Emperor's Bane

Chapter 19: Dawn Redemption ([-])
Now, let's go back in time a little.

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While Ahriman and Phryx discussed philosophies of mercy, murder, and death in the corridors of the battleship, their respective genetic fathers discussed similar topics in the command room.

"This is not the first massacre I have carried out, Magnus, my brother, I confess to you that when I was a general in Olympia, I did the same thing as now, more than once."

"But at that time, I could at least convince myself: because they are blood-stained enemies, diehards who refuse to surrender, and a group of people who don't need my pity and promises."

"But it's different now, my brother Magnus...it's really different now."

The shadow of the Iron Lord was elongated by the light reflected by the huge floor-to-ceiling portholes, and it was very long, extending all the way to the far end of the room. On both sides of him, more than a dozen crew members and communications officers received the continuous flow of light from the entire fleet. Constant signals and reports inform the cleaning progress.

But Perturabo wasn't listening at all, he just stared almost stubbornly at the silent flash of the vision camera: the fleets of the Iron Warriors and the Thousand Sons were firing, smashing deadly shells into unsuspecting civilian ships , in order to cleanse the cursed Dawn Star people more efficiently, this behavior of wasting ships has been tacitly approved.

And in a farther place, the dawn star was burning, and the edge of the whirlwind torpedo roared impatiently as soon as the order was issued. Everything in this poor world, from atmosphere to mountains and rivers, from life to soul, was swallowed up by a crimson net, and finally rolled up the curtain of death across the world, killing Dawn Star itself at a speed visible to the naked eye. The grand funeral can be clearly observed even in the void.

Until the blood-red net finally disappeared at the two poles of the dead world, the empire lost a once prosperous living world.

Perturabo lowered his head and, as the only guest at the funeral, offered his final condolences. Then, he turned his head and looked at his brother.

As the second tallest figure in the Primarch, Magnus's expression was clearly observed by his brother: the Lord of Prospero also had sorrow on his face, but not much, it was more like an expression A template set out with respect and importance.

"Isn't even what we're looking at giving you food for thought, Magnus?"

The Primarch of the Thousand Sons glanced at his brother, somewhat unsure which thread Perturabo's mind was now on: the General?Is it a scholar?Is it rage?Or that sentimental artist?

It looks like the latter.

"Calm down, brother."

Magnus tapped Perturabo on the shoulder.

"You and I both grew up in death. In the world of Olympia, you have been involved in countless wars, and in Prospero, I have led my people to exterminate endless devouring bees. Creatures are ten thousand times stronger and cunning than the toughest beast you can imagine. I have seen my soldiers die in battle, their brains and spirits being eaten and drained alive. Believe me, for a psychic There is no more horrific way of dying than this."

Lord Prospero had both hands on his brother's shoulders until his consciousness told him that Perturabo's spirit had stabilized again.

The Primarch was a little uncertain. His brother had long been a veteran general, and even executed his own heirs. How could he feel real pain because of the death of a mortal?

Unless...it was not mortal death that his brother loathed, but failure: Perturabo's failure.

Perturabo came, Perturabo made an oath, Perturabo worked hard, and Perturabo failed. This result made him unacceptable, and finally mixed with grand killings and turned into a kind of anti-death emotion.

Quite Olympian thinking, isn't it?

Of course, Magnus would not say such a conclusion.

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After only taking a deep breath, Perturabo calmed down again, perhaps in order to forget the sentimentality just now, he became even colder.

They talked again, and the topic gradually moved away from the previous tragedy. Of course, these two like-minded primarchs had endless topics to talk about. When Magnus ordered Morgan to come, the conversation between him and his brother had changed. It became a kind of reminiscence, reminiscing about the time of learning that the two had spent together on the sacred Terra.

"Antikythera, do you remember it now, Magnus?"

Perturabo's voice made Magnus's one eye light up, and he remembered the time when he and Perturabo studied side by side: the two Primarchs together, they were like ordinary students in the ancient ruins of Terra Digging on the earth, looking for those lost wisdom.

"Of course, brother, of course I remember him, a dead naturalist whose relics are one of the most precious discoveries you and I have ever made."

Perturabo laughed when he got the answer. He turned around and walked to a room on a deeper level. When he stepped out, he was holding a strange object in his hand.

The Iron Lord placed it on the table, allowing Magnus to observe it carefully.

The Lord of Prospero was staring at this extremely complicated instrument. The curved metal device, winding device and adjustable lens on it made him feel more and more familiar, and when he really remembered what it was At that moment, the Primarch took an impossibly deep breath.

"Antikythera... yes... Antikythera..."

"My God... Perturabo... You, you succeeded?!"

"It's just an imitation, Magnus. I admit that if it is developed independently, it will take many years, but if it is just a copy of the previous works, if it is just standing on the shoulders of giants and touching the sky, then it will take a few years. It's really enough."

"No! Now is not the time to say that, my brother, no offense, but... will it work?"

Perturabo shook his head.

"I'm not sure, I haven't actually opened it, and Magnus, you just gave me a blueprint to copy it, but you never elaborated on its original design, nor told me What exactly does it do and how does it work."

"But you made it, Perturabo."

Lord Prospero nodded in amazement, then he looked at his brother and smiled.

"So what do you think it does?"

Perturabo thought for a moment.

"I believe it's some kind of navigational instrument, like the sextant that sailors used to use decades ago, but on a much larger operating scale. What kind of ocean would you be navigating in, you need that device of?"

Magnus turned his head and continued to stare at this extremely delicate instrument.

"The vast ocean."

"The vast ocean..."

Behind him, Perturabo's voice was growing restless.

"I think... you mean the Warp?"

"Yes, there it is."

The Lord of Prospero is obsessed with the creation before him, which carries a part of his dream.

"You can't imagine how wonderful it is, Perturabo. If the deceased naturalist didn't make a mistake, then this magical little thing can even complete navigation in the warp space. By then..."

Magnus looked up, carefully looking around.

"At that time, the ship doesn't even need a navigator anymore, and can determine and find its own direction in the subspace. Even a group of mortals can use it to move forward steadily in the fog of the subspace."

"Magnus... You should still remember what our father said about the vast ocean. He didn't want us to go too deep in it, let alone these mortals. Going deep represents danger. You still remember?"

Perturabo sighed, he walked around the room, rummaged behind Magnus, and finally lifted a heavy object, and Magnus's concentration prevented him from noticing it at all.

"I know, bro, but it's okay."

"Do not."

"There are relationships."

Perturabo's heavy footsteps vibrated on the ground, he dragged a hard metal artifact: a warhammer, and rushed to Magnus.

Before the Primarch of the Thousand Sons could react at all, the Iron Lord's arms twitched, the hammer crackling in the air in front of him, and finally came down with a slam.

The next moment, accompanied by a crisp cracking sound, that exquisite creation with an infinite future has turned into cracked metal and broken lenses again. The sound of rain.

Magnus' expression froze.

"No...no, no, my brother, what are you doing!"

"Do what needs to be done, Magnus."

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Then, there was the scene Morgan walked in and saw.

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The primarchs were yelling at each other, accusing each other with as much grace and vehemence as they could.

In Magnus' wrath, Perturabo became a thug, a vandal, a hopeless Spartan, berating his blood brother for not caring about intelligence and The crystallization of hard work.

But Perturabo was much calmer, he just repeated his point of view over and over again: the power of the Primarch is far less than that of the Emperor, so for a field that even the Emperor dare not set foot too much, what do they have? Eligibility for Unauthorized Action.

This kind of quarrel was violent, crazy, but fast. The two primarchs may have confronted each other thousands of times, but in the eyes of outsiders, it was only a few minutes, and their wisdom and calmness also determined that this kind of Controversy does not go on forever.

"You have a gift for cruelty, my brother."

In the end, Magnus ended the discordant debate with a bitter description.

"Maybe."

Perturabo didn't deny it, he nodded instead.

"But cruelty is also good. At least, you can now clearly understand my position, Magnus."

The Lord of Prospero did not continue this topic, he waved his hand, as if he wanted to dispel everything from the uneasy atmosphere just now, while the Lord of Steel turned around again and took out a roll of blueprints.

"Here's the blueprint you gave me, Magnus, I won't make a second one... If you can find and convince a man of ingenuity, then as a brother, I wish you well luck."

Magnus didn't pick it up, his eyes wandered around, and finally came to Morgan.

"Ah, Ms. Morgan... sorry to keep you waiting."

The Primarch made a slightly apologetic expression before he remembered what he was about to do.

On Dawn Star, he had promised to give this mortal in front of him a solemn enough ceremony of appointment, and he was indeed prepared to do so.

One Primarch presides, the other witnesses, and the so-called spectacle and guests of the mortal world are nothing in front of this configuration, and Magnus believes Morgan will agree with this.

Morgan bent his knees slightly, while the Primarch stretched out his hand. Naturally, his attendants came from the side, presenting badges and documents.

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"Unlike my brother Fulgrim, I am not such a figure of rhetoric and formality, so let us, Ms. Morgan, keep everything simple."

"From today onwards, you are the senior adviser of the No.15 Legion. Your opinion will be cherished by me, and your request will be promised by me."

"I grant you the right to visit as an envoy, the duty to lead an army in battle, the gift of knowledge as a scholar, and the burden of management as an official."

"From now on, you don't need to call any of my heirs [Adult], because you, like them, are the pillars of the army that belong directly to me."

"I, Magnus, hereby entrust you with responsibility and authority, Morgan; I will always keep my promise, unless you betray your loyalty to the Emperor, to the Empire, to humanity and to me, I trust you Wouldn't do that."

"Here, with my brother, Perturabo, Lord of Steel of the Fourth Legion as witness, from this moment on, you are my high-ranking advisor and my right-hand man."

"Now, get up, there is no need to be so restrained, we are now the vanguard of the empire, the arm of the emperor, and side-by-side travelers who will never give up on the road of seeking knowledge."

"You are welcome here, Morgan."

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When Magnus's voice fell, Perturabo clapped his hands ceremonially, proving that he had witnessed the ceremony.

"A mortal advisor, Magnus?"

"Perhaps you should try it too, my brother."

"If I could really meet such great people, then I would."

The two Primarchs laughed, as if their previous quarrel did not exist.

"So what's your plan next?"

"Of course there is."

Magnus nodded.

"I'm going to carry out a ceremony, and I'll take my sons and Morgan with me. I need to go to the depths of the warp to find a way to heal the scars on their souls."

"I think you can trust real doctors, bro."

"No, Perturabo, stop joking."

Magnus smiled and shook his head.

"Before you is Magnus, a great scholar second only to the Emperor."

"In this world, who else is more trustworthy than me?"

(End of this chapter)