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

Page 542

"I remember... there's a priest in your family who practices the Church of the Dead?"

William nodded. "My uncle."

"You think I don't know?! You're trying to pull strings with your master?! Even the Pope of the Underworld Cult begged me back then!!! And now he's still strutting around like a jerk at the Lords' Meeting every day!"

The inkpad slammed into William, who groaned but remained silent.

"Useless! Damn it, useless!"

“Macurag—he went to Macurag, those damn Macurag rebels have been wanting to get back at us for ages!”

"You could try apologizing."

Blood streamed down William's head. "Ultramen are not... brutes. We have time to find a scapegoat."

The Director-General of the Interior was silent for a moment, then he became calm.

“It’s no use,” he said. “Even if I wanted to surrender, those psionicists would drag me down with them. They’re pure mad dogs now.”

For the Star Speakers, Navigators, and Star Torch Hall, the sword hanging over their heads is finally about to fall.

Even though they never knew Hades' true ways.

William thought for a moment,

"Perhaps... as long as they prove their innocence, the deceased will not make things difficult for them."

A sudden silence, then quiet, manic laughter, the sound of chairs being dragged on the floor, footsteps.

“William, William,” the steward said, “sometimes I really wonder if you’re a disgrace to your family. How could the William family produce such an idiot like you? Do you really believe that the leader of those soulless people would forgive a psychic?”

The steward walked around William, stepping on the papers scattered on the ground. William coldly watched as his footprints were imprinted on the distress requests from the three planets.

The steward looked up at the relief sculpture carved high on the wall behind his desk, depicting the God Emperor and the King of the Underworld at opposite ends, neither of them speaking.

"How could this be true?"

The steward muttered to himself,

"Do gods really exist? Then why do they allow so much suffering and sin? We are now standing at the feet of the God-Emperor, can't He see all this? Since He hasn't punished us, it means He has forgiven us?"

William remained silent, his face calm.

The steward laughed.

"How could a god exist? He's just a fabricated thing to fool and deceive the ignorant masses into suffering—a charlatan. Why should I be afraid?"

“Yes, yes,” he clapped his hands, “it’s nothing but a bunch of charlatans.”

Large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. Finally, standing before the relief of the gods, the steward stopped, his face ashen.

The statue gazed at him calmly.

“My lord,” William suddenly spoke, “how should I respond to the Star Guardians?”

“No reply,” the steward said, his voice barely audible but firm. “Delay it, we’ll delay whoever comes. Now start destroying the evidence…burn half, keep the other half to make a scapegoat, prepare a palanquin, call the Minotaur Warband to come and accompany us. By the time those madmen like the Psionicists come looking for us, I’ll already be confessing my sins in the secret chamber of the Cathedral of the Underworld.”

The art of delaying is the most effective tactic in internal affairs, and the chief steward is a master of it.

“Remember to provoke them,” the steward said. “Let the patrol team out, lead the psykers to the archives… and then you know what to do.”

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Reclining on his throne, Hades silently stared at the son of Hades standing guard before him.

He stared at the majestic appearance of the Underworld Prince, unable to reconcile him with the Underworld Prince who had been spinning like a top in the sky just a few days ago.

But the smell told him it was him.

Due to the extreme social awkwardness, Hades directly abandoned the possibility of bringing up the "so-called" chapter tradition with the Child of the Underworld.

For the first time, he felt such regret—regret that the Death Guard had failed to stop the children of the underworld.

To use an inappropriate analogy, it's quite embarrassing for adults if their child eats feces in public.

In addition, Hades has received many gifts spontaneously prepared by the Son of the Underworld in the past few days—he seems to know where the funds for these gifts came from.

Most of it was food, some books, and along with some dried enemy heads...

We ate what we had, and put the rest in the storage room.

The Ultramarines have begun mobilization. It seems that after the meeting, they all agreed that going to Terra with Hades to fire a shot was a good option.

With clear interests and well-defined personal connections, hesitation is the biggest mistake.

Hades wanted to talk to Calgar some more, but after learning that Guilliman was not dead, the Ultramarines commander himself was not in good condition lately—at least Hades could tell that he would need a long time to recover.

In an instant, countless cobalt blue warships left their posts, warriors fighting for order and glory donned their helmets, and the blue ocean churned and surged, keeping pace with the dark tide-riders.

Hades confirmed with Vox several times that Mortarion did not need support for the time being, but Hades could start capturing Eldar ahead of schedule.

No rush... let him get into Terra first!

Because they were heading to the Great Vortex, the Underworld Children went ahead to meet with Huron, the Claw of the Stars, and Faos, who was inside the Great Vortex.

After discussing with Kirkland and Booth, they agreed that a show of force would be the best way to start a fight against someone like Huron.

The diluted black tide rolled lazily, and Hades felt unfamiliar souls being carried onto the deck... It was indeed tinged with heresy, but it didn't matter.

Compared to the turbidity of Vox's soul, this is already quite pure.

"coming."

Hades whispered, snapped his fingers, and turned off the lights.

With a buzzing sound, as if the power system had stopped working, the reception room darkened, and a cold, eerie light gleamed in the eyes of the wolves.

Huron paused in his steps down the corridor.

"What, you're not welcoming us?"

He asked jokingly, but Blake, who was leading him, merely glanced at him sideways.

"The regiment is poor, so this saves electricity."

This answer really stung Huron. He was sure he was a little embarrassed and angry. He had seen arrogant mortal nobles and brainless Space Marines, but what the hell was this?

Should we give him a hard time?

Huron sneered inwardly. He didn't think the so-called Primarchs or gods were anything to praise. It was just that those Space Marines who used the Primarch's name were acting all high and mighty.

Angron disappeared without a trace, Guilliman was brought down by mortals, not to mention Magnus and Alpha hiding in the warp... the Primarchs were nothing more than that.

The high lords are nothing but a bunch of fools who do nothing but lie in their armchairs collecting taxes, fantasizing that the tax revenue grows out of the cargo holds of ships.

Huron scoffed inwardly, yet he still felt his heart racing. Although he looked down on most people, including this pretentious Hades who popped out of some backwater, Huron knew that Hades was under the protection of the Death Guard... It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call him the eldest son of the Death Guard.

The Death Guard... is under the leadership of Mortarion.

If Huron has any heroes he admires, then Mortarion is definitely at the top of the list.

He personally confronted Terra, forcefully took over the Storm Sector, and established its operation, before conquering even more warp territories.

According to Huron, Mortarion was the true hero of mankind.

Unfortunately... Huron glanced contemptuously at the Hades standing guard at the gate. Compared to the tough guys like the Death Guard, Hades' son could be considered a misfortune for his family.

He didn't believe in the existence of gods, and even if they did, they had nothing to do with him. He had lived for so long, and the gods had never paid him any attention.

Oh no,

Huron thought with a touch of dark humor that now the gods themselves had come to pay attention to him.

The door opened, and a blast of cold air swept across his face. The hall was pitch black. Huron paused for a moment, then stepped inside without looking back.

Squeak—bang!

The door closed behind him, and Huron opened his eyes wide, trying to examine the enormous being sitting on the throne.

Everything was pitch black, and with a vague feeling of nausea, Huron couldn't make out what Hades looked like at all.

But the red light in his left eye calmly stared at Huron.

Huron swallowed hard, suppressing a feeling of nausea and submission. He stood straight, even impolitely, opposite Hades.

"I've heard that the Church of the Underworld doesn't practice kneeling."

Huron forced a smile, hoping that the twitching at the corners of his mouth was a mocking one.

Isn't this just a show of force?

“Ruth Huron,” the figure sitting lazily on the throne completely ignored his ulterior motives, and Hades said unhurriedly, “The Black Heart King of the Great Vortex, I have long admired your name.”

"Pluto—I've heard about your deeds since I was born. I'm so curious that a dead statue in a church could one day stand alive in front of me and speak."

Hades paused for a moment, then his voice, tinged with a hint of amusement, rang out.

"That's quite a coincidence... Since we're destined to meet, would you be willing to work for me?"

So direct?

Huron was momentarily stunned, then quickly began to think.

He knew all along that calling him over meant there was something to talk about, otherwise Faos would have already started a war with the Star Claws. But Huron figured he was just going to be taken in as a dog, just like Terra's true colors.

But... to express their intentions so quickly... Huron licked his dry lips. Do these arrogant guys really think everyone will obey them?

So he didn't stand on ceremony, feigning goodwill while secretly plotting his next move. Huron was already adept at this.

“I would be willing,” Huron said, “but what are your intentions?”

“What a coincidence,” said Hades. “I don’t know what you’re thinking either, Huron. Using the pretext of hunting down Phoss to resist taxes on Terra, and then luring the tax-collecting team sent by Terra to Phoss’s mining planet?”

Huron's smile froze; the feeling of being toyed with infuriated him. Why—

Hades' words interrupted his thoughts.

"When the snipe and the clam fight, the fisherman benefits. Huron, you are a very good fisherman. When you come to my side later, I will have Buzdo talk to you. He also likes fishing."

“You might as well be more explicit,” Huron said coldly. “Or do you simply enjoy humiliating people?”

"It's a fact that I want you to do things, and it's also a fact that you have this little hobby of fishing. How can stating the facts be considered an insult, Huron? Or do you also feel that you've handled things...inappropriately over the years?"

Huron gritted his teeth. That damned old man... if only he could beat him...

Despite his resentment, Huron was no fool; he had long since outgrown the days when Space Marines charged into battle shouting for the Emperor.

“It’s a last resort,” Huron said in a low voice, his tone now like a low bark of a dog. “Caught between two equally matched powers, this is the only way… Why be a dog for those Terran elites? To add a little more security to their Simmons dreams? Give me these wasted resources, and I can save more planets, while what about Faos…”

Huron's voice softened, as if he were giving in.

"My lord, do you know how greedy the sages are?"

“That’s true,” Hades said thoughtfully, “but I don’t think the sages are as greedy as you, Huron… you’ve probably consumed quite a lot, haven’t you?”

Under extreme pressure, Huron suddenly let out a cold laugh.

"My lord, so you wanted us to spit it out? No wonder you didn't let the Star Claws go... I was thinking, given your size, you probably would have just let us little fish go—your fishing net is so small? You wouldn't even let a small, marginalized warband go?"

“Of course,” Huron said with a smile, raising his hand in a gesture of helpless surrender. “We have personally offered you the savings we have accumulated over the decades, so there is no need for you to urge us.”

“You’re too tense,” Hades said calmly. “Huron, the entire Five Hundred Worlds are my logistics. Apart from the penny-pinching High Lords, I don’t care about your private property—”

"Then why did you summon me? Just to humiliate me?"

Huron retorted, then laughed angrily, "You won't let us go, and you don't want our money. If you want our lives, you can come now!"

Upon hearing this, Hades sighed. The giant straightened up and looked at Huron.

"We're not letting you go because of you."

Hades said, as the darkness slowly dissipated, “Rutef Huron, Chapter Leader of the Star Claws, who single-handedly established his own sector within two major powers, I have seen your ambition and ability. Now I formally extend an invitation to you. You have an opportunity to step onto a larger stage.”

"Provided that--"

Hades stopped, silent, staring at Huron until Huron began to sweat, gritting his teeth as he asked him what it was.

"What do you think it is?"

Hades countered, "Hurron, I'll give you a hint: I'm going to enter Terra and seize power. Why do you think that is?"

For greater power? As a god, one cannot stay at the feet of mortals, nor can one be subservient to those worthless people; it would be an utter disgrace.

Huron almost immediately thought of the answer, but his pounding veins told him that the answer was wrong. He gritted his teeth. Since Hades wanted to recruit him but also wanted to put him in a bad position, it meant that he had done something right that met Hades' standards, and something wrong that Hades did not want to see.

Huron recalled his impetuous youth, when he initially aspired to be a ruler, not for any other reason than he believed he could govern better than those pot-bellied nobles, that he could establish more stable star sectors, and that he could conquer more territories…

So……