Chapter 255: The Bad Example You Set
The booklet had been distributed, and the various training programs were running smoothly. Thanks to the peculiarities of the Death Guard, the Endurance had no shortage of empty compartments, and equipment could simply be moved in and put to use.
With the encouragement of study during leisure time, and the constant flow of personnel through the different courses, the atmosphere within the Death Guard noticeably loosened. The acceptance of the new Galaspar-born Death Guards had also improved considerably.
But recently… the Grave Warden reported to him that homemade booklets had begun circulating within the Legion. These self-made pamphlets by Death Guards were even starting to spread into the ranks of the Hadeshound units.
Hades stared silently at the four or five crude, paper-bound squares that Garro had laid across his desk. Taking up a loaf of bread as hard as a steel baton—apparently the work of one of the culinary trainees, delivered to him by a social-governance student—he bit into it.
Garro stood with arms crossed, silently watching Hades, as if reproaching him for setting this trend in motion with his own handbook.
Well then. Hades opened one of the pamphlets, deliberately critical, to see what the Death Guards had been writing.
Oh—this one was a compendium of poisons compiled from Mortarion's lectures, alongside answers to personal questions written by the Magos Biologists. The questions had been collected and summarized.
Hades skimmed through it, nodded, and reached for another piece of bread.
"Not bad."
Ecological management, poison crafting and handling—these had become the most popular courses among the Death Guard. Even if they selected only the very best students, they could already fill out two entire squads of apothecaries.
It was safe to predict that the Death Guard's pharmacology and toxicology would bear rich fruit in the future.
Mortarion himself was pleased by their enthusiasm. With a sweep of his hand, the Primarch released all the surplus toxins from his laboratory, and even approved Hades' request to expand the Endurance's ecological sphere.
Barbarus' conditions happened to be favorable at the time, so the Magos Biologists decided to base parts of the new ecosystem on Barbarus' environment.
Hades blinked.
He couldn't quite tell if these warriors were truly interested in pharmacology… or simply eager to spend more time near Mortarion.
Best not to mention that to Mortarion.
Hades flipped open the next booklet and immediately perked up.
Ah—this one was about his own lectures on social governance.
Curiously, most of those who chose social governance were Galaspar-born, with a smaller number from Barbarus. Hades realized that many of those Barbarus-born faces seemed familiar.
With great interest, he read through their notes. They shared reflections on the books he had recommended, as well as personal guides on literacy—since most of the works he listed were academic texts, written in the elaborate syntax of High Gothic.
Good. In fact, excellent.
Although the number of Death Guards choosing social governance was fewer than those in ecological governance, at least their attitude was earnest.
Because the subject encouraged discussion and exchange, the booklet was fairly thick.
Hades kept reading.
[Tip: You can go to the nearest cafeteria and find a brother currently taking culinary lessons. Eat whatever they've made. Though it will taste awful, you must praise it as highly as you can. Then they'll give you their pile of inedible leftovers.]
[Take these leftovers to Commander Hades after training, and have him taste them on the spot. The Commander will linger a while longer, and during that time he'll answer your questions.]
Hades put down the half-eaten bread in his hand, staring at the bread in confusion.
This loaf of bread is something that had been given to him by a Death Guard after they finished training, and after giving it to him, that warrior had also asked him some questions about governing matters.
—???
Hades drew a deep breath and decided not to think too much about it. But one thing was certain: from now on, he would never again accept snacks handed to him by any Death Guard.
The next one or two pamphlets were also collections of reflections. Although many other kinds of training were offered, fencing and exotic weapon drills were just as popular—most of the Terran-born made up the bulk of these spare-time sparring sessions.
And then came the very last booklet.
Hades assumed it would be more of the same.
He glanced up at Garro, who stood across from his desk.
True, the spread of such things carried some risks in terms of form, but in terms of content? It was all positive—even commendable from an official standpoint.
"Don't be so grim, Garro. I think these are all fine."
Garro silently tapped his finger on the last booklet.
What now?
A warning bell rang in Hades' head. Emperor forbid it be some kind of religious text—he could not afford to go through that mess again.
Drawing a deep breath, he carefully opened the last booklet—
"Compilation of Jokes"
…Huh?
Hades stared in disbelief.
The shock it gave him was no less than when the Death Guards had first seen the Death Guard's Handbook.
Death Guards—no, Mortarion's sons—could have a sense of humor?
[After a joint operation with other Legions, the healthy and intact Commander Hades returned with an apology letter from the allied Legion. They admitted their mistakes during the cooperation.
And now, Commander Hades will read the apology aloud.
"Wait—which Legion sent the letter?"
Captain Garro asked.
"Well, it wasn't the Iron Warriors," Commander Hades replied.]
Hades' brain stalled, overloading.
He lifted his trembling gaze to Garro, who only gave him a look of helpless resignation.
"Keep reading."
[Earlier, the Primarch took the Commander away from the Armoury.
Where did they go?
Well, not the cafeteria.]
Hades fell silent. He realized these quips were imitations of the little jokes he himself had written at the bottom of the handbook.
"Not just that," Garro drawled.
"They've also started holding 'Try Not to Laugh' contests in secret."
Hades felt his mind filling with question marks to the point of bursting. Was this truly the Death Guard? Where was he, really?
Seeing that Hades was finally stunned, Garro pressed on with a kind of vengeful satisfaction.
"These contests are very popular among the Legion. They've already held the first one. The champion was a Barbarus-born named Lerna."
Unwilling to believe, Hades forced Garro to take him to secretly witness one of these absurd competitions. But the sight that greeted him was even more overwhelming than he had imagined.
A circle of hulking warriors sat stony-faced around a small table. At the table's ends sat two massive contestants, both of them were Galaspar-born by the look of them.
"If one of Galaspar's Order knights choked on a loaf of bread, who would die today—and why?"
"The knight, of course. Because he choked on bread."
"No. It would be the three hundred workers in the bread factory. And one messenger boy."
"Why a messenger boy?"
"Because he was the one who brought the news."
A faint chuckle slipped out. The man on the far side of the table began laughing, harder and harder, until he couldn't even straighten his back.
The audience clapped, some of them even taking notes.
"My apologies—you win," the loser said, drawing a deep breath.
"Your imagination deserves respect."
"No," his opponent replied. "I am that messenger boy."
Compared to the deadpan Death Guards inside, trading gallows humor without a twitch, it was Hades—sprawled outside the door, eavesdropping—who broke down first.
He had been wrong. Mortarion's sons did, in fact, possess a sense of humor.
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