Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 372 Empires Are Never Beautiful (6K)

"Your Excellency may not know this, but Huron is lawless and a tyrant of the Great Vortex!"

"Oh! What's the explanation?"

Inside the Gargarcia fortress, Mordred and a group of high-ranking officers of the expeditionary force took their seats, listening attentively as Commissar Naarek recounted personal intelligence.

However, compared to the bastard who dared to steal from her hometown, Mordred was quite interested in Arek in front of her.

As the Empire's biological mastermind, Mordred didn't even need genetic testing to tell that Arek had never undergone any rejuvenation surgery. The only modifications he made were the power clamps, the mechanical prosthetic eye, and the accompanying neural transmission modifications.

In other words, Arek, the political commissar known as the Old One-Eyed by the orcs, lived for over 500 years beyond his 576-year age without undergoing any life-extending surgery, and was still a natural human being.

Don't let Arek's status as an old man fool you; he might seem like any Space Marine could easily kill him with a slap. On the contrary, in a real one-on-one fight, an average Space Marine might actually be no match for this so-called "mortal."

Mordred had never seen a human so thoroughly tainted by Waaaagh energy in his entire life. If he hadn't been unable to smell the mushroom scent of the green spores, he would have suspected that Arek was some kind of humanoid green-skinned creature.

This made Mordred fall into deep thought, because his intrusion meant that the current state of the Empire and even the galaxy was very different from what he remembered, although the general direction was correct.

In other words, since there is a character named Arek, there must be a corresponding Bonecrusher. This inexplicable karmic entanglement sent chills down Mordred's spine. After all, once there is one, there will be two, and once there are two, there will be three.

The Great Rift spanning the Empire is here, the Broom Stare and the Lamenters are here, the Royal Guard is here, and now Arek, Bonecrusher, Sigmar, Huron have popped up, and even the Blood Ravens Chapter, which is supposed to be the comic relief, is still their own Atlas in the end.

Mordred dared not imagine what would happen next. Even if the timing didn't match up, this damned bond of fate would still bind two or more people together.

"Alas~ Yesterday's events are still vivid in my mind. It seems that the reason you, Arek, are still alive is most likely due to the 'mystical power' of the green-skinned orcs. You and the Bonebreaker are truly a pair of star-crossed lovers!"

"What lovebirds! Commander-in-Chief, are you listening?"

"Ah, I'm listening, I'm listening. Go on, I just thought of something interesting. By the way, is Huron really that bad?"

Arek wasn't completely ignorant of this unfamiliar Primarch who had suddenly appeared, but like everyone else, he didn't know much. He only knew that this incredibly kind and inexplicably pleasing Primarch was the second son of the God-Emperor, the commander-in-chief of the Third Fleet of the Unyielding Expedition, and the Grand Commander of the Empire.

Together with Regent Guilliman, Legion Warmaster Lionmaster, and Terra Lurker Sisyphus, the three Primarchs launched a swift and decisive attack on Terra, eliminating the Council Infestors who had plagued the region for millennia. They were collectively known as the Four Heavenly Kings.

Astartes told the Astral Army that the Second Prince was very kind and approachable, though he did have a habit of making strange remarks. The dogs that followed him said that Mordred was a clan chieftain who loved life.

Combining the two, Arek also gained a preliminary understanding that the Primarch was very loving.

Like the salamander, which looks like a dragon but has an incredibly noble heart, he is a giant who loves life and is not as ambitious as the Primarch who stayed in Terra after entering it.

Empire is not about fighting and killing, but about human relationships and social interactions. This is a skill that Arek learned by combining his 500 years of military experience with the half-volume of his family's "16-Character Yin-Yang Numerology Secret Techniques".

He can quickly deduce a person's general character and behavior by observing their face, numbers, and skull shape, making it easier for him to speak to people in a way that suits them.

Sometimes, using your mouth a little more is more effective than anything else. After all, humans evolved the tongue as an organ and language for the purpose of communication. Surely no one would be so brain-dead as to try to deceive their superiors or subordinates with riddles?
If such a person really exists, sooner or later they will end up shooting themselves in the foot, and might even end up paralyzed and in a vegetative state.

Fortunately, as a seasoned veteran who frequented the vicinity of the Great Vortex, Arek was quite familiar with Huron, this troublesome neighbor, and immediately began to introduce him:

"Your Highness may not know this, but Huron is not only a chaotic warlord, but also a spy, a rebel, an ambitious schemer, a big bully, a black-line figure, a Red Pirate, a stumbling block, a fence-sitter, and a double agent."

He is a very complex person, so complex that he has become a symbol of a great vortex.

Unlike those other fools who thought they could control the power of chaos, Huron was fully aware of the dangers of chaos; in fact, 20 years ago, he was the most prestigious guardian of the Maelstrom.

At this point, Arek couldn't help but sigh, "The Maelstrom is a battleground for four powers. Since ancient times, there has been a saying that whoever occupies the Maelstrom can conquer Terra."

However, it was precisely because of this that after the warp storm 1 years ago, a hole was blasted in the Great Vortex. It was only thanks to this place in the Galactic Heart that the Great Vortex, like the Eye of Terror, was able to drag the surrounding star sectors into the warp.

So while Huron did indeed become a Chaos warlord, he was entirely forced into it.

Unexpectedly, there was more gossip to be had. Mordred and his underlings immediately pulled out chilled drinks and creamy melon seeds, and after listening carefully, they all felt the same way.

According to Arek, Huron was originally the Chapter Master of the Starclaws Chapter, a staunch Imperial loyalist.

He was very thin at that time, and when he arrived in this godforsaken place, he was received by Arrek himself. He was a complete greenhorn.

Since the Empire has never been human in terms of being inhuman, and follows the principle of using them to the death if they are useful, Star Claw was directly sent to the Great Vortex by the High Lord Council to guard the Great Vortex due to the endless internal strife in the Great Vortex.

You could say they'd support you with everything except formal assistance. As long as you pay your taxes on time, you can do whatever you want, just keep the big vortex under control.

The Star Claws, who were thrown over there, were so poor they were practically toothless. They had fewer than 400 men and three ships. They were doing alright, but they could only be described as an ordinary warband with some strength.

In the Great Vortex, a place where all sorts of monsters and demons gather, the arrival of the Star Claws is essentially the same as their absence. Everyone is just watching the spectacle, waiting for these big guys to die a violent death, and then tearing a few pieces of flesh from their corpses.

Even Arek believed that Starclaw was set up, otherwise it wouldn't have been banished to the Maelstrom to suffer.

But who would have thought that Huron, true to Guilliman's nature, seemed to possess the spirit of his ancestors, managing to sweep away hunger and regain his true self in just 50 years. By fighting to sustain himself, he cultivated a vast territory and firmly established himself in the vortex.

The number of members in the warband also expanded rapidly to 3000, making it a regional tyrant, just like the local gang Blood Raven.

“Yes, Father. At that time, the Star Claws and Blood Ravens were frequently at odds. Including Blood Ravens, White Scars, the Emperor’s Sons, and some Salamanders, there were nearly 4 Astartes stationed in the entire Maelstrom. The number of Astral Army soldiers was countless.”

Gabriel added that they even marked the military defense deployment at the time on the star map, and the entire Vortex Passage was firmly under their control. In the end, they even had the surplus of resources to act as supply depots for other warbands.

"And what is the price?" Sisyphus asked.

Although he had been beaten up quite a bit during this period, and spent every day either taking exams or on his way to take exams, Sisyphus had indeed learned some of Mordred's operations and immediately saw the problem: "So you haven't paid taxes!"

Upon hearing this, apart from the original Space Marines who had just been assigned to the Grey Shield, all the other veterans fell silent. But there wasn't a fool among them; they could all see that the junior chapter commanders knew something.

And the result is the same.

As a newly formed battle group, the Third Expeditionary Fleet, although mainly composed of Atlas, included a large number of other chapters and possessed a large number of old popsicles that Caul had kept hidden for thousands of years.

These old popsicles look old, but they're just popsicles, much like Mordred who creates things out of thin air. They even have a kind of clear and simple stupidity in their eyes, like a husky mixed in with a pack of wolves, easy to grab and easy to catch.

If you calculate carefully, you'll find that even if you include his previous life and the total time spent in his two dream journeys, Mordred is just a greenhorn who's less than 300 years old. He's all about his appearance to fool people; if you didn't know better, you'd think he was some kind of ancient monster.

These relatively simple Space Marines don't understand those complicated matters. They manage to run the chapter well without supplies or support. Everyone has their little secrets!
Seeing that everyone had started to discuss it, Mordred immediately tapped the table: "There are no treacherous officials here, only loyal ones. You are all half-brothers!"
"I don't care what happened before, but now that your second uncle is standing up for you, this kind of situation of being forced into a vortex will never happen again. Please continue."

Since the Primarch had spoken, Arek had no choice but to continue. And what followed was exactly what everyone expected: the Maelstrom was able to maintain basic order entirely because of the misappropriation of tax revenue.

Or rather, it shouldn't be called misappropriation, but rather outright tax evasion and refusal to pay. "I'm not paying taxes anymore, do whatever you want, come and deal with me if you dare."

Actually, this problem should be blamed on Guilliman. It was Guilliman who opened the door to chapter management, leading to a situation in the Empire where friendly forces remain unmoved when they are in danger, and the Parliament fights each other to collect taxes.

After all, splitting up means dividing the assets. When we were in the parent company, I called you Company Commander. After the split, you should call me Regiment Commander. When we work, we should address each other by our titles.

This is why Guilliman is still being criticized to this day; it's because his "Decree of Grace" completely shattered what should have been an unbreakable legion. No matter how close relatives are, they are still relatives.

At this point, the High Lords Council was still quite human; they did not pursue Huron's mistake, but instead gave him a few warnings and said that the tax could be postponed until he recovered.

Then this is where things get interesting. Since you Star Claws don't have to pay taxes, why should we pay taxes?

At first, things were alright. After all, the Great Vortex was chaotic enough that they could use excuses like the fire dragon burning the warehouse to fool people. Considering how lowly and humble the warband was, the council tolerated it.

But later they stopped even putting on shows. As soon as the tax collection ship took off, it encountered a warp storm or was attacked by pirates. You ask why all the pirates were big, muscular guys in heavy armor?

Then you can ask whoever you want. Anyway, we don't know. The tax ships paid all the taxes when they collected them. It's your own fault for not being able to bring the taxes back with you.

Moreover, a closer look reveals that the chapters that survived the Maelstrom were not exactly benevolent. Blood Raven goes without saying, and Mordred doesn't believe that Gabriel, that scoundrel, wasn't involved.

The surrounding worlds are all incredibly powerful: the Phoenix's home planet, Chemos; the White Scar's home planet, Chogris. A closer look reveals animal combinations—mantis, red scorpion, shark, black dragon, minotaur; the crazy combination—malice, abomination, gray claw, and vermilion angel; the alien combination—green skin, bean sprout, short man, Tyrannosaurus, and even the Tau aliens.

Although he had been cursing the High Lord for being inhuman, Mordred was speechless this time. He could picture the swirling vortex teeming with life, as if all things were vying for dominance.

The Highlords Council is truly useless for tolerating this for almost 200 years. If it were Mordred, he would have simply amassed a massive army and slaughtered them all from the very beginning.

As Arek recounted his story, every single one of these former chapter commanders became incredibly guilty, glancing around nervously but daring not to look at Mordred.

"Sigh! No wonder you all pretended to be stupid. So you all did it, didn't you?"

"Then why was only the Star Claw dealt with?" Sisyphus asked a good question, which was good precisely because it was completely meaningless.

That's obvious, isn't it? If Terra were capable of handling the Great Vortex, they would have done it long ago. The key is that they weren't. The Macarius Expedition exhausted the Empire's last reserves, leaving them with no choice but to target a few isolated incidents.

Other warbands are either newly formed or bandits like the Man-Eating Shark, who have nothing to lose and will run away if you cause them trouble.

As for the others who can't escape, they're not easy to mess with either. The Minotaur are their own henchmen, and Blood Raven has even latched onto the Mechanicus, a powerful force. You can't find any excuse to mess with them.

To push things to the extreme, Gabriel even made a special trip to Holy Terra to show the councilors a photograph.

Due to the blurry image quality, it was impossible to tell who was in the passenger seat. All that could be made was that they were wearing a vest and trench coat. However, the person in the back of the truck was quite clear: it was Tom, the first Blood Raven Chapter Leader, who was wearing an undeniably stunning patent leather bunny girl outfit.

But the passenger seat isn't important; what matters is the driver. Even if the High Lord is completely out of his mind, he can still recognize that the Emperor is driving.

If the Lord of Mankind is the driver, I don't even want to think about who's next to him.

If that's not enough, there are also photos of people with the Lord of Fire Dragons, selfies of people hugging the phoenix's leg and shoving it up, and photos of people being beaten up by lions. The Imperial Guards were dumbfounded when they pulled out a thick stack of photos.

Isn't this ridiculous? Heaven knows how many people Blood Raven might implicate behind the scenes; we can't just reveal them all, can we?

Upon closer examination, it turns out that you Starry Sky Claws were the most vocal, but most importantly, you have no powerful backers, so you can't blame us.

"That doesn't make sense either. Since the Star Claw is in cahoots with you, didn't you offer any help?"

"We helped! We didn't take advantage of the situation."

"That's right, that's right. I even had the warband elder, Narisong, write a couplet and send it over to remind Huron to calm down. He just didn't understand its meaning, so it's not our fault!"

The one who spoke was a mantis warrior. These Khan's offspring liked to indulge in a bit of artistic flair and even wrote out the couplet, which made Mordred laugh in exasperation.

[A man cannot get rich without unexpected wealth, and a horse cannot get fat without night grazing; the horizontal scroll reads: Fortune and wealth are found in danger.]

"That's so sarcastic, no, it's classic, buddy! Is that how you use a couplet? Couldn't you have said something like, 'When the wind blows hard, run for your lives and get some water first'?"

"And what about you?" Mordred looked at the silent, burly man. Judging from the insignia on his left shoulder, this guy was a former member of the Red Scorpion. He looked quite tough and had a huge bullet wound on his forehead.

“Your Highness, my name is Karab. I am not like them. I am not the kind of scoundrel who would leave someone to die.”

The name sounded familiar to Mordred, but he couldn't quite place it for a moment. After all, the name Karab was like Hans, Tom, and Vladimir—there were seven or eight people named Karab if you shouted it out.

It is a rare word in the Gote language that is not too difficult to pronounce and has a positive meaning. Its general meaning is similar to that of luck, and it is also the easiest word for ordinary people to grasp.

But after being reminded by someone next to him, Mordred instantly remembered that this guy's full name was Karabukulin, the top commander under the High Lord, the Grand Marshal of the Imperial Army during the Badab War, a graduate of the first class of Terra Gondolin, and someone he had rescued himself.

"Good lad, no wonder you didn't dare to utter a single word. So you were the one who orchestrated that purge. You really are different from them."

"I see now. Every single one of you here is a talent. No wonder Huron dared to take my home base. You betrayed your teammates! You're not human at all."

“Father, it’s not like we didn’t help at all. If we hadn’t been passive and slacking off, he wouldn’t have been able to break through at all. Besides, we even fired a few shots into the air, the loudest ones of all.”

Upon hearing this, Krillin, who had been silent just moments before, suddenly sprang into action, lunging at Gabriel and grabbing him by the neck while howling loudly:
"You bastard, I was wondering why I got shot while inspecting the front lines. I was wondering why you were so enthusiastic towards me. Turns out it was you, you bastard, you almost blew my brains off."

Gabriel, you're a complete novice!

"How dare you talk back to me? What kind of good person goes out to inspect work without wearing a helmet? You deserve it!"

"And didn't I already heal you? You insisted that scars are a warrior's honor. Everyone else healed you, but you insisted on burning yourself with a bomb."

Now that his secrets have been exposed, Krillin stopped pretending and directly turned the tables on Cerberus, who was watching the show, saying, "You bastard, you're raking in taxes everywhere, and I'm the one who cleaned things up for you. Now you're just playing dumb."

Given Cerberus's massive physique, which even Mordred would have to look up at, she was genuinely afraid that he might overreact and slap Kullin to death.

Fortunately, Cerberus didn't court death and chose a verbal confrontation. He opened his gaping maw and began to berate the Punisher Chapter Master beside him, saying that he was the one who cleaned up your blasphemous rituals.

"Bullshit! You barbarian, how dare you talk to us like that?"

"Who are you calling a barbarian? Ever since I joined the Great Commander, I've already finished high school. Do you dare to come out and fight me one-on-one?"

"What a joke! You're all height and no brains. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I'm going to fight you one-on-one? We Astartes are all about brains and strategy, you know?"

As one warband after another emerged and began fighting amongst themselves, Arek slipped over to Mordred's side. Their eyes met, and the two cunning old foxes nodded in unison.

"Arek, I'll ask you one question. Tell me honestly, did Huron deserve to die?"

"Damn it! Loyalty that isn't absolute is absolute disloyalty." The old political commissar spoke clearly and distinctly, showing no trace of his frail and aged appearance, after all, this was politically correct.

“But Your Highness, there are countless people like Huron. They are indeed despicable, but they are also pitiful.”

Indeed, this is the main reason why Mordred brought the fleet to wait here to assemble. On the one hand, he was afraid that Huron would blow up the Tranquility, and on the other hand, he always felt that it shouldn't be like this.

He pulled out an elemental vial that he usually rubbed around with in his spare time and handed it to Arek. Arek didn't refuse and put it in his pouch, continuing, "..."
“Your Highness, although I do not possess the extraordinary wisdom of you, I have lived for five centuries and know the state of the empire better than anyone else.”

All I know how to do in my life is fight orcs. In the end, the orcs didn't all die out; instead, their numbers kept increasing. Now, another wave of bugs has come and is fighting each other like dogs in Orctalius.

Astartes is a sharp blade in His Majesty's hand, but to talk about loyalty is a joke. Anyone can say nice things, but who is truly loyal?

The Council, Terra, His Majesty, or the Primarch? The older the warrior, the more confused he becomes, ultimately only saying that he is loyal to the Empire.

While there's still time, and Huron has just come out of the whirlpool and hasn't done anything heinous yet, I think we can make a quick buck. Any later and it will really be too late.

Even a demigod of the original form, once tainted by chaos, will become devoid of humanity. Your Highness, you should know more than I do.”

Mordred did have this idea, and most importantly, the Badab Rebellion had just ended not long ago, and the Red Pirates had not yet developed, meaning they were in a gray area.

If it had been a few years later, Mordred wouldn't have even considered it; giving him a quick end would have been considered kind of him.

"Are you a local?"

"Yes, Your Highness, the true Sessks are one of the former Tranquil Fifty Worlds, and Huron's homeworld is Endymion, also your descendants."

This is another mess. In preparation for war, Atlas launched an immigration project, relocating all the civilians of Tranquility to the area around Badab.

It's been too long, so long that no one can settle this mess anymore, but none of that matters. What matters is that Mordred has returned. There can only be one Lord of the Maelstrom, and that is Mordred and his Atlas.

“I will give him a chance. If he can seize it, I don’t mind teaching this rebellious son a lesson for Guilliman. But if he can’t, the Red Pirates will have no reason to exist.”

"Pass on my order: the fleet must assemble. It's time for us to go home."

(End of this chapter)