guard quietly added, "After your own quarantine is passed, we will talk about the Nurgle problem on the fleet."