Warhammer: Start with a dog

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“I still remember that Kaldis was the first city I conquered outside of Rocks.

When I decided to announce my return to Olympia with fire from heaven, I was the first to reduce it to dust in front of the messengers - first with spears of light, then with nuclear weapons.

Before you came, I collected fission elements in Olympia for a long time, and personally made the first nuclear bomb at that time, completing the unification of Olympia. At that time, my name was still "Rocks's General".

Since the descendants of these bastards have so quickly forgotten their fear of me and want to provoke division once again, I am tired and I don't want to have another hypocritical unification negotiation, so I will also use a nuclear bomb to raze it to the ground and end everything.

Then I had the guards kill them, leaving the heads intact, and sent each of them back to their city, declaring that if Olympias would not serve the Empire in freedom, then she must serve in chains.

Isn't it ridiculous.

Laugh at me if you want, old bastard, this is the kind of 'loyalty' I thought would make you like me the more.

Although it was long after her death that I understood part of the meaning of her last words.

But no one knew that what finally made me unable to face it was actually the question that Dematian asked unintentionally. She should be the smartest one in the group, although still not as smart as her great-great-great-grandmother.

She had protested, 'We of the Six Cities of Achuen have no intention of seceding from the Empire, my lord, but we too suffer from a declining population. If you, Primarch, say that your Emperor values ​​the sacrifice of our sons, then tell me what your Emperor has said to you.'

You know what? Even though I was so determined to defend your rule and your decision at that time, I couldn't deceive myself and say this.

Then my rational mind watched in horror as the joy of destruction took over me at the moment of decision."

——Perturabo BC mumbling to himself in front of the pigeon cage on the Destiny Steel

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Finally, the representatives of the aristocratic negotiation team were able to deliver the letter, feeling as if they had been pardoned, and they rolled down the mountain in tears of gratitude.

When they were roughly pulled out of the banquet tent by the Terminators of the Primarch's Guard with their unactivated power fists, all the Iron Warriors on the hill stared at them from behind their helmets with murderous intent and hatred so strong that it was almost impossible to conceal. Many of them thought they would be killed on the spot and began to scream.

Then their screams were blocked and turned into a hoarse sound in their throats - after the Lord of Steel gave a leisurely order, they witnessed how the shortest snow-capped mountain next to their mountain, which was towering into the clouds and had stood there since ancient times, had most of its top blown off by the light spears that fell from the sky in just a few minutes.

Their hair was cut off, and Dadamus also had an ear cut off. They then left in embarrassment, each carrying a document written by Flex himself for the Primarch, ordering each city-state to accept the Iron Warriors to settle in and take over the city, and sent it back to their own city-state as quickly as possible.

Naturally, although most of the city-states were amazed and angry at the news brought back by the messengers, those who were closer also saw the billowing smoke rising from the snow-capped mountains.

However, they still believed that since, in the past 150 years, apart from a few living facilities in major cities being upgraded by foreign technology, they had not been disturbed much, it was clear that the Olympian city-states still had the right to take back their own autonomy from the Empire after the death of Planetary Governor Damikos.

These city-states looked nervously at the additional steel stars in the night sky - those were the shining lights and reflections of the fleet - they gathered their populations and closed their city gates - the most ridiculous thing was that the walls of the main city-states in Olympia were from one hundred and fifty years ago - those were the defenses that the real Perturabo had redesigned and built for them after he destroyed and conquered them.

Ramizane's comment on this is "I really want to know who gave them the courage to always think they can break away from the Empire. Their reaction in this matter is so stupid that it is obviously problematic."

Only the Dematian city of Arkos managed to meet the deadline by sending their fastest runner up the mountain to deliver the news to the Iron Lord that Arkos was willing to obey and that their new tyrant would be arriving soon.

"Sir." The messenger named Pheidippides knelt down on the white sand in front of the throne, panting. "The new tyrant of Dematia ordered me to greet you and send you her most sincere greetings. When I set out, she was dealing with some last-minute matters. She ordered me to send this to you as quickly as possible."

After asking Flex to send the young man who looked like he was about to die to Soraka, the Lord of Iron unfolded the scroll sent by Dematian.

This was a hastily written parchment scroll. In addition to the very humble words begging for mercy and expressing loyalty, it was also stamped with the city lord's seal with a careless lump of red wax. Ramizarn noticed a few bloody fingerprints that had been carefully wiped off on the corner of the paper and smiled slightly.

"A very smart and decisive lady. No wonder she was chosen as the spokesperson even though she was the smaller party in the Six Cities."

The Lord of Steel put down the scroll in his hand, picked up the freshly ground coffee made by Dantioch and took a sip leisurely - due to the climate of Olympia, only the volcanic zone here has enough temperature to grow coffee crops, so their coffee production is small but the quality is quite excellent. The Legion has already bought up the coffee stocks of nearby merchants to supply the needs of the Primarch.

Moreover, Ramizane required the legion soldiers to clearly state their purpose no matter how frightened the boss was and only take the goods after paying in full.

After they had persisted in doing this for ten full days, some of the most daring merchants had already made the trek to the new camp and started to peddle their food and goods around the new camp, and the news was spreading to various city-states through channels at different levels with the city nobles.

The Lord of Iron ordered to drive away those priests who introduced special service workers to the army, those who tried to restore the past, and those who opened casinos and gladiatorial arenas, leaving only the most honest vendors who served the best and freshest dishes, and the clever merchants who came from afar.

Chief Trident stepped forward, placed his hand on his breastplate and tapped it in salute, then handed the Primarch the detailed plan for this tactical operation he had prepared.

Ramizarn glanced through the book in a pretentious manner, "Okay, okay, do as you say. By the way, the city of Ischia where the most arrogant Didymus is..."

"I have prepared three battalions of warriors for this disrespectful man, sir. The elite siege guards and 200 vehicles, including Typhon siege tanks and storm birds, are already in place."

"Ha, this is enough to conquer a planet, but conquering a city-state is really a big shot... However, a big shot should be used on a small scale, and beheading a chicken must be done quickly, ruthlessly and accurately. You will supervise the battle in person, but you must remind the soldiers that I don't want you to turn Ischia into a ruin that cannot be lived in or cultivated. I want it and its land to be useful."

"Yes, my Lord. I assure you that we will precisely raze the Castellan's Palace and Didymus Diogoras's residence to the ground within a quarter of an hour of the start of the attack."

"Well, that's it. Remember to record the process of destroying them from multiple angles. Fricks, send my confirmation order to the fleet in orbit."

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Thus, in the first second of the countdown for the ultimatum issued by the returning Lord of Steel and the Supreme Tyrant.

The waterfall of lightning and light descended like the angry thunder of the king of gods in the Olympian legend.

These thick beams of light were dazzling even in the daytime. They descended from the sky and bombarded outside each city for three days and three nights, until the hills or slopes outside the city were transformed into natural moats tens of meters deep and a hundred meters wide.

Except for the city of Arkos, owned by the Dematian tyrant, which was not attacked but was surrounded and relatively stable, people in other cities, from the city lords to the slaves, were all in panic because of this doomsday scene that was like a punishment from heaven.

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People huddled in shacks, homes or basements, shivering, while the soldiers on the city walls and the noble commanders who frantically waved their swords in vain towards the sky were even more desperate: at this moment, they realized that no matter how glorious the bloodline of your ancestors was, or how much wealth you had to lobby for alienation, how much military talent you had or how many conspiracies you had, in the face of this absolute power gap that was simply unattainable, humans would find themselves like ants, and any status, wealth, intelligence or strategy they had once possessed was so pale and powerless in the face of orbital bombardment.

It was not until the fourth day that the furious thunder from the God of Steel finally stopped, and the trembling lookouts reported one thing to their respective tyrants or princes: they observed that the Divine Punishment Moat outside the city had been perfectly bombed into a circle surrounding the entire city, with a gap that was only wide enough for a carriage to pass through.

To any smart person, this action undoubtedly announced one thing: if the King of Steel wanted, he could easily send another bolt of lightning to completely connect these ravines and completely block the entire city. What's more, the depth of these ravines actually exceeded the depth of the refuge basements that anyone in these cities could dig.

During the final blow, each city-state received images of the process of the thorough attack on the Lord of Istia and his spokesperson from various angles, from radio to leaflets, and the time when the action started and ended, as well as the results of the action, were thoughtfully marked for any reader.

At this point, even if the tyrants or princes are not smart enough at the moment, the smart people under them will try their best to make them smart.

So, on the evening of the fourth day, when the Stormbird painted with the skull emblem of the Fourth Legion was dyed a beautiful golden color by the setting sun and announced the ultimatum of the King of Steel through its loudspeaker and finally landed accurately in front of the current highest authorities of each city-state, the new and old tyrants and princes of every city in Olympia this time obediently followed the tall, iron-armored child sent by Olympia to board the giant steel bird.

Apart from the Dematian tyrant who arrived earlier, there was only one female tyrant from another city-state.

Rocks.

The city-state that once adopted Perturabo.

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Countless eyes that had heard or had heard secrets from the ancient legends about the family of Governor Damikos were staring at the old woman who was struggling to walk from the ramp of the rear cabin of the Stormbird to the tarmac.

“I have to say it.”

The Tridents heard Gene-Father muttering to himself in a low, thoughtful voice as he looked at the monitor screen in the room.

"She is much older than I thought. Apparently, like Damikos, she does not use any mechanical devices other than medicine... This old woman is so alive - but she looks too old. She walks unsteadily. It seems that she has a simple walking aid installed under her skirt?"

"Do you need me to pick her up, my lord? Or should I send a soldier to carry her here?" Dantioch asked kindly with some sympathy. Fricks looked at him in shock and reproach, but the shepherd's son still looked at the Primarch's face intently.

"…Hmm, let me think about it…never mind. Let's just let them all come in and let me see what they have to say, her too. I want to hear what everyone has to say."

"As you command, sir." It was hard to tell whether the expression on Dantioch's face was regret, relief, or some other kind of relief.

When the audience ceremony officially began, as expected, a few tyrants who did not listen to the philosophers and wise men in their city jumped out.

The way they were dealt with was quick and simple, which was in keeping with the temperament of the Seres.

The white sand stained red by the blood spurted out of the cavity was quickly replaced with new clean sand, and their entourage immediately elected a successor, took office on the spot, and once again represented their city-state to listen to the teachings of the God of Steel.

When the reception tent was cleaned and the seating was arranged, Ramizarn glanced at her secretly.

Calliphany, the tyrant of Locus, daughter of Damicos and adopted sister of the real Perturabo, said nothing at the drama of slaughter and power that unfolded before her eyes.

She just looked very tired, as if she had been in a state of meditation like an old monk, with her eyes closed, since the moment she came in and sat down.

The old woman's face was full of wrinkles, and she looked haggard, weak, and tired. I don't know who she was feeling sad for.