Emperor's Bane

Chapter 10 Dawn Redemption ([-])

Some ten years have passed since Perturabo reunited with his father and joined the great crusade to reclaim the galaxy.

If you want to use one word to sum up the ten years that the Iron Lord has entered the galaxy, then there is only [confusion].

Perturabo was always confused.

When he is in his hometown of Olympia, looking up at the lonely starry sky and that terrible eyeball, he will be confused and lament the injustice of fate, why should he be given such wisdom, but abandoned to a group of mediocrities .

When he reunited with his sons, he suddenly found that his legion was so unbearable: they would lose almost half of their combat strength in a simple battle. In his opinion, the fourth legion Soldiers are far from being good fighters.

Thus, the phrase "[-] kills" came out of his mouth, and he watched those unlucky people who were singled out be beaten to death by his comrades, and soon fell into a new confusion.

Why after such a warning, his offspring are still not as good as the Shadow Moon Wolf or the Dark Angel?
In this kind of confusion, Perturabo was in charge of his own legion, and the doubts in his heart continued to expand as the war continued, which would inevitably affect his mood and work efficiency, but he just couldn't help it , is to be increasingly confused by more disappointing realities.

As it was now, a new puzzle was forming in Perturabo's mind, growing and expanding to the Primarch's dismay.

Why, why was his offspring, his hand-picked trident, inferior to a mortal under Magnus?

Why did this group of guys always disappoint him so much?
------

Are they dissatisfied?Are they fighting against his rule in this way?

And his brother, Magnus, why would he keep a mortal here?
This is a demonstration?A show off?Does he really not know the excellence of this mortal?When he arranged for this mortal to stay here, did he really just act carelessly?
Was Magnus laughing?Laugh at his heir?Laugh at his legion?Or... laughing at him, Primarch of the Iron Warriors?
------

As his thoughts were brewing, the face of the Iron Lord was darkening at a speed visible to the naked eye, and his ensemble unknowingly became dark again. Perturabo began to treat his work harshly, as if They are his life and death enemies.

When his heirs who were carrying out the repair work on the [Steadfast Light] sent him the results of the first phase of the project, Perturabo almost forced himself to find out a problem, and he did not hesitate to send This tiny blemish draws and draws, yelling at his own disappointing children across the screen, disgusted by their roughness and inferiority.

idiot!

He used this heavy sarcasm as the closing word of the project's results assessment, and then closed the communication, leaving them to argue and solve the problem on their own.

At this moment, he caught the cessation of the working sounds of the mortals around him.

Morgan had already sorted out the last data file in front of her, and according to the logical sequence and priority of each task, she sent all the information one by one to the Primarch who had never rested.

Although she was born with the most exquisite use of data and logic, she still felt exhausted to deal with such a huge amount for the first time, not to mention carefully concealing her identity in front of a similar person. The work itself is even more demanding.

But just when she was about to close her eyes and let herself take a rest, Perturabo's cold tone came from the side.

"The data in the seventh summary form is lost. Make a new copy and complete it within 15 minutes."

Morgan's almost squinted blue eyes opened in an instant, and she was sure that just before she closed her eyes, the seventh summary sheet was still sitting on Perturabo's electronic screen, waiting for him. check.

【...Yes, Your Excellency. 】

She deliberately let her voice transform into a firm execution after a brief hesitation. After all, this missing document contains thousands of pieces of data information, which is enough to make a mortal feel painful.

And just as her fingers returned to the working keyboard, Perturabo's voice came again, and this time there was an undetectable tremor in his tone.

"No... no need."

"Leave it to me, you can go...to rest."

The Iron Lord's head was raised high, as if deliberately not to be seen by mortals.

------

What the hell are you doing, you idiot!
On his raised face, Perturabo's steel features were twisted together by him.

What is the difference between venting one's anger on a mortal, a mere mortal, and those vulgar cowards on Olympia!
At this time, the natural arrogance and artistic feelings occupied Perturabo's heart again. When he was engulfed by the anger of jealousy and self-doubt, he was a tyrant eager to destroy, so he naturally destroyed the possible consumption. It took countless energy and time to make the result, just like he had destroyed his offspring and countless kingdoms without any pressure.

But when he witnessed the destruction of the results with his own eyes and heard the slow but firm execution with his own ears, the heart that contained the love of art and logic once again occupied the kingdom of thought, and Perturabo tore his heart The other half of him questioned him, a soul made of burdens, silence and unimaginable arrogance.

It's always been like this: Whenever things don't go the way Perturabo wants, he gets angry, he gets into a rage, he destroys and lets it out, until he sees what he's done, he I will feel guilty and regret again, so I will repair it silently, and I will be moved by my silent dedication.

But this kind of completely self-moving can neither bring applause from the outside world, nor ease his emotions, so his anger will stagnate again, waiting for the next outbreak, and repeating itself until those calmness and sensibility are exhausted. All that is left of him is a tyrant who is forever angry and resentful.

But now, it was still too early, the Emperor's expedition had just begun, and the fierce battle and training that belonged to Perturabo were not enough to wear down his calmness.

Perturabo was silent, he started this extra job, this job added by himself, he suppressed the anger and emotions in his heart, and let them burn his heart.

Steel is not afraid of flames, he always believed so.

Those data were processed at an extremely fast speed. Perturabo carefully checked the results of Morgan's work out of an idea that only he could find out, and the final facts made him have to admit that this mortal's The ability to work is indeed as outstanding as Magnus said.

She is a character to admire.

At the same time, the Primarch's instinctive perception was also wandering in the secret room. He could hear Morgan, who was ordered to rest, first stretched his body, and then carefully looked around the entire room behind him. Her eyes seemed to be immediately caught Attracted by the huge colonial mothership [Steadfast Light] in the center of the city, Perturabo could hear her reasoning in a low voice.

This kind of reasoning lasted for a short time, and then he heard the sound of high-heeled boots stepping on the marble floor, and his superhuman perception faithfully fed back the movement of the owner of the sound to him, and when he realized that she was going to At that moment, the cold hair on Perturabo's neck moved involuntarily.

As if attracted by their specialness, Morgan involuntarily walked to the depths of the secret room, where there were row after row of long tables made of steel and about half a person's height, on which were placed various All kinds of exquisite models and handmade products, even in the depths of this dimly lit secret room, they are still shining with the brilliance of art and skill.

She could see those weird works of art: for example, a model of the big theater, which was obviously a semi-finished product, and the top of the theater was not an area for ventilation and walking, but a battlement that played a defensive effect.

[Thalia Clone], the name was written on the manuscript paper pressed by the model.

Next to it are more finished products: a model of a giant lighthouse, on which a wall pattern of a hero killing a siren is carved; and there were more drawings, rolled up and placed in the corners of the table, one of which was spread out depicting a statue of a lion in gold, and at the feet of this mighty beast were written something like Gift ID.

Morgan blinked.

She could feel that when her footsteps and gaze circled around these works of art and semi-finished products, the working rhythm of the Primarch standing in front of the workbench was slightly disturbed, just like a real lion, Witnessing ignorant little beasts set foot on their borders.

------

From the corner of his eye, Perturabo observed the offended mortal, who was walking unconsciously where the Iron Lord did not want others to know.

As he watched her walking there, he had some familiar feelings, which reminded him of something.

Decades ago, when he was a child genius and general adopted by the lord of the city-state on Planet Olympia, his adoptive father also walked like this among the works of art he created.

He remembered the sentence he asked his adoptive father at that time, and the answer he got, and he always remembered it.

So, when the last piece of data was sorted out in an absolutely correct way, he spoke.

"What are you looking at."

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"I'm looking at waste, useless and extravagant waste, my child, my Perturabo, you have a god-given mind and strength, why waste your life on these useless things."

"I can easily own these so-called arts. Countless sculptors and painters are superior because of my patronage. With a snap of their fingers, their so-called arts will become my praises, even if those achievements never existed. "

"But you are different, my child. Your abilities should not be limited to these useless things. Look at your deadly inventions. Tanks, artillery and explosives are what you should use. They can easily Win, dominate wars, and even conquer the world!"

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【I'm looking at art, my lord, I'm looking at a burning heart that has been buried and misunderstood. 】

The moment the adoptive father's voice disappeared from his mind, Morgan's answer came one after another.

Diametrically opposed.

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Perturabo laughed.

He turned around, leaving his electronic screen for the first time, and behind him, enough orders to keep the world busy for the rest of the day were being sent out on their own in an orderly manner.

"Art?"

"It's just for fun, ma'am."

"You have to know that I am a general. I don't need so-called arts. No one will need them. You should understand that what you serve is the empire, a place composed of emperors, generals and troops."

Perturabo opened his mouth, telling his unbelieving self-evaluation and the reality that he had to believe.

Then, he saw Morgan's smile.

[Do you like death, sir? 】

This was almost an offense, and a few short words successfully made the Iron Lord's face gloomy again.

"If that's your poor metaphor, I'll make it clear to you that no one in the galaxy really likes death unless it's smashing it over the heads of their enemies."

[Yes, no one likes death, and no one wants to die, whether it is an individual, a legion or an empire, death is resisted. 】

The silver-haired female officer crossed her fingers and pressed them against her chin.

【Death is an ominous tranquility, a dark silence, and a sad future without dreams, passions, changes, and surprises. 】

[But a world without art and aesthetics, isn't that exactly the case? 】

Perturabo was silent, his eyes were covered in shadows, his lips trembled, but he didn't speak.

[Could it be that when the galaxy is caught in eternal war, soldiers and bloodthirsty war machines are advancing on the endless wasteland, and everyone in every world has no mission other than to provide supplies for the cannibal war, paintings and songs It is regarded as useless waste, gods occupy the theater, and scriptures cover academics... How is such a world different from death? 】

【And we are fighting here, our journey spans the Milky Way and the galaxy, and we dedicate everything we have for a better future, isn't it just to prevent the future of mankind from being like this? 】

"..."

Heavy breathing.

Until then, Morgan seemed to wake up from a dream. She lowered her head and realized that she had offended a Primarch.

【Excuse me, Your Excellency, I just...】

"No!"

Perturabo interrupted her, and he was silent for a while, until the final electronic chime, signaling the end of the day's work—and a brief break.

Afterwards, he pointed to the seat beside him and spoke in an orderly tone.

"sit down."

He said.

"go on."

(End of this chapter)