Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 84 The Horus Emperor Doesn't Love Me Anymore (3K)
In the Glory Queen-class super battleship named Vengeance Soul, a burly man with slightly thinning hair, but whose handsome features were still undeniable, was taking a nap on the bed.

As the view expands, you'll find the room covered in densely packed parchment, and even the data board bearing the Atlas logo is badly worn, exuding an atmosphere of corporate slavery.

Horus Lupecal, the Firstborn Son, commander of the Shadowmoon Wolves Legion, the great brother of all Primarchs, the Wolf Shepherd God, and countless other titles were bestowed upon this towering giant.

But only Horus himself knew that his most important title would always be Centaurus, the constellation his father spoke of.

But for some reason, after a busy day, having reclaimed a human world and reviewed the legion's administrative affairs to make the next expedition plan, Horus suddenly felt uneasy.

Even in his sleep, he would occasionally furrow his brow.

In the dream, Horus, dressed in magnificent armor, walked into the palace amidst the loving gazes of his brothers, cheering and applauding as everyone celebrated.

A grand banquet began, and the emperor, seated in the center, asked, "Children, guess who is my proudest offspring?"

"Horus, Horus, Horus is the father's proudest son."

"That's right, Horus is not only your proudest son, but also our best brother."

All the Primarchs were vying to answer, and even the Custodians who were at odds with the Primarchs couldn't help but nod in approval, looking at the Empire's Wolf Shepherd with satisfied eyes.

Despite the overwhelming expectations, Horus showed no arrogance or complacency. He had done so much to earn the Emperor's approval, and now he had succeeded.

As expected, the emperor smiled with satisfaction when he saw everyone calling out Horus's name.

I wish I could be the river, so that we could meet again! Horus will never forget that smile. They were not only father and son, but also comrades-in-arms and brothers with deep affection.

"Horus, my proudest child, on the day this place returns to Terra, your name will echo throughout the entire Himalayas. My child, are you ready?"

"I'm ready!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the Lord of Humanity, dressed only in a linen robe, stood up and, under the expectant gazes of everyone, began to give a passionate speech with exaggerated gestures.

Horus was deeply etched in his mind every word and phrase. He knew that this was the groundwork his father had laid for bestowing upon him the title of Warlord.

Soon, the Emperor's speech ended, unlike the two and a half hours of passionate sermons in reality. After all, this was a dream, and even Horus had experienced enough.

As the final, trembling note rang out, the Emperor proclaimed in a loud voice:
"I hereby declare that the Imperial Warmaster will be my most proud son, Mordred!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than a figure with thick blond hair suddenly darted out, kicking Horus in the buttocks, knocking him to the ground, and then throwing himself into the Emperor's arms.

"Horus, you're just a backup plan. I'm Father's proudest son. I'll steal all the Emperor's fatherly love from you, hehehe!"

After saying this, Mordred snatched Horus's centaur ring and repeatedly stomped on his face, while the Emperor turned a deaf ear and silently watched all of this.

As Horus watched his father place the golden laurel wreath, symbolizing the position of Warlord, into Mordred's hair, he could no longer control himself and instantly unleashed a piercing roar:
"No! This isn't true. In what way am I inferior to him?"

Horus, jolted awake, gasped for breath, wiped the cold sweat from his brow, and unconsciously stroked the centaur ring with his fingers.

"Ah~ it was just a dream, it scared me to death."

"It must be because I haven't been resting well that I had such a terrifying nightmare. Mordred, aside from being a lazy bum, is a really good person. There's no way she could be so vicious. Yes, it's all just my imagination."

After some self-consolation, Horus returned to being the revered god of wolves and resumed processing the official documents.

Not long after, a figure burst into the room and kicked open the door. It was none other than Forgrim, who had accompanied Shadowmoon Wolves on their expedition.

If Mordred were there, he would have slapped him, but Horus was different. He truly treated all Primarchs as brothers, perfectly embodying what it means to be a responsible older brother who genuinely cares for his younger siblings.

"Fogg, how many times have I told you not to be so flustered? You are the Primarch of the Empire, mind your image."

Also, stop messing around with those colorful little dresses of yours. You're not Peturabo; these things don't suit you.

Having long been accustomed to Horus's sermons, Forgrim did not refute them, but instead picked up a newspaper and slammed it on the table:
"Stop talking about me, look at this! My second brother has become the Imperial War General. I knew I was right."

"What? You must be joking!"

Horus grabbed the newspaper and stared at the full-color photograph of the Emperor, Mordred, and Leon Johnson. His worst fears had come true.

"No, this isn't true. I must return to Holy Terra, no, I must go to Tranquility myself to see what's really going on."

"Fogg, you'll help me command the fleet. If there's anything you don't understand, Seganus and the others will help you. If they can't handle it either, Feralus will be here soon. Just listen to him then; Feralus is quite reliable."

Horus hastily handed over command to Forgrim and, under the guise of rest and replenishment, began a wild rampage, smashing countless unfortunate warp sprites.

Fogrem marveled at the peculiar unfolding of the ship, but what excited him even more was that he could finally command the fleet and even mobilize the Shadowmoon Wolves.

"I just don't know what kind of person Felus is. I hope he's not like Dorne, a stubborn rock."

Before long, Forgrim saw Feralus, whom Horus called reliable. After a brief chat, Forgrim disliked this slovenly brother who reeked of engine oil.

Especially his short, unkempt hair, which hadn't been styled in a long time, made Fugrim suspect he hadn't showered, and the smell was indescribable.

Driven by a strange obsession and a touch of germophobia, Fugrim simply couldn't stand it and dragged Feralus toward the bathroom.

"Brother, what are you going to do?"

"What are you doing?" Forgrim suddenly remembered the scene of his first meeting with Mordred, and a wicked thought arose in his heart. He slapped Feralus's incredibly strong thigh.

"Of course it depends on whether your development is normal or not. Don't even think about coming out until you're clean."

As a straight-laced guy with an extreme science and engineering background, Ferrus didn't understand what this meant, but he didn't want to hurt his younger brother's good intentions, so he could only be half-heartedly dragged into the bathroom, where he witnessed a scene that left him completely baffled.

All sorts of gorgeous long dresses were neatly arranged in the wardrobe. If others saw them, they would surely praise how precious the fabric was, but he only thought of using them to wipe engine oil.

"Oh, this is a gift for Peturabo, don't overthink it!"

“I see. No wonder these dresses are so huge. Since they are for Peturabo, that makes a lot of sense.”

Having dispelled his doubts, Ferrus stopped thinking about it and jumped into the bath to wash away the grease. To be honest, he had forgotten when he last took a bath.

I only vaguely remember that on the day he returned to the empire, the emperor kicked him into a washing machine and spun him around for two days before releasing him.

Looking at the pool of water that had turned completely black and ugly, now shimmering with iridescent oil, Fugrim felt even more that his brother was terribly slovenly, and immediately summoned the four-headed dog-man, Big Guy, whom he had tricked from Tranquility.

The dog's glossy, exquisite fur was meticulously groomed, and the soft essential oil and stiff brush it carried made Felus feel a tightness in his anus. He quickly asked:
"Brother, I know these are dog-men, and I understand the logic, so why are these four dog-men looking at me with such lewd eyes?"

"Hahaha, don't joke around. These four dog-men are the four dog-headed creatures that I have trained at great expense. Each one has its own unique skills and fighting spirit and patience, which will amaze you and make you want to stay longer!"

What are you waiting for? Get started now!

No sooner had he finished speaking than the powerful canine named Doghead Four plunged into the pool, pulled out their secret weapon—a giant brush—and instantly captivated Primarch Feralus, leaving him utterly mesmerized.

"Wow, that's powerful! I never imagined taking a bath could be such a pleasant experience, it's just that the pressure is a bit too light!"

"Small?"

These words directly stung Doghead Four's heart. As a special talent with some fame in the tribe, who loved massage and bathing, what they couldn't tolerate most was being told that someone was weak. It was the same as calling someone a piece of trash.

An unparalleled and intense humiliation spread through his heart, and a tangible crimson rage burned wildly, engulfing his eight dog paws as they pounded furiously.

"How about that, was that enough?"

At this moment, Feralus, who was already enjoying himself immensely, could only let out a soft groan to express his satisfaction.

Outside the bathroom, listening to the slightly muffled sounds of his own Primarch, and the laughter of the Iron Hands mixed with heavy breathing, he couldn't help but frown.

Meanwhile, Mordred, standing at the porthole of the Abomination, frowned as he looked at the withered, yellow planet of Sacred Terra, which was nothing like the Earth he remembered.

"It doesn't feel as peaceful as it does!"

"Shut up. The ocean on Terra has been sacrificed, leaving only the lake in the Mariana Trench."

As for other aspects, do you think being a war commander is so easy? Get back to work!

The big, golden guy, who was engrossed in playing games with his data tablet, slumped onto the sofa, looking like a good-for-nothing who had lost all his ambition. Even Mordred himself felt that this guy was overflowing with humanity.

But Mordred overlooked this unusual scene, remembering the Emperor's promise to give him half of the profits:
"Don't worry, I'll strip them bare, bit by bit, until they regret ever being born."
"One air unit, deploy!"

(End of this chapter)