[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor":3,"chapter-warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-594":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Warhammer: Starting as a Planetary Governor",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1681364,2147,"Chapter 594 - 595 – The Lion: Damn it—let’s settle this like men!","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-594",594,"\u003Cp>The silent forest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The heavy tread of the Lion, his gene-sons, and the Men of Iron Extinction War-Automata rolled through the trees, echoing far into the distance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All the forest's lifeforms—brutish megafauna included—kept well clear of this death-bringing host whose every step stank of malice and slaughter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Zabriel, what is the Imperium's greatest lurking threat—I mean from enemies across the galaxy?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Something had occurred to the Lion, and he asked it without preamble.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now that he commanded a mighty host, he had the spare bandwidth to weigh broader problems—like smashing the foe invading Vostonia, and then dealing with the Imperium's wider hazards in the galaxy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zabriel thought for a moment and answered with care.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The greatest external threat to the Imperium is likely the Despoiler, the Warmaster of Chaos, Ezekyle Abaddon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For ten millennia he has raided the Imperium again and again, launching grand crusades of slaughter and leaving the Imperium scarred each time.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This son of the Lion had heard of the Chaos Warmaster's dread deeds even before the Great Rift—few could stand against him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the Rift's opening was tied to that name.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Abaddon?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion glanced at his gene-son, a touch of doubt in his eye. \"Ezekyle Abaddon—Horus's First Captain—he's lived until now?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If he understood correctly, Abaddon had survived for ten thousand years; even for an Astartes, that was an absurd span.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even the Lion himself, as a Primarch, couldn't swear he'd last ten millennia, and his long sleep had left him aged.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Yes. Abaddon has lived for ten thousand years. The Warp's Dark Gods gifted him hateful power—letting him survive in vile fashion.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zabriel nodded. \"Even stripping away rumor and exaggeration from what I know, he wields Primarch-like strength, and he destroyed Cadia—one of the Imperium's most critical bastion worlds.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Primarch's strength, is it?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion didn't show much concern; he only snorted. \"When we finish our present business, we'll go have words with Horus's fine son.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Profane power merited vigilance, but not fear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As a Primarch, the Lion would not be cowed by a brother's son, nor imagine the wretch his equal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His Primarch brothers were gone—dead, vanished, or traitor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since embracing his nature, the Lion felt that none in the Imperium—or the galaxy—could best him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Including that Savior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He still questioned the Savior's claim to be a Primarch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The foe he envisioned—the real enemy—was the fallen brother from his dreams, a Primarch twisted into a hideous daemon by blasphemous power.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet he could never see the face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Horus… is it you, my once-brother…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A cold gleam flashed in the Lion's gaze, and beneath it a throb of anticipation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hoped the Primarch foreseen in his warning dreams was the Luna Wolf—the Empire's former Warmaster.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he could cross blades with him again—crush him—and make up for missing the Siege of Terra ten millennia ago, for failing to prove his loyalty with steel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He would show Father—the Emperor—his true measure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he turned the dream over, he remembered it more sharply—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On a world on the brink of ruin, a fallen Primarch obliterated a colossal void-fortress, tore apart starships, and punched a giant meteor into gravel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The scene's verisimilitude and the sheer menace in that power gnawed at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Judging by those images, that thing's strength far exceeded a Primarch—edging into the unbelievable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Even Father, in those days, could not have done that,\" the Lion thought.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What the Emperor could not do, he surely could not.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A top-tier psyker could rip open a Titan or a warship; with weapons and kit, he might manage that much too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But to directly tear down a void-fortress? That was excess.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was inclined to call it dreamlike exaggeration, a warning symbol only—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not literal fact.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That one cannot be that strong—even if he is Horus.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion gave a dry, self-mocking smile.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To be rattled by a dream was not the way of a Knight of Caliban.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All he needed was to find the foe—then draw his sword.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gradually, the Lion felt the Forests of Caliban around him change; dense jungle thinned into towering redwoods.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That signaled a new destination.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But something else was wrong. \"Vostonia isn't a heavy-industry hub? How could there be timber of this size?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By the newest intel, Vostonia was a barren world whose natural and mineral wealth had been stripped long ago.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Centuries of industrial filth had turned swathes of land into dead zones where neither beast nor plant survived.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Outside the manufactoria, most people crammed into a lightly polluted belt near the equator; even food and water came in from off-world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such was the norm for an Imperial forge-world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By those parameters, this could not be Vostonia—it had to be somewhere else.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Zabriel, run the data. Tell me where we are. I don't think this is Vostonia. It cannot be.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion's voice was level.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Imperium's augury kit had come a long way in ten thousand years, and its databanks were richer. With the right comparisons, you could pin a force's location to a specific world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He half-suspected the Savior's bizarre drill had bent the Forest's roadway—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And thrown their heading off.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beep-beep-beep—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Yes, my lord. I'll have it shortly.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zabriel produced a large augury engine and began the sweep, whose return would be cross-matched to the sector atlas.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then you got an answer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The typical error was small—assuming you were within the Empire's grasp in the Mists Region's principal sectors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"By the Emperor, let this be an industrial world at least—a world with a proper orbital port.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion eyed the redwoods and the chugging augury, an edge of tension in him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since waking, he'd washed up in barren wastes one after another, surviving by the knife; he had nearly picked up a neurosis.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had no wish to be stranded on another savage world—nor to accept the Savior's material handouts in penury again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a miserable feeling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And it would mean a wasted march—another long detour.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Best case, this world was in the Vostonia Pan-Sector—not something unknown.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"My lord, this world is a jungle planet in the Okacidi Sector—Ur'la.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was wrecked during the Second Tyrannic War; afterward, the Imperium resettled colonists here to rebuild.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Alas, the world has never taken off—and because of the Eleventh Tithe it was penalized by the Administratum.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Population fell further.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zabriel gave a brisk brief, then the answer the Lion wanted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"There's a small orbital port above Ur'la.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>More importantly, this world lies only two sectors from the Vostonia Pan-Sector. That should count as good news.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had barely finished when the ground began to quake and thunder; more blasts followed in a chain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Litter on the redwood canopies came hissing down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That wasn't natural. That was heavy machinery shaking the earth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The host traded wary looks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Titans. That's the voice of Imperial God-Machines.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion supplied the answer, face grave.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had directed Titan deployments and joint operations more than once. He knew the feel of marching Titans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Which meant a large-scale war was burning on this world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By experience, the Imperium only deployed such precious God-Machines when wars reached white heat, when obstacles refused to fall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Warriors—prepare for battle!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion drew a deep breath. At least they weren't late.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His Extinction War-Automata could scour the foes of Man from a world even better than Titans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He lunged for the jungle's edge at once; the Men of Iron spun up to combat state and hurtled after him—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Faster even than Space Marines.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thoom—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion vaulted from the treeline, a towering figure dropping from twenty meters up, his impact cracking the earth in a ring.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He radiated dominion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And there he saw the source of the commotion—four or five Warlord-class Titans—and, floating in the air, a string of red banners:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Safety First In Heart And Mind—For Yourself, Your Family, And The Savior!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Plan With Care, Build With Science, High Quality And High Efficiency—Craft Excellence!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Safety For You And Me—Happiness For All!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…and so on.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not just that—those God-Machines themselves wore similar banners—stenciled with the same kinds of slogans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion—and the bloodline sons who'd sprinted up—stood there a little stunned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Skulls buzzing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What in the Throne… Where were the Titans' honor scrolls and mantles? Why were they covered in this… stuff?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And what were these sacred engines doing—standing in mud, digging holes like augers?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Angels of the Emperor—this is a restricted construction site. No unauthorized personnel may enter. Please take your machines and depart in an orderly fashion. Dedicated liaisons will meet you for coordination.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A human voice boomed from a vox-caster overhead, flustered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This is… a construction site?!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that, the Lion lifted his eyes to a big board posted off the starboard side—CIVIL WORKS NOTICE BOARD.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It listed the contractor: Savior Works Ministry, 134th Construction Group—Ur'la Project Office. The person responsible for this site: Pickel Maca.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Other relevant details followed beneath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion and his sons stared at the Titans huffing and chewing dirt and simply could not process it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What had the galaxy become?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They could not imagine who or what would toss Titans into a construction project.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sacred, gigantic engines weren't they supposed to be kept in their vaults most days, anointed with sacred oils, hymned with litanies, maintained with reverence?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, when the Imperium's need was bleakest, dispatched to the field to break the foes of Man with unstoppable fire?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How in the name of the Throne did God-Machines come to be… digging foundations?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Savior—you, you…!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion's heart trembled; pain rose in him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man was an extravagant wastrel—squandering even the Imperium's dearest engines of war.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He half-feared that if the Savior ever got his hands on Men of Iron, he'd use them as… laborers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beyond reason!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Angels of the Emperor, please remain in place!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A transport pulled up nearby. Pickel Maca came pelting over, bathed in sweat—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Worry written all over him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had only just earned a supervisor's billet in the Construction Group. If a safety incident or \"special mishap\" happened on his watch, he'd have no face left for his grandfather.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A miner of Urth's first cohort, a worker-delegate once received by the Savior—his grandfather would flay him with words—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Saying he had disgraced the Maca name.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Construction Group met every stripe of accident when rebuilding target worlds:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ambushes, digging up dangerous relics—the neighboring Group once cracked open a Necron tomb and nearly got half a crew killed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time, he had a batch of unknown Astartes pop out of nowhere—plus a crowd of ancient-looking machines.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Handled poorly, disaster.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luckily, these Astartes did not seem malicious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You're the site chief for the Savior's dominion?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion looked the mortal over and gave his cover. \"I am a son of the Dark Angels—the Lion's blood—on special duty upon this world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We mean no harm.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He did not expose his identity as a Primarch—or any related details.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He did not know what the Savior, and the forces under him, would do with a Primarch—nor what counters they had prepared.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Better to meet as a Dark Angel, face to face, and talk it through.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A surprise meeting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I'm Young Maca. My grandfather is Old Maca—but no one draws that line; call me Maca.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By the Savior's grace, I have no power to interfere in your mission.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But given the current situation, you should meet the person in charge of this world—the Primarch…\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before the supervisor finished, the Lion cut in like he was giving an order. \"Maca, then take me to your highest authority—the Primarch.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He was impatient to see the Savior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion fell silent after that, revealing nothing more.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He ordered his sons and the Men of Iron back into the trees to wait; he himself would take Zabriel to meet the Savior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If the Savior was here, the world was likely safe. He was not worried for his own safety.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If anyone should worry, it was the Savior.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man would surely meet him under heavy guard, no?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So musing, the Lion followed Supervisor Maca toward a small shuttle parked at the site perimeter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Lord Dark Angel.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maca spoke up, awkward, pointing at the white safety helmet on his own head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"We're about to cross active construction. Everyone must wear a safety helmet—regulations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Per the Works Ministry's safety code, nothing—no matter who—goes into the core construction area without a safety helmet. If anyone notices, I'm in trouble.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion eyed him. \"You mean… even the Emperor's Angels must follow this rule to enter a worksite?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Astartes helmets shrugged off savage impacts; what was a safety helmet to such armor?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Yes. Even the Emperor's Angels wear safety helmets on-site.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maca's tone was firm. He pointed to a nearby safety-norms pictograph—handily, of an Astartes wearing a safety helmet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Basically a hardhat perched over a power-armor helm—with special notes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He added, \"Even His Majesty the Savior wears one to enter.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Every strange rule sits atop blood and tears.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before, Astartes did not need safety kit to enter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The reason the Works Ministry's Construction Group added this clause was that one Astartes, patrolling a site, wore neither helm nor hardhat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A component sloughed off a Titan and smashed his skull in—sending him to the Throne on the spot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The incident rocked the Group; they were held partly responsible. Had the Marine worn a helm—or a hardhat—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He might have lived.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A hardhat's one-shot forcefield could trigger in crisis and save the wearer.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the censure, the Group added these rules to avoid greater culpability.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon enough, the Lion and Zabriel were wearing red safety helmets for safety-officers, following the white-hatted supervisor across the site.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then they boarded the shuttle for the city, to meet the Primarch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inside the cabin—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion and Zabriel stared out the ports in silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As they passed a workers' rest sector, they saw the crews ate better than the Knights of Caliban.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their lodgings too were better than the people's on Caliban.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yes, much of that was because the Imperium's baseline was wretched—on most worlds, if a man had his fill of corpse-starch, it was a happy, harmonious place.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even so, the discovery stung the Lion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Did Father really allow him to do this?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion's teeth clicked as a monumental statue of the Savior rose in the city's heart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It wasn't an homage—it was a copy of the Emperor—one to one—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With the Savior's face and physique \"beautified.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Holier—more imposing—than the old Imperial statues.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He did not like it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The shuttle did not head for a landing field; it flew straight for a great square.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There, in a tangle of annoyance and anticipation, the Lion met that towering Primarch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Primarch walked toward him, ringed by the Custodian Guard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A golden iron halo crowned his head; light breathed from him; a blue Primarch's war-panoply draped him in awe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Roboute?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion stared at the familiar figure and froze—blank.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hadn't this nuisance died? Why was he alive in front of him?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When he'd heard of Guilliman's death, he'd grieved a while—but seeing the man in the flesh, the old dislike rose—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Diluting the joy of reunion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Guilliman saw the Lion as well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stopped, voice edged with a tease. \"Long time, Lion. Looks like life's treated you… poorly.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion's fist tightened at this smug pest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He recalled the grudges between them—especially that damned Codex Astartes, the breaking of the First Legion—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And the Empire's later decline.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fire licked the floor of his heart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You self-important… bas—tard!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Lion roared—and hurled himself at Guilliman.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Get +20 Extra Chapters On — P@tr3on \"Zaelum\"]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Every 500 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter Drop]\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>[Thanks for Reading!]\u003C\u002Fp>",2601,"2026-06-06T13:29:18.240Z",1,"novelbin.me","16ebde293bf32a6e0788ff6b455810382873469561492f727c55e7bb388a61b8","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-595","warhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-chapter-593",771,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fwarhammer-starting-as-a-planetary-governor-cover.jpg"]