Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 301 The Late but Arriving Astartes Codex (Part 2)

001.M31
With the arrival of the 31st millennium, the Great Crusade, which lasted for two hundred years, came to an end, but the effects of the Great Rebellion did not dissipate.

Without a doubt, the Empire is riddled with all sorts of bugs from top to bottom. The fact that it was able to reach the Starfire Frontier in just two hundred years was entirely due to the enormous benefits brought by the Great Crusade.

The Empire was never a monolithic entity. The Mechanicus, the Star Language Hall, the Ronin Merchants, the Knight Families, the Pocket Empire—countless small groups each had their own ideas and their own purposes.

It has nothing to do with faith or not; it's simply a matter of self-interest determining one's perspective.

This was the price the Emperor paid for establishing the Empire in such a short time and launching the Great Crusade. The Emperor was not unaware of this, and even if he was, Macardo advised him.

However, the two did not resolve the internal problems, preferring to focus all their energy on the Great Expedition even as internal conflicts persisted.

Previously, the Primarchs did not understand why the Emperor was in such a hurry, but now they do: the Great Crusade is a race against time.

Existence is everything, and everything is for the sake of existence. If we cannot allow the empire to grow wildly during this window of opportunity and defeat all the enemies we can fight, then we will never have this opportunity again.

As long as the network road project behind the Great Expedition is successfully completed, the Emperor will have time to resolve factional issues. In any case, the Emperor, who possesses the strongest military force in the Empire, can solve everything using his most proficient physical means.

Although the emperor is inhuman, his overall strategic goal is undoubtedly correct. Only such a grand ideal can unite everyone under the empire's twin eagles.

The reason Mordred has been able to endure this long is because of this; after all, while he may not be good at much else, he is quite adept at large-scale purges!
One is in charge of external affairs, and the other is in charge of internal affairs. The two are confident that they can make the empire into the state they envision. When that time comes, anyone who dares to resist will be considered disloyal and will be subject to their extermination order.

However, the only two leaders who could stand up in the grand plan fell one after another. Mordred and everything at Atlas evaporated, and the Emperor was also beaten half to death.

It is easy to conquer the world, but difficult to defend it.

The Emperor handed the Empire over to Guilliman out of sheer necessity. Every single Primarch could conquer a star system in three days, but to let them govern the Empire was a different story.

Hard to say!

So even if the Emperor didn't like Guilliman, he could only pass the throne to the thirteenth prince, since Macardo was still alive.

But looking at the man who was blowing bubbles in the fearless sarcophagus, and at the state of the empire amidst rebellions, Guilliman felt as if the sky had fallen.

This is not cowardice, but a very normal sense of helplessness, which even the original genetic material cannot avoid.

Although he has never been a human being, the emperor is the backbone of the entire empire. As long as he is still alive, there will be someone to support him. But now the emperor has become a toilet decoration.

As for Makado?
Although he was an immortal being, Vulcan still shook his head after the examination:

"No, the Golden Throne has already drained Macado dry. It's impossible to kill him and wait for him to be resurrected. Nobody knows what will happen. The best way is to wait for him to recover on his own."

"At the very least, we need to wait until his mental strength is sufficient to successfully activate Fearlessness, otherwise he might turn into an idiot. However..."

When they heard that Vulcan had something to say, the other eight Primarchs all looked at their taciturn brother.

"However, this Dreadnought's life support device is very strange. Through my research with Feralus, we discovered that this Dreadnought seems to have been tailor-made for the Primarch."

Although something is missing, which greatly reduces the efficiency of this fearless machine, there is no doubt that it is indeed a weapon, or rather a medical device, that can help us heal our injuries.

After all, I really can't understand why a weapon would have a device for curling hair, and that it could even be used to play games.

And there's something even more important: don't you feel like you've forgotten something?

Perhaps to verify that what he said was true, Vulcan pulled out a diary from behind him and gestured for everyone to come and take a look.

In fact, all the Primarchs were already aware that their memories were malfunctioning, and this abruptness became more and more obvious as time went on.

It wasn't just them; even the legion's internal archives were in trouble, with electronic documents riddled with gibberish and large sections of paper documents blank.

All they knew was that a force called Atlas had once existed; nothing else.

Even so, the Primarch could deduce that Atlas was closely connected to them, or rather, they had a very good relationship, given that the ship's warehouse contained a large number of weapons, equipment, and supplies bearing the Atlas logo.

Even in the human capital of Holy Terra, there are many traces of Atlas, but strangely, no one has any recollection of them.

But when they saw Vulcan's diary, everyone fell silent, looking at their seemingly honest and simple brother with a rather strange expression.
"Hey bro, why do I get the feeling you're being a little frivolous?"

"Indeed, who keeps a diary? And why would you write all of us into your diary?"
Most importantly, are you sure the Snow White you're writing about in your diary is me?

Faced with the teasing from Fugrim and Luojia, Vulcan's charcoal-black skin perfectly concealed his expression, making it impossible for others to discern his inner thoughts.

But despite the jokes, everyone still carefully read what Vulcan had recorded.

Although Vulcan's diary, like other documents, contains many blanks, this does not prevent the Primarch from making inferences about it.

"In other words, Atlas should be the legion of our lost brother, and this brother whose name cannot be spoken was very close to all of us."

At one point, he became the enemy of the entire empire, to the point that even our father had to eliminate him. But even the Horus Rebellion didn't have such a profound impact, did it?

In response to Johnson's summary, Dorn suddenly spoke up:
"No need to think about it anymore, it's very likely that's how it is. I can confirm that this brother of ours is probably the second oldest, because I once saw a secret item with the number 11 printed on it deep inside the palace."

One of our brothers was sealed inside; she was clearly Primarch 11. As for the rest, I don't remember anything except that I voluntarily chose to have my memories erased.

"So that means?"

Dorn nodded, indicating that things were as they had imagined: Atlas was a rebel army that had caused such a terrible impact that they were killed by Father Eleven.

As for what Atlas did, it's all written in Vulcan's diary: abhorring intelligence, creating bio-weapons, colluding with aliens, conspiring with Chaos, and even slaughtering half the officials in the Solar System 130 years ago.

So much so that he eventually broke with his father at the Council of Nicaea, and according to this diary, our brother had a very close relationship with Horus.

“Even when I think of this brother, I feel a strange trust in him, even stronger than in our father on some level. I guess you all feel the same way.”

Is it possible that we did something similar to what you guys did before, establishing a second...?

"Stop!" ×2
As soon as Dorn opened his mouth, no matter how harsh his tone was, it made people feel uncomfortable. Guilliman and Johnson didn't give him a chance to continue, as it would be impolite to continue.

"If that's the case, then everything makes sense. I should be the second War Commander, but my father insists that I am the fourth War Commander."

Deep in my memory, it seems there really was an Imperial Warmaster before Horus.

Since even Johnson admitted it, the other Primarchs also put forward the clues they had discovered, and most of these descriptions of Atlas were correct.

But here's the problem: when everyone put these clues together, even the lion king, who had the most secrets, couldn't hold back anymore.

But the scheming Lion King remained silent; instead, the more naive Corax stepped forward first:

"Dorn, you might be right. Unless they are too important to the Empire, I really can't imagine how a legion like that could survive."

We could even be a little bolder; it's quite possible that our relationship with this brother was even closer than you described. Close enough that our father went so far as to erase everyone's memories.

While browsing the database, I discovered a large number of bizarre creations of unknown origin, including this strange and fearless machine. The book I have here is proof of that.

When Corax presented the picture book titled "The Final Revised Edition of the Roman She-Wolf," the eight Primarchs exchanged awkward glances and laughed, because they all had similar books in their bedrooms, just not this new one.

It wasn't just books; there were also a large number of figurines and dolls that had been secretly hidden away, most of which were the kind that could be executed on the spot.

"Why don't we open it together and take a look?"

"it's not good!"

Although they said no, none of the nine Primarchs refused, and they all gave the book a scathing critique.

But when they saw the original family portrait at the end of the album, everyone was stunned.

It's not that seeing the object evokes memories; Mordred's demise was multifaceted, leaving no visual record. The main issue is that everyone in this family photo is posing in a somewhat indecent manner.

What's with those Thunder Spirits wearing so little clothing? And what about the Emperor and the Primarchs? They're just jumping around in the bath in big shorts and swimsuits. It doesn't look proper at all.

With the agreement of all Primarchs, all information concerning Atlas was classified as Imperial secret. After all, we can't investigate everything, and what if we're found out to be no good either?
Before ascending the Golden Throne, the Emperor appointed Guilliman as Regent and Johnsen as Warmaster. After a brief discussion, the Primarchs decided that the most important thing now was to quell the rebellion and stabilize the Solar System, humanity's rear base.

Unfortunately, due to the previous series of battles, the Space Marine Legions have suffered great losses. The Ultramarines and Imperial Fists are in relatively good condition, but the Iron Hand is left with only Felus's head.

The Word Bearers number only 3, the already small Raven Guard has just over 1, and the Emperor's Sons are almost gone, with less than 1000 left. It's almost the same as when Forgrim first returned to the Empire.

Furthermore, these remaining 1000 sons of the emperor were particularly restless, always eyeing Felus, who now only had one head, with ill intent.

That wasn't the worst of it. The Primarchs of Space Wolf and White Scar disappeared without a trace, and the Blood Angels fared even worse. Their Primarchs were reduced to a pile of minced meat, leaving only a wing and a watermelon knife that had fused with their father's skull.

Guilliman simply couldn't let the legions whose Primarchs had been abducted by the evil god go out, so he had to keep them all on Holy Terra.

Left with no other choice, Guilliman had to give half of the Ultramarines to Johnson, and then use the power of the Imperial Regent to order other legions to send men to cooperate with the Imperial Fist guarding Terra in clearing out the Solar System.

As for the other Primarchs, they weren't idle either. Brothers like Vulcan and Feralus, who had criminal records, even if they knew the other was forced into it, the fact remained that their two legions had rebelled.

Guilliman had no choice but to pin them all down on Terra to deal with the backlog of official business.

Vulcan and Feralas, not wanting to stay in Holy Terra, suggested they go on the Atonement Expedition, only to be berated by Guilliman.

"Shut up! Can't you guys just give me a break?"

"Let the Legion recuperate first, at least increase their numbers. We don't want to be asked how many people the Iron Hand has and only Primarch Felus pops up. Let's get through this chaotic period first."

Guilliman was genuinely scared. Rather than letting them go out and have fun, he preferred to let them have their babies peacefully in Holy Terra.

But whenever the night was quiet, Guilliman would always recall the scene of the Emperor holding his hand in a pool of blood.

Guilliman was uneasy. He was afraid of his brothers disappearing, afraid that he was not up to the task, and also afraid that the legion would rebel again.

But Guilliman has no choice now; he must stabilize the Empire first, and that requires the strength of the Legion.

Although his brothers teased him for overthinking, that's just the kind of person Guilliman is—thinking three steps ahead for every one step he takes. He had already foreseen the challenges he would face in the future.

Guilliman vaguely remembered discussing this with someone, but he did have a strong impression of it, and a bold idea was gradually forming in his mind.

The idea was so audacious that Guilliman ignored the whispers in his ear:
"You son of a bitch, stop thinking about your damn holy book, you'll regret it! You bastard, answer the phone!"

If it were any other Primarch, even Johnsen, it would have attracted attention, but unfortunately Guilliman was a psionic Muggle and didn't hear his future mutterings at all. Instead, he only remembered the words "Holy Scripture" from the whole sentence.

"A holy book? Good idea. I remember there was a copy of the Atlas Holy Book on the bookshelf."

After Guilliman finished reading this monumental work, which, although missing much of its content, still encompassed organizational structure, technological research and development, battlefield command, and even recipes, dark jokes, and how to scavenge trash, Guilliman finally understood!

"No wonder we get along so well, it turns out we're kindred spirits!"
Brother, don't worry. Although I have no memory of you anymore, you won't just become a memory. Let me remember you in my own way.

Atlas, Astartes! In that case, let this book be called the "Scripture of Astartes"!

Given Guilliman's extraordinary intelligence, he certainly wouldn't stop there.

Countless models were generated in Guilliman's mind, calculating solutions for each possible scenario, and refining and optimizing these solutions to select the most suitable one.

Guilliman's idea was to write an encyclopedia, and once you learned it, even an ordinary Space Marine could build a basic framework for it.

Now that the large-scale Xenomorphs within the Empire have been wiped out, there is no point in having large-scale Space Marine legions.

This was an unavoidable compromise, because since becoming regent, Guilliman had found the empire's logistical support to be utterly inadequate.

But this creates a paradox: how were the legions' logistical support handled during the Great Expedition?

Therefore, instead of going to great lengths, it would be better to split the operation into battle groups with faster support capabilities.

Take the most typical example of the Dark Angels. Although there are only so many Space Marines on the surface, the number of mortal auxiliary troops they include is more than a million.

If a problem were to occur, the entire legion would inflict a devastating blow on the Empire. Even though Guilliman knew that Horus was not that kind of person and was forced into it, he absolutely could not allow the Empire to have a second Horus.

Therefore, the timing of splitting up the legion is extremely important.

Guilliman suddenly remembered something else: given the level of education in the Empire, what if they took my book as their ancestral law?
Although the possibility was extremely small, Guilliman did not believe that the Space Marines would be that stupid.

Guilliman, who was familiar with the history of ancient Terra, knew that his plan was to weaken the feudal lords, similar to the "Decree of Grace." He was just glad that people would obey it when it was announced; how could he possibly stick to it?
But just in case, Guilliman still wrote a sentence in both High Gothic and Low Gothic on the title page of the Astartes 1.0:

This item is for reference only.

After writing these words, Guilliman nodded to himself, thinking that this was absolutely foolproof.

Those who dislike it will use this as an excuse, while those who abide by it will abide by it. How brilliant!

During the day, Guilliman wandered around the various legion bases like a mother hen, and he was more anxious about the new recruit selections than about his own Ultramarines.

In the evenings, before resting, he would gradually work out the details and continue to build his monumental masterpiece.

Two years passed like this. Finally, Guilliman breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the good news from the front lines brought by Johnson and Dorn.

Before Guilliman could even catch his breath, a message in Martian language made him so angry that he smashed the table.

002.M31, Civil War Breaks Out in the Martian Mechanicus.

(End of this chapter)