Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 109 One-Eyed Sunburn Oglin

The news that the Imperial Warmaster was about to return to Holy Terra spread like wildfire. The moment the Abomination arrived at the Pluto Fortress, the councilors on Holy Terra already knew about it.

It would be a lie to say I wasn't worried. It's only been four years since Mordred's last "benevolent rule," and the blood on the government building hasn't even been wiped clean yet. How come he's back again?

None of those who become councilors are good people; no one can guarantee they are without any stains. The previous 21% scramble is still fresh in everyone's mind, and no one wants to die.

As for whether they had considered removing Warmaster Mordred, they certainly had, but those who had such thoughts all committed suicide the next day, each shot eight times in the back.

The implications of this are self-evident. Anyone who dares to speak ill of the Warlord behind his back is simply asking for trouble. The Terra Council can only lavish praise on Mordred.

The effect was quite obvious: as long as you sang praises to the war commander, you could sleep soundly at night and wouldn't suddenly hear any strange laughter coming from under the bed.

Survival is nothing to be ashamed of! The most important thing is to keep your own head. Being the warlord's dog is just wonderful!

However, the reality was not at all what they imagined. With Atlas's small force, it was impossible for them to monitor the entire Holy Terra. Transporting supplies was enough to keep them busy, and now they also had to collect taxes. They simply didn't have time to deal with them.

The real mastermind behind all this was Macado, the old fox who taught Alpha. It was all done by Hydra under the guise of Atlas.

Whether it's a good reputation or a bad reputation, having a good reputation is always beneficial. As soon as Mordred disembarked from the Abomination at Terra Starport, he saw countless Imperial officials standing on both sides of the passageway.

Needless to say, there were flowers and carpets. In order to avoid being held accountable afterward, they even brought in antique black powder cannons, making it look like a coronation ceremony.

To be honest, although I was terrified, as long as I ignored the possibility of losing my head, Mordred's personal charisma was still extremely strong.

In addition, his appearance conformed to the conventional aesthetic standards of men, women, young and old, and Atlas was exceptionally kind to commoners. As he shouted, some people burst into tears, and some even knelt down and hummed songs on the spot.
"(ノ°ο°)ノYou came from the east, bestowing upon me a snow-white coat, and I wish to eat~ tranquil vegetables!"

“ヽ(゜▽゜) Gently swaying in the wonderful passage of Terra.”

"(;Д`) turned into tears, I dared not close my eyes!"

"I can never repay the General's kindness in this lifetime, sob sob sob, hee hee—"

Mordred, increasingly uneasy, sensed that these people were trying to mourn him, and asked the nun who had come to pick him up:

"I understand the logic, but why the last part about not daring to close your eyes? Don't the people of Terra sleep?"

The nun dared not refuse to answer the war commander's question, but unfortunately she was a quiet nun. Staring into her bright eyes, her hands began to move rapidly.

Because Atlas is infamous, they don't want to die, so they can only fawn over you. They dare not sleep because if they close their eyes, they might be purged by Atlas.

Just like you want to eat Dongpo pork knuckle while I want to scratch my hip joint, Mordred, who has never been too lazy to learn High Gothic and speaks only the local dialect of Ningjing, can't understand it at all.

Even with a mix of guesswork and deduction, Mordred couldn't figure out what it was. Staring at each other blankly, he could only manage to utter one word:
"I don't understand!" (Ning Jing's accent)

The Silent Sister felt a pang of discouragement, but fortunately, the guard beside her was quite understanding. After a mere pinch with his fingernail, he relayed the message:

“Your Highness, this is actually proof that the Terrans support you, because once they close their eyes, they will no longer be able to see the dazzling light you radiate.”

"Really? But I clearly saw her gesturing for so long."

The guard nodded, indicating that the sign language was somewhat complicated. Despite the many gestures, the actual meaning was just that—that was what her companion meant.

Thinking about it, it makes sense. As imperial guards protecting Old Man Huang, they should at least have some professional competence. Mordred chuckled inwardly at his popularity, but still offered a few words of criticism:

“I understand your good intentions, but this year of expedition is too extravagant and wasteful. Let’s all disperse! I’m not someone who cares about empty fame.”

"Oh, right, Brian, go tell Joseph to check who's missing. I need to send someone to give them a good commendation."

Upon hearing this, all the officials present secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Only the Imperial Guard and Sister Silent exchanged glances and whispered among themselves. Just as the rumors said, this prince was indeed eccentric and particularly petty.

Perhaps out of concern for the Emperor's safety, as the group left the starport and boarded the orbital elevator, the Imperial Guard glanced at the enormous suitcase that Mordred had been holding onto and asked:
"Commander."

"Stop, just call me Mordred. We're family, no need to be so formal. By the way, your name is Tiris, right? I remember when that weasel was pinning me to the ground and beating me up, you were the one who picked my leg back up. From now on, follow me, and I'll make sure you live the high life."

This further labeled Mordred as ambitious; Tiris no longer called him Warmaster, but still addressed him as His Highness.
"Your Highness, please be careful with your words. Ever since you arrived in Starport, I have been very curious about what kind of goods you have been carrying personally. Could you tell me the answer?"

"Nothing much, just a useless Primarch."

To prove she wasn't lying, Mordred even opened a crack in the window to let her see, and Tiris indeed saw Angron fast asleep.

They exchanged a glance, and Tiris was once again certain of one thing: he absolutely could not let Mordred catch him off guard. If Mordred dared to imprison his own brother, what wouldn't he dare to do? He had to stay away from him from now on.

Unaware that he had been completely demonized, Mordred, who had become the ambitious second man alongside Guilliman, was still marveling that there were actually women in the Imperial Guard and that he had to extract this technology from the weasel's mouth.

The group sped along in the airship they had just transferred to, and soon arrived at the palace gates. However, Mordred's first encounter was not with the Emperor, but with an unexpected person.

Even without exchanging words, the two could tell from their gaze that the other, like themselves, possessed extraordinary wisdom.

Mordred could assure him that while he might be no less intelligent, he was far inferior to the one-eyed sunburnt Oglin in terms of astonishment.

Seeing that the other person kept staring at his right eye, the tall, red giant thought that his brother was worried about his health.

The simple-minded Magnus was deeply moved, secretly lamenting that Perturabo was indeed all brawn and no brains; his claims of beating her up upon first meeting and chasing her with a Titan for two days and two nights were complete fabrications.

This can't fool the wise Magnus at all. Didn't you see Mordred smiling the whole time he saw him? What a good brother!

Hurrying forward and ignoring the annoying Imperial Guards, the overly friendly giant gave Mordred a big hug:

“Brother, I am Magnus!”

You are exactly as the people of Terra described; your smile is as radiant as the sun.

Whether it's brilliant or not, Mordred knows that people can laugh when they're extremely speechless. Angron, who was planted with thorns by Slaanesh and Khorne, is a trap, and the magical pony who has lost his right eye is another trap.

One wave subsides only for another to rise, and the only thing missing is that Fatty the scoundrel hasn't even made an appearance yet.

No, that's not right. Nurgle the Fat Man has already made his appearance. That bastard even tricked himself into drinking a pot of thick soup, which is why Mordred still feels nauseous whenever he sees thick soup.

Fortunately, Master Mo has a strong mental fortitude and is very good at self-reflection. Rather than exhausting himself, he prefers to torment others.

For some reason, Magnus suddenly shivered, as if he were being watched by something filthy. But then he remembered that this was Holy Terra, with the Emperor present. What kind of demons or monsters would dare to spy on him? It must be because he was not used to the terrible environment of Terra.

"Little Ma, it won't be long before you know why your second brother is smiling. I guarantee that your smile will be even brighter than mine!"

"Here, these are some of our Ningjing specialty heifer melon seeds. Consider them a small gift from me."

Mordred casually pulled out several bags of sunflower seeds from behind him, giving one to everyone, including the guards and nuns of silence who had accompanied him.

If the big golden guy were there, he might have been able to match Mordred's energy, but Magnus's purity was extremely high, and he was quite happy to receive the gift.

Even though these so-called heifer seeds looked like an 82-2 all-plastic handleless steel ball grenade, I still threw them into my mouth.

"If you like to eat, then eat more. From the first moment I saw you, I knew you were very smart. It's good that you eat more; it'll help nourish your brain!"

"Is it true?"

Mordred, having embracing the one-eyed, sunburnt Oglin and carrying the twin-tailed, useless Angron in his hand, nodded. An indescribable sense of responsibility welled up within him, reminding him of Perturabo, who had been reformed by the Titans' training methods:

"Indeed, it's even more real than the Emperor being a Roman she-wolf!"

(End of this chapter)