Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 26 Snow White and the Seven Hundred Dwarfs

Son of the Emperor: an incredibly glorious yet incredibly burdensome title.

Since returning to the Legion, Forgrim has been haunted by this honor, because the Primarch believes that he must ensure the Third Legion truly deserves its name and cannot tarnish this honor.

As the starting point for any legion, regardless of which legion it is, its initial recruitment location is Holy Terra, and the Sons of the Emperor is no exception.

During the seven hundred years of the War of Unification, when all sorts of monsters and demons ravaged Terra, the Europa region was gradually unified by the Emperor. To show their submission, the nobles offered their eldest sons to this golden giant, and these people were the beginning of the Third Legion.

When a nobleman's son becomes a warrior, he is naturally the center of attention. Fogrim knew why, after all, the Chemos were the same; people always liked to see things that were high above fall to earth.

But Forgrim didn't care. He believed he had the ability to ensure his offspring never made a mistake, after all, he was a Primarch, the offspring of the Lord of Man.

"Chemos's phoenix is ​​perfect, and so will my legion!"

Forgrim told himself this, and each time it strengthened his resolve, but reality dealt the Primarch a heavy blow.

The Wilt Disease, a flesh mutation caused by poisoning by the Lunar Genetic Cult, led to the decline and death of what should have been a powerful legion.

When Forgrim returned to the Legion, the entire Legion numbered only 1500, and was practically extinct. Even with his best efforts, he only managed to bring the Legion's numbers to a mere 700.

As for why the number of people still decreased despite their efforts to catch up, we have to mention those bastards in the Second Legion.

"Why didn't anyone tell me that two-thirds of my legion were other people's offspring? Which bastard came up with the idea of ​​letting them into my legion... (Chemoth swears)"

The thought that the Third Legion, with only 701 men including himself, couldn't even protect the ships made Fugrim want to beat those deserters to a pulp.

Seeing his Primarch repeatedly pounding on the wall in a fit of anger, Julius Casselon, the First Company Commander of the Imperial Prince, felt a pang of shame:
"Father, please don't do this! Please don't do this! You need to be mindful of your image. We're not those savage wolves from Space."

"How do you expect me to pay attention to my image?"

Seeing that no one was around, Forgrim finally couldn't hold back anymore and started complaining to his captain of the guard:
"Kasoron, you've been in the Legion for over thirty years, haven't you noticed that they're different from you? Don't tell me you didn't know."

The company commander, whose expression changed several times during the interrogation, dared not meet the original's gaze, but finally admitted:

“Father, I do know, but they’ve integrated so well that, apart from being a bit big, everyone would think he’s the son of an emperor. I’ve gotten used to it for so long that I’ve forgotten about him.”

"Forgot? You actually said you forgot! Do you know the consequences of your mistake?"

Thankfully, the Primarch didn't have high blood pressure, otherwise Forgrim would have been so angry at that sentence that he would have died of a stroke, becoming the first big guy to die from a brain hemorrhage.

Koca Solon also had something to say. Who could have known that his cousins ​​would suddenly leave without saying goodbye? This was clearly Rellano's responsibility; he was the one who made the contact.

The thought of Rellano filled Kasoron with unspeakable anguish. Heaven knows where this elder had gone; surely he couldn't have defected?
But since the Primarch asked the question, he, as the offspring, had to answer:

"Reporting to Father, due to the departure of the Second Legion without notice, the organization of the Son of the Emperor has been completely disrupted. We are now missing three company commanders, half of the non-commissioned officers, one martial arts instructor, all the legion's cooks, warehouse managers, and one Dreadnought."

"We were even assessed by the Terran Council as incapable of conducting expeditionary operations due to personnel shortages, which led to a major argument between Prince Horus and the Council."

Hearing the name Horus sent a pang of pain through Phoenix. It was all because of those bastards that he couldn't hold his head high in front of his brothers, and in the end, his father suggested he go to Tranquility to do logistics. Phoenix would never forget the Emperor's regretful yet indifferent gaze. He couldn't let them down again.

huh~~
After all, he was still Chemos's phoenix. Even though he was furious, Fogrem quickly adjusted his mindset.

"Well, work doesn't matter where you work, logistics is of paramount importance. Without logistical support, the Great Expedition will be unable to proceed. Even if I can't fight on the front lines, I will still do my best."

Thinking of this, Phoenix, who had already innately grasped the spirit of Ah Q, instead comforted the company commander:

"What kind of expression is that? What kind of tears are those? You're the captain of my Phoenix Guard!"

“But of the 200-strong Phoenix Guard, I’m the only one left now. They’ve all left, and you personally selected them.”

However, what was even more unsettling was Kasoron's subsequent counter-question:
"Father, didn't you realize they weren't your children? I don't believe it!"

At this moment, just as at that moment.

Forgrim was speechless. Heaven knows that none of those strong and tall ones were his offspring. He had thought that these rather special-looking ones were a new breed.

Now it was the Primarch's turn to not dare look directly into his offspring's eyes. The two of them, one big and one small, squatted quietly in front of the porthole, gazing at the emerald green planet called Tranquility below.

While the two were contemplating life, Atlas, who had caused all of this, began a chaotic cover-up operation.

The crowd ran around haphazardly, and anything that looked suspicious was sprayed with paint to cover up the fact that they had picked it up freely.

"I'm speechless. I told you guys not to be so ostentatious, but you just wouldn't listen. You've been dragging your feet on just getting the paint job done!"

Mordred, positioned at the landing point platform, was spraying paint on the Imperial Prince Fearless, occasionally glancing at the photo to make sure he hadn't made any mistakes.

"Who the hell drew this dog head symbol on him? And this paint job, are you guys idiots? Don't steal Dauntless next time."

The canned goods, having been severely reprimanded, dared not utter a sound. They were so busy that they couldn't even think about their own backsides. Even the auxiliary troops had been all transferred over. Heaven knows who had the brain fart to paint this Dreadnought with their own paint scheme.

As the landing craft came into view in the distance, Mordred immediately dropped his tools and ordered everyone to put down their work and line up to welcome them.

As the hatch was opened from the inside and puffs of white mist sprayed out from the airtight valve, Mordred immediately activated the Dreadnought behind her and walked forward into the sunlight.

Without giving any time to react, Mordred rushed into the fog, aimed at her target, and gave him a big hug:

"Brother, welcome to Coconut Juice City!"
"Let me see what the Empire's Snow White looks like! I really want to... Hey? Why are you so short!"

"..."

"Second brother, I'm here! That's my company commander."

(End of this chapter)