Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 342 Drinking Together (Part )

Horus's words were true, Sanguinius realized as he walked among his timid-looking sons.

The Council of Four Kings and Horus Luperkar, who had changed into ceremonial attire, stood behind him. Of course, Torgadon looked after the cart of wine. Sanguinius stepped forward, feeling the supportive gaze behind him pushing his steps forward, and the Ninth Legion drawing him back to their midst.

Even the Night Lord's gorgeous and rich words were not enough to describe all that the Immortal Nine presented to Sanguinius.

This was a legion that broke his heart. Unlike the Luna Wolf's pearl armor, which smelled of polished pearl powder, the ninth legion was hastily covered with gray monochrome armor, covered with fire and swords. hurt. In the war mission, they were deprived of everything, from honor to life. Ever since they were transformed into soldiers of the Ninth Legion, fate seemed to have put its hands on their necks, leaving no trace of mercy or tenderness.

The Immortal Nine were routed, defeated, and fell to their knees time and time again, and all this was brought to them by the blood of Sanguinius, and the harm done to them by the blood-thirsty sub-line in his life. Thinking of this, the angel suddenly wondered how he still had the power to lead and save - the suffering of his offspring came from him.

"Warriors, I am Sanguinius, the Primarch of your bloodline," Sanguinius said, and the speeches he once wrote were blown away with the wind of Baal. The Immortal Nine does not require a glossy promise, or a promise of future glory and lofty ideals. What they needed was not the philosophy of the Imperial Crusade, for they had never strayed from it.

"Take off your helmet, Baal's radiation is not enough to harm any of us."

The Ninth Legion did so.

And Sanguinius got a pair of fearful and timid eyes, embedded in one beautiful but pale face. These faces are the only masks they have. Putting them on any legion is enough to gain glory, but in Here, in Baal, before the eyes of Archangel Sanguinius, the faces of these angels could only barely conceal their fear.

Sanguinius left him, searching for a second among the Ninth Legion who would respond to him.

Idamas's cheek muscles trembled.

They were afraid that their genetic father would get too close, close enough to understand the true body beneath their armor, close enough to detect any part that could touch their essence.

"A long time ago?"

"What's your name?" he asked.

The angel looked at him: "Do you remember how many battles you fought?"

At some point, there seemed to be more warriors willing to do this.

This was not a fear of his own existence, but a heartfelt fear of what his arrival represented. This was evident from their silent retreat when Sanguinius walked into their midst.

"I don't remember," the soldier said.

The angel's hand patted Amit's shoulder armor, "Please don't be humble in front of me."

Amit looked up at him, eyebrows arched. "Many," he said, "all the battles we had to fight. All our achievements were bloody."

The warrior's eyes flickered slightly. "Idamas," he said quickly, as if expecting Sanguinius to leave him.

"But they comply with the order, right?"

"It makes you lose track of time. I'm afraid it's a war that ended long before I started." Sanguinius said. "You have fought more battles than I have ever fought. ”

"Where did you get this scar, Idamus?" Sanguinius asked, making a diagonal gesture with his finger over his lips.

"Nasir Amit." He got a response, crisper than the previous one, with an armor-clad aggression.

"What is your name, warrior?" Sanguinius asked carefully, choosing a warrior who would look him in the eye.

He pursed his lips and smiled, "You were already great warriors when I was still an infant."

"...Yes." Idamas said hoarsely.

Sanguinius continued to move, wings carefully folded so as not to inadvertently touch any resisting warrior.

"Not quite," Amit said, his voice tight.

Sanguinius asked the names of some more warriors, one by one, listening to the full story being woven from the restrained, short words, and his own as well.

As one warrior downplayed a battle that had destroyed half his face, describing the acid spray weapons and splinter munitions used by the resisters, Sanguinius introduced him to the part of the Baal mutants that spewed radioactive ichor.

"I just learned that there are more powerful venoms, and that you have stepped into a universe wider than all my dreams," Sanguinius said, trying to touch the warrior's roughly chopped head, "Fight Good job, soldier."

Some soldiers will introduce some of the habits of the legion. He will tell how the legion fights on the ground and what techniques they usually use to tear the flesh and blood of the enemy. The ghouls he described were brutal and violent, almost deliberately destroying the basis for the normal Primarch to have a good impression, which earned some angry looks from his companions.

"Reminds me of those pamphlets written by my tribe," the angel said bitterly, "recording that I fought a road paved with blood for them in front. Sometimes I think I scared them, but the elders Or do you think I protected the pure-blood tribe?"

"You deserve the praise, my lord."

"What about you," Sanguinius blurted, looking at the hesitation and struggle on the warriors' faces. "You are worthy of it too."

Sanguinius could feel the Luna Wolves' eyes focused on him, surprised by his words. Well, he thought, Horus had said that words would flow from him, and these were the words he suddenly wanted to say.

"The burial banquet on board the Gray Lady?" Sanguinius asked, "May I ask, why is such a banquet held?"

"We eat our dead brothers," the soldier said stiffly, and soon became almost self-indulgent. "We eat their raw flesh, eat their memories, preserve the history of the legion, and let those souls most worthy of continuation be reborn among us. ." Near them, Legion Commander Ishdur Osuran spoke proactively: "That's it, sir. I was resurrected from Zarin's body."

Sanguinius nodded slightly: "Not long ago, the Baal people would not record history on parchment. Some special tribes would even extract water from the dead. I don't know, maybe this sounds cruel, but we ——You and I are all familiar with an unusual custom of extending life. I always think that this is not taught to us by others, but sung by life itself. "

He shook his head, inviting the Legionnaires to approach him without regard to order or any possible offense.

If you want to tell him a name, say yours and Sanguinius will remember it. If you want to tell a story, or a few words, just speak, and the Legion will remember, use your brain and thinking, use your spirit and bones, use your blood and flesh.

Even with the most extraordinary memory, an individual may forget some details, but the history of the entire legion will not. Their hearts flow in each other's blood. They come from the same source, are scattered in thousands of places, and eventually return to the same source. There will be no more forgetfulness, and the glory that was once deprived of being rejected will return to the Legion's hard work bit by bit.

This took a lot of time and seemed to end very quickly. The ghoul's expression has changed, and all the worried fear has faded away, turning into intense desire and almost tough questioning. They want to know Sanguinius's decision, what exactly Sanguinius thinks of them, why he wants to understand them in this way, and where he wants to take them.

Their introduction to each other was like permission to indulge the ghouls, daring them to regain their desire and demand all they deserved.

Sanguinius looked at his legion with emotion.

He said: "I am very happy to meet you, Immortal Nine. Everything today makes me re-examine the world today."

"Before this, I always thought that I had saved one planet, and there were hundreds of planets waiting for me outside. But when I was supposed to lead a force that had saved hundreds of worlds, I remembered this - —

"The Ninth Legion belongs to you, not me. It was not created by me, and it has never been protected by me. You have reached the point where you are today, but I have not provided any assistance. How can I have the power to impose my orders on you?" The top of your head?
"My achievements today are actually not as good as any of you. The things I have accomplished since I came to this world are far inferior to Immortal Nine. In front of you, although I am tall, I am just an apprentice and an apprentice. child.

"Now, I have become the master of the legion. This is not what I earned by fighting with my own strength. It is how some of you became captains and company commanders. This is what I was given by my innate destiny. But destiny I won’t favor you.”

Sanguinius spoke among his children, his sigh joining the wind of sand that blew here.

The Immortal Nine, they are the same living beings as the mortals who are struggling to survive and survive in Baal. They are both the emperor's warriors and the people of the empire, but it seems that neither side is allowed to integrate.

"What reason do I have to be your leader, and what qualifications do I have to lead a great, battle-hardened team on a different path? How do I fulfill the responsibilities I've been given so that we can become a true unit and work with each other?" Rely on and not be slandered, entangled, or abandoned by others?

"In the face of fate, we each seem to have our own responsibilities. The pre-set trajectory allows you to play the role of blood-drinking and flesh-eating thugs, and it also allows me to ascend to the altar that I don't like and be worshiped by others.

"However, my recent experiences have repeatedly told me that destiny may be real or fictitious, but it is never trustworthy or worthy of attention. The path we take will always be the path we choose.

"I respect you for your achievements, admire you for your strength, and lament for your suffering. And the path I have chosen is that I hope to be lucky enough to be allowed to follow you to learn, to accompany you to fight, and to understand you. My will spreads its wings in front of you, pursuing reason and belief in the dark galaxy.

"I hope to use everything I provide you in exchange for your trust and your recognition. Although you are my descendants, I am your original body."

In the wind and sand, Sanguinius spread his wings and knelt down on one knee, with only determination on his beautiful face.

The ghoul army was surprised by the rustling sound of sand, and their armor clanged against each other. The orders and oaths they feared never arrived, the grand words and inspiring scenes they expected were nowhere to be found, and the punishments and blame they expected were nowhere to be seen. Their hearts beat so fast and powerfully as never before.

"If you refuse, I will leave, and I will renegotiate my agreement with the Emperor and never interfere in any of your actions again.

"If you accept me, accept me as one of you, and allow me to learn like a new recruit until I am qualified to be recognized by you, then I will stay and grow enough to stand by your side, and even The posture in front of you.

"We will jointly re-explore what the new legion will look like, to find a better look, as a bloodline connected by blood, to find the path we all really want to go, without being restricted by others, regardless of fate's reproach.

"Finally, I know that you are exiles, brave warriors born from the homeless, people who were not promised by Terra." Sanguinius slowly looked away from each person's face. Moving over, under the blazing sunlight, his outline was still gentle, "If you agree, Baal will become your home."

The gravel scrapes against the ceramic steel, and the sound is like falling rain.

"What do you think?" Sanguinius raised his voice, stood up, and shouted in the wind and sand, "Dear warriors? Can you allow me to swear to you and use it for you?"

Thousands of roars of approval echoed across the plains of Baal, whipping up strong winds that shook the earth, like the surging pulse of the desert, rolling straight into the heavens and the earth.

Sanguinius smiled proudly: "In that case, allow me to bring you a sip of wine as a gift for meeting you! This is what I asked for from your uncle in the Eighth Legion. As for the magical effects of wine, I believe you Will be satisfied!”

He turned around and waved to Tarik Torgadun, who was waiting nearby and looking a little dull, through some soldiers: "Please also ask friends from the 16th Legion to distribute blood wine to us!"

The Four Kings Council who were watching from the side came to their senses and drove the car close to the team in a hurry. Sanguinius motioned for them to throw a bottle, and soon Horus threw a bottle of wine into Sanguinius's hands.

Angel easily uncorked the bottle and took a sip himself. He was filled with turbulent and vague high emotions, and splendid and indistinguishable stimulating memories. As the blood and wine impacted his brain, he could hardly imagine any drink more suitable than this. A harmless treat for the Ninth Legion.

He nodded to the legion: "One bottle per person, no matter how much you have, it will be gone! Just think of it as a belated celebration banquet at the end of your decades of fighting. It's a pity that there is no food seasoning, we can't put the sixteenth legion's Friends brought it to accompany the wine.”

Sanguinius's words caused a burst of laughter, and the ghouls moved to get their rewards from behind the overwhelmed Luna Wolves. Tarik Torgadun's timely expression of fear of being eaten alive earned him a lot of fangs bared at him.

But the legion commander who has not yet resigned remains at the rear of the legion.

"We need a name," Ishdur Osuran stepped forward, his restrained tone hiding emotions as bitter as bitter brew, "A name given by you yourself, to prove that we belong to you."

Sanguinius nodded slightly and closed his wings: "Blood Angel, this is the title given to me by Baal. From now on, it will also belong to you."

(End of this chapter)