Warhammer: I don't want to become a stinky can!

Page 748

However, returning to Barbarus comes at a price: the transmission routes for official business between the Storm Starfield and some Extreme Starfields have been changed, with the destination now being Barbarus instead of Terra.

“If you go back to the Empire, there will truly be no one left.”

Hades tried his best to maintain a smile.

"Putting everything else aside, how's Saint Gillespie doing lately?"

This is the Primarch most likely to unleash its working potential among the Primarchs.

[Also at work.]

Killieman gave a wry smile.

But I didn't dare give him more work, so most of it was handled by me and Finus.

"understand."

Hades blinked.

“But Conrad and Corax are back, so you can give them the remaining quotas.”

I will.

In this respect, Guilliman reverted to his cold-blooded ruthlessness; work, work, no one can escape it. In the absence of total war, all Primarchs were, in Guilliman's eyes, super-plus oxen and horses.

Looking at Guilliman, whose face seemed to say "not enough slaves," Hades was truly afraid that one day the emperor would utter the nonsense that the emperor should have had more children so he could capture them to work.

【besides……】

Guilliman looked at Hades hesitantly. Hades paused for a moment, then understood Guilliman's hesitation.

"I came back voluntarily."

Hades blinked helplessly.

"I can't keep so many people waiting for me."

Putting everything else aside, Hades's Cult of Mechanics is the epitome of a workaholic. The thought of tens of thousands of Sages of the Order waiting to see Hades makes it impossible for him to be idle.

【All right,】

Killieman smiled, the pleasantries were over, a total of 1 minute and 13 seconds, and now he had to go and check Empire's quarterly financial report, version 986.2.

Before I saw you, I was still thinking about how to assign jobs to Mortalian—but, I never expected this.

Killieman shook his head, patted Hades on the shoulder, and there was a sense of mutual appreciation between revolutionary comrades.

Hades watched as Killieman—like an ox or a horse—went back to his workstation.

Hades was granted five hours of rest and decided to go back to his lounge to lie down for a while. Long ago, Hades probably never imagined that he would have his own cattle and horse quarters deep in the palace in the Himalayas.

He didn't want to call that room a bedroom, because it tainted the word "sleep."

This room was arranged exactly as Hades had instructed. It was a 700-square-meter room—well, that size could almost be called a large hall.

Guilliman assigned a room to each Primarch and Hades. Guilliman's own room was an ocean of gold and blue, a standard and normal bedroom arrangement, with thick carpets embroidered with the scenery of Macragge hanging down from the walls, bringing a touch of the homeland breeze to the wanderer in his dreams.

It is rumored that Killieman keeps his mother's suicide note in Terra's bedroom, but Killieman never responds to this topic.

In addition, Guilliman gave Finus the blueprints for a large bathhouse in Macurag—but for some reason, construction on the bathhouse never began.

Saint Gilles' bedroom was decorated by angels... well, Hades couldn't think of a good adjective, a combination of postmodern art and hyperrealism?

There, countless simple lines and images form a scene that leaves one speechless at first glance. Some exquisite little gadgets made by archangels float in the air. Among those large swaths of lines, sometimes a small, extremely realistic scene will suddenly appear, sometimes depicting hell, sometimes a military parade on earth, as if a corner of the entire dream space has been torn apart, revealing the madness beneath.

Incidentally, the angel put a huge bird's nest-like bed right in the middle of the dorm room.

Speaking of Saint Gilles, one cannot help but mention Mortarian, whose bedroom did not have a bed—yes, this was the most surprising thing for Hades.

How can there be no bed?

Hades had tried to persuade Mortalian to get a bed, telling him not to lie on the floor anymore, but Mortalian firmly refused. He felt that no matter what material the bed was made of, it would make him uncomfortable, no matter how soft the material Hades ordered the Mechanics to use.

Hades thought it was possible that Mortalian had grown his bones outwards, hence his opinion.

In addition, Mortarian thought it was a stupid thing to lie down and sleep with big wings.

He didn't say this to Saint Gilles' face.

So people would ask, how does Mortarian sleep?

The answer is either to sleep standing up, or to turn into fog.

The first thing everyone did upon opening the door to Death's dormitory was to hold their breath or cough. The thick fog was less than two meters above the ceiling, and everything else was fog; everything was shrouded in fog.

Mortarian had placed some of his collected items in this dormitory room. Perhaps because Death was annoyed with Terra, the items were not arranged in a very organized manner. To others, it looked as if Mortarian had picked up a bunch of junk and thrown it into his room.

In addition, Mortarian planted a tree in the room.

When he wants to rest, he will lean against a tree and close his eyes, or sit under a tree, or simply turn into mist. At this moment, only silence remains in this space.

Hades described it as Mortarion building a viewing cage for reptiles and then locking himself inside.

Mortarion's response was always to tell Hades to find a sturdy bed.

Aside from that, Angron's room was quite cozy. Only the bloodstained double axes hanging next to the bookshelf gave people a glimpse into the owner's identity, while the meticulously preserved books and the thick, warm bed all demonstrated the owner's usual style.

Although Conrad himself was very dirty, his room was very clean. Furniture that he soiled would be thrown away and replaced by the Night Lords. The style of his room was quite luxurious and hedonistic, except for a cross with bloodstains and a hook in the center of the room, whose purpose was unknown to the Primarch.

Magnus's room can be summed up in one sentence: a well-furnished library with an extra bed; Vulcan's is a rocky room with a burning fireplace; Hades has never seen Corax's room. Apart from Guilliman, no one is allowed to enter Corax's room on Terra, including Conrad.

Corax thought Conrad was dirty.

It's said there are game consoles inside.

As for Hades' room... a sturdy bed, walls covered with scaled-down chess pieces, countless display cases and chess pieces inside. Hades has models of all the empire's armies here, and he himself is still working hard to create new chess pieces.

It's more like a warehouse than a place to rest, a warehouse for storing chess pieces, but Hades thinks it's cool.

These people wouldn't understand what it means that a gram of plastic is more expensive than a gram of gold.

And now, he possesses the entire army of the entire empire as its pawns! The entire army!

This is Hades!

In addition, Hades had previously suggested using white cement to create European-style patterned square frames on the ceiling (?), and also on the walls near the floor, but was politely dissuaded by Guilliman and Saint Gilles.

Mortarian had initially spoken up for Hades, but after seeing the pattern Hades had drawn from memory, he fell silent.

Anglon also came over to take a look, then he read Saint Gilles' Heart, and then Anglon went to vomit.

Yay, it's gone!

Chapter 771 The Losers' Alliance (?)

The defeated Karas Typhon raised his eyebrows slightly, watching as one end of the crumpled banner on the wall fell down.

In a small, dimly lit corner at the foot of the palace, where neither Primarch nor Hades would find, discontent and resentment gather, eventually transforming into drunken groans.

Karas's gaze remained fixed on the banner, faded to an indistinguishable color. Severta had insisted on hanging this ridiculous thing in the little bar, with words crudely written in blood on it.

"WORK OR DIE."

There were several small holes at the bottom of the banner; I wonder who spat on them.

"You still went."

A dark voice rose, as twisted as his master's. Karas sneered and swaggered into the small bar they had taken over.

"At least I have the courage to face it."

The sneer on Karas's face never faded. He walked straight past Dante, the Angel of the Holy Blood, who was clutching a bottle of wine on the ground with a sorrowful expression. Under the dim light, Severta was watching Karas from behind the bar with a half-smile. It was he who had just uttered the welcoming words.

"The usual? Or something else?"

Welcome to the Legion Commander's Club, also known as the tireless second-in-command of the idiot Primarchs. Here, you can find Barbalus Poison (it will kill you, but don't worry, Karas will summon Mortalian to resurrect you), Baal Blood Wine (extremely heart-burning), Prospero Sweet Wine (which, like Prospero, is not commonly found in this bar), and Macurag Fine Wine (the most normal one, which the bar uses instead of water).

And a mysterious special edition, black liquor (???).

Karas simply sat casually in his usual spot, watching expressionlessly as Sevita tossed him a flat iron bottle, the inside of which hissed as the liquid inside corroded.

"Motalian hasn't returned."

Karas muttered to himself, skillfully opened the bottle, took a swig, and felt nothing; he had developed a resistance to this stuff.

"As expected."

Sevita said he also bought himself a bottle of the Dark Eldar's special flavor.

"He's not as hardworking and conscientious as you."

Karas's lips twitched for a moment, but the attack was too weak; Karas was immune to it.

"But that idiot came back—so I deliberately went to his lounge door, banged on it, waited seven seconds, and then, after watching him open the door, I held back my vomit and said to him, 'Idiot, are you a fan of special games? Come back?'"

Karas felt stupid for doing this on purpose, but it didn't matter. He was tired of living. He shook the bottle in his hand, and the venom clattered.

"He and I were both abandoned by Mortalian,"

Karas said, "Cheer up! The only one who didn't go up the mountain this time is Mortarian, that lazy bum."

“CTMD”.

Sevita stared at Karas with the look one would give an idiot, the meaning of which was clear: he thought Karas was an idiot.

"Not as good as Macurag."

"This phrase has become a weapon for him to attack others," said Sevita, but the next moment, a muttered sound of some kind of attack came from the doorway.

"Please, everyone, we don't want this to happen either."

A deep voice echoed, Ultramariner Calgar's voice was usually even lower—haha, because that idiot had finished his surgery.

They can now serve the empire "better".

Karas remained silent, watching the doorway with Severta as if they were watching amusement. After the upgrade, Calga, whose size had increased, would obviously have to squeeze through to get in.

Bang, bang! The Ultra Warrior accidentally bumped into the door frame, and a small bat-shaped metal ornament fell off the rough-decorated door frame. The little blue wind chime that Calga had hung up himself also fell down.

"Sorry, sorry."

Calga muttered a couple of things and then squeezed in. He had barely gotten himself into the bar when Sevita threw two bottles of Bal Blood at him.

Calga sighed deeply, deftly catching the fragile bottles with one hand, and then, to the amusement of Karas and Severta, pulling Dante, who was half-lying on the ground, to his feet.

The Holy Blood Angel had clearly arrived earlier than all of them and had used the highest concentration of Barbaros poison to mix with the blood wine, giving himself a hypnotic treatment. It worked very well; he was now unconscious.

Calgarh was afraid that Dante, who was talking to himself, would suddenly attack him. The fangs of the Holy Blood Angel were bared and moved slightly as Dante muttered the Bible.

Calga kindly dragged Dante to the tattered sofa in the middle of the bar. People who knew about this secret bar were all rich and powerful, but the decorations here, including that sofa, looked like they had just been dragged out of a junkyard.

None of them cared about any of that.

The dark yellow sofa was pitted and corroded by the Space Marines' saliva and poison, and Calgar placed Dante in an area that didn't look so dirty.

He didn't intend to take the bottle of wine from Dante's arms. The last person to do so was the Grey Knight, Ahriman, who was subsequently given a sip by Dante.

Grey Knight Ahriman's exact words were that he never imagined he would be bitten by anyone other than the Space Wolf.

Karas commented that it doesn't matter whether it's a stray dog ​​or a mosquito, it's all the same if someone bites you.

After settling Dante in, Calga sat down in his familiar spot, his head drooping dejectedly, as if he himself had not been the one who had achieved such a great success in the surgery.

Sevita whistled.

"How does it feel?"

"Stop joking,"

Calga waved his hand and took a big gulp.

"My Lord hasn't explicitly said to reduce my sleep time, but I've noticed that I need to rest much less—maybe I should bring it up myself."

These words seemed to strip Calgar of most of his strength, leaving the Ultramariner utterly dejected.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk,"

Karas made an extremely distorted expression.

"Don't work too hard—Saint-Gilles, if you take the initiative to work, you'll earn your master's praise. What will you get if you take the initiative to work? More official documents?"

These words provoked both of them. Dante, who was unconscious, let out a roar like a wild beast and seemed to nudge towards Karas's position, while Calga slammed his fist on the table in anger.

At this slap, Callas and the entire table he was sitting on froze for a moment, but Callas's expression remained unchanged as he continued to stare at Calga.

"Don't be a thief."