This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 287 When will Ruth come back?
Silent Oath, Public Area, Union Tavern

Smiling, Azrael followed Arthur into the tavern, his gaze sweeping over the members present.

Noticing Beria and Samuel talking quietly with Bjorn the Wolf, he couldn't help but nod in satisfaction.

'At least they're somewhat obedient.'

From the moment His Highness began performing that charade with Lord Romulus, he keenly sensed the Dawnwing's true expectations for its troops.

This is by no means about creating a private army for a Primarch, but rather a sharp blade that can seamlessly connect with any Legion whenever the Golden Throne needs it.

Therefore, in the decision-making levels of various battle groups, those stubborn elements who still hold a hostile attitude towards Ultramarines or other battle groups have long been eliminated through continuous reassignment and job optimization.

Haven't you noticed that those guys who don't obey Romulus's management are either in combat or technical positions, and not a single one is in a management position?

Everything was arranged by the regency's powerful hand.

However, the political acumen of most Astartes could only be described as disastrous. They had little clear understanding of the current situation, but they were still entitled to the postwar commendations and honors they deserved, and life was much better than before.

Because everything is afraid of comparison.

After reading the detailed history of the First Legion, Azrael understood the psychological gap these predecessors had experienced.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.

Samuel was leaning against the bar, fiddling with a data tablet in his hand, occasionally exchanging a few jokes with the old wolf beside him.

This guy has always been quite flexible and quick-witted, so Azrael plans to send him to Ravenwing Training.

Belial stood a little further away, arms crossed, and remained silent except for topics related to the battle, as silent as an obsidian.

Although he's stubborn, he at least knows what's important and is extremely capable in combat. His psionic resistance is also incredible, and as long as he's willing to follow orders, he's perfect as Deathwing's commander.

Their gaze fell upon a lonely old knight.

Galad, an inner-circle knight, is one of the most knowledgeable and skilled warriors among all the legion branches.

Despite having undergone the surgery to transform the original Space Marine, his face still bore the marks of millennia of age.

This was what he requested from the apothecary, so that he could remember this period of time, which was far longer than the Great Crusade, ten thousand years later.

Azrael cleverly lowered his stance, persuading the man to join his team by adopting the attitude of an apprentice. He taught them ancient skills and culture, and provided these young warriors with ample experience and advice.

His long-term interaction with veterans made him realize that these veterans were not necessarily difficult to deal with.

Importantly, these newcomers must first learn to let go of their pride in order to truly access the wisdom that has been refined by time.

As Azrael sized up these members, they also sized up the prince's attendant.

Your Highness is very strong.

Terribly strong.

Therefore, in theory, His Highness does not need any personal guards; he is more like someone who can lead any army to tear apart the enemy's spearhead.

The Knights of the Round Table were more like a new ruling body for the legions. Apart from the five hundred Knights of the Round Table who met His Highness at the beginning, the high-ranking members of various monastic orders and legion branches were able to obtain a place in it.

Therefore, although they often refer to themselves as Knights of the Round Table and are proud of it, they spend most of their time handling legion affairs and honing their combat skills, and rarely accompany His Highness.

Noticing the gazes of his companions, Azrael tightened his expression.

He straightened his belt, his fingers lingering briefly on the leather buckle, before pushing the back of his robe aside to reveal a restrained yet elegant obsidian blade.

The intricate dark patterns on the sword guard are faintly visible under the light, a testament to craftsmanship that can only be appreciated up close.

Each member of the Knights of the Round Table possessed a unique ceremonial sword, meticulously crafted by His Highness based on his impression of the knight.

"Oh, how did you know I received the ceremonial sword from His Highness?"

Not
Most of the people around immediately looked speechless.

Who asked you?

There was no shortage of envy among them.

Azrael calmly accepted the gazes around him, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.

This is what he deserves, and it's also a way of showing those who gravitate towards him that following him is the right thing to do.

After all, few Dark Angels would take the initiative to handle diplomatic work with members of the Cult of Mechanics.

"We've already completed communication with the progressive faction at Huangquan No. 8. Romulus is negotiating the specific regulations. Now we need you to build the psionic network to ensure communication between us and the progressive faction."

Arthur came to Ramses' side and pulled him out of his warp roaming.

"So fast?"

Ramses looked surprised.

They have always welcomed members of the Cult of Mechanics who actively seek change and whose methods are relatively moderate.

After all, they were forged in the high-pressure environment of Warhammer, just like the administrative officials of the Imperial Ministry of the Interior.

You can criticize someone, but you can't criticize them for being incompetent.

If their skills were up to par today, they would all be top-tier civil servants.

And these mechanical priests are no exception.

Those who rise from mere clones with only a number to the ranks of researchers are often those with exceptional abilities who perish along the way. Therefore, if these Mechanicus members are willing to sign the terms offered by the Dawnwing, establish a cooperative relationship, and accept the Dawnwing's supervision and management, then there is no need for them to become enemies.

What? You're saying there's a difference between this treaty and a contract of servitude?
The days when you academic warlords could recklessly monopolize technology are over!

Honestly, open-source your technology.

"That's how fast it is."

Arthur paused for a moment, then said, "Azrael did a good job."

Compared to the past extermination operations against the Mechanicus, managing the intensity of the war and meticulously subdividing and refining the internal structure of the Mechanicus requires more effort and places higher demands on the members in command and coordination, making it more difficult.

But the rewards are even greater.

We will not push the entire mechanical cult to the opposite side at this crucial stage.

It depends a lot on the commander.

Tactical victories must be guaranteed, strategic victories must be achieved, and political needs must be clearly defined.

There are many strategists like this among mortals, but they usually can't command Astartes, and with Astartes, you can only hope that the person is an Ultramariner.

Azrael, standing beside Arthur, was even happier.

This is to create momentum for him.

He noticed the shifting gazes around him, many of which betrayed a desire to challenge him.

This would be a disaster for members who want to keep a low profile and are afraid of trouble.

But is Azrael the kind of person who would be afraid of this kind of pressure?

"Wow!"

Ramses glanced at Azrael beside Arthur.

As expected of a chapter leader who has managed to understand the inner workings of the Dark Angels after taking over, his skill level is truly impressive.

"Alright, let's go together."

He immediately stood up and put the mask on his face.

Arthur didn't rush to turn around, but naturally went to the bar on the Dark Angel side and asked for a wine glass.

Pour yourself half a glass of red wine.

The crystal glass reflected an amber halo under the light, and fingers encased in iron armor held the glass steadily.

He then turned and waved to the Space Marines sitting around him.

The wine rippled in the glass, reflecting the varied expressions on the faces of the knights around him.

The surrounding Astartes, including the Space Wolves and members of various chapters who came to socialize, raised their glasses in return.

Even the warriors still in the arena raised their swords.

"May you all enjoy this hard-won leisure time."

Arthur began to recite a toast.

Then he drank it all in one gulp.

slap~
Arthur gently set down the wine glass and handed it to a mortal servant before leading his entourage away.

The crystal glass made a crisp sound when it touched the obsidian tabletop, and the servant carefully caught the empty glass with a velvet tray and wrapped it up.

“Senior Bjorn, I must take my leave.”

Noticing the coded message from Azrael, Samuel nudged Belial, who was about to make himself a drink, and gave Bjorn a slight bow.

They should get to work.

"let's go."

Bjorn waved his hand dismissively, his rough knuckles leaving blurry fingerprints on the wine glass.

After Samuel dragged Beria away, he drank the rest of his wine in one gulp and let out a frustrated sigh.

During this period, Space Wolf's main tasks, besides exchanging and learning from various departments within Dark Angels, were fighting.

You can go to sleep when you're tired; the Silent Oath is quite large.

It's not that these days are bad, but it's really unbalanced to have Dark Angels, Ultramarines, and Blood Angels running around under the Primarch's leadership.

It made them feel like they were being fostered by someone else.

Even the home of the Dark Angels!
"When will Ruth come back?"

"I wonder how Russ is doing in the warp, what kind of enemies he will encounter, what kind of wars he will experience, where he has gone, and whether he needs us."

"I really want to drink with Ruth."

Seeing many dark angels follow Arthur away, the wolves, who had just been happy, suddenly became dejected and started drinking alone, missing their original host.

Bjorn silently tapped his horn cup, his mind racing through the plans Arthur and Romulus had given him, his eyes growing increasingly resolute.

(End of this chapter)