Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

When the three primarchs Perturabo, Rogal Dorn, and Angron, and the Archon Conor Guilliman were walking in the maze-like walkways of the garden outside the Council Chamber, no one knew where Mors was. But Perturabo was sure he was nearby.

Maybe in another passage separated by a wall, maybe using his invisible body to shuttle through the neatly planted shrubs. No matter where he was, his voice began to vibrate psionicly in his ears from time to time, effectively testing the Primarch's ability to divide his mind.

+He is different from you. +Morse said that at this time, Robert Guilliman had just taken a step from behind the thick bush wall, and fixed a corner of the green laurel branches on his head, and the small piece of blond hair on the top of his head exposed on the dark brown branches of the bush. outside.

After the giant, who was as tall as Perturabo, completely appeared in front of him, the Iron Lord immediately guessed what characteristics Morse's vague description pointed to - youth.

Robert Guilliman was younger than the three of them. His clean and unpainted face was filled with a kind of innocent confidence, and his movements showed a little bit of the reserve of meeting a stranger. A cobalt blue native gown wrapped around his slender body like colored satin wrapped around herbs and bouquets of flowers, transforming the Primarch's innate alien features into an unearthly beauty for mortals to admire.

Perturabo noticed a quick flash of pride in Archon Conor's eyes, giving Robert Guilliman a clear reason for this trait.

+He is younger than us. + Perturabo said, listening to Conor and Euton introduce their son.

+ Of course, do you still think you are young? + Morse replied, his voice carried accurately over the psychic channel, + I remember when you were the same age as him, you sat through almost your entire naming ceremony because you couldn't push away while remaining graceful. Your heavy steel chair. +

+Is this happening? +Peturabo's expression remained unchanged, +You remembered it wrong. +

+Although I am old and my memory is fuzzy, some interesting things seem to have happened just yesterday and are completely unforgettable. +

Mors said, cutting off the psychic connection, leaning against the bushes to watch the first meeting of the Primarchs.

A blond leader does not seem to be highly compatible with the cultural circle in which he lives. Fortunately, Morse has always considered himself not a stubborn fundamentalist, but he can't stand it - why is it in Macragge Gardens? When I plant a palm tree, I can't help but express a few words of disapproval.

After knowing that he would need to take over tens of thousands of "sons" who fell from the sky in the future, Robert quickly recovered from his surprise. It seems that he successfully passed the time when he first heard about the military system established by the emperor that contained too many emotional factors. The resulting psychic impact brought the military characteristics of the Space Marines to the forefront of a series of positioning adjectives.

Perhaps in his opinion, calling the general of the legion "father" is just a substitute for the word general. As for the true relationship between father and son... this is for a ten-year-old Primarch. Still too hard to imagine.

After chatting with Perturabo for a few more words, Robert's bright blue eyes shone with a brighter light. His adoptive parents looked at each other and tacitly left the space for conversation to children of the same generation.

Mors followed the Primarchs who crowded the originally narrow garden path for a while and listened to the introduction of the Emperor and his Aquila banner by the three brothers and Robert Guilliman.

Among these introducers, the most emotional one was Angron, who was so moved by Robert's aristocratic temperament that his fingers turned inwards. Perturabo cooperated in answering Guilliman's questions, while Rogal Dorn remained appropriately silent based on his own knowledge. In any case, the relationship between these reunited brothers can be said to be harmonious.

The craftsman listened for a while, then turned around and left, no longer paying attention to the scene of the brothers talking in the maze garden with many palm trees and the breezy sun.

He found Conor Guilliman and Thalasa Yuton on a bench near the Councilor's Chamber. It is worth mentioning that although they actually assumed the responsibilities of the Primarch's father and mother, and had been together in Macragge's political whirlpool for many years, the two were not husband and wife.

Morse found a suitable way to appear. He appeared in the blind spot of the two people's vision in the garden, then walked to the bench opposite the two people, took a hold of his black robe, and sat down comfortably.

"Perturabo told you about me," said the craftsman. "I am Morse, Perturabo's mentor. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The two Macraggeans introduced themselves to him calmly, pretending that Morse had not suddenly appeared as if he had fallen from the sky.

"Why don't you come to the family gathering tonight, Mr. Morse?" Euton asked. "Your children are looking forward to you."

"You are not the first person to think that he and I are father and son," Morse said, "but believe me, the reason why I don't accept it is a little more complicated than you think."

He leaned forward slightly, observing the consul and chamberlain in front of him, and at the same time secretly listened to their thoughts without scruples. The two Macraggeans were judging him, and at the same time from the perspective of the Macragge to the visitors from the strange planet, from the perspective of the natives to the so-called emissary of the "Emperor of Mankind", and from the perspective of the primarch's nurturer to the other. The level of people responsible. To Morse's surprise, all three reviews he received were good.

"You are excellent educators." Morse said. "So far, this is the first time I have seen a Primarch with a personality so close to that of a human."

"We could see it was the same with his brothers," Connaugh said with a smile.

"Oh, it's still different." Morse shrugged, smiling like a diplomat without interest. "You are actually afraid when you are surrounded by three Primarchs, Archon Conor. This is a warning from human nature. They are strong, tall, extraordinary minds, perfect, and the higher level of your species. Harbingers. Yes, they have a personality close to that of a human, but you all know it's different."

He relaxed his upper body, shifted his weight back, and sat up again: "This is what I find incredible. How did you manage to love Robert Guilliman and use him during those times when Robert Guilliman was still very different from human beings?" It’s the love parents have for their children.”

Connor was a little silent. Outside the Senate, he was not as talkative as the people of Macragge thought.

"You are also a nurturer, sir," Euton reminded.

Morse sighed. "This is still different. Considering that after a word is excessively deconstructed and abused, language will lose the foundation of its existence. Sometimes I still insist on the original definition of some words, such as human beings, and I happen to be obsessed with human beings. There has been no attachment to my identity from the beginning... Well, I’m just here to chat.”

His real question lingered in his throat several times before it was finally asked relatively directly.

"I think you have the ability to choose other education methods," he said, "but you put a genetically engineered creature in a mask with a human face. Why reinforce this misalignment?"

Ms. Euton's expression became serious. Even if she didn't mean to do so, if the person facing her was not Morse, she would definitely feel an invisible and powerful pressure. She is based on Macragge and relies on the power that comes with ability. This trait profoundly changes and shapes her.

"He's our boy, sir. Don't call him that," Euton said, slightly warningly.

"I think I need to emphasize that the word 'creation' in my mouth is not derogatory. For professional reasons, I even prefer artificial things to natural things." Morse spread his left palm, "It seems that we are on this topic. There are too many differences.”

"We are human beings, and we have never learned to raise children in the same way as other species." Connaught joined the conversation warmly.

"Okay, okay." Morse gave up fighting the two fathers and mothers.

Unless the subject of the debate can attract his extra attention, he often doesn't like to start a deep debate with others on a certain topic - that means carefully chosen words, a confrontation of invisible swords and a meaningless victory. Or fail, after all, he will not change himself because of verbal exchange of thoughts.

"I also don't want to see Robert Guilliman at the door tomorrow asking us to leave Macragge immediately, so that I will receive an immediate condemnation from the Emperor. He'd better find someone who can do diplomacy to collect him next time "Children." Morse said, "By the way, I guess no one has talked to you in detail about the human empire and the emperor?"

Connor nodded. "We are willing to listen to your explanation."

Two printed gold-covered booklets fell from Morse's open hands: "For battle-hardened politicians, we can't finish discussing the questions you can ask until the dinner. Fortunately, I have written a book about Alien before. In my spare time, I have started writing the Black Book of the Human Empire. You can read it directly as my speech."

——

"...This road is named after the city of Salem," Robert Guilliman waved his hand in the air, and the cobalt blue robe he was wearing billowed and flapped with his movements, becoming translucent in the sunlight. "That city used to be in the middle of the planet Macragge and was famous for its high-quality fruit wine. It is said that the city was composed of thousands of small islands. It had plenty of sunshine, the climate was maintained at a level suitable for the human body all year round, and people lived in small groups. , and never became involved in the dispute until the island gradually sank and the local residents were forced to evacuate to neighboring land.”

"In Olympia, the country famous for its winemaking is Ax." Perturabo said, "I have only been there once. The people of Ax drink a lot of strong alcohol and their folk customs are quite strong. Now under the influence of the planet tyrant Carifon Under its governance, the level of public security ranks first on the planet.”

Angron turned to look at Guilliman in the middle: "Nukeria is growing potatoes. Maybe they will make wine from them."

Rogal Dorn followed behind in a muffled voice, placing his hand on the golden skull on his waist several times in an attempt to remove it. However, considering that the taste of Invite's wine was not as good as the Olympia wine that Perturabo once shared with him, he thought it would be better to wait until a few people talked about special high-sugar and high-fat foods before joining the conversation. choose.

"Have you brought wine on board your ship?" Guilliman said enthusiastically, "We can share it with each other at the dinner. Although Salem has sunk, Macragge still has other cities with good wines."

"There are still two bottles that have not been opened, but it is too late to pick them up at this time." Perturabo said, "Within a month of waiting for your army to arrive, we can find another opportunity to share them."

Guilliman could only nod. At the dinner party when he first met his brothers, any method that could further bring them closer was worth adopting, which would have a long-lasting and subtle impact on the harmonious relationship between the two parties in the future - these details slipped silently from his heart.

When his brain, which could think countless times per second, realized his deliberateness, Guilliman was briefly annoyed. He didn't want the invisible rules among the Macragge councillors and nobles to pollute the sincere conversation between him and his blood brother.

"Okay. We will prepare to welcome the Space Marines in the next period of time, and give priority to improving the supply system." Guilliman put down his hand and looked away from Perturabo, who was wearing a robe on his right, who was similar in shape to him, and was a little curious about Angron's costume that combined brown leather armor and red cloth.

His memory told him that this costume only appeared in two places in Macragge now: one was the dressing room of the actors, and the other was the museum of the arena.

"In this city, we have the largest historical museum on the planet Macragge," said Guilliman. "For thousands of years, we have collected fragments of the old night's history and recorded the history we created. For example, decades ago, we banned the last arena in Macragge. The backward and barbaric elements in this culture will interfere with the health and vitality of the development of Macragge's culture today. Now it is only preserved in the museum as a warning and admonition given to us by history."

Angron listened silently.

At this point, he perked up again: "My father Connor is promoting a reform of the Senate's deliberative system and even the entire Macragge administrative system, such as curbing land annexation, stipulating the land ownership of each household, and uniformly arranging the excess land and distributing it to the foreign allies and the poor of Macragge. In addition, my father also proposed to distribute the excess grain sent to Macragge by agricultural planets to citizens at a low price, and expand the granary... I have always believed that our museum will build a new exhibition hall for him."

"This will be a series of long-term and grand reform measures," Perturabo immediately heard the potential in it. In fact, in his youth, he had promoted many similar changes - of course, this was after he took control of the army of Lokos.

"If there is no intention to use coercive military force, it will take decades to implement and implement it. But if you trust my architectural design ability, then I - and Rogal Dorn can jointly participate in the expansion of the local museum." He said.

"It doesn't take that long. My ability is enough to shorten this time span several times. I have calculated that within five to ten years, Macragge will enter a new stage."

After Robert Guilliman finished this sentence, he found that Perturabo showed a somewhat strange look.

"But you will join the Great Crusade in a month, my brother. Haven't you started to imagine your departure?"