Emperor's Bane

Chapter 8 Dawn Redemption ([-])

Ahriman did not like Perturabo.

But this did not prevent him from admiring the beauty of the art created by the Primarch.

While listening to the reminder from the son of Magnus in the telepathic communication, and feeling his unstoppable sincere admiration for the scene in front of him, Morgan couldn't help but have funny thoughts in his heart.

And such a scene can be forgiven, after all, Perturabo - regardless of his personality, is indeed a master of architecture and art.

Everyone knows that Invitt's Dorne and his Imperial Fist are the creators of countless fortresses, but they don't know that the Iron Warriors and its Primarch are actually better at this, but their talents rarely get the chance to show that's all .

Different from its rough and majestic appearance, the interior of Salimaves Fortress was transformed by Perturabo into a work of art full of exquisite and digital styles. It is like the imperial palace in ancient legends: the walls are made of It is polished with marble, dotted with black lampstands, golden textures, huge tapestries and sporadic paintings, neat and orderly.

And in the gaps between these decorations, Morgan could see the hidden shooting ports and secret whistles, which were distributed around the corners of the corridors and around the main hall, enough to turn the entire fort into a dead graveyard in an instant.

The group of people moved forward steadily under the leadership of the Primarch, and they quickly passed through the initial front corridor, and then passed through a secret room full of contemplators and technical terms, which was full of busy mechanics, Messages from all over the world flickered on their electronic screens.

Tens of thousands of messages are screened and fed back in the calculations of these visitors from Mars. From the loading of ships to the supply of supplies, the huge amount of data is enough to easily drain any staff composed of mortals, even the Mechanicus. The elites can only guarantee that there will be no serious errors in these data. As for those more precise calculations and decisions, they can only hand them over to the more mysterious and core room in the secret room.

Specifically, the room is a mezzanine, which is connected by a wide staircase. From the outside, it looks like a square processing workshop, exuding a mixed smell of precious metals and industrial grease.

Perturabo himself was there when they walked in.

If every soldier of the Fourth Legion is steel that can walk and fight freely, then this Primarch of the Fourth Legion can be said to be the living embodiment of the word "steel".

Every piece of protection, every chain and even every screw on Perturabo's body is made by himself, which makes him look like a rock sculpture with a human face, and he is shorter than his brother. Somewhat taller, but still a giant enough for the Astartes to look up to, the hard facial features carved with knives and axes put together all the appearance of a great monster hunter, a ruthless victorious general and a god-given master of art .

"You came too late, Magnus, we don't have extra time for you to delay now."

Perturabo's voice echoed repeatedly in the secret room like thunder, and Magnus just spread his hands begging for mercy in return for his brother.

With great difficulty, the Primarch of the Fourth Legion embraced his brother, and the plotting instrument he held tightly in his hand was thus revealed to several high-ranking officers of the Thousand Sons Legion. Starry data: load rates, travel times, cargo capacity, fuel reserves, fleet rotations, population inflows, food and water supplies, airdrop scheduling and the hundreds of variables that play in the evacuation equation.

"Those numbers..."

Atava, always known for his ruthless calculations, sighed softly to his brother.

"There's so much of them...it makes me dizzy...they're overwhelming me like a tidal wave."

Ahriman and Forsyth didn't reply, but their equally serious expressions were the best answer. None of the three noticed Morgan, who was looking normal, and she was concentrating on looking at the numbers at this moment.

After almost a breath, Morgan blinked and turned his attention to other places.

"My advisors, you can also call them my tridents."

After a brief greeting, Perturabo pointed to the only two Iron Warriors behind him.

"This is Xaka, the other is Barben-Falke, and Flix is ​​in command outside."

"Ariman, my right hand, the first company commander of the legion."

"Atawa and Forsyth, my high-level think tank."

"[Think Tank]? I thought you had decided to abandon this project, Magnus, our father and some brothers may not like this."

"At least Sanguinius and Jaghatai support me."

"Then I can only hope you'll be careful enough...huh?"

Perturabo seemed ready to say something more about psychics, but his eyes were quickly drawn to the only mortal present.

"What role does this mortal, my brother Magnus, play in your Legion?"

"This is Morgan, Ms. Morgan, my senior advisor to the legion, and one of the think tank's candidates."

As soon as Magnus finished speaking, the silver-haired female officer could sense the gaze from Forsythe, which was some kind of hostility mixed with astonishment.

"A mortal?"

"A smart, hard-working, and capable mortal, you know, Perturabo, and I will not reject any capable wise man."

"I hope she is as you say."

The Lord of Steel waved his hand, signaling his subordinates to continue the work just now, and he came to the edge of the west side of the secret room, pressed the switch, and a huge window appeared from the cover. The entire city of Carena is in sight.

As a relic of the golden age, Carena is a city that perfectly blends history and splendor. Magnus first marveled at its exquisite layout for a second, and then he was attracted by the truly important thing.

"Steadfast Light, I'm going to reactivate it."

Perturabo's voice came from beside his ears, and what he was referring to was the huge colonial ship in the center of Carena City. It was this ancient giant ship that carried the first batch of humans thousands of years ago. The colonists came here and created everything that belonged to the Dawn Star, and now it stands there as a mere monument.

"It's already a relic, Perturabo, a pure antique."

Even Magnus was surprised by his brother's brief pride. He stepped forward quickly, looked carefully at the huge ship, and soon found that it was already covered with dense steel: that It was the sons of Perturabo and the laborers of the Mechanicum at work.

"Are you really planning to use it? Entrust the lives of hundreds of thousands of refugees to a... antique?"

"I have no choice, Magnus."

Perturabo's finger pointed to his workbench, which had been filled with diagrams and sketches, some of which Magnus could recognize as data for various cross-track conveyors. "

"Our cross-orbit transport aircraft can make about 200 launches per day, carrying 7 to [-] people out of this dying world and onto our fleet. We all know how serious the panic among the people is right now."

"But this is not the worst: the population of Dawn Star is more than 200 million, and the fleet you and I add up is only a few dozen ships. Even if every cabin is filled, we can only bring There are no more than 160 million people, and in the remaining three months, our fleet is simply unable to complete the round trip between the nearest habitable world and Dawn Star."

"In other words, if I don't activate it, one-fifth of the world's population will be abandoned and die in despair."

Breathing heavily, Magnus lowered his head, unable to refute his brother: the Thousand Sons came more than 50 days before the Iron Warriors, but these figures had never appeared so clearly in his mind.

"You're right, bro..."

Just as Magnus' deep voice began to echo, perhaps to explain his father's embarrassment, or perhaps simply because he thought so, Forsyth of the Thousand Sons took a step forward, indicating that he wanted to speak.

"We don't really need to take such risks, my lords."

"why?"

The Thousand Sons Think Tank handed Perturabo the thick document in his hand, which was the report of Hathor and others evacuating people around the world.

"There are many people in this world who refuse to evacuate. In those remote and savage mountain villages, they are not willing to follow our orders to move out of their homeland, even in cities. In the resettlement area of ​​Carena City alone, every day At least hundreds of people have fled back to the wilderness privately, and Ahriman can prove it all."

Forsyth first stated his argument, and after getting Ahriman's silent nod, he slowly revealed his plan.

"In view of this situation, I think that since these mortals who have abandoned reason and logic are not even willing to rescue themselves, why do we need to care about them? Anyway, even if these stupid guys are rescued, it will not benefit the entire empire. Fuck them, our rescue plan can start more quickly."

When his last letter landed, the room had fallen into absolute silence, only the sound of the two tridents working could be heard continuously.

"...Do you think so?"

Perturabo leaned on his conference table, his eyes were burning, avoiding his brother and the others, all focused on Forsythe, the expression of the Primarch was like a disappointed teacher Look at the students who are not learning.

The Lord of Steel's question was low and calm, without the slightest trace of tyranny, but it made Forsyth lower his head involuntarily, and beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead unstoppably.

Magnus opened his mouth to say something on behalf of his foolish son, but before that, Perturabo's firm and unquestionable declaration exploded.

"listen!"

"No matter how bright the flowers may be, I would never let a young child run to the edge of a cliff and pick them without stopping."

"Nor will I let you run anywhere near the IV Corps mine defenses of this fort without a map and proper training."

We have to get rid of this childish and ignorant thinking and do the right thing, now do you understand why we should try our best to save as many people as possible?"

Forsyth's head was almost hanging to the ground, he was as quiet as a dead corpse, and he didn't answer in a low voice but earnestly until a while later.

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry."

Almost at the same time, Magnus came up with a smile and patted his brother on the shoulder.

"Forsyth is a master of numbers, better at arbitrating questions of experience and absolutes of right and wrong than of philosophical and moral debates."

"I know, Magnus, I know."

"This voice also appeared among my Iron Warriors. They don't know the importance of rescuing mortals. That's why you and I need to cooperate more closely. My brother, spur our children to do their best. save as many people as possible.”

"Of course, bro, I've been working so hard."

"Then, I hope that every soldier of Thousand Sons can devote himself to disaster relief, just like my legion, instead of digging up ruins and ancient libraries."

On Perturabo's face, Morgan saw a quick flash of slyness.

"That's just a small team, Perturabo. I swear I won't send any more people. A small team won't affect the overall situation."

The discussions between the two Primarchs soon became fast and intense, and they divided the areas and tasks of their respective legions at an extremely fast speed: the Iron Warriors will gradually take over everything about evacuation and construction, while the Thousand Sons will Separating into small groups to assist them, Perturabo would be in charge of all these matters, while Magnus would immediately set off for a city inland, where the Governor and his party were said to have emerged.

As for Ahriman, Atawa, and Phocis, they each had their own tasks. They were either leading their own team to defend one side, or going deep into the ruins to find the things that Magnus dreamed of.

Discussions between the Primarch Brothers raced forward in a gradually friendly atmosphere until the last question arose.

"No, Magnus, you must leave one person behind, at least an officer who can contact you directly."

Perturabo retorted fiercely to his brother.

"We must be able to maintain communication at all times to prevent any emergencies. Don't rely so much on your psychic power. You know, there are countless means and accidents in this galaxy that can make this power suddenly invalid!"

"Okay, Perturabo."

The repeated words of the Lord of Steel made Magnus speechless, or he simply didn't want to continue the quarrel. The Primarch of the Thousand Sons looked around and pulled Morgan into his around.

"Your senior officer, my brother."

"A mortal?"

"I repeat, my senior advisor."

"Have you tested her yourself?"

"My best heirs all recognize her wisdom and ability, and I trust their judgment."

Perturabo sighed, perhaps because he was also tired of the quarrel, he finally nodded and let Magnus leave quickly with his three heirs.

Ahriman was the last one to leave. When he passed by Morgan, he stuffed something secretly.

It wasn't until the sound of their footsteps disappeared that Perturabo slowly lowered his head. He casually glanced at Morgan in front of him, and then walked back to his workbench.

"Get to work, mortal."

"Hopefully my brother didn't exaggerate this time."

(End of this chapter)