I Want to Control All the World's Soldiers

Perhaps the Emperor's genes were too powerful, so that none of the Primarch were normal. Even the seemingly benevolent Sanguinius was black when cut open.

Jubal Khan, the commander of the White Scars Chapter Master, was no match for the three old monsters in front of him and was quickly fooled.

Although it's a bit embarrassing to talk about, and you could even say it's morally reprehensible, the underlying logic of fathers loving their sons and sons loving their fathers still holds true. Zhu Ba has already figured out how to win himself over and even come up with his own reasons.

Jubal Khan believed that his Primarch was undertaking a secret mission, willingly enduring humiliation for the bright future of the Empire, with the aim of restarting the Webway Project and converting the Aeldari into his own forces.

Thinking of this, Jubal Khan, a grown man, couldn't help but shed tears. He secretly vowed in his heart, "Father, go in peace. With me, Zhu Ba, in the army, there will be no chaos."

"Your Highnesses, please rest assured. The White Scars family has been loyal for generations. We will definitely keep this secret. That person is definitely not our father, but Dorn."

"Yes, it's His Dorn Dorne! All of this is for the sake of making the Empire great again."

"Honor Dorn!"

The three men and the cat raised their glasses in celebration, their eyes devoid of any selfish desires or remorse for framing Dorn; all they had was the grand ambition to revive the empire.

After downing a glass of Prospero, Mordred immediately suggested that since his nephew was here, they should have a proper celebration. They could also finalize the transfer of White Scars from Chapter to a legion, and while they were at it, invite Tu'Shan and Grogol along.

"Oh, and we also need to bring Blaichett, the true Chapter Master of the Imperial Fists."

"That's right, call all the lads over, it'll make it more lively! Brothers, eat your fill, it's on me today."

Having confirmed the whereabouts of their own Primarch and having done sufficient ideological work, Tu'Shan immediately agreed to the military reforms. Grogor, needless to say, was now eager to vindicate the Imperial Fists.

As for Grand Marshal Blaichett of the Black Templars, his former top lieutenant Mord was Mordred's own son. A third of Atlas's forces were transferred from the Black Templars, and he was also the first chapter Chapter Master to respond to the Primarch's call to purge the court of corrupt officials.

When Gregor proposed merging the Black Templars and the Imperial Fists, Blaichett immediately agreed, but on one condition: the Black Templars designation must be retained after the Legion's reorganization.

This request is not unreasonable, after all, the Black Templars have an excessive number of members. Even if a portion of Atlas is separated, the number of members in the Chapter is comparable to that of the original mother chapter. Gregor has gotten a great deal.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Guilliman also took out his Legion Codex while Mordred and Angron were sneaking a bite in the kitchen.

The suggestion is to extend this model to other Chapter, retaining Chapter designations while maintaining the legion model, and building Army Group structures based on Chapter strengths.

Following the example of the Dark Angels, each legion should have its own specialized units to avoid delaying battles and wasting military resources.

Most importantly, Guilliman has learned his lesson this time. He wrote on every page of this Codex Astartes that it was for reference only, and left blank spaces at the end of the book for users to add their own notes. This book is a custom format, not a rulebook.

To prevent anyone from pointing fingers at him and saying, "You know nothing, this is Codex Astartes," Guilliman even wrote on the first page that all interpretation rights belong to the Primarch.

Ten thousand years later, after that toilet paper, Guilliman finally produced something that could convince all the Chapter and also saved many printing plants that were on the verge of bankruptcy.

But for the soldiers, what they wanted to do most was show off their food, not listen to Guilliman's long and tedious speech.

Since it was a banquet, the less visually appealing "Serenity dishes" weren't served. It was fortunate that they weren't Serenity, otherwise Guilliman's speech would have made the dishes soggy.

Everyone ate traditional Macragge cuisine; after all, when they heard that the Great Commander was going to host a banquet for the entire army, they certainly wanted to eat something good.

The news spread like wildfire, and the Astartes who had been rotated to Holy Terra were initially hesitant, wondering if the Ambition Lord Regent was planning some kind of trap.

But when they heard that it was the Great Commander hosting a banquet for the entire army, they really didn't stand on ceremony with Mordred. By the time the banquet officially started, nearly 6,000 people had arrived, and the number was still increasing, so they had to hold a continuous feast.

Mordred still had some sense of shame; he couldn't bring himself to eat without paying, and he couldn't take back what he'd said. So, he could only secretly approach the owner and ask him to change the menu to all vegetarian dishes and as few meat dishes as possible.

But after he finished eating and drinking, Mordred looked at the bill and his face turned green. He grabbed the restaurant owner and started questioning him. "Is this food made of gold or silver? Why is it so expensive?"

"Oh, Great Commander, you must be joking. Our restaurant is a long-established business, built on a reputation for excellence. We would never lie to you."

The restaurant owner pulled out the menu, pointed to the unremarkable appetizer, and said, "Your Great Commander, as you can see, Terra doesn't even have a sea, so apart from the food and supplies produced by our own ecological farms, everything else is airlifted in."

You even ordered all vegetarian dishes. These vegetables and fruits are much more expensive than staple foods and meats. Moreover, all the ingredients we use are air-freighted from Macragge. The banquet standard is in accordance with the Macragge Planetary Governor's standard.

Even if you asked His Lord Regent to comment, he would just say, "That's exactly how it tastes! Look how much His Lord Regent is enjoying it!"

Turning my head, I saw that Guilliman was indeed eating and drinking to his heart's content. If these gluttons were to eat to their hearts' content, the amount of food they consumed would be almost equivalent to half a frigate.

Mordred's heart was bleeding, but he was helpless and could only ask if he could get a discount.

"A discount? Great Commander, are you kidding me? This is just the price of raw materials. I only deducted the other fees because I knew you were coming. By the way Great Commander, you're not trying to renege on your debt, are you?"

"How could that be? My Atlas is richer than a country. It's just money, right? I don't usually carry that much spare cash. I'll leave this Centaur Ring with you as collateral, and you can put it on my tab."

The shopkeeper remained silent. What use was the ring to him? He indicated that he was a small business and did not offer credit.

Mordred was taken aback. "I'm a Primarch, the Great Commander of the Empire! Don't I have any dignity? Tell me your name, and I'll send someone to deliver the money to you." "Reporting to the Great Commander, my name is Abraham Judas."

"Great name! I'll ask my eldest son for some pocket money right now."

The banquet lasted for 13 days. In the end, even the Adeptus Custodes came to freeload. Even Yellow Skins 12345 came over using his alternate account to eat like crazy, as if he hadn't eaten in 10,000 years.

However, Mordred didn't care. After all, Yellow Skins 12345 was possessing a junior apprentice, unlike the Yellow Skins. It was one of their own, so let it be. It wouldn't make a difference if one more was eaten.

With Salamanders, White Scars, and Imperial Fists taking the lead, other Chapter that were still observing responded one after another and joined the vigorous Second Founding.

As Mordred said, times have changed, and the small, fast-paced Chapter model of the past is no longer suitable for the current era. Guilliman's decision to let Chapter develop on their own may well be a bad one.

Allowing Chapter to become self-reliant can stabilize the situation during the chaotic period following the end of the Great Heresy and prevent a new wave of Great Heresy.

Conversely, Chapter is like an army, and an army with autonomy at that. Without the control of a legion, the consequences of Chapter engaging in business are extremely serious, and it is easy for local warlords to emerge. Huron is such an example.

And most importantly, that Codex Astartes confined the Chapter.

This is why Mordred woke up to find that the largest group of the so-called million Space Marine were the Ultramarines, who made up more than half of them.

Those with a little farming ability can manage, but those without farming talent are either so poor they can't even muster a full complement of Chapter and have to conserve their weapons and ammunition, or they end up working for the Adeptus Mechanicus.

The small-scale, elite nature of the Chapter mode was not reflected at all. Instead, the gap between the two groups began to widen step by step, leaving most Chapter without the support of a Legion or sufficient resources for combat.

And these are still the good ones; they don't even include those who were screwed over by incompetent teammates. The most infamous group that was screwed over the worst was the Celestial Lions, Chapter Master was beheaded and displayed to the public by assassins sent by the High Lord.

This is why, over ten thousand years, the Imperial Space Marine have only numbered in the millions. It's not that the Empire couldn't afford to support them, but rather that the Empire could only control so many.

During the era of the Cursed Founding and the Age of Apostasy, many Chapter were forced to turn to Chaos when they had no other choice. The more Fealty and pure the warriors were, the more they were betrayed, which gradually chilled their hearts.

Watching his cousins feasting at the banquet, Goff, who was paying for his Captain's meal, asked, "Father, why are you doing this?"

"I don't know why, I only know that we can't let the soldiers of the empire shed blood and tears again. We have to give them something to look forward to, let them see that the empire is changing."

Sitting on the steps, Mordred looked into the distance and pointed to the Chapter members who were all huddled together, eating and bragging. "Do you remember when we first encountered the Space Wolves?"

"I remember, Father, you gave Russ a good beating back then, and that night we had a bonfire party. We were just like that now, inseparable, like brothers."

"Yes. Brotherhood, warriors' alliances—that's what makes a legion strong, and that's also what makes it weak, but I think it's ultimately a good thing."

"You ask me what I'm going to do? Well, I have a lot to do. With Primarchs returning one after another, the Legions must be unified once they have a leader. The old model of rampant growth must be stopped."

There's no going back now. Since that's the case, this Great Game absolutely cannot end. If those Four Useless Ones want to play, then let them play to their hearts' content.

I want to control all the armies in the land!

Goff, you'll always help me, right?

In other circumstances, Goff might have been incredibly Moved, but the problem was that Mordred was currently clinging to him, and the boss was watching closely.

"Father, put me down first, I won't run away."

"Then please pay for my meal first, and remember not to pay with silver coins."

While the empire's Second Founding was in full swing, it was not only strengthening the Imperial Army, but also strengthening a certain unpredictable Lord of Change wished to remain anonymous.

"Change, unparalleled change, that future shrouded in mist and unknowable, truly delights me!"

"Koz, I have a task for you: go and get Magnus back for me."

Upon hearing this, Koz, who was sewing a bag out of Daemon skin, suddenly turned around, grabbed a stool, and swung it at Tzeentch's toes. "You beast! Is that human language you're speaking? Do you really want me dead?"

Since I started following you, I've gained nothing and earned the reputation of a traitor. Now you want me to steal Magnus from the Khorne? Why don't you go yourself? Aren't you scared?

Look at your pathetic state. You're neither as brave as Khorne, nor as cunning as Nurgle, not even as unrestrained as Slaanesh, and not even as good as the Emperor. You're the worst of the worst.

If it were any other Greater Daemon dared to defy him like that, Tzeentch would have slapped him to death long ago. But stubbornness is also one of Tzeentch's powers, and he just couldn't bear to do it. In fact, after thousands of years of living together, he became more human-like than the Emperor.

"I'm just discussing this with you. I treat you like my own son. How can you compare me to the Cursed? I certainly won't let you go to your death, and I'm not afraid of that Khorne at all."

"Real?"

"Really! It's all part of my plan."

P. S.: For some reason, it's like I'm possessed by something evil; I didn't slack off today and typed so fast.