"Do you know what the entire expeditionary fleet is talking about right now?"

When the Genetic Father of the Holy Blood Angel was seated, his brother, who was in a wolf's skin, stared at the hologram and couldn't wait to ask him questions.

This is the most typical, Horusian move: capable, swift, cunning, aggressive, straight to the center of the problem, and holding the rhythm of everything tightly in his own hands, there is no escape.

Horus has always been such a man, both in the seasons of war and in the daily encounters, that he is always invincible: there are a thousand burning worlds and perishing kingdoms that can prove it.

But he is not invulnerable.

At the very least, St. Giles knew one of the weaknesses of the wolf herding god.

There is only one.

But enough.

"I'm sorry, brother, I don't know."

Barr's archangel gathered his wings behind his back to ensure that he could sit in the position that had been created for him: he often did, but even then, it was not an easy task.

With this soft reply, Horuston paused, and his gaze was taken away from the holographic device full of information to focus on his brother: no matter how many times, whenever the wolf god looked at the archangel, his pupils would be crossed by the color called "exclamation" because of the white sparkle.

"You don't know?"

"Isn't that weird?"

St. Giles asked casually, and after setting up his wings, he pulled his fingers out of the crack in the metal chair, and then ticked at the slave who was serving: his target was obviously the fruit bowl in the slave's hand.

"It's weird, of course."

The voice of the wolf shepherd god was a little higher, as if to increase the affirmation in his tone.

"The entire expeditionary fleet is now talking about the same topic: whether it's your fleet, my fleet, or the warriors of other brothers, all arguing with each other over an issue, or making a bet, even those mortals who have nothing to do with it, can't help but join in."

"You only have to prick up your ears a little to hear your sons talking to each other, or you may ask anyone a question about the current trend: Is there anyone who can bear to deceive the perfect archangel of Baal?"

"You should not be ignorant, my dear brother: you can perceive the matter I have mentioned with even a slight wisp of attention."

Horus raised a hand, he didn't wear his imposing claws, he didn't wear the pearl-white power armor, he put the armor aside, he chose to wear plain black civilian clothes, the wide wolf skin also changed its position with the choice of the genetic prototype: once, it was a shawl, now, it was a cape.

"Is it possible, my brother, that I really don't have any more energy."

St. Giles took the fruit plate, and his words completely diverted Horus's attention: now, the information on the hologram could no longer make the wolf shepherd god pay even half a cent of attention.

"Where are you spending your energy, angel?"

"A lot of places."

The Ninth Legion's genetic protogen lowered his eyebrows, his slender fingers pointing at the dazzling array of precious fruits, as if hesitating which one to choose first.

"Expeditions, legions, home planets, mortals, and other things: these are the big things, and the sheer amount of information and debriefing is enough to leave a progenitor with no time for anything else."

Horus frowned slightly, he didn't say anything.

St. Giles, who sat across from him, kept his smile on his face, and the words in his mouth had a turning second half.

"Of course, these are not the most troublesome for me: the real difficulty is that I have a brother who is so good and sensitive, that I cannot leave him without any peace, and he and his sons will always find me some strange means of draining my energy."

"As I look at them, I can't ask more about them, and I can't help but look at them: who can resist the friendship of the best? At the very least, I can't be a stranger to them. ”

"Please forgive me, Horus."

The soothing and soft voice was like the sun at four o'clock in the afternoon, so harmonious that one could look directly at its light, but there was an inexplicable chill of the coming night: St. Giles's apology was not sincere, and he recounted it in a mocking tone, while he picked up a fruit with a blood-red peel and threw it at his brother.

Horus grasped the fruit, his brow already soothed, and his face, which was still a little nervous, had already been occupied by a hearty smile.

"I accept your apology, brother: and will take it to heart."

Then, the wolf god paused again, his pupils flashing with instinctive anxiety.

"That's me, right?"

He asked.

"Others aren't great."

The angel grabbed a pearly white fruit, cut off a piece of upturned flesh with a knife beside him, and put it in his mouth, savoring the strange taste.

"You know, Horus: among our brothers, some are stubborn, some are wild, some are greedy, and these are the good qualities that our fathers need in the present age, but none of them can be called really good."

"Except for you, Horus, you're the good one, all the time."

"Are you comforting me?"

"No, I'm just telling the truth."

St. Giles smiled.

"Only the truth can make you happy: and I love to see you happy."

As he replied and chewed, Barr's archangel nodded with a smile, he seemed pleased with the taste of the fruit, and pointed to the knife next to him.

"Do you need a knife, Horus?"

"No, you don't need to."

The wolf god let out a rough laugh, and he grabbed the blood-red fruit, and with a hard squeeze, it broke in half, and after tossing the core aside, Horus threw the fruit directly into his mouth, crushing the hard flesh into crumbs with his teeth.

He frowned.

"It tasted worse than I thought."

"Did you do it on purpose?"

The wolf god looked half-jokingly at his brother: the angel's gloating was simply written on his perfect face.

St. Giles spread his hands.

"Oh, don't slander me in such a way, brother: this is your ship, here's your room, and your fruit bowl, and I'm just a guest who doesn't know anything."

"Yes, this is the Vengeful Spirit: but you are the ancestor of the fruit plate assembly industry on the Vengeful Spirit, and before you angel came, the Shadow Moon Wolves ate meat."

"Wolves eat grapes, too."

"I'd rather believe it's sour."

A light laugh echoed between the two genotypes.

After laughing for a while, there was finally a hint of seriousness in the archangel's pupils.

"Tell me, then, Mr. Wolf, who can't eat grapes: what bothers you so much? You know, this is your Vengeful Spirit, and your position on this ship is second only to our Father of Genes. ”

Horus was silent for a moment, and instead of answering the question immediately, he threw the remaining half of the fruit into his mouth, and the crimson juice ran down the corner of his mouth and was wiped away by him.

"Yes, St. Giles: The Spirit of Vengeance is important, this great battleship is my heart and soul and my second home, but despite this, there are so many things that cannot be decided by a single Spirit of Vengeance."

"They involve...... A wider range of fields and masses will not even be limited to one or two primordial bodies or legions. ”

"Ah, let me guess."

St. Giles fiddled with the knife in his hand, gently cut off a slice of flesh, and continued his sacred tasting ritual.

"It's a question about the commander."

“……”

"Don't you know?"

"I'm not sure."

The archangel spreads his hands.

"And I like to see you tangled: it makes me feel more like you."

“……”

Horus's eyes narrowed, he stared at his brother, and St. Giles, feeling the gaze, only raised his head slightly, and met the gaze of the wolf god with those flawless pupils.

Then: smile.

"What's wrong?"

“……”

"No, nothing."

Horus looked at the smile, and he tried to maintain the seriousness in his heart: but before that, he heard an involuntary sigh in his throat.

……

Forget it......

The wolf god coughed twice and looked away, and his bow made St. Giles's face flash a glimmer of victory.

The angels pursued the victory.

"Tell me, Horus: you can't just invite me to taste the Vengeful Spirit fruit bowl: if you really want to do that, mail it directly to my flagship next time, and I'll have Radolon tell you the address."

“……”

Sometimes, even Horus thinks from the bottom of his heart: if his brother St. Giles had not had a face that was hard to refuse, the Bal would have been dragged into the arena long ago.

In the next second, Horus erased the thought: as St. Giles had said, they really should have discussed something more serious.

After all, the wolf shepherd god has also been haunted by this topic for a long time.

"Alright, brother: let's have a good talk."

"It's long overdue."

St. Giles nodded, and he grabbed the fruit and put it in his mouth, letting his cheeks bulge with round pouches.

"After all, you've been bothered by this question for a long time, Horus."

"Not for a long time."

The wolf when forward, he rested both arms on his knees, his hands tightly intertwined: a movement that seemed weak to him, and few people could see Horus like this.

But in front of Horus, St. Giles will always be the minority.

"Yes, my brother, since our father vaguely mentioned that word more than a decade ago: Warlord, a man who will take over the burden of the Great Expedition and take charge of all the legions and fleets within the Universe, and who will take his place on the mission of draping the banner of the Empire over the galaxy, so that our father can return to Terra, to the place where he first came."

"It sounded unthinkable until now: if all this had not come out of the mouth of the Emperor, I would have thought it to be the most crude joke, and even Ruth would not have been so lacking in humor."

St. Giles nodded, struggling to swallow the lump in his throat when his fingers unconsciously reached for the glass of water beside him.

It took him a moment before he spoke.

"The most trusted heir, the most strategic commander, the most popular primordial: it all seems to have been made for you, Horus, my brother, you are undoubtedly the most suitable to rise to the position of commander, or rather, that position was made for you."

"When the emperor said the word war marshal in his mouth, your name must be echoing in his mind."

“…… Thank you, brother. ”

For a moment, the smile on St. Giles's face spread to Horus's face, and the straightforward support from his closest brother obviously made the wolf herder particularly useful and inspired.

However, this still could not blow away the slight sadness between his eyebrows.

"But I have not been able to do it, like your confidence, St. Giles: you trust me even more than my own, and this may be where you are better than me, and even every brother, we are always hesitating, and when you have made up your mind, you will not be shaken by any kind of obstacle."

"I hope so: but only if I make up my mind, don't I?"

St. Giles replied to his brother in a low voice that bordered on his own words, and the Archangel of Baal picked up yet another blood-red fruit, and he muttered to himself, and the holy pupils seemed to be seduced by the bright red of the fruit, and there was a terrible glint of light, but it was quickly suppressed.

Horus was unaware of this, and he was silent in his own muttering.

"In fact: some people think that this position should belong to you, brother."

"Me?"

The angel's jaw tightened for a moment, and he seemed to be really struck by the words, and the wings behind him unconsciously contracted, making the silver chains and pearl ornaments on it clang.

(Yes, angels do have these things on their wings: I can't understand the aesthetics of padchains on wings anyway.) ）

The Ninth Legion's genetic protogens were even surprised for a second before they smiled.

"Oh, tell me, Horus, which of our brothers has so much faith in me, that I should probably pay a visit to him to see if my image in his mind is any skewed: it is not a good habit to listen to gossip."

The wolf god stared at his brother.

"I'm not sure about the others: but there's one in front of you."

“……”

St. Giles was silent for a moment, and his laughter came two seconds later.

"I didn't know that you were so kind of to me, brother, that you thought I would be fit for that position: should I be flattered by this?"

"Absolutely."

"Do you need me to cheer then? Or a few screams? Just like Roga did when he saw our father, Magnus relayed the scene to me. ”

“……”

"That's goodbye."

Horus waved his hand: he wasn't discriminating against Roga, in fact, he loved the mild-tempered brother very much, but he really couldn't imagine what kind of explosion would happen if the figures of St. Giles and Roga were combined.

He rejects illusions.

So, the wolf shepherd god tried to show his seriousness and seriousness.

"I mean really, St. Giles: you are more suitable for this position than I am, and there is no other genetic protologist who can take on the duties of the Emperor so perfectly as you do, filling the void in the hearts of the people, and you are the closest to our father."

"Actually: Luo Jia is."

"But the Emperor won't choose him: I think he'd rather go for Perturabo or Riemannus."

"So, what do you think of the idea I've proposed, Angel?"

Horus stared at his brother: the heart of the wolf shepherd god was sincere.

And St. Giles thought for a moment: only for a moment, he shook his head very firmly, and his tone was categorical.

"Thank you for your kindness, Horus, but I'm not fit for the position: I'm too ethereal and distant for the position of commander, and people would prefer to see a leader who can stand among them than a pair of wings that can only float over their heads."

"Angels are only suitable for religious and mythological legends, not reality."

St. Giles's words were so firm and stubborn that it was only a matter of an instant that Horus knew that there was no possibility of his proposal being approved: as the wolf shepherd had just said, the archangel of Baal would never waver in what he had believed.

Horus was proud of this, but also had a headache for it: the Shadowmoon Legion's genetic protogens had to temporarily put aside their attachment to the proposal and start caring about other contents.

"Well, brother, I respect the choice you made: if my father asks us to vote for it, I will still have the name of St. Giles on my ballot."

The angel smiled: that smile was more or less dangerous.

"My brother: if you let my name appear on the stats board with a single vote, then I'm going to drag you into the arena, don't expect me to show mercy."

"Don't be so pessimistic, angel."

Horus dodged the gaze.

"Even if it's you, you have at least two votes."

"No, I'm not going to support myself."

"Will you support me?"

"Well...... this"

Seeing the gleeful glint in the pupils of the wolf herder, St. Giles instead appeared with an ambiguous smile: his body was leaning back, his fingers caressing his chin, and his tone was long, long.

"I haven't figured it out yet."

“……”

Horus's expression made the angel laugh out loud.

"Don't be so discouraged, Horus: I will choose you in the end, after all, you are the only choice in my heart, in fact, I can't even understand what you are anxious about, the position of commander is obviously in your pocket."

"A lot of brothers will support you."

The angel picked up a fruit and looked at the golden skin of the fruit thoughtfully.

"Not that much, actually."

The wolf god shook his head, and he heard a sigh coming out of his throat: a sigh that was sticky with worry.

"You will support me, and Motarian will support me: I can only be sure of these two votes."

The angel snorted.

"It's true: our Barbaros don't like the commander's arrangement, it's not in line with his fragile heart, but if you let him accept a choice, he'll definitely be on your side."

"He doesn't have a choice."

The angel's words made the wolf god raise an eyebrow, but he didn't answer.

"Of the remaining brothers, who are good friends with me: I believe in my friendship with Rogdorn, but I think there is a good chance that he will not express his opinion, and will remain neutral."

The angel nodded.

"Neutrality is the shield of the Imperial Fist, and it's his weapon: after all, Rogdorn is a master weapon, and even with his bare hands, he's one of the deadliest attackers in the galaxy."

"As for Fergrim: I'm friends with him, but I'm not stupid enough to challenge Ferus in Ferreum's heart, and as for Ferus, he's openly expressed his interest in the commander."

"Even so, he only has two votes."

The genetic protogenone of the Holy Blood Angel Legion spread out his palm, and he peeled off the outer skin of the fruit, chewing its flesh with an indifferent attitude.

"After all, although the family relationship between Vogrim and Ferus is world-famous, on the other hand, it is also destined to have no room for more people between them, isn't it?"

The two genoplasms looked at each other, then laughed.

"Don't let Fogham hear that, my archangel."

"Why, is he angry?"

"No, it's worse."

Horus smiled and shook his head.

"He'll be proud."

"Oh, that's bad: I'm going to get a serious perfume allergy from it."

The two genoplasms then burst into laughter.

After a while, after they had laughed enough, Horus and St. Giles fell silent: and then they fell into a silence that lasted for several seconds.

“……”

“……”

"Who else?"

"Uh......"

"Perhaps, Chagatai?"

"Can you be sure of his attitude?"

“…… In fact, I'm not really sure if I'm friends with him. ”

St. Giles was silent, and he touched his wings, soothing the tips of his feathers that had risen from laughter.

"Your coterie seems to be a little smaller than I thought, Horus."

"No way: after all, it's easy to respect, but it's hard to trust, not everyone can talk about everything like you and me, in fact, there are many brothers I haven't met a few times."

The wolf shepherd god is also quite helpless: he is indeed the most well-connected one of the original bodies, but this so-called [extensive network] is compared to other genetic prototypes, not because the wolf herding god itself is invincible.

In other words: Horus's so-called first place in the network between the primordials is not because he has achieved a perfect score in the field of connections, but because the vast majority of the primordials are failing, which highlights his big brother who barely reached the excellent line.

In the Pingchuan River, and even on the occasional sunken grassland, even a hill of considerable scale can highlight the momentum of the unique mountain under the comparison between the two.

St. Giles had apparently thought of this, but he had no idea of giving Horus a move: after all, Barr's archangel was only struggling with the passing line, and he could even be regarded as voluntarily abandoning the subject.

"Well, Horus, maybe we can think about it from a different perspective."

After a while, St. Giles could only barely squeeze out a solution that was not a solution.

"You see, you now have three votes, which are Motarian, plus me and you, these three votes are very secure, in addition, although Dorne and Chagatai are not sure, but if they participate, there is still a high probability that they will choose you, that's for sure."

"yes, three to five votes."

Horus's smile was a little bitter.

"But we have twenty brothers: maybe nineteen now."

"In terms of pure numbers, this is really worrying."

St. Giles ate the golden fruit in his hand and wiped it out of his eyes, and seemed to make the archangel of Barr feel refreshed: almost without stopping, he took the third fruit from the plate, cut off a piece, and handed it to his somewhat lost brother.

After witnessing Horus eat the pulp, the angel continued.

"But there's another thing you have to consider, my wolf brother: three to five votes isn't a pretty number, but when compared to potential opponents, it's enough to give you an advantage."

"Instead of worrying here, you might as well think about which of our brothers would have the heart to compare themselves with you in the competition for the commander?"

“……”

The wolf shepherd was silent for a moment, and he turned his gaze to St. Giles.

"What do you think?"

"Me?"

The angel raised an eyebrow, and he took an unhurried bite of the fruit, redefining his gaze to the innocent side.

"Please, I've already made an idea for you, so don't expect me to say more: between you and me, you're the one who thinks about the answer, Horus."

"But I also seem to be in charge of the fight?"

"Of course, you're so strong, and you have a bunch of howling wolf cubs."

“…… So what are you responsible for? ”

"Me?"

The angel's wings jumped, and he looked surprised by the question.

"Of course I'm in charge of making you feel superior and satisfied, brother."

“……”

"But I didn't feel it."

Horus smiled, and his smile reminded St. Giles of Abaddon.

This father and son are really alike.

The angel winked at his brother as he thought.

"That's because you're too greedy, brother."

"If you are considerate of my efforts, then you will feel a steady stream of superiority and satisfaction, please, I am actually very hard, okay?"

"Where is your hard work?"

"It's hard to listen to a wolf god here: he is so suitable for this position, no brother can compete with him, but he is still forced by the non-existent danger in his heart, and even wants to pull his innocent brother into this completely unsuitable position."

“……”

"Well, that's really hard."

Horus nodded, and Barr's archangel took a bite of the fruit and raised his triumphant head.

"Where did we just go?"

"Vote count: Aside from me, Ferus should have two votes, and for the rest of the brothers who are interested in being the commander, I can only think of Johnson and Killiman."

"Killiman has its own plus: not everyone has a five-hundred-hundred-world."

With that, the archangel inserted his fingers into his hair, and lifted the golden strands to adjust the delicate and intricate order between them and the wings.

And when it came to the Five Hundred Worlds, a hint of hesitation clearly flashed on the face of the Wolf Shepherd, but he still maintained a smile: the kind of smile that convinced that he could overcome everything.

"But he's not the only one who owns five hundred worlds: there's another force on the rise in the Far Eastern Star Field, isn't it, they're just as powerful and important."

"Avalon, you say?"

"Yes, Morgan, the most special of our blood relatives, she has shown her talents and abilities, and Avalon is just one of them."

"That's it, I'll admit it."

St. Giles nodded.

"The Code of Psionic Energy is already a compulsory textbook for the Ninth Legion, and the worship of that book by my think tanks is almost like the worship of the Book of Words by the Speakers, and in their own words, the Code of Psionic Energy simply teaches them how to live."

"In the Shadow Moon Wolf Legion, there are also such evaluations, I heard that Morgan is even constantly updating the Psionic Codex, and has also launched some special add-ons?"

"It's true: my think tanks have sent the pre-purchase letter to Avalon."

So Morgan is a little better than we think: maybe I can count on her support? After all, in my brief time with her, our relationship with each other was not too bad. ”

"It's not impossible."

St. Giles doesn't seem to have much enthusiasm for this kind of thing.

"But you have to think about it, Horus: Morgan is on Johnson's side, and Johnson's attitude towards the commander, even if it is Riemanrus or Magnus, is clear."

"Yes, of course I do."

Horus nodded.

"But you know, brother, that's Johnson."

"While Morgan did play alongside him for a long time, ......"

"That's Johnson."

"Ah, I understand......"

St. Giles smiled as well.

"After all, that's Johnson."

——————

"But then again, Horus, don't you really worry about the challenge from Johnson, after all, you're worried about Killiman, and Ferus."

“……”

"Don't worry, brother."

"Killeman and Ferrus both have their own strengths, and they are certainly worth worrying about as competitors, but Johnson is different from them, I don't doubt his ability, but ...... in other aspects."

“……”

"Let's put it this way."

"If the one who finally defeats me is Johnson, I'll have my Council of the Four Kings perform a ballet in front of you."

“……”

"Does your Council of the Four Kings know that they still have this function?"

"But, Horus, if you say that, I'm kind of looking forward to a victory from Johnson."

“…… Do you want to support him? ”

"No, I'll just support you."

"But I always feel ......"

"It shouldn't be that simple."

Ah, Horus and St. Giles are really hard to write, it feels a bit broken......

This one, it's a practice hand, these two original bodies are important supporting roles in the future, I'm looking for a feeling: but I feel like I really didn't write these two characters well, after all, if you're not careful, you'll fall into the situation of the phoenix and the iron hand, which would be too bad.

(End of chapter)