"Just kidding, don't take it seriously. The Golden Throne belongs only to the great Emperor. Loyalty!" Sandman hurriedly excused himself.
Talking big was one thing; he definitely did not want to sit on it for real.
"Alright, back to business. I'll take you to find your son. He's next door, very close. We can also bring the Raven Guard along. Leave this place to the Ironheads to continue rebuilding," Sandman suggested.
"Let's do as you say." The Emperor accepted Sandman's suggestion. It was all on the way, and there was no need to have Korax and his Legion leave first. The Primarchs still needed to get acquainted and build some rapport.
"Good, then let's depart. Our destination is Barbarus, Storm Sector!" Sandman's finger struck heavily against an unmarked planet on the star chart.
Warp, Rotting Garden
"Achoo!" A powerful gust formed a green hurricane inside the little wooden cottage.
"Eek... eek..." Several little Nurglings playing happily on Nurgle's shoulder were instantly swept into the green hurricane, letting out terrified shrieks as their round bodies spun and tumbled like tops within the gale.
The next instant, the green hurricane was calmed by a huge swollen hand covered in pustules.
The yellow-green hand scooped up the Nurglings and placed them back on his broad shoulder, continuously soothing the little creatures.
"Who's been talking about me?" Nurgle stopped stirring with his wooden-handled spoon. With a wave of his hand, he flung the green solution in the giant cauldron, filled with every kind of disease and plague, into some unknown corner of the Material Universe.
That sneeze had disrupted Nurgle's rhythm. In Grandfather Nurgle's eyes, this cauldron of plague was already a worthless failed product. This time, Nurgle had not even troubled the other resident hiding in the garden cottage.
"It must be that