Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 276 Arrangement

"We...they have a kind of cheese that uses specially cultivated and selected tiny fungi to make a cheese with a unique taste; the recipe has been inherited from the ancient Eldar Empire, and its only function is to make people with normal tastes within a Terra week. Not in the mood to eat. But, huh..."

Conrad Coates held a fork awkwardly with his hand, flipping the square piece of burnt black pickled pork on the plate, watching the sauce of unknown raw materials flow along the surface of the silver fork, leaving traces of traces wherever it went. Next is a piece of thick black slurry.

"I found another use for it, and that was to help induce vomiting during emergency procedures after someone had taken this bouncing meal."

After finishing speaking, Coze showed a signature abnormal smile to the Emperor sitting opposite him.

"Am I right, Father?" He deliberately softened his voice. "How did you manage to eat these... things, great Emperor of the Galaxy?"

On the other side of the long table, Morse grinned, smoothing the shiver on his skin through his sleeves under the sudden change in the Primarch's voice and tone.

The Emperor's hand gently lowered his grip on the fork. He glanced at Conrad Coates calmly. No matter whether it was the golden laurel crown on his head that seemed to be emitting platinum light, or the black robe embroidered with gold eagles, there was no trace of being messed up.

It is hard to imagine that such a noble king calmly finished a plate of fried mushroom slices with puff balls and half-cooked mushrooms with his gold-plated fork.

A whole plate.

"I actually didn't ask you to eat..." Angron moved forward in his seat.

Conrad Coates took a bite of pickled pork, and the moment his lips touched the tip of the fork, he put it down sharply.

"I win, Konrad Curze." The Emperor said, without any clue that he had just won an eating and drinking contest by deception - or maybe it was not an illegal trick, after all, there was no one in the game. Clear competition rules have been stated.

"Here we go again," Morse murmured in a low voice, and at the same time let his psychic power help his voice float into the ears of everyone present, "Find some glorious lines as resplendent as the Emperor's Dream to embellish your personality. The egregious nature of the conduct.”

Konrad Coates grabbed the goblet, glanced at the bubbling mushroom beer, closed his eyes and drank it in one gulp, raising his eyebrows slightly.

The Emperor made no move. "I remember that this body of yours did not complete the debugging of the taste system." He said.

"You can do it too," the Emperor said. "You have the potential to defeat me in these areas. Will you do it, Eighth Son?"

Angron picked up the cup, fanned the hot air from the top of the beer to his nose, then took a sip and said, "It's very good. It's rare for them to think about the right thing."

"You pronounce my name to the point of despair, Emperor." Morse said, "But I still recommend that you try the Green Skin Butter Mushroom Beer. It is really good. It has a refreshing taste and is spicy enough. It is better than yours." Imperial’s Amaceco is much better.”

The Emperor nodded calmly, and a layer of golden light floated on the surface of his empty dinner plate, just like a speck of dust in the air stirring up ripples in the air current.

Once a person develops the bad habit of grabbing food with his hands early in life, tableware will change from a practical tool in his eyes to a cynical "ineffective prop for falsifying civilization."

"Morse is right, father," Coates said.

"Normally they wouldn't make Tiao Tiao like this. Today they were thinking about how to prepare the best meal for the emperor to celebrate, so they developed some... unusual food."

After the light floating on the surface faded, the illusion was exposed. The untouched puff-ball grilled mushroom slices were stir-fried half-cooked and reappeared on the porcelain plate with gold-rimmed patterns.

Perturabo, who was quietly watching the entire royal dinner where the green-skinned chef devoted himself, suddenly said: "That's true."

The Emperor turned a deaf ear to the chatter beside him, still looking intently at Konrad's face.

The Emperor spoke slowly, with a solemn expression: "You set your rules, Eighth Son. But not everyone will obey them; and among those who obey, there will be deception and betrayal. You will remember this. One day, and at this time, all of this only happened on a high table in a small hall."

Curze's eyes fell on the emperor's full dinner plate and the clean golden fork next to it, and he couldn't leave.

"Morse." The Emperor turned to him.

"Oh, Angron," Morse said, sitting on a special high chair, tapping his fingers on the table casually, "In front of us, you don't actually need to restrain your greenskin accent. For example, 'Rehmannia', I I quite like this pronunciation.”

"I'm not Leman Russ, why do I have to compete with you in eating and drinking?" Curze leaned back angrily, pushing the plate away from him and his awkward fork. "You win, Emperor."

When the Emperor took his first bite, Angron admitted that he was actually laughing. But after the Emperor and Konrad Curze began to inexplicably compete secretly over the objects on the table that could barely be called "food", Angron gradually felt a sense of guilt and unease in his heart.

The emperor sighed softly, half believing it or not, but hesitantly stretched out his hand to pinch the handle of the cup and wet his mouth slightly with beer.

He put down his cup and fell into silence.

"How?" Morse smiled.

"...Not bad." The emperor said, showing a rare surprise in the two words.

"Right!" Morse did not hesitate to let his laughter echo in the hall. For a moment, the huge golden hall was filled with the laughter of a mortal-sized humanoid - or maybe this was just Because others are too quiet.

"Morse..." the Emperor interrupted.

"I just want to say," Morse immediately stopped laughing, as if the previous laughter was just waiting for the end brought by the emperor, "Now you finally find that there is only one person in this hall who is lying. Oh, the venerable Emperor of Mankind. Do you think I would commit the same deception as you?"

“Also, I did calibrate my taste organ settings because I’m getting ready to go back to Olympia.”

Considering all the possibilities after returning to Olympia, he actually kneaded the body under the black clothes for later use. Twenty years ago in Macragge, he still lingered in his memory when he passed through a large bathhouse but was not allowed to enter.

The emperor slowly inhaled and exhaled, and the radiant spiritual energy on the surface of the golden crown rose and fell, sometimes brightening and sometimes dimming.

"You are right," the Emperor said, giving up further argument.

He probably just realized that there were three Primarchs in the hall, three of them had their own talents in the debate, and they were all close to Morse, and he was alone, and he was bound to eat a lot of money in the debate. The fried mushroom slices were fried half-cooked, which was an even more unfortunate failure.

The Emperor took another sip of mushroom beer. This time the drinking process became simpler. "When did you go to Olympia?" asked the Emperor, "and why did you go?"

"You said it, or did I say it?" Morse turned sideways and used body language to emphasize the presence of Perturabo next to him.

"I'll do it." Perturabo nodded, "I'm going to hold a global games on my home planet to celebrate the success of the expedition and to regain the competitive spirit needed for the expedition and the space I built. The liftoff of the fortress. After the other part of me returns with the energy source, Cheorwon will be able to ascend into space. With your permission, father, I hope to return after confirming that Konrad Curze has completed his meeting with the Legion."

"Why this time?" Curze whispered, "What will I do to my Legion?"

"Olympiad?" asked the Emperor.

"Yes...that's the name." Perturabo was a little surprised. He was not sure whether the emperor happened to guess the name or whether he really knew something.

"You found this word in the old library of Olympia, Perturabo," said Morse, "and our Emperor of Mankind is much older than that pile of paper."

"What about you? Where is your age?" Cozz asked curiously. He was always curious about this person who had never appeared in his prophecy - he was now gradually convinced that the deviation between reality and prophecy was definitely related to Morse Very relevant.

"Older than Maccad." Morse said. "He has transformed his appearance into an old man in gray. Who knows that he is still young and handsome in the etheric field?"

"Makado is vital to the Empire," the Emperor said, "and so are you."

"I heard a kind of 'even' in your 'also'," Morse plucked the jumping sauce on his plate with a fork, "So, will you come to watch our sports meeting?"

"There are many things to do in the expedition, and the responsibility for the rejuvenation of mankind is fully shouldered here. Although a moderate amount of leisure and play is a way to recharge one's energy, I don't need such a rest."

"If nothing else happens, I will write the scripts for the opening and closing ceremonies," Morse said leisurely, speaking slowly and clearly, "Peturabo suggested that the theme be human history. I think this Not only is it of great significance, but the materials available are rich in legends, making it the best choice.”

"If this performance is successful, I can write all the plays needed for the next twenty years in one go, which can be regarded as taking advantage of the opportunity... So, are you sure you don't want to be the artistic supervisor for the historical play I wrote?"

+I will go. +The Emperor said it another way.

"Can I get an invitation?" Coates asked. "I'm not in a hurry to get to Baal either."

"Of course, if you want." Perturabo thought for a moment and then agreed.

He thought of a possibility for a moment. If enough space warriors from different legions could attend this games, it might not be impossible to develop into a grand event that would include all legions in the future. It would also be regarded as Olympia's role in the human empire. further laid the foundation for its importance.

"After you have met your genetic offspring, you can also bring some of them with you. I will add fighting games between Space Marines." Perturabo said, "Although the rules will be different from your Legion Red Sand Field," he nodded in the direction of Angron, "this will still be a feast of weapons."

"Feast of Blades," Curze spat out a word and stared at Perturabo, "Why didn't you name it that way?"

"Also," the Lord of Iron said, after thinking for a moment, he shook his head slightly, "No, the meaning of the word is too sharp, and it is more like the naming rules adopted by the Imperial Fist. In any case, thank you for your suggestion."

"Angron, are you coming?" he asked next.

"I'll ask Karn later," Angron replied, "and see if the Legion can spare some time."

"Okay, Olympia looks forward to your arrival."

"I'm also looking forward to seeing the memorial you mentioned, Perturabo." Since the two of them were separated by a table, Angron didn't pat Perturabo's shoulder as usual, but just widened his smile. , "You have built so many Iron Warriors memorials, but we don't have the opportunity to see them all."

"Just because we have a rare opportunity to go to Olympia together," Perturabo said, paying attention to the emperor's expression, "Father, you can also visit our memorial hall together, do you agree?"

+Good. +The Emperor replied curtly, continuing to drink his mushroom wine. He always enjoyed the time when he didn't have to talk.

Perturabo reported the names of his brothers one by one in his mind, and finally said regretfully, "Magnus may not have this time to spare. A battle is breaking out on his flagship... between inanimate beings and the real universe. The combination of soulless flesh and blood is used to break through the crisis of the veil."

"He has informed me," the Emperor said. "I informed him that he had the right to handle it on his own."

"It actually sounds more like a request for help from you," Morse commented casually, "You know, Magnus really doesn't like to deal with things behind the curtain."

"Don't like it much?" Coz repeated, this time it was indeed a subconscious move. He squeezed his fork, brushed his lips with his teeth, and then suppressed his habit of biting his lips to taste the blood.

"To be precise, Magnus's sense of ether is relatively complicated." Perturabo added, "He won't resist, but he doesn't want to use it more - and the premise of all this is that he may be the most powerful person in the empire. One of the few outstanding psychic masters."

Curze took a deep breath. "Okay, so Magnus doesn't have time to go? You make me want to meet him once."

"He himself is not available, but another version of him must be."

Perturabo held up a finger, as if metaphorically referring to the height of something.

"And several of his descendants are still participating in the new round of exchanges within my legion. Iskandar Kayon is the captain of that team. Therefore, it can also be counted as him leading the warriors to visit Olympia?"

"In addition..." he said thoughtfully, "Those far away in the galaxy have suspended the invitation, but Fulgrim, Ferrus Manus and Vulkan will all return to Terra in the near future. Father, they will Got a new urgent assignment?”

"Horus Luperkar will," the Emperor said.

"Well, the way you express your trust in him is really unique." Morse shrugged, "Where did your warriors go? Where did your warriors turn? So we can go search with you. he."

"That's tentative," Perturabo smiled, "I will invite you, Konrad Curze, Angron, Fulgrim, Ferrus Manus, Vulkan , another Magnus, and Rogal Dorn, come together to watch the first Olympiad."

"I'm going to meet with my Eighth Legion tomorrow." Coze stood up and said, "It's really exciting." He made a pun.

(End of this chapter)