Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim.

Chapter 69 The Role-Playing Enjoyer (Part 2)
To be precise.

There are four types.

Fugrim took a sip and then frowned slightly.

She maintained her smile, as if she were talking about something trivial.

He stood there unharmed, speaking in a mocking tone.

"My lord...I...this..."

Governor Pandeon's loose skin twitched, and his eyes darted left and right, as if he didn't know where to look.

He frantically waved his hands, trying to absolve himself of guilt through body language.

"I had no idea! Those people—"

"Of course I know it couldn't be you, Governor."

"At least, you don't have the guts yet."

With a smile, Fugrim turned and moved toward the window of the governor's mansion.

She leaned against the window, looking at the view outside the open stained glass window without saying a word.

The once neatly divided farmland now has only a few sparse, coarse crops drooping on the ground.

In front of the dilapidated house, riddled with cracks and patches, only a few emaciated serfs walked slowly.

So desolate.

If even the farms near the capital were like this, it's not hard to imagine how bad the rest of Byzantium must have been.

The lavish meal before her might be enough to starve all the villages in the surrounding agricultural area.

Of course, this was never a big deal for nobles.

This is nothing new.

On Chemos, Fugrim had seen even more.

But it won't be the hereditary governor Pandion IV.

He was too old and too cowardly.

Time took away his health, ambition, and wisdom, while Fugrim and her imperial sons took away his last shred of courage.

As the nominal ruler of Byzantium, if he dares to lay a hand on Fugrim, he will only face the wrath of the Empire.

But this does not mean that other nobles would not be foolish enough to think they could escape punishment.

They would lurk in the shadow of this obese governor, fighting to the death before the empire formally stripped them of their power.

Conspirators always think their plans are flawless.

She had long been accustomed to such foolish people and foolish things on Chemos.

"Casca, come here."

Fugrim called softly.

"What's the matter, Master?"

The moment Cass quickened his pace to approach her, she roughly pulled him into her arms.

Their bodies pressed close together, and Fugrim's bright red lips were almost touching his ear.

"Casgar, guess how many assassins are in this banquet?"

She asked quietly.

"Ten...wait, eleven?"

"wrong."

A pleasant laugh reached Casca's ears.

"There are twelve, you silly boy."

"The one on top doesn't count; you clearly meant the one at the banquet."

"Grumpy."

"But guess how many will be left in the next five minutes?"

She whispered to herself, her hand moving with lightning speed toward the flaming longsword at her waist.

The answer is that there are none left.

After discovering that the poisoned wine had no effect on Fugrim, the assassins lurking at the banquet temporarily opted for an alternative.

Direct assassination.

Sensing the approaching figures behind him, Fugrim let out a disdainful smile.

Patience, my friend.

What kind of skill would a group of assassins who can't even muster the patience to dare to appear in front of her?
After a not-too-long wait, the excited man quickly stepped forward, his eyes wide with excitement, and pulled a finely crafted old-fashioned pistol from his waist. "For Sabazius!!!"

Bang!
It fired.

Amidst the terrified screams of countless noble guests and servants (including Kasgar), the bullet sped off toward Fugrim not far away.

It wasn't her, but the governor on the other side, Pandion.

when!
It was a crisp metallic clanging sound.

Before the governor, who was old, obese, and trembling, another demigod of purple-gold used his sword to block a bullet that was not particularly fast, saving him.

Abdullah.

He simply held his sword across his chest, and the bullet lost its destructive power in the eyes of ordinary people.

The Astartes' reaction speed and equipment far exceeded the imagination of these pitiful mortals.

"Do it!"

Several shouts erupted from the crowd in quick succession. Seeing that the first assassin's attempt had failed, the remaining people quickly stepped forward from among the guests who were fleeing in panic.

Countless bullets whistled towards the heart of the banquet.

However, they would have to face six other elite sons of the emperor.

With a pleasant clanging sound of metal striking metal, the bullets successfully hit them.

Then it crashed into the terracotta armor and shattered.

Laughable and overestimating his own abilities.

"Son of the Emperor, honoring his father's name, slaying his father's enemies!"

Without needing to give any further instructions, the elite Astartes, sons of emperors, whose skills had been honed in training and on battlefields far more brutal than this, instantly brought the arrogant assassin to the ground.

Quinn charged ahead, and as a seasoned fighting genius, he thought a lot in that instant.

They came to force Byzantium to submit.

Instead of quickly dealing with these annoying assassins, giving them a dramatic death might be more effective in deterring them.

He slowed down, like a model on a stage, strolling leisurely towards the assassin amidst a hail of bullets.

He snatched the gun from the screaming, panicked man's hand and bent it into a "U" shape as if kneading a toy.

interesting.

Then, using this pole, you can send the opponent's head flying like a hockey stick.

The entire set of movements was concise, powerful, and crisp, achieving a very good deterrent effect.

He then walked over to the next assassin, slapped him, and sent his screaming head spinning wildly at his neck.

The assassins' morale collapsed very quickly.

After their leaders were dealt with in a haphazard manner, the remaining assassins could only scream as they fled the terrifying pursuit of the Astartes.

But this doesn't work at all.

Perhaps the army was indeed more lively when Casgar was there.

But once they were truly enemies on the battlefield, they remained the emperor's most terrifying killing machines.

As the ancient mansion was stained with the last drop of fresh blood, the battle ended quickly.

"Alive."

Melosin calmly manipulated the mechanical appendages behind her, throwing the paralyzed assassin onto the open ground in front of everyone.

With the help of the crowd, the obese Governor Pandion stood up again. He looked tremblingly at the purple-gold war gods, his pale lips moving but unable to utter a word.

The hall was completely silent.

Only from Fugrim's arms could one hear faint sobs.

"woooooo"

Casca.

This shameful fellow clung to Fugrim's chest like a sloth.

She trembled uncontrollably with fear.

Abdron: "."

Didn't see it.

I really didn't see it.

From being forced by Fugrim to enjoying the role and becoming deeply involved in role-playing.

Our newly appointed chief lord and commander, the son of the emperor, only took half a day.

(End of this chapter)