Warhammer, I'm a nanny, not your father!

Fili asked casually, "There's a family gathering hosted by Sister Dorothy tonight. Aren't you coming?"

Sevatar stood still with his eyes lowered, speechless for a long time.

"I go."

"How childish." Fili looked at Sevatar's back and suddenly laughed out loud.

She remembered that when she was a child, her height was second only to Koz among the children.

At that time, girls always developed faster than boys, but in the blink of an eye, those boys who were once a head shorter than her grew up like bamboo shoots after a spring rain.

Before they even reached puberty, they underwent genetic surgery and are now all giants of two meters four or five inches in height.

They were extraordinary warriors now, but in Fili's eyes, they would always be those children.

So is she.

Fili bit the pen unconsciously, her eyes wandering aimlessly at the blue sky and white clouds outside the window. "When will Teacher Wop come back?"

……

"Where have you been?"

Koz didn't even raise his head. As soon as the footsteps stopped behind him, his deep voice broke through the silence.

Sevatar: "Relax, my Lord."

"Sai, aren't you happy with me?"

"I'm happy, but a little uncomfortable."

The air stagnated for a few seconds.

"Come on, follow me to meet my brother's offspring."

Sevatar followed Curze. He was the Primarch's close attendant and had to go wherever the Primarch went.

Coze: "Sai, did I ever tell you about my brother?"

Sevatar: Often, my Lord.

Curze's voice was low and slow. "My brother loathes his own children, believing them to be corrupted by Horus's influence, though this has not yet occurred. Sai, how shall I shape them?"

Sevatar: "Just as your brother wished."

The corners of Koz's mouth curled up in a rare arc, and his deep voice was filled with some praise: "Not bad, Sai, you always understand what I mean. You are the one who understands me best."

Sevatar lowered his eyelids silently, shadows flowing across his angular face.

His father had many flaws, but stupidity was never one of them.

He asked for the Nineteenth Legion in order to EX his brothers, but not in a way that would destroy them.

That would only cause their relationship to deteriorate rapidly and would disappoint Worp. Coze might not care about his brother, but he certainly cared about Worp.

Not only will he not destroy the 19th Legion, but he will refine it to perfection and turn it into the perfect form that his brothers expect.

To achieve this goal, he would teach the 19th Legion even more attentively than he did the 8th Legion, and he would treat them as his own sons.

Sevatar could almost see the scene—what a wonderful expression would appear on his brother's noble face when he returned and saw this perfect legion that belonged to him.

Although Fili questioned why Sevatar could stay with Curze, only Sevatar understood that it was indeed because he spoke more pleasantly.

"boom!"

In the magnificent and simple hall, three thousand warriors in gray armor knelt on one knee like a wave of steel, and the dull sound of their knees hitting the marble floor echoed for a long time under the dome.

"My Lord." Calvos, the Archon of the Pale Nomads, slowly lowered his head, the steel collar making a slight friction sound, and lowered his head to the position in front of the emblem on the breastplate.

Although Curze was not their genetic father, the Space Marines held all Primarchs in the same reverence.

When a noble Primarch appeared before them, they bowed their heads in exactly the same reverence as they did before their creator.

What's more, Curze is the second Primarch to return after Horus.

When he asked the Golden Throne for the command of the 19th Legion in the name of the Lord of Night, this honor was like a sacred laurel crown, crowning the head of every Pale Nomad warrior.

"Stand up." Koz's voice spread gently in the hall, like a soft night breeze, so gentle that it was almost abnormal.

Sevatar set his jaw, locking all emotion behind his steely face. Only the subtle sound of his knuckles tapping unconsciously against his power armor betrayed a hint of his feelings.

Three thousand warriors stood up straight in unison, and amid the clanging of armor, Koze won their loyalty with just one sentence.

"Calvos, do you know why I asked the Lord of Mankind for you?"

Calvos: "I don't know, my lord."

Curze: "Because your tactical style is very similar to that of the Night Lords. We are both adept at swift strikes and guerrilla raids. No other legion can coordinate more effectively than we do."

The Primarch's recognition brought a hint of pride to the faces of the three thousand warriors.

Curze's voice echoed lowly in the hall: "You have undoubtedly heard the tales of the Night Lords. My descendants live and die alongside mortals. We never consider ourselves superhuman. We protect mortals from the shadows. We are the guardians of midnight."

Curze's gaze swept over each warrior. "Every one of my brothers shares my bloodline, and they share my determination to protect humanity. Therefore, I hope you will remember this and not let my brothers down."

Calvos pounded his chest. "My Lord, we are not the blood-drinking monsters of the Ninth Legion. We swear in the name of the Emperor and the Primarch that we will uphold justice!"

Coates: "My brother is very pleased. I have seen it."

The warriors of the Pale Nomads exchanged burning glances. They all knew that the Primarch of the Eighth Legion could see through the river of time and glimpse into the future. Now that he said so, how could it be false?

The warriors of the Pale Nomads all straightened their backs, feeling both proud and relieved.

They were proud that obeying Lord Koz's command was indeed the right choice.

Fortunately, although the Pale Nomads are not very friendly to mortals, they are not as brutal as the Ninth Legion. They still have a chance to turn over a new leaf under the leadership of Curze. They want to make the Father of Genes proud of them!

Curze's deep gaze, like the darkness of night, enveloped each warrior. "I will lead you personally. You will fight alongside my legion. However, your current strength is insufficient to participate in the battles that will determine the fate of the galaxy. Therefore, I will temporarily assign some of my sons to join your ranks until the banner of my brother once again flies across the galaxy."

The pale nomad warriors lowered their heads in silence, their faces beneath their helmets showing reverent respect.

They understood that this was a great grace bestowed upon the Pale Nomads by the Primarch.

"I know you miss your genetic father, but before my brother returns, if I am lucky enough and you wish, you may temporarily address him as your father."

Calvos's power armor joints vibrated unnaturally, and the vocoder filtered his voice into a choked sob with static: "Father...Father."

The Lord of Night was so considerate that he was willing to temporarily serve as a substitute for the Father of Genes. This grace made his visual organs feel an unfamiliar burning and moistness.

The corners of Curze's mouth curled up into an almost gentle arc. "In the name of the Lord of Night, before your gene-father returns to the Empire, you will carry new glory. From now on, you are the Raven Guard!"

"boom!"

Three thousand warriors pounded their breastplates in unison. Even though there had never been a precedent in the Imperium for a Primarch to bestow names on other legions, it was this honor of breaking tradition, like a name bestowed by the Emperor himself, that made them feel more honored than any medal.

If the Father of Genes is unhappy with this name, changing the name will be just a matter of an imperial decree when he returns to the empire.

The Raven Guards thought so, and regarded this temporarily borrowed glory as a transitional robe bestowed by the Lord of Night, ready to respectfully take it off when their true father returned.

Sevatar buried his face deep in the shadows.

The Father of Genes’ move was truly ruthless.

Chapter 111 trying to do better(5K)

"Missing?"

Elena slowly raised her eyes, which were so cold that they chilled the deputy director's entire body. "You mean, an entire company of soldiers, 130 fully armed elite guards, just disappeared without a trace?"

The deputy director's teeth chattered uncontrollably. "Maybe they were unlucky enough to encounter a landslide."

"Where are the people they were following?"

The deputy director hesitantly said, "They are missing too."

"Find the person out. I want to see him alive or dead!"

The deputy director's Adam's apple rolled with difficulty. "Director, the trackers injected into them must be connected to the Thinkers in advance before tracking. We can't detect their signals now."

Elena's pupils shrank into two dangerous slits. "One hundred and thirty soldiers died, and that's all you tell me? What about the slaves? How many died?"

"Each precinct has counted the number of people, and aside from the three people who were implanted with the tracking device, there were no other casualties. At the same time, the source of the explosives was detected underground. I suspect it was those three who detonated the explosives, causing the landslide and burying the Second Battalion."

The deputy director spoke so fast that he was almost indistinct, and the words burst out from his trembling lips like a machine gun, as if if he paused for a moment, he would be nailed to the cross of accountability by that sharp gaze.

"You didn't send anyone to look for it?"

"We did, of course we did." Beads of sweat dripped down the deputy director's forehead, his voice almost rumbling in a rush. "The entire B-7 area has collapsed. We can't get through. Their bodies are buried inside."

"No other passage?"

"The underground tunnel network is extremely complex, and it is difficult for us to complete a systematic investigation in a short period of time."

Elena: "Then there's no risk of their weapons being obtained by slaves?"

"Absolutely not!" the deputy director answered firmly.

Elena's expression was unclear, as if shrouded in a dark shadow.

She originally wanted the Second Battalion to follow the clues and find the underground resistance organization, but in the end they all died together.

It doesn’t matter how many people die, as long as it doesn’t affect production. The life of an overseer is as worthless as the life of a slave.

But weapons must never fall into the hands of slaves, otherwise they might develop inappropriate thoughts.

She could appease the slaves with benefits if they went on strike, but once they rebelled, even if she suppressed them, she would appear incompetent as a supervisor. Her political opponents would attack her, and the technical guild would question her ability.

But she had put in so much effort, was she just going to let it go like this?

Elena was unwilling, but what could she do if she didn't give up?

Their plan to follow the clues failed and the bait was gone.

The masterminds behind the scenes will only hide deeper, and the hope of finding them is very slim.

Forget it. As long as the mineral quotas can be delivered on time and the work is done without any mistakes, nothing else matters.

The slaves had gotten what they wanted through the strike, the slaves in each jurisdiction had become more obedient than before, and mineral output had increased by 10%, which was also her political achievement.

In a year at most, she would be transferred back to Chiavar. She only needed to ensure that Lycaeus did not cause any trouble within that year, and the rest could be left to the next supervisor to worry about.

As long as she can get through this year safely, the responsibility will not be hers.

Elena's voice was as cold as ice: "Give pensions to the families of the deceased supervisors and make them keep their mouths shut."

"Don't worry, boss. I'll take care of it right away." The deputy boss nodded repeatedly, his heart finally settling down, but a trace of unwillingness still arose in his heart.

Lycaeus's overseer was in high esteem on Lycaeus, but he was still inferior to the Chiavari.

The deputy and the other overseers were all native Lycaeans, descendants of the original overseers.

But every director is a Chiavar, and they change every five years. They don't stay long, and they don't really care about this place.

The deputy director has great power, but is always subordinate to the director.

The deputy director also wanted to remove the word "deputy" from his title, but he knew better that this was unrealistic.

Lycaeus was only a vassal of Chiavari. If the Lycaeans were allowed to govern themselves, what would be the use of Chiavari?

But the loss of the second battalion is also a good thing. The Black Tower has a total of seven battalions, each with 500 people.

These 3,500 people are all fully armed guards, and the tens of thousands of supervisors who are only equipped with whips and electric batons are not counted. These people are also the basis of their power.

In Lycaeus, overseers and slaves were two classes, as were overseers and brigade.

Every supervisor has to rely on the brigade to seize power, but each brigade belongs to a different technical guild.

The second brigade has close ties with Elena's technical guild, so they have always been the confidants of the current director.

The deputy director is from the Third Brigade and is allied with the Seventh Brigade because the technical guilds they belong to have close ties.

The same applies to the Fourth and Fifth Battalions, and the First and Sixth Battalions.

Even in the prison of Lycaeus they were still scheming against one another.

Although no matter how they fight, they are always inferior to the supervisor from Chiavar, the power is there. If you don't take away other people's power, others will take away your power.

This time, the Second Battalion lost one-third of its soldiers, which in turn weakened the power of the supervisor.

Although the deputy director did not dare to oppose the director openly, he still had the courage to make trouble secretly.

Their purpose is nothing more than to squeeze out the current supervisor and replace him with someone from their own faction.

Only in this way would they have the opportunity to follow the supervisor to Chiaval when he left.

Lycaeus's overseers were always inferior people, and they dreamed of becoming Chiavari.