Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 7 We're on a Great Expedition, guess who we didn't take with us?

"Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river, never underestimate a young man's potential, if you've got guts, don't resort to psychic powers!"

"Shut up! If I have spiritual power and don't use it, why should I be the ruler of humanity? Tell me! When did you arrive?"

“I just arrived! Stop hitting me! Stop hitting me, brother! No! Father, I know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have caught you and Makado having sex.”

Mordred's words only made people want to slap him, and even Macado, who was watching the spectacle from the sidelines, rolled up his sleeves and joined in.

Because he embarrassed the Lord of Man in front of the Marker, Mordred was double-teamed by the two, pinned to the ground and whipped for half an hour, until he was beaten into a pig's head.

Thankfully, the guards on duty outside were sensible and closed the door behind them; otherwise, if others had seen it, Mordred's newly established image as a good father would have been ruined.

"Why are you here instead of going back to your legion?"

Mordred, limp on the ground, writhed and rolled over like a maggot. This time, he dared not try to take advantage of the situation again. He raised his pig-like head and searched for a while before finally finding the right direction, and immediately asked the question that had been bothering him:
"Old Huang, why are there so few men in the Second Legion? Have you hidden my troops?"

Actually, it was a bit of a misunderstanding. After recognizing his eldest son, Mordred quickly discovered a crucial problem: the Second Legion was far too small.

Through observation, Mordred found no genetic diseases in his offspring. Apart from being a head taller than the average Space Marine, they were perfectly healthy.

Upon learning that the Second Legion had been dispersed among various legions by the Emperor since its inception and had only recently been reassembled, Mordred suspected that the weasel had stolen his offspring.

The thought that he might have been taken advantage of made Mordred very upset. He immediately ordered the legion to go back to eat, and he went to demand an explanation.

After listening to the rebellious son's inner thoughts, the Emperor and Macardo, their emotions calmed, exchanged a glance. Making sure their conversation hadn't been overheard, they then spoke:
"The Second Legion's men are all here. I didn't hide your offspring at all. As for why there are so few of them, that's entirely your own fault."

"I?"

The Emperor nodded, and with a flash of golden light, an experimental log was tossed into Mordred's hands.

"Due to your high-dimensional nature, even though you were reduced to a few fragments when you fell to Terra, it wouldn't be easy to turn you into a Primarch."

In order to create a body for you, I had to fuse you into the already failed second body, but even so, I still couldn't stabilize your form. But I am not one to accept defeat, so..."

"So what?" Mordred was genuinely panicked now. Heaven knows what kind of weird stuff the Emperor stuffed into him when he created him.

Fortunately, the emperor didn't play the riddle-maker this time and readily revealed the rest of the story.

"So I stuffed all the leftover scraps from making the other Primarchs into it. But then there was a lot more warp debris, so I added some Stargod fragments, or rather, Stargod dandruff would be a more accurate description."

This makes it extremely difficult for your genetic seed to adapt.

Mordred found it hard to describe her current feelings. It was like buying a pet dog, raising it, and then finding out it was a mixed breed. What was even more infuriating was that she was that dog.

This is where the difference in emotional intelligence between the Emperor and Macardo becomes apparent. Seeing that the silly child's mindset was off, the Emperor would only talk about the experiment, while Macardo would hand Mordred a cup of tea.

With a heart full of life and trembling hands, Mordred chewed and swallowed a cup of hot tea, water and all, and continued to ask:

"So I don't have any merits? Just like each Primarch has a different role, give me some positive feedback!" Mordred was still unwilling to give up and was eager to hear some objective evaluation from the Emperor.

"Of course I am. I am the empire's greatest scientist. Although it sounds a bit sloppy, you can think of it the other way around."

"How so?" "For example, you might possess the civilization of a number one, the skill of a number three, the magnanimity of a number four, the wisdom of a number ten, and even my Sagittarius loyalty. In short, anything is possible."

Mordred smiled silently, and after figuring out who those examples were, he revealed a smile that was more like a grimace.

"Then am I a complete waste?"

"I will not allow you to insult my offspring like this." The emperor vehemently denied it, refusing to admit that he had conducted the experiment with the intention of making use of waste materials.

Perhaps because of the beating he had just given Mordred, the Emperor's intermittently displayed emotional intelligence took over, and he comforted Mordred, saying:

"Even if you don't trust those brothers you've never met, you have to believe in me! You inherited some of my traits."

"So what are your strengths?"

Mordred racked his brains but couldn't find any anthropomorphic qualities in the Emperor. The giant golden figure, however, seemed completely oblivious, pointing to his own face and saying:
"Charm, you have inherited my extraordinary charm."

"But what use is this piece of junk to me? Am I supposed to become a Roman princess like you... um~"

Before Mordred could finish his sentence, he felt a shiver run down his spine, as if something terrible would happen if he uttered the second half of his sentence, and he involuntarily shut his mouth.

Upon learning this secret, Mordred quickly connected it to the grassland illusion that appeared when she was bombarded by the light spear that day.

In retrospect, Mordred shouldn't complain, since without the Emperor's quick thinking, Rambo and his crew might have perished.

Perhaps for other purposes, or perhaps as a rare form of compensation, before the Emperor kicked Mordred back into the Legion and fled with his men, he surprisingly granted him some privileges.

First, there's the return gift package that every Primarch receives, such as a special tax exemption on the home planet, exclusive dominion over surrounding worlds, and a tax exemption period of a certain number of years.

In short, it means I don't have time to manage you. You can run your business as you see fit. Whatever you conquer is yours, as long as you don't cross the empire's red lines, you can do whatever you want.

The only exception was that the Second Legion did not have to participate in the Great Crusade immediately; the Emperor gave Mordred almost unrestricted freedom.

Even Makado spoke up, promising to send a Mechanicus Archsage to the Second Legion, even during the current tense period of the Empire's founding, and then everything would be taken care of.

However, after this multi-billion dollar subsidy, the two old men gave Mordred a small task: to build a starport nearby as soon as possible, so that the surrounding star sectors would be completely brought under the rule of the Empire and serve as a supply station for the expeditionary front.

Honestly, Mordred felt a pang of guilt at receiving such treatment, which would make even Butcher's Nail Wet Item envious. He wondered if he had been thinking too badly of others.

Watching the Dream Fleet disappear in a flash, the blond giant, who had been kicked back to his senses, sighed for a long time. Then he saw a group of large, eager-looking cans staring at him.

"What are you looking at? From now on, Father, I'll follow you guys. Hurry up and take me to our flagship. By the way, where did that guy named Goff go? I can't see him."

"Oh, Goff, he's sick, yes! He's sick, and he's probably doing rehabilitation training in the Duel Cage right now."

The company commanders chatted amongst themselves, quickly putting Goff out of their minds, and escorted their Primarchs aboard the Stormbird.

Meanwhile, in the dueling cage, former Legion Commander Goff is being brutally beaten for trying to protect the helmet his father had touched!
"Quack—hand over the helmet now!"

(End of this chapter)