Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 341 Respect for the Wolf God

Praise be to the archangel!

As Horus growled, the Shadowmoon Wolves knelt down in unison, offering praise to the archangel.

The arrival of the father of genetics relieved Loken and Abaddon, and their tension immediately dissipated.

They were relieved that the Primarch of the Ninth Legion they were facing was not eccentric and did not make things difficult for them because of their difference in status.

If the wolf king were to come, they would be lucky to escape with their lives.

"Have you finished your work?" Saint Gilles asked apologetically, feeling that his sudden visit had disturbed his brother's work.

"No need to worry!" Horus said domineeringly, "They have no choice but to submit to the human empire!"

Hearing his brother's reply, Saint Gilles felt relieved, knowing that he had not embarrassed his brother.

"You've surprised me greatly." Horus affectionately took his brother's hand and led him toward the temple, never sparing with praise: "Holy and beautiful."

"The universe is vast and full of wonders, and beautiful things are as numerous as the stars, but you are the most dazzling one among them!"

"I dare not accept such praise," Saint Gilles said with a smile, humbly shaking his head.

His brother was too enthusiastic, and he dared not accept such praise, repeatedly waving his hands in polite refusal.

"No!" Horus said solemnly, "I was wrong. How can those vile aliens compare to my brother?"

"Of all the stars in the sky that I know, you are clearly the most dazzling and beautiful, inspiring longing in my heart."

Saint Gilles remained silent, a slightly embarrassed smile appearing on his handsome face.

His brother's expression was serious, but his words were full of praise, making it difficult for him to tell whether it was excessive boasting or genuine sentiment.

In the midst of the enthusiastic atmosphere, Horus put his arm around Saint Gilles and offered various words of praise.

The brother before him was so holy that he couldn't help but compare him to Forgrim.

In terms of appearance alone, the two are equally beautiful, but they belong to two completely different kinds of beauty—the angel's magnificence and the phoenix's splendor.

The arrival of the angels also made Horus sigh with emotion. He was really surprised that the genetic father of the Ninth Legion was so beautiful.

That legion known as the "ghouls" is completely out of place with our brothers from any angle; they have desecrated this sacredness!

How ironic that fate is so cruel—the legion that inherited the blood of angels is called "ghouls"!
Legion warriors pushed open the magnificent doors, welcoming the two Primarchs into the palace.

Behind the gate was a vast palace, its dome a slowly rotating galaxy, and its walls adorned with somber reliefs depicting epic tales of heroes, solemn yet not dazzling.

The miniature fusion torches on the wall lit up, illuminating the relief lines with just the right amount of light—a warm, yet not dim, glow that, combined with the sharply defined stone table, made the place resemble a palace of the gods.

"Brother, please take a seat."

Horus beckoned Saint Gilles to the head of the largest stone table, where two chairs had already been prepared to bear the glory of the two Primarchs.

Unable to refuse the hospitality, Saint Gillis slowly sat down, only to realize that he was looking down at the hall from his seat.

After the two Primarchs were seated, many mortal servants emerged from a hidden door in the hall and began to set out the banquet, wine, and food.

They were very skilled, and every movement was just right, clearly indicating that they had rehearsed many times.

Saint Gilles could tell that Horus had meticulously prepared a banquet to welcome him.

As the mortal servants entered, the Legion warriors slowly took their seats, with the members of the Council of Four closest to the Primarch, and then extending outwards according to rank.

“Saint-Gilles, my beautiful brother.”

Horus lowered his voice and called out, drawing the angel's attention back: "Perhaps you already know, but I still want to introduce you to my sons."

“These are Azekair Abaddon and Hastralyanus.” He pointed to the left side of the stone table, his face showing undisguised pride. The two warriors, clad in dynamic armor, stood up and straightened their backs.

“Azekael is the strongest warrior. He is resolute and most like me in terms of personality. I think you have already met him. Cyranus, on the other hand, is different. His strength comes from wisdom. He is a strategist.”

Saint Gilles's expression was solemn; he nodded to the two warriors as a sign of his respect.

Abaddon held his head high with pride. The Primarch's introduction of his brother was almost a boastful praise. How could he not be proud?
Cyranus, on the other hand, resembled Horus in his features, but lacked the corresponding wildness; instead, he possessed a rational calmness.

The two bowed to the archangel in respect, and slowly sat down as the Primarch nodded in return. "These are Taric Torgadon and Eichmann." As the two warriors sat down, Horus pointed to the right, and the two warriors stood up in turn.

"Togaton is very intelligent. He has a great talent for warfare and is a rare military commander."

Togaton's serious expression softened, revealing a stiff smile, though it was stiff, it still conveyed a great deal of respect.

Saint Gilles raised his hand to indicate that he didn't need to be nervous, and gave him a reassuring and approving smile.

"As for Eichmann..." Horus pointed to the last person, and when he saw the face that most resembled his own, his smile deepened: "Within the Legion, he is called 'Little Horus' because he is most like me, almost a miniature version of me."

“Little Horus?” Saint Gilles looked closely and compared him to his brother; the two looked nine-tenths alike.

He nodded in deep agreement: "They are indeed very similar."

Not only Horus the Younger, but also other members of the Council of Four, influenced by the Geneseed, resemble Horus in some ways in appearance and demeanor.

While the others are only slightly similar, Horus the Younger is extremely similar.

"This is……"

After the two men sat down, Horus introduced his genetic offspring to his brother one by one, his face beaming with pride.

Saint Gilles returned the greetings and patiently remembered each one.

"You've met him too." When it came to the last person, Horus's expression showed even greater affection. "Gavial Loken."

"He is unlike me in both appearance and personality, but I like him very much. Beneath his calm exterior lies intense passion, and many legion soldiers take him as their role model."

“He deserves your favor.” Saint Gilles was tolerant; he had carefully examined the warrior throughout their journey.

Loken was indeed different from others; his personality was unique, more independent and rational, and he had his own opinions on everything.

Once the tenth company commander sat down, the ordinary servants set out the food, and the banquet could begin at any time.

"Brother, please rise." Horus helped his brother up, his eyes sweeping across the entire area, and roared to the genetic offspring: "This is one of my great brothers—Saint Gilles."

"He will fight alongside me in the days to come, until the day I leave this world."

“You must respect my brother as you respect me, and love and obey his commands!”

"Dear Archangel!"

The angel's arm was raised high, and a hint of surprise flashed in his blue eyes.

He came by order of the emperor to learn war strategies from Horus, never expecting to be given the same status as his brother.

Horus's decision, in legal terms, granted equal rights and was the greatest respect and trust he could have for himself!
The Legion warriors all stood up, their armor clattering, and turned their gazes toward the two Primarchs.

"Beloved Archangel!" The warrior's cry echoed throughout the hall.

Saint Gilles grabbed Horus's forearm with his other hand and shouted back, "Honorable Wolf God!"

Unable to contain their worship of the Father of Genes and the Primarch, the Shadowmoon Wolves once again shouted in response to their intense emotions: "We love the Wolf God! We love the Archangel!"

Horus smiled with satisfaction and quickly gestured for his brother to sit down, signaling the start of the banquet.

"Try this." Horus poured wine for his brother himself, showing extraordinary enthusiasm: "This is a fine wine that I acquired at great expense. I don't usually drink it, but it's just right to entertain the most distinguished guests."

Saint-Gilles picked up the wine glass with his hand, watching the crimson liquid slowly pour in, and the refreshing aroma of the wine filled his nostrils.

He noticed that his brother was telling the truth; in the spacious palace, apart from the main table, no other tables had this wine on them.

"What kind of wine is this?" The angel held the wine glass with her white fingers, gently swirling it to awaken its rich aroma, and curiously inquired about its origin.

In Saint Gilles's mind, the Primarch, as the most honored person in the Empire, could unconditionally enjoy all the material possessions that the Empire had.

Horus, however, would show a pained expression at the thought of fine wine.

Indeed, as the wine flowed out, Saint Gilles saw a slight twitch of muscles on Horus's face, and the brother felt a pang of heartache.

"Export goods from the Nur Star System." Horus put the empty wine glass aside, picked it up, sniffed it lightly, and savored the aroma of the wine. "However, very little spills out."

(End of this chapter)