Warhammer: Start with a dog

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A Storm Eagle and two Storm Birds were flying with difficulty in the violent primitive atmosphere of Nikea, following the guidance of the Emperor's golden light column beacon.

Their fuselages had been carefully painted with ruby ​​red, gold and other colors for this call-up, but now they were covered in acidic rain mixed with volcanic ash and mud, looking disheveled and unrecognizable.

Fortunately, their armor was thick enough and their seals were excellent, so the passengers' attire was not affected at all.

The Storm Eagle guarding the center of the formation looked particularly gorgeous and exquisite even in such a difficult storm, because it was the Scarlet King Magnus's exclusive Storm Eagle, the Scarlet King.

After receiving the call, the Fifteenth Primarch's vehicle, the Ftep, set off immediately, carrying the Thousand Sons warriors of the 28th Expeditionary Fleet and their Gene-Father towards Nikea.

During the twelve-month journey from Menora to here, in order to ensure that they could prove themselves here and win applause and support for themselves, Magnus issued countless of the most difficult and obscure proofs, the most bizarre philosophical topics and the most difficult logical debate topics to various societies and mentors on the Ftep to make his descendants best prepared for all the possibilities that were about to come and ensure that their minds were in the most agile and clear state of logical thinking.

Of course, the Fifteenth Primarch himself also attached great importance to this gathering, as can be seen from the attendants he chose on the Scarab King.

He placed Yete Invenos, his best navigator, who was originally responsible for navigating the fleet of the entire planet of Prospero, from his isolated tower to this small load-resistant chair to navigate the Storm Eagle. On his right was Mahavastu Callimachus, a mortal recorder who was responsible for recording the contents of the Book of Magnus for him, but more often a scribe controlled by Magnus's mind, and on his left sat his most talented student and son, Azek Ahriman.

Considering that the gathering would be attended by high-ranking officials on Terra and the Emperor himself, Magnus also wore two golden wristbands with eagle emblems and a belt with a prominent cross-lightning pattern on the buckle at the waist.

These treasures that adorned him were ingenious and luxurious, but none of them was as breathtaking as the beauty of the tall giant himself: Magnus's lion-like red hair was carefully combed and smoother than satin, flowing down the back of his head and shoulders, as red as blood, and his only remaining eye now showed a bright and uplifting blue, with brown spots dotted around his pupil like the patterns on some bird's feathers.

————————After the Custodians on the ground verified and took over the Thousand Sons' aircraft, someone who was observing this exciting, touching and noble brotherly reunion scene from a place where neither the eye-catching Sanguine Guards or Phoenix Guards who lined up to welcome them on the platform, nor the Primarchs of the Third and Ninth Legions who were more noble and beautiful than these solemn warriors in blood-red and dark purple power armor who came to greet their brothers could be seen, could not help but let out a deep sigh.

"... the same lucky feeling, the same self-deception, and the feeling of being full of energy and strength, ready to use the power of stupid teammates to work super hard at any time... It's better to just take off the equipment and lie down... The difficulty of leading the team is getting a headache just thinking about it... Fortunately, we visited the others first, and now we just have to wait until he is hit by Lao Deng before taking him with us..."

"What did you say, my Lord?"

"Nothing." Ramizane turned his eyes away from Fulgrim's face, which was so finely carved that it seemed too artificial, and glanced at his long white hair, which was gathered with a silver forehead ornament like white clouds around his moon-like face. Then, without any special feeling, he moved his eyes to Sanguinius's face, which was as white and noble as a marble statue resurrected in the sun. "I am just thinking about the specific details of our next move."

Dantioch struggled to pull his eyes away from Fulgrim's glowing face and looked at Sanguinius's relatively less aggressive handsome face for a moment. Only then could he retract his gaze and focus on studying the other people and arms that appeared here.

It was only then that he noticed that although his own Primarch's gaze was equally focused, he was not moved at all by the stunning beauty of the two brothers. Instead, he stared more intently at the officers brought by the three Primarchs.

On the contrary, when the Lord of Iron's eyes swept over Sanguinius's white wings decorated with a large number of thin silver chains and mother-of-pearl crafts, he seemed to glance at them with more interest - but that look was not right. The Warsmith didn't know how to describe it, but it was very similar to the look of his mother when he was a child, when she was boiling water while staring at the goose pen and calculating which goose to cook today - but this was too disrespectful, to both Primarchs, and he hurriedly put away such unnecessary crooked thoughts.

Then they saw that the three Primarchs on the landing platform were all smiling, as if they were having a good conversation. Fulgrim even opened his arms and went forward to embrace and welcome his brother with an ostentatious enthusiasm. Sanguinius seemed much more elegant and sincere. He just smiled and kissed Magnus on both cheeks.

Although the rain, storms and geological changes outside the crater never stop, above the crater, the mysterious equipment of the Mechanicus ensures the stability of the space below and that not a drop of acid rain falls here from the sky above.

Therefore, each of them looked harmonious, friendly, and full of enthusiasm, as if the Nikea Assembly was really just a relaxed chat party between families, and no one of the golden-armored guards came forward to disturb them, but just stood guard from a distance.

At present, it seems that no one has any intention of fighting, and everything is very peaceful. If that is the case, why did the Primarch lead them to come all the way to infiltrate after all the hard work of preparing for war...

“…It’s so fake.”

Dantioch heard the Lord of Steel utter the word clearly.

"They are all smirking, smiling as if they are wearing masks. These honor guards and guardsmen are not here to welcome Magnus. They are here to escort him and his entourage, Dantioch. Look, their weapons are actually all unsheathed and ready to attack at any time. - Damn it, I don't believe Magnus can't see this. Is he still hoping for the best?"

—

"--Everyone present here is smiling like the ancient Olympian tyrants wearing masks. An old-fashioned court drama, a so-called 'fair and open' trial that is just a formality, just to please the superiors." - A Primarch on the other side of time and space commented more sharply.

—

"We must hurry. Soltarn, take us down to the surface exit of the amphitheater without letting anyone see us, least of all the Emperor. Can you do that?"

The Ruler of the Earth bowed silently to his master, and then his skin began to turn like earth and stone again. He sensed it and then walked towards the direction of the main venue.

The obsidian and basalt that made up the magma immediately began to solidify and cool in the direction he stepped forward, spontaneously forming a hollow tunnel large enough for a Primarch and two legionaries to move through easily.

"But your brother has just landed, and he is exhausted." Dantioch had to point this out as he followed the Gene-Father. "And it seems that Master Fulgrim and Master Sanguinius are only leading Master Magnus to the lounge. Could it be that those servants dare not leave time for a Primarch and his attendants to rest and make other preparations after landing? Why are we in such a hurry, my lord?"

"The servants certainly don't dare," Ramizane's voice echoed faintly in the hot and dry obsidian tunnel, "but if he is the only one who has clearly expressed his dissatisfaction with his son's attitude or has already made a judgment, then the attitudes of others will be bolder than you think. For bystanders like us, the trial of Magnus actually began before he landed. Barabas, this is the palace."

—

"The first and only basic rule is the Emperor's likes and dislikes." Perturabo BC said coldly, while Magnar Dorn and Fulgrim Pallas, who had been called to the left and right and informed of some of the previous situations, were also staring at the white dove on the table that was quietly scratching the table with its claws. "How does it feel to look at this former you and your court with your sons without your charm? How does it feel? Do you dare to look me in the eyes?"

"Coo." Don't push me too far, Perturabo. After all, I am still the Lord of Mankind in law and knowledge, the Emperor of the Imperium of Man, the Father of all Primarchs, and...

A voice sounded in everyone's mind.

"Don't be afraid of him." The black and white plush tyrant, who had put on his humanoid camouflage again, said bluntly to the two young men who were still a little reserved, "He now has almost all of his remaining strength to maintain Ramizane. I have tried, and he can't really punish us. He is just strong on the outside but weak on the inside."

There was no expression on Magna's metal face for the time being, but Pallas's face with gleaming eyes suddenly looked terrifying in the eyes of the pigeon.

—

"Olympians, by the gods..."

Although he had been vaccinated by the Primarch's analysis, Dantioch still let out a low sigh of disbelief when he actually saw Magnus and his party, who were undoubtedly brought directly from the tarmac by Fulgrim and Sanguinius, on the black marble floor of this converted crater with an extremely large golden eagle pattern in the middle.

In this magnificent amphitheater design that mortals could never imagine, let alone draw, Dantioch could tell at a glance who had designed the original design. Considering that the Fourth Legion and the designer himself knew nothing about the purpose of this building and this gathering before they set out, the warsmith felt an unknown anger surging in his heart like magma.

He suppressed his emotions and looked at this spectacle that consumed countless resources, manpower and wealth just for this brief use as the two Primarchs led their brothers slowly from the two tall and brilliant golden bronze doors to the lonely wooden podium in the center of the theater, which could almost be called a square.

They were now on the ground floor of this magnificent theater, where gladiators and beasts usually stood. Surrounding them were circles of steep and towering theater steps, carved out of the black marble and basalt solidified from the crater in a display of power. The top was not empty, but filled with bustling spectators, from people wearing navigators and astropaths robes to priests of the Mechanicus, the Imperial Auxiliary Army, senior bureaucrats from various departments, and - Dantioch saw with horror and anger many different colors of Legion power armor.

At the bottom of the stands for ordinary audiences, surrounding the theater are individual boxes, which are connected to the upper level by a short flight of steps. Some kind of great power or something similar has cast abnormal shadows on each box, making it impossible for people outside to get a glimpse of the true identity of the people sitting inside.

As he scanned the entire venue, he cautiously cast his gaze towards the glowing figure on the highest pyramid-shaped stand opposite the bronze gate.

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A surging, extremely moving feeling that made him want to cry and kneel down to offer all his loyalty to this bright supreme being roared through his nerves, blood vessels, DNA chains and even...

"Brother." Someone grabbed his shoulder, stopping his urge to run outside and expose himself. "Wake up, brother."

Who! Who dared to stop him! Couldn't he see how great that existence was? It was like a beacon, illuminating the entire universe, and even enveloping him with that dazzling light.

It was an appearance so perfect, noble, and born to rule that Dantioch could not even capture and piece together the Emperor's face with any visual thinking in his mind. Through his tear-blurred eyes, he could only, only, only catch a glimpse of the noble and resolute lines, the thundercloud-like brow arches, and the expression that seemed to be condensed with the only hope of mankind.

Ah! What a glorious Lord of Mankind! He fell to his knees and wept bitterly for all the disrespectful acts he had planned to commit against Him.

His brother's calls became more urgent, but he turned a deaf ear to them.

"...Okay, let me do it, Soltarn."

A hand that was much stronger than his but not violent held him down, and another hand pinched his chin, forcing the warsmith, who was fascinated by the Emperor, to raise his face. Then a tube of ice-cold Olympia tea with the aroma of gardenia and orchid was unceremoniously poked into his nasal cavity. The choking cough from the water, the familiar smell of the previous year, and the survival instinct against suffocation made his attention quickly shrink back into his own body. Something in his soul was hastily thrown away to make way for more important existence.

"Ahem... umm... uh..."

The Warsmith suddenly collapsed to the ground like a man floating on the surface of the deep sea, and then he found himself sweating profusely in his power armor, with a chill on his spine.

What was that just now?

"Awake? Throwing cold tea on you works. You're telling the truth."

"My Lord...I..."

"It's okay. There's still time."

The Lord of Steel said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Dantioch followed his gaze and looked through the obsidian observation window that looked like sunglasses.

He saw three extremely noble demigods walk to the wooden podium in the center, and then push the golden mountain and overturn the jade pillars, kneeling in front of the pyramid-shaped platform one by one, bowing their heads with great respect.

On the dais, the Emperor was surrounded by his Grand Marshal and other high-ranking officials - Imperial Chancellor Malcador, Martian Fabricator-General Kyber Har, the Leader of the Astropaths, the Chief of the Navigators, and the Supreme Commander of the Imperium's mortal armies.

The Emperor sat upon the throne and accepted the greetings of the Primarchs.

The high back of the throne was cast into a hollow, three-dimensional, lifelike eagle with flapping wings, its sharp claws stretched out, grasping the blood-red gem inlaid in it.

A golden sword lay quietly on the Emperor's knees, and his left hand, palm up, held a sphere topped with the Imperial Eagle emblem.

In the sky behind the emperor's throne, several chubby cherubim wearing cute silver baby masks were gently flapping their wings and raising shining golden trumpets in their hands one by one in a cross-like manner. Black satin flags embroidered with gold patterns hung softly from the trumpets.

They began to play them, and the loud sound of the trumpets was carried by hidden amplification machinery to the stands and hidden boxes of the entire huge amphitheater.

Although he had no idea about Tarot cards before, this unfamiliar little piece of knowledge suddenly jumped into Dantioch's mind as he watched all this.

The scene they were now witnessing formed exactly the pattern of a tarot card.

Judgment.