Right and wrong, true and false, are like two sides of a sharp knife, and there is no possibility of coexistence.
I know you and your brothers like politics, but you shouldn’t hold back on this issue!”
A bell-like roar sounded on the top of Ophelia 7. On this icy mountain range located at the axis of the planet's rotation, one of the two poles, the fortress belonging to the Ultramarines was just like theirs in Macragge.
The sanctuary is equally majestic.
"I'm waiting." Stewart replied calmly.
"What are you waiting for? So much time has passed and I don't believe there are no instructions from Ultramar?"
Hornthorne paced back and forth around his close friend, while Stewart just smiled under the former's urging and refused to say any valid information.
He was not affected by the former's emotions at all, and even had time to ask the increasingly anxious Hornthorne:
"What about you, my friend?
The Phalanx is on Terra, and its recovery is faster than that of the Extreme Starfield, which is far away.
Shouldn’t you first tell me what the current master of the mountain formation thinks of ‘him’?”
Boom!
Enraged by Stewart, the Imperial Fist Captain exploded instantly, slamming the owner of the fortress into the wall amid a roar.
The two guards at the door heard the sound and entered, but facing two friends who had been together for more than a century, they didn't know how to react.
"Get out!"
Stewart got up from the mess and waved his hand awkwardly, saving the guards' brains from being burned out in their struggle.
Seeing the gorgeous beech door closing again, the slightly tired voice of the Fourth Captain of the Imperial Fists sounded from behind him.
"We will not admit the emergence of a new prototype."
"Reason." Stewart suddenly turned around and talked about the really important issue, which he had to treat with the most serious attitude.
Hornthorne was silent for a long while, and then while recalling the bone-chilling battle he felt when facing Calvin, he struggled to express the will of his war group:
"The original body is the original body. He is not only the child of the emperor, but also the commander who participated in and led the restoration of the empire!
He should have his own legion!
He should have the prestige established by his own achievements!
He should have a proven great will to shed blood and sacrifice for the empire!
He should not hold power based solely on his personal bravery!
He shouldn't... have supreme glory just by virtue of his bloodline!"
"……………………" Stewart looked at his comrades in silence, with both appreciation and recognition in his complex eyes.
"You know what you're talking about, right?" Stewart whispered.
The company commander of the Ultramarines smiled dumbly. He met Hornthorne's determined gaze and said thoughtfully:
"It's really rare...
We actually have the same ideas as the Sons of Dorne whose heads are full of stones..."
Bang!
A back chair was thrown at him by the yellow-painted steel giant, and the wail of broken furniture sounded again in the dilapidated living room.
"Who are you talking about?"
"Hahahaha..."
After half-truth and half-false teasing, the Ultramarines' company commander's face turned serious.
He looked at Hornthorne who represented the will of the Sons of Dorne in front of him, and said in a deep tone:
"You've thought about the consequences of doing this, right?"
"What have you thought about? So what if you haven't thought about it?
The worst-case scenario is that we will be dealt with again, or there will be another "Rise of the Orcs".
We are not afraid! Even if we all die, there are still brothers from the Black Templar!
As long as Dorne's bloodline remains, his will will not be cut off!"
Having said this, Hornthorn simply confessed his attitude.
"Not that much."
Stewart interrupted his old friend's complaint. He folded his arms and rubbed his chin to inform the comrades in front of him of his attitude.
"Ultramar's will is similar to yours, and we will not easily agree to the emergence of a primarch unless the Emperor sends an oracle. And..."
Stewart recalled the short time he spent with Calvin, and he keenly picked out some details in the conversation:
"And that gentleman himself doesn't seem to be obsessed with that title..."
Just when he wanted to continue his opinion, the guard at the door interrupted the discussion about Calvin.
"Report!"
"Speak!" Stewart said casually, but then he was stimulated by the news brought by the guards and entered a real fighting state.
"A warning has been sent from Choppam Star Port! The Ministry of Justice found traces of Chaos contamination on the transport berth at berth No. 15. According to the material numbers, these containers should have arrived at the City of Divine Grace!"<
/p>
"Your throne is above! Whose team is closest to there?" Stewart instantly recalled the recent combat preparation plan and gave clear instructions to the guards in the blink of an eye.
"Contact Sergeant Muradin and order his team to stop the training plan and rush to the orbital station of Choppam Starport immediately!"
Hornthorne did not lag behind. Under the watchful eyes of his comrades, he linked the communication channel on the armor to the Thunderhawk he came on, and directly connected to the City of Divine Grace through the airship's signal, and communicated with the Imperial Fist team responsible for the defense.
Direct communication:
"Li? Your team's location? Northeast? Very good! I order you to immediately go to the northeast transportation hub of the City of Divine Grace, and with wartime authority, cut off all traffic in the direction of Choppam Star Port! The order takes effect immediately..." p>
"Report!"
Outside the chaotic living room, another guard walked out the door with the latest communication.
"I want to return to my company!" Hornthorne picked up the helmet on the desk and walked outside.
"Okay, see you later." Captain Stewart's Imperial Fist nodded and walked out.
The two giants in tactical fearlessness walked side by side in the passage, but there was no time for communication.
"You read and I listen." Stewart took one of the two notices in his hand as he passed by the guard and continued walking outward.
Then, in the warning communication from the battle nuns of the Holy Hermit Monastery, he raised his eyebrows slightly and handed the document in his hand to his comrades:
"Look, what did I say?"
The latter didn't care about Stewart's expression, and just glanced at the document's head roughly as he strode forward:
"The God-Emperor's blessing! In the name of the Grand Master of the Silver Blade, the Holy Hammer Order under the Inquisition, our department formally requests assistance from you..."
No need to read any further, Hornthorn felt that his tear glands, which had been dormant for centuries, were showing signs of recovery.
He handed the document in his hand back, then put the helmet in his arms with both hands.
As Stewart watched him walk towards the tarmac where the Thunderhawk was waiting, a vague word came from his direction...