Chapter 177: No Moles, Just First Legion Jokes |
At the banquet table sat a group of Wolf-Pups. They were clearly furious, yet in the face of the mortals' flattery, their brand-new wargear, and the knights' victorious smiles, they simply could not bring themselves to show it. In the end, they were forced to huddle around the table and play along with forced smiles.
Arum's gaze fell upon a young, red-haired warrior with a rigidly tense jaw.
The warrior's stiff, upright back formed a subtle standoff with the crimson drapes hanging from the banquet hall's dome. Whenever the attendants placed roasted venison onto their plates, the gulping sound of the Wolf-Pups' rolling Adam's apples was always half a beat slower than the clattering of the cutlery.
They had been thoroughly outmaneuvered.
The deep, pitch-black liquor swirled gently in his glass in time with his breathing, the candlelight casting a warm glow over the smile at the corners of Arum's eyes.
In the past, the high-ranking Dark Angels they interacted with always seemed gloomy and neurotic, heavily burdened by some unknown pressure. Conversing with them felt like constantly needing to guard against sharp claws poised to descend upon one's neck.
But the neural threshold of this particular group of secretive cousins was much higher, which allowed them to display a far more open and magnanimous confidence to the outside world.
The Dark Angels knew much and understood much, but many of them were actually unsure of the true importance of the secrets they guarded. Thus, they stubbornly chose absolute secrecy, wearing themselves down from the inside until they became increasingly paranoid.
However, if a sufficiently powerful force shattered this barrier and acted as a node to rebuild mutual trust between them, these lethal war machines would no longer have any weaknesses.
The Dark Angels across the table were still conversing in low voices. Their tones were steady and relaxed, no longer suddenly pausing over a specific word or phrase as they used to.
Their eyes no longer swept every corner of the room in vigilant sweeps before deliberately feigning calmness, as if constantly guarding against invisible prying eyes.
Perhaps those green-armored knights hid it well from others, but to the Space Wolves, those little tells had always been entirely too obvious.
But now they possessed true confidence, completely devoid of paranoia. They genuinely believed from the bottom of their hearts that they were the undisputed leaders among the Legions, feeling no urgent need to prove it through overt means.
Was this the true difference between having a leader and lacking one?
Downing a mouthful of Wolf Ale, Arum could not help but wonder about the origins of these secretive cousins. After all, he had no memory of such vast quantities of authentic Wolf Ale ever being given away in the past.
However, such questions could be slowly unraveled in the future. If they chose not to speak, the Space Wolves had no need to ask.
As long as this Legion could prove its loyalty and show it wasn't playing with fire, that was enough.
"But are you certain the Thousand Sons will not be an issue?"
Arum frowned as he recalled recent events, unable to stop himself from asking Zabriel.
Being used as a blade by the Dark Angels mattered little; the martial deeds of the Space Wolves would not be diminished in the slightest. If anything, it was a profound demonstration of trust.
Back when they were chasing the phantoms of the Thousand Sons, the sheer exasperation and rage of those Dark Angels could not have been faked.
"It has already been handled,"
Zabriel replied with an expressionless face.
It was essentially impossible for Rameses to pose a problem. The Dark Angels loathed the man for entirely different reasons.
His Highness had made everything clear to them. As the ultimate failsafe—a Legion that had to be omnipotent—the Wings of Dawn had opened many of its secrets to the Dark Angels. Therefore, they were well aware of exactly how close the four core members of the Wings of Dawn truly were to one another.
If those four original individuals had possessed even a fraction of this mutual trust back then, Lohr wouldn't have been stuck in Ultramar watching the Lion and Guilliman's ridiculous comedy duo act.
Still, they needed to remain wary of the ambitious Ultramarines. After all, the power Romulus wielded was immense, and barring unforeseen circumstances, it would only continue to grow. If anything went wrong, the consequences would be absolutely unimaginable.
"Care to elaborate?"
Arum did not bother to hide his curiosity.
He noticed the Dark Angel guards in the corner of the room exchange a subtle glance. It was not vigilance, but a sort of helpless mutual understanding, much like soldiers dealing with a superior who constantly caused trouble yet remained utterly irreplaceable.
Meddling in the affairs of the Dark Angels was purely a matter of habit. It was just like the Months of Shame, when the Dark Angels assisted the Imperium in investigating the Space Wolves—the goal was to excise any potential rot from their frenemy cousins.
Since both sides prided themselves on their absolute loyalty, neither wished to see the other show any signs of corruption.
Though the Dark Angels had made a massive blunder during the Months of Shame, this time it was the Space Wolves being wielded as the weapon.
In truth, the Thousand Sons were the ones the Space Wolves paid the most attention to.
It seemed every Legion truly had its own fated rival.
"."
Recalling Rameses's antics, a look of indignation unconsciously surfaced on Zabriel's face. His mind involuntarily drifted to the coded messages the Thousand Son had left scattered throughout their corridors.
[On the Dark Angels' Inner Circle Recruitment Standards
New Recruits ask: "How do I prove my loyalty?"
Examiner: "Write down every Legion secret you know right now."
The moment the recruit picks up the pen, a bolter is pressed against the back of his head—true loyalists know absolutely no secrets.]
[On the Dark Angels' Loyalty Tests
An Inquisitor asks a Dark Angels New Recruit: "If you see a Chaos Daemon and a Fallen Angel appear at the same time, who do you purge first?"
Recruit replies: "Kill the Chaos Daemon first, of course."
That very night, the recruit is taken away by the Inner Circle—the correct answer is that Fallen Angels do not exist.]
Similar Dark Angels jokes were circulating everywhere, and their numbers were only increasing as time went on.
Scrawled on corridor walls, etched into the training grounds' armor plating, and even embedded within the servo systems of their power armor, these blasted anecdotes were omnipresent.
Yet for the Dark Angels, choosing whether to erase them or leave them be had become a complex science.
If you erased it, it meant you understood it and knew secrets you were not supposed to know. That would highly likely trigger certain members, earning you a one-way ticket to a prime seat in the unrestricted combat hall.
If you did not erase it, it was somewhat akin to walking down the street while your darkest, most embarrassing history was broadcasted on a loop. It induced a bizarre sense of shame.
Currently, the vast majority of members understood them but pretended they didn't, acting as though they hadn't seen a thing.
Every time they went out on a mission, the way they adjusted their shoulder pads or suddenly developed a profound interest in the ceiling exuded a tacit, unspoken awkwardness.
"You do not need to know,"
Zabriel sighed.
Stereotype, pure stereotype!
If it weren't for the fact that Rameses was undeniably skilled and no one could figure out a way to deal with him, he would have been fed a lethal dose of the First Legion's sniper fire long ago.
Still, the guy had somewhat of a conscience. Knowing he couldn't just endlessly pressure the Dark Angels, he had not only helped train them on how to psychically control Alpharius but also tricked a pack of Space Wolves into coming over for them.
Regardless, the cycle was set: Rameses messed with them, they couldn't retaliate, and for now, they could only blow off steam by playing with the Alpha Legion's snakes and teasing the Fenrisian dogs.
As for right now, Rameses was probably still researching new armaments with His Highness.
With the multifaceted assistance of the Ironwing, Dantioch, Archmagos Cawl, and certain other mysterious factions, the Wings of Dawn had not only finalized their standard armaments but had also begun researching medium and large-scale war machines. It was just about time for a test run.
The upcoming localized skirmishes against the Tyranid Hive Fleet would provide the perfect opportunity.
"I understand."
Seeing Zabriel's twitching expression, Arum realized this likely involved matters of Dignity. He decided he ought not to ask any further.
Thus, he simply raised his glass once more.
"Those Thousand Sons really are bastards."
He deliberately let the bottom of his glass strike the metal table with a crisp clink.
"Come, let us drink!"
Zabriel raised his glass and clinked it against Arum's, causing a few drops of the vibrant, authentic Terra vintage dry red to splash out.
"Indeed, the Thousand Sons truly are bastards."
——
"Damn it, those Dark Angels are cursing me again."
A staff slammed heavily into the floor, knocking a small shower of metal shavings into the air.
Within the Ironwing garrison, Rameses, who was currently leading the Conclave of the Five Points Librarians in adjusting a Wraithbone Titan, abruptly jabbed at the gemstone atop his staff. His movements were filled with obvious annoyance.
This sudden action startled the Aeldari twins piloting the Titan. The wraithbone construct gave an unnatural shudder, nearly knocking over an adjacent energy transmission array.
"If you didn't spend every day writing all that nonsense, I doubt they would keep complaining about you."
Arthur spoke up, overseeing the process while simultaneously learning interception techniques.
His voice was as calm as if he were discussing the weather, but his lips still twitched unnaturally.
"Isn't everything I wrote the truth? Can you honestly tell me it's fake?"
Rameses waved a dismissive hand.
"This is called desensitization therapy. It keeps them from acting like neurotics every single day. Look, the results are much better now. Keeping secrets just means dragging someone to the unrestricted combat arena for a brawl, and they even clean up after themselves when they're done."
In truth, they would much rather brawl with you.
"Yes, you have a point."
Arthur nodded in agreement. His gaze shifted as Evocatus approached his side.
He accepted the thick stack of documents handed to him, deciphered the information within, and then forwarded it to Romulus.
"The Alpha Legion has fallen in line. To protect the Hydra's living forces, The Hydra has begun gathering survivors to concentrate their infiltration on the administrative systems. The Dark Angels directly exposed this intent, ensuring both efficiency and security."
The Hydra knew the Dark Angels needed Hydra operatives to participate in the administrative systems, but he was unaware that the Dark Angels knew the secret that he himself was a Hydra operative.
Moreover, the arrival of the Space Wolves had, to a certain extent, laid the Alpha Legion's identity out on the table.
None of the surviving high-ranking Alpha Legionnaires knew whether the Dark Angels possessed a specific roster of names, nor did they know if a Space Wolf might be hiding inside one of those Dark Angel armor shells.
This method of directly exposing their intentions while concealing known intelligence to maintain a chain of suspicion was actually incredibly difficult to crack.
Because moving forward, the Dark Angels could ruthlessly purge any Alpha Legionnaire who showed poor efficiency or a lackadaisical work attitude without hesitation.
This would directly impact the performance metrics that The Hydra and other high-ranking operatives needed to climb the ranks. Once the Round Table Council established a few more inner circles, they could just sit back and watch these Alpha Legion leaders ruthlessly compete against one another.
"The howling of the Space Wolves was quite effective, after all."
Having successfully drawn a wave of ire from the Dark Angels, Rameses lowered his head and resumed calibrating the Titan.
In another sector, a wraithbone construct undergoing independent testing suddenly made a provocative gesture under his control, aiming it directly at the Dark Angels watching through the camera on the other end.
Bang!