Chapter 43 The Flower-Planting Little Chef
"I think you went too far, brother."
"Did I? I thought the response was appropriate."
The exchange took place during a post-compliance debrief — and, unexpectedly, it was Russ arguing restraint while Mordecai Threxion defended annihilation.
Russ folded his arms, unusually serious.
"They surrendered. Why attack after submission?"
Mordecai Threxion's voice remained calm.
"Brother Russ, you know how unreliable xenos can be. Accepting them is inviting wolves into the house — ah, forgive the metaphor. I simply mean we should not grant hostile species the chance to betray us."
"They weren't xenos at all!"
Russ dragged a hand down his beard in frustration.
The world in question had been inhabited by insectoid-appearing beings with limited interstellar capability. When the Imperial fleet arrived, their leader immediately declared submission.
Russ had been satisfied.
Compliance without bloodshed was a victory.
But moments later, Mordecai Threxion deployed Dawn's Roar.
The planet burned.
The Hidden Prisoners
"They weren't aliens?" Mordecai Threxion replied evenly. "Then why did my legion uncover three million human captives in their sub-levels?"
Russ blinked.
He had learned about the prisoners only after the purge.
"They enslaved humanity. I destroyed them and freed the enslaved. Where is the fault?"
Russ exhaled sharply.
"I followed Imperial compliance protocol."
"And I followed human survival logic."
The tension hung between them.
Yuki's Verdict
"Enough."
Yuki sighed.
"Neither of you is wrong."
She rubbed her temples.
The definition of xenos remained one of the Imperium's most dangerous philosophical fractures.
Genetically, true baseline humanity was rare.
Skeletal structure often misled classification.
Some "abhumans" were more divergent than certain alien forms.
Research later revealed:
The insectoids were mutated human descendants.
By Imperial Truth standards — human.
By common perception — alien.
Thus the Imperium's fragile compromise:
Those who submit are human.
Those who enslave humanity are enemies.
Russ upheld doctrine.
Mordecai Threxion upheld instinct.
Both served humanity.
A Dangerous Pattern
Yet Yuki had noticed something troubling.
Mordecai Threxion did not merely oppose hostile xenos.
He hunted them.
Surrender rarely saved them.
Resistance guaranteed extermination.
Even human regimes that resisted too long faced ruthless assault.
And yet…
His campaigns produced astonishing results.
The Dawn's Roar War Machine
The Second Legion had evolved rapidly.
Structure:
12 Companies
Each named for a Chinese Zodiac animal
Commanders titled Cavalry Generals
Answering to the Grand General — Mordecai Threxion
Specializations included:
Rat Company — infiltration & deep penetration
Ox Company — fortification & siege logistics
Tiger Company — shock assault & breakthrough
Dragon Company — command coordination & battlefield relay
Snake Company — counter-insurgency & assassination
Mordecai deployed companies situationally rather than doctrinally.
His adaptability produced extraordinary efficiency.
Casualties remained low.
Kill ratios soared.
In versatility, only the Zero Legion rivaled them.
A Legion That Would Not Shrink
Unlike most Legions, Dawn's Roar possessed a stable recruitment base.
Domus provided trained, disciplined candidates.
The Legion never fell below 200,000 warriors.
Whispers spread through the Expedition fleets:
Only the First Legion surpasses them.
Even the Sixteenth may soon fall behind.
Horus Notices
Their meteoric rise did not go unnoticed.
Horus had grown quiet.
He contacted Yuki less frequently.
Which made her far more anxious.
Why had such a powerful Legion been erased from history?
She pushed the thought aside.
Clapped her hands.
"You've done well. I'll cook."
The Primarch Chef
Mordecai Threxion had brought Domus produce and spices.
Some resembled Terran seasonings.
With Imperial expansion came access to purer ingredients.
For Yuki, this was a culinary renaissance.
Time to demonstrate humanity's highest achievement:
food.
Even Mordecai Threxion — refined, restrained, serene — possessed the immutable Chinese reverence for cuisine.
Russ required no explanation.
Soon the three Primarchs were experimenting with cooking methods between campaigns.
Yuki discovered a new role:
personal chef to demigods.
Dinner Begins
"Dinner's ready!" Russ howled.
Mordecai Threxion was already seated, smiling faintly — a hint of mischief behind his composure.
Yuki emerged in an apron carrying a massive platter.
"Black pepper grilled beef shank. Use utensils. I'm looking at you, Russ."
Russ slowly withdrew his reaching hand.
Mordecai Threxion began eating immediately.
Russ stared.
How could someone eat so fast and remain elegant?
He had barely sliced one piece when Mordecai gestured toward clean bones.
"You are slow, brother."
Russ felt a barbaric urge to punch that serene face.
From the kitchen:
"Don't rush! There's more! Leave some for me, you bastards!"
Meanwhile — Horus
Horus was exhausted.
Not from battle.
From pressure.
Mordecai Threxion's Legion was rising like a comet.
If this pace continued, Dawn's Roar could surpass the Shadowmoon Wolves within a decade.
And Horus aspired to become Warmaster.
He needed results.
Victory.
Unquestionable leadership.
He could not be eclipsed.
So he drove his Legion relentlessly.
The Mountain Fortress
The Sixteenth Legion now faced a human regime refusing compliance.
The defenders had retreated into mountain fortifications engineered for attrition warfare.
Horus had attempted negotiation repeatedly.
They refused.
He did not want more human bloodshed.
He did not want delay.
He exhaled slowly.
Decision made.
Horus's Deployment
"Abaddon, record this."
2nd & 3rd Companies: establish defensive line at Tashan Pass
6th & 9th Companies: rapid flank infiltration
1st Company: teleport assault insertion
4th & 5th Companies: rear containment and escape denial
"Understood."
"Repeat it."
"Deliver two packs of Tashan."
"You son of a—"
Abaddon grinned.
He had sensed Horus's tension.
"Great Horus, trust yourself. Trust your sons."
Horus paused.
Yes.
He did.
Victory
The assault concluded swiftly.
Minimal casualties.
Maximum compliance.
Horus exhaled.
Peace, briefly.
He realized he had not spoken with his sister in weeks.
"Abaddon, distance to the Imperial Wings?"
"Three hundred thousand kilometers."
Close enough for real-time transmission.
Good.
The Call
Inside the Imperial Wings…
"Mordecai Threxion! Leave some for me!"
"Brother, you eat too slowly."
Yuki returned with another dish.
"Tomato stewed beef brisket. Possibly not tomatoes. Try it."
At that moment, the transmission connected.
Horus saw:
His sister in an apron.
Serving food.
To two starving demigods.
"Sister?"
The room froze.
Mordecai Threxion stopped chewing.
Russ paused mid-bite.
Yuki turned slowly.
Why do I feel guilty?
I cooked food. That's not a crime.
Still, her voice softened.
"Oh, Horus. What's wrong?"
Horus's expression hardened.
"You cooked this yourself?"
"…yes?"
His voice cracked.
"I have never eaten a meal cooked by my sister. Not once. Thirty years — and not a single bite."
The injustice was cosmic.
"Why do the new brothers get it first?!"
"No, Horus, listen—"
Yuki scrambled for words.
Horus glanced at Mordecai Threxion for support.
Mordecai silently scooped another spoonful of beef brisket.
Horus trembled.
This repressed flirt.
This elegant thief.
This culinary bandit.