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

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Hades, however, wondered if the Night Lords' fear tactics would still be effective if they encountered aliens.

The communication channel crackled to life; it was time for the meeting. Since Horus was the most respected of the three Primarchs, the meeting was scheduled to take place on the Soul of Vengeance. As usual, Mortarion instructed the Deathguard fleet to remain on high alert.

Hades estimated that the meeting would likely not yield any significant results. Given Horus's public image, he was probably quite keen to help the two Primarchs, who were meeting for the first time, get to know each other.

Interestingly, in the original timeline, Mortarion and Koz seem to maintain a good relationship, which Hades can understand. To some extent, the Death Guard, like the Night Lords, possesses a necessary cruelty and atrocity.

As for this operation, Hades decided to consult with other leaders of the Eighth Legion, such as Sevita, Sevita, and Sevita.

Just as Karastifon was jokingly called the true commander of the Death Guard, Sevita was also the true commander of the Night Lords—and he contributed far more to the Night Lords than Karastifon.

Hades stood expressionlessly inside the Stormbird, in the same position, in the same aircraft. The indicator light for the open hatch lit up, and a bright slit appeared in the darkness. Hades very consciously closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Horus, the wolf god, standing in the light and smiling warmly at them, just as he had seen before.

Standing beside the Wolf God was...

A huge, hunched, emaciated giant, Conrad Coz.

Hades heard the hissing sound coming from the Mortalian respirator beside him.

Incidentally, the metaphor used by others to describe Mortarian is that he hovers between a corpse and death.

Mortarion despises brothers who are outspoken and only know how to talk nicely. So, this time, will the dark Lord of the Night be able to attract the favor of the Lord of Death?

Hades didn't want to care about these things, nor could he. Just like the farcical banquet last time, Hades' only responsibility was to prevent the Legion from going crazy along with the Primarch.

Hades squinted, already searching for Seghanus and Severus.

Without a doubt, the first acquaintance he contacted was Abaddon.

Yes, there is a code!

This article mainly provides a brief introduction to Conrad Coates.

Chapter 288 Nightfall, Wolves, and Death

It was clear that they had both overlooked Horus, who was shining brightly, even though Horus would usually be the center of attention, with only the angel Saint Gilles able to rival him.

But only those with the same aura will attract each other. Among the group of bright and radiant brothers, it seems that neither side expected the other to exist.

In Horus's private Primarch meeting room, the worn-out Moon Wolf Banner and the Double-Headed Eagle Banner hung down together, a pale gold carpet covered the floor, and fabric armchairs were casually placed in the room, all facing the projector in the small room.

Horus turned on the projection device, and their target star system immediately appeared before everyone. Horus took a light breath, then turned around with a smile—

Mortarian sat silently on one of the sofas, maintaining a necessary silence, like a statue.

The Lord of Death's armor was a pale, dull bone white, with some faint marks clearly visible on it, and it was also hollow and powerless, without any superfluous decorations.

For some Primarchs, this would be unbearable, but Mortarion was indifferent to these imperfections. His deep-set eyes, hidden in the darkness of his hood, made it impossible to guess what he was thinking.

Beneath Mortarian's mask came the sound of breathing like that of a dying man, giving the impression that he was constantly enduring some kind of cruel torture. Horus guessed that it was caused by the poison gas in Mortarian's mask, but he simply could not understand Mortarian's self-destructive behavior.

Koz sat on the sofa in an awkward and unsettling posture, as if the sofa were made of nails and thorns.

But Horus was certain that the sofas in the room were made of the most comfortable materials, and that even a naked baby would immediately fall asleep on these soft sofas.

The Lord of Night was shrouded in cold, midnight-like armor. At the ends of the armor, where the fingers were positioned, sharp blades gleamed with a merciless light. Countless skulls, pierced with iron shards, were staring at Horus with empty, tormented eyes.

Traces of dried slime filled Koz's long hair, making the Primarch's black hair a mess, and Horus could even see some unidentified lumps in it.

But unlike Mortarian, who hid himself completely, Koz revealed his entire face. His skin was a terrifying ice-white, his face was bloodless, and his lips were blue, mixed with the dark brown of dried blood.

Horus looked at his two brothers, which gave him a strange feeling. The two people who were usually out of place in the Primarch now had a symmetrical resemblance. To use a rather inappropriate analogy, Mortarion and Conrad Coz reminded him of Guilliman and Dorn.

In short, both Primarchs resembled corpses, the difference being that one was a tuberculosis corpse buried in the loess for many years, while the other was a blood loss corpse that had been frozen in an ice cellar for many years.

"Well," Horus said to himself, "I have to admit that even Horus felt a bit of a problem."

Although the situation was not quite as difficult as it had been at that banquet, Horus was greatly relieved.

Horus tried to keep his tone light as he looked at his two brothers, who clearly had no intention of speaking first.

"Before we begin, we can get to know each other and become familiar with one another so that we can cooperate better in the future."

Prior to this, Shadowmoon Wolves had worked separately with both legions, so it's clear that Horus meant for Mortarion and Koz to get to know each other.

The Lord of Night raised his eyes, which were hidden in his tangled long hair and were completely black, and gave Horus a melancholy look.

He saw a shattered puppet, engulfed by unpredictable flames, roaring as it tore the sun apart.

He is no longer Horus.

Brothers turned against each other, siblings turned against each other. He spoke,

"Conrad Coz, Lord of the Night."

A soft, hoarse voice rang out, drawing everyone's attention to Koz.

"Motalian, Death Guardian, Lord of Barbaros."

Koz glanced in Mortalian's direction.

He saw the garden, the high walls climbed by vines and maggots, and the knees forced to kneel; those who pursued suffering ultimately met with tragedy.

Another person who is helpless.

Sadness and devastation overwhelmed him once again. Nightmares were like ghostly shadows on the wall at midnight, and justice and redemption were nothing but illusions in his mind, clamoring to tear him apart.

"Conrad?"

Horus's voice roused him, and Koz roughly shook his head, signaling Horus to continue his explanation of the objective.

This is a rather prosperous pocket kingdom with a certain level of galactic defense capabilities, but the majority of the population still resides on its home planet, and its technology and military are highly advanced.

Faced with such a human civilization, the Empire repeatedly sent its peace negotiation ships, but this civilization resolutely refused to surrender and imprisoned the Empire's peace negotiators.

Koz listened casually to Horus's long-winded speech. His incorrigible brother still believed that the civilization had hope, and that Horus wanted to negotiate with it.

Horus insisted on peace talks, advocating that the civilization's outer defenses should be destroyed first, and then troops should be deployed to force them to submit.

He launched into lengthy pronouncements on "Why This Civilization Has Hope," full of clichés and utterly unoriginal ideas. Koz grew tired and bored. He began to recall the screams of those who had been skinned alive, but unfortunately, in Horus's dull conference room, even those piercing pleas for mercy sounded muffled.

Horus, Guilliman, those high-minded Dornish fellows, they don't understand that mercy and forgiveness only lead to corruption, and only relentless judgment can bring order and justice.

Fear begets justice, and suffering begets fear.

Koz could already imagine Horus's reprimand and disappointment as the Night Lords used the Blade of Fear to subdue their enemies in the ensuing battle.

These people are obsessed with formalities. They exchange a small amount of blood for a large number of sacrifices. Why can't they face the fact that their offspring are being sacrificed in large numbers? Is it something they want to see?

They simply refused to confront their sins like Coz did; they refused to acknowledge the war crimes they had committed.

"If they don't accept our peace request in the first phase, then the Legion can land in the eastern part of Continent Three, where their transportation arteries are located. Cut them off and continue to put pressure on them. They won't last long, at most three standard Terra months—"

“No,” Nors’s ghost uttered softly, “at most three standard Terra weeks.”

Horus was stunned.

"The enemy still has key transportation routes in the south; they won't arrive so quickly."

The voice of the Wolf God gradually faded; he seemed to know what Conrad wanted to say.

"Give this vital transportation hub to the Lord of the Night. Do not block their communications with radio waves; they need witnesses."

Koz uttered his words softly.

Horus looked at Conradkoz seriously; the wolf god's brows were already furrowed.

“Conrad, let’s put everything else aside for now. How can you be so sure that the people here will submit, instead of being fueled by a deeper hostility and fighting spirit towards the Empire?”

Mortarian, who had never fought alongside the Night Lords, clearly did not understand what the two were talking about, but out of a favorable first impression of Koz, he remained silent.

“Because,” Koz slowly rubbed the blades of his armor together, he needed his heart and flesh throbbing between his fingers, not just sitting there dryly, saying meaningless things to Horus.

Reality will prove him right.

"Given the climate of this planet, three weeks is enough for the corpses to develop a wonderful aroma. If we pile the corpses high enough, these deeply fermented smells will travel with the monsoon winds, spreading fear to the cities that have not yet fallen."

Koz held his hand to his face and took a deep, ecstatic breath, as if he could already smell the stench of the rotting flesh. murky pus flowed from his empty eye sockets.

"They will surrender soon, before they run out of supplies."

Koz said casually, and Horus seemed to hear Koz's low, snickering laughter.

You can't—

Mortarian raised his hand, signaling that he was about to speak.

"If it's just about fermenting the corpse, Death Guard can provide the virus to make the corpse decompose faster and emit a stronger odor, which can further shorten the time."

The Lord of Death, speaking frankly about the matter at hand,

This time, Koz's snickering laughter echoed throughout the entire conference room, and the Lord of the Night almost burst into laughter.

"Motalian, my brother, thank you for your kindness. Now we can conquer this civilization within two weeks."

Beneath the cloak, many wrinkles gathered around Mortarion's eyes, and Horus realized that Mortarion was also smiling.

Horus took a deep breath, raised his hand, and drew his brothers' attention back to him.

He spoke as softly as possible.

"This is a highly developed human civilization, and there is no oppression here," Horus glanced quickly at Mortarian.

“This civilization, they are merely developing, and they have committed no crimes,” Horus said, turning to Koz.

“They,” Horus took another deep breath, “deserve a more glorious war than fear and slaughter.”

“Give me a chance. Their rulers are not incompetent. Once they realize the true strength of the empire, they will soon surrender instead of continuing the war.”

"My brother, Horus."

Mortarian spoke, in a voice that was hoarse enough.

"Precisely because their rulers are not incompetent, they will fight the empire to the last moment before they are completely crushed—militarily or psychologically."

"Only the incompetent and foolish will surrender. When faced with foreign enemies, they will first think of resistance in order to preserve their noble status."

"But once they truly realized the gap between the two sides, they were the first to surrender, because they needed to preserve their 'noble' status."

Galaspar's memories gradually surfaced: when Mortarion's army climbed onto the top of the nest, the leadership there panicked and tried to surrender.

Of course, Mortarian did not accept their surrender.

"This human civilization is a nation built on the cult of personality within the family."

Mortarian pointed with his withered fingers to the map behind Horus. Few people knew, and even Mortarian himself was unaware, that the Lord of Death possessed an astonishing political acumen.

"The king is responsible to the people, and the people love their monarch. The whole country is thriving. Their culture will not allow them to surrender to a foreign enemy stained with the blood of their own country. You need to smash them, smash them enough that there is no possibility of resistance."

"Or terrify them, terrify them so much that it overwhelms any other emotion."

Koz picked up where Mortarion left off, and the two Primarchs had clearly reached a consensus on refuting Horus.

Unfortunately, Horus, with his considerable experience, held absolute power in the face of these two legions. Realizing that the two Primarchs were defying him and attempting to conquer him in ways that displeased the Empire and the Emperor, Horus abandoned his initially benevolent demeanor.

Standing before them now was the majestic wolf god Horus, whose eyes were fixed sternly and intently on Koz and Mortarion.

“My brothers, I want you to realize,”

Horus spoke,

"The Empire sent us to this civilization, and what it sought was not merely conquest."

"We are the liberators of civilization. We bring civilization, not death and oppression. The Great Crusade is a glorious liberation. We liberate humanity from the evil aliens and tyrants, not from oppression."

That's very true, provided that the Shadowmoon Wolves are Ultramarines, or some other glowing Legion.

"They rebelled against the empire, they are guilty, and guilty people need to be tried."

Koz stared at Horus, his dark pupils devoid of any light, his canine teeth slightly bared.

"They need to realize that the consequence of resistance is death, and their fearful deaths will serve as a warning to the rest, so that they will obey the rules."

Compared to the two who had already clashed slightly, Mortarian calmed down. He recalled Manus and Vulcan's rebukes to him, and also the brutality of Peturabo, who even bombed his own allies.

The Lord of Death has realized that his brothers judge others entirely based on their personal preferences, and they even have different definitions of the Great Crusade.

Mortarian was very curious about the Emperor, that liar, and what different lies he had told his brothers.

After experiencing so much, Mortarian no longer cared about these arguments that had no impact on reality. The Lord of Death's gaze was firmly fixed on the terrifying future, which was what truly made him tremble.

He didn't care how the planet was conquered.

As long as he ensured that the Death Guard wouldn't suffer heavy losses due to poor tactics, Mortarian had no other opinion on the matter.