Emperor's Bane

Chapter 11 Dawn Redemption ([-])

I'm not human, I'm far more than that.

- Perturabo

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The Primarch of the Fourth Legion was a talkative man when circumstances allowed, though he would never admit it himself.

Perturabo's thought is like a seemingly dead active volcano: it is composed of numbers, angles, statistics and percentages, matched with raging magma, and then blocked with arrogance, forbearance and the nature of pursuit of beauty, in order to achieve a crumbling , a precarious balance.

This mountain of the soul seems stable and unshakable, but in fact, it only needs to gently pry a few rocks in the right place, and the repressed inner will burst out unstoppably, forming a torrent of destruction.

But at the same time, opening this volcano does not mean that everything will be fine, because the magma of passion will eventually cool down. At that time, the thoughts of the Iron Lord will hide in the dead volcano again, as if nothing had happened.

Therefore, the opportunity is short-lived, just like an eagle flying across the sky, it is fleeting.

------

Hunters only have one chance.

To shoot down the flying eagle.

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Morgan lowered her eyebrows, and she flipped open the package at her waist with her fingers, and took out a miniature silver and white wine jug, which contained the fine wine she brewed herself, using the best grains and fruits.

Morgan didn't like brewing, and thanks to the ruthless one who created her, it was almost impossible for this silver-haired malevolent woman to know joy in any action.

She forced herself to do it, and became a true master distiller for one thing:

Person setting.

When the descendants of Magnus witnessed the wine brewed by the silver-haired lady and admired its mellowness, they naturally had more evaluations such as stability and patience in their hearts: these qualities are exactly what makes wine A must for a good wine.

Likewise, when they saw how beautifully the countless jobs Morgan had handled were done, they naturally assumed that Morgan was a competent, experienced, and trustworthy figure.

From work to life, from battle to rest, the Thousand Sons witnessed her achievements and kept drawing their own conclusions in their hearts. They discussed and publicized their views on this mortal with each other. In the end, even a person who had never The Thousand Sons who have met Morgan will always outline a character with impeccable ability, quality, morality and integrity in the face of the descriptions of his companions and countless realities.

Therefore, when Magnus asked his sons, he would naturally get an excellent option that people could not refuse. And when creating the same image, even Magnus would not doubt anything.

Although he has never met Morgan, when he drinks the good wine made by Morgan, sees the work Morgan handles, and hears the affirmation of Morgan from his confidants, the image of Morgan has already been fixed in his heart. Yes, she is the best candidate for the Legion Senior Advisor.

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of course.

Magnus is Magnus.

Perturabo is Perturabo.

Although they are both Primarchs, their personalities and essences may be very different.

At least, before seeing it with his own eyes, Perturabo would not believe anyone, even if his heirs boasted about the hype, it was useless, after all, he also looked down on his heirs.

But he is not without flaws, the biggest flaw of the Iron Lord is his strength:

genius.

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【Thalia clone...】

Holding her hip flask, Morgan murmured the name softly. It belonged to the exquisite semi-finished product in front of her, and belonged to the great fantasy that still existed in Perturabo's mind and drawings.

Accompanied by Morgan's voice, Perturabo's eyes also moved to his unfinished work. When the mellow aroma of wine began to linger in the secret room, the Lord of Steel actually felt a bit ashamed: he was giving Outsiders look at an unfinished work, how is that different from exhibiting a failed work in public?

【……why……】

Perturabo Superman's perception captured this soft sigh, and he saw the silver-haired mortal pulling the gears of the model involuntarily, sighing and sighing.

The primarch narrowed his eyes.

His thinking and rationality quickly helped him deduce an interesting fact: Although this mortal advisor from the Thousand Sons Legion had a calm personality and outstanding abilities, he was not a perfect person.

For example, like now, when she is immersed in her own thinking, she can't help but express her true feelings deep in her heart.

Reminiscent of her rash speech before, Perturabo confirmed this even more. He looked at Morgan's blue pupils, which were full of floating thoughts immersed in thinking.

"What's wrong?"

[Why is there a city wall? 】

Facing the Primarch's question, the mortal in front of her didn't even think about it, and directly vomited her own question. After blurting out this sentence, her pupils regained clarity belatedly.

Seeing this scene, Perturabo couldn't help but raise the corners of his mouth slightly, but then he thought of Morgan's question, so he quickly straightened the corners of his mouth again, which was a bit funny for a while.

"The city wall makes it difficult for you to accept?"

[... When it is combined with the theater... it will indeed be like this. 】

In Perturabo's eyes, the mortal in front of him slowly raised his arms, took a sip of wine, and then calmed down to face his question.

Along with this answer, Perturabo also looked at his own work.

"The Thalia clone...what I have prepared for my triumph on Holy Terra will be erected directly opposite the abode of my Gene-Father, to record the story of the expedition, and the galaxy and the heroes .”

The Primarch opened his mouth and spoke slowly, his eyes were rarely ignited with light about the future and ideals.

[But despite this... you still hope that it can play a role in a possible disaster? 】

Perturabo laughed.

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

[Because art without protection and defense is one of the most fragile things in the world. 】

"..."

Perturabo remained silent. Under his gaze, Morgan was once again immersed in the artwork in front of her. She was obviously caught in some kind of memory.

[When art is created, it is destined to be a golden age. People don't need to worry about life and disputes, because they have created great art and works, imagining the possibility of the future. 】

"..."

[But progress is too slow after all, the country has fallen into stagnation, and the former peace and prosperity have become the capital of future generations who do not want to make progress. In the name of art, they allow themselves to fall into pleasure and depravity until the barbarians The flames of war came from the sky, the city-states collapsed, and the palaces were in ruins. Only the remaining works were left for future generations to sigh with emotion. 】

"..."

Perturabo breathed heavily.

[Of course, there may be many wise men among the barbarians. After seeing these works, they lamented the brilliance and wisdom of the past, but they were only ridiculed by their own kind. How could they be conquered by me? 】

"........."

【They never understand the meaning of conquest. They take it for granted that only fire and sword can last through the ages. They are stupid and rude, but they can succeed because their opponents are unable to defend their art and wisdom. 】

"..."

"What kind of identity do you use to feel all this?"

Morgan heard Perturabo's voice, intermittent and genuine inquiries.

[This is a private matter, Your Excellency. 】

Damn, her pupils regained consciousness.

Perturabo felt a bit lost. In the calm and coherent narration just now, he only felt like a narrator evaluating his days above Olympia.

Guns, steel, war, fire, watching the glorious city collapse, the thousand-year-old tower toppling, and then launch the next attack amidst urging and false comfort...

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fuck it.

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The Primarch returned to his workbench, gloomily, checking the progress of his work.

all the best.

This only annoyed him even more.

He paced to the window again, carefully observing the work of the Iron Warrior on the Steadfast Light, watching the blue lightning flowing down the bridge and sides of the ship like flowing water, he muttered in a low voice, and was very concerned about the progress of the work. Not satisfied.

In a place out of the sunlight, the mortal remained silent, and Perturabo could occasionally hear her sip her drink in a low voice.

It was a while before he heard a sigh.

[As a witness, Your Excellency. 】

she answered.

Perturabo almost restrained his steps.

He didn't seem to care about this question anymore, the Primarch's gaze stayed on the ship for a while, then turned around slowly, and returned to the place of discussion with a leisurely pace.

After seeing Morgan's lowered eyebrows, he finally smiled with satisfaction.

"The person who witnessed it?"

[Assistant, think tank, deputy marshal, chief of staff...you can choose any title, Your Excellency. 】

[I am from the southern part of the Maelstrom. Before I joined the fleet of the Thousand Sons Legion, I was a princess in my hometown, a guy known for his inhuman genius. 】

【My father valued me, on the battlefield. 】

【He drove my wisdom, using the so-called family affection and responsibility as the reins, and asked me to make suggestions for him, winning battles and victories, turning legions and city-states into ashes, burning down the old palaces, and erecting statues praising him... 】

Her voice became slower and deeper, and Perturabo saw those blue pupils gradually lose their focus and agility, turning into confused memories of the past.

[On the second day after the arrival of the empire's fleet, he became a governor from a king. I remember that day happened to be my birthday. He held a banquet for me, a grand banquet, and he talked endlessly in front of countless guests. hours long. 】

[He was talking, talking about his ambitions, talking about the strength of the empire, in order to induce all the visitors to swear allegiance to him, until finally, he finally remembered me, so he announced to everyone that I will be his heir and will For him to crush all dissenters. 】

[So, on the day the empire's fleet set sail, I persuaded my elders, who were watching the throne, to recommend me to board the empire's ships. 】

[I ran away. 】

"why?"

[In order to escape. 】

"Escape from the throne?"

Perturabo induced with interest, he looked at those eyes and calmed down little by little, as if destroying a fortress step by step, it was refreshing.

[That's not a throne, that's a curse. 】

He could hear, when the mortal in front of him uttered the word curse, her teeth were biting each other, as if they could crush rocks.

"curse?"

He couldn't tell whether he was inducing, or recalling his past, so as to empathize with this mortal.

【Curse...that is a curse, layer upon layer of curses, the throne is a curse, wisdom is a curse, even my birth may have been a curse. 】

[I know what a better future is, I know how we want to move forward, I know that compared with the so-called celebrations and bread, sacredness and tradition, we need a more pragmatic attitude, we need to endure more difficultly, and we need to put the limited Resources are invested in technology and people's livelihood, instead of creating countless statues of gods, in exchange for a song of praise from courtiers or bishops. 】

[No...not even me...even they know it themselves, they know how to make society better, but they just don't want to do it, they squander scarce resources, engage in meaningless struggles, worship False gods, engraving their own conservatism and selfishness on the heads of all peoples, and then claiming that this is the most sacred and unshakable tradition. 】

The speed of her speech became rapid, no longer the most calm and gentle tone, Perturabo watched silently, watching the liquid in her jug ​​drop to the ground due to the scattering of her fingers—while she Unaware.

He stared into her pupils, waiting for the final words.

"So, you escaped."

【Yes, I escaped. 】

"why?"

He watched her close her eyes, and slowly spoke the deepest secret in her heart.

[Because no one understands. 】

[Because there is nowhere to display it. 】

[Because there is no way to compromise. 】

【…】

[Because of resentment. 】

[There is also loneliness. 】

Perturabo was silent, breathing.

He didn't ask any more questions, and didn't speak. He fixed his eyes on Morgan. After a long time, his breath disappeared in the most remote shadow of the secret room.

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Perturabo stood in front of his workbench, and in his sight, his last data was finally sent out correctly.

At this moment, the communication rang, and Magnus' voice came from the other end.

"How's the situation with you, Perturabo?"

"Everything went well, how about you?"

"I have encountered a little trouble here, about the governor... Forget it, to make a long story short, Carena may encounter a surprise attack, be prepared, the enemy may use air force and armored forces."

"understood."

"……correct."

Seeming to have suddenly remembered something, Magnus suddenly realized that maybe his brother was more suitable to be a referee than his heir.

"How capable is my senior consultant?"

Magnus waited for a while, until he heard Perturabo's laughter on the comm.

Rarely, the Emperor, did he smile so... cheerfully.

After laughing for a while, Perturabo gave his evaluation firmly.

"Strong."

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Morgan closed his eyes and opened them.

Her pupils are clear, the light of reason that can see through the essence of phenomena.

Close it again, and open it again.

Her pupils are blurred, she is a real woman who looks back on her past and never lies.

She picked up the jug, drank the last sip, threw away the lost part, and the rest was enough for her to drink, as if she had calculated it in advance.

She smiled.

Even though the smile wasn't one of joy, it still looked sweet.

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Genius itself is the greatest weakness.

Geniuses are self-confident, they seldom believe other people's evaluations, they are only confident in their own judgments.

Superior talent casts their abilities and also determines their arrogance. When they decide on something, they will firmly believe in it, and they will never think that their judgment has made a mistake.

Until the blood is broken.

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The silver-haired hunter took his chance.

The steel eagle has fallen.

(End of this chapter)