Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 405: The City of Dust
"When you do evil, you should never blame yourself, but blame Him and the world." - The Book of Lorgar

Perturabo had the robotic arm behind him place the datapad back on the table, and gathered up the pile of papers and pens that were gradually filling up the table, while thinking about the short message from Lion El'Jonson.

The Lion King was unusually generous and shared the news he obtained from his ground exploration with the other three Primarchs as soon as possible. The answers he gave, although unexpected, were logical and reasonable.

They all knew that the Randan alien would, in some form, absorb the consciousness and organic matter of other life forms into its own body and use it to expand.

Then, it is undoubtedly very likely that a stronger foreign consciousness - such as the Word Bearers, whose fanaticism is probably only rivaled by another order of their own among the entire Space Marines - can defeat a weak and powerless original Randan consciousness.

And yet... Perturabo continued to think, the quill lingering for a moment on the rim of the water glass.

The moment before the pen tip touched the water, he noticed the movement of his right hand, immediately moved the pen away as if nothing had happened, and dipped it into ink in the right place.

However, first of all, how did the Lion manage to track down a lone consciousness across half the planet? Judging from the information sent back by Kroger, a member of the assault team, they did not send any information to El'Jonson at all.

Could it be that the First Primarch had tracked their signal backwards, following the waves emitted by a surveillance device that Perturabo had accidentally designed to be too powerful?
No, this shouldn't be possible.

The Iron Lord made a quick sketch of the interior decoration on a new piece of paper, and the theme he chose was the Wanderer's Church a few hours ago. This would help him stabilize his inner state.

The second question - a question that inadvertently entered Perturabo's mind, about the Randan alien species itself.

Since their consciousness can be defeated, how did they develop the basic source of consciousness that could ensure their victory in the first place, rather than falling from hunter to prey and destroying themselves in the process of devouring?

Two questions lingered in the Iron Lord's mind at the same time, and he allowed himself time to think about a painting first.

The solemn and dignified scene of the temple is enhanced by a large number of orderly lines and a large perspective composition. Even if it is just a casual sketch, the atmosphere and basic painting skills reflected in it are enough to make almost all painters in the galaxy pale in comparison.

This is why Perturabo does not like to show his paintings in front of mortals. He does not need to use this talent to exchange for the admiration of others.

The Iron Lord put down the last stroke on the paper, outlining the flames rising from the four candlesticks next to the holy image. He was slightly nervous because of Lorgar's attitude, and for a brief moment he wondered if the number "four" had anything to do with him.

"I know you didn't leave." He put down his pen, rubbed his temples, and spoke into the air.

"You guessed it, Perturabo," Morse emerged generously from thin air. He was sitting in his chair, lying on his back in a way that was not good for his cervical spine, writing some words on the data tablet with an electronic pen.

Perturabo was not sure whether it was the report that Morse would bring back as the Emperor's emissary, or some other random rambling.

"You're not in a hurry to leave?" asked the Iron Lord. "I thought you were really busy."

"That depends on who you're comparing yourself to," Morse replied, sitting up a little straighter in his recliner. "Me?"

"They are curious about you, Mors. Aurelion. And Horus."

Morse held up his electronic pen. "I hear you, Iron Lord. Nice painting of the church, by the way."

"You must be changing the subject."

"Obviously I am preventing you from exploring a question that you are obviously also very curious about, so I decided to ask the Lord of the Fourth Legion as an emissary from Terra how your next round of offensive plans will unfold."

"If you want to see," Perturabo extended the mechanical arm, and each claw on the front claw flipped to horizontal so that it could lift an entire stack of documents on the table that was more than a foot thick from the bottom.

"Oh, let me guess, is this a table of contents or an index?"

"When did I make the battle plan so lengthy? That would be equivalent to ignoring the subsequent changes in the actual situation." Perturabo retorted, "This is the next issue of the internal reference, which contains some basic combat viewpoints and methods adapted to the Randan front, including the command system of the orbital support force, the principles and basic methods of using different ammunition, the artillery preparation and support of the front, the artillery support plan for the infantry located in the depth of the enemy's defense, and so on."

He glanced at the thick document held up by the mechanical claws with a satisfied look. The sense of accomplishment from writing it was greater than drawing a perfect painting. "As for the plan itself, it is expected to reach the detectable core of Randan in the next five years, and then start to clean up the three unexplored sides from the core."

"Do you hope that Randan is a large hive whose core can be destroyed and cause the group to collapse?"

"That is indeed our reasonable hope, otherwise the battles in the remaining three quadrants of the cluster will be as time-consuming and resource-intensive as the battle we are now waging against the First Quadrant," Perturabo said, placing his proof print of the Iron Warriors' internal material back on the table.

"And be patient," Morse replied, turning the electronic pen in his hand. "What a long battle, attack - death - exploration - occupation, I see a cycle, and for the entire empire..."

He clicked his fingers together, stopping the pen's rotation. "This is not a rush, Perturabo. No one questions a Primarch, let alone four of them. Not even the Emperor is in a hurry."

"I know," Perturabo said, "So what identity did you once hold when you walked beside the Emperor?"

Morse raised his eyebrows in surprise: "When did you change the subject?"

"Now," Perturabo said, sending the file of this issue of internal reference material to the Iron Warriors internal channel and calling on the mortal clerk to print a certain number of them.

Morse thought for a moment and said, "I told you that if I tell you the whole story, I won't be the one who's embarrassed. But considering the personalities of the two people who are curious now, they won't like the answers they are exploring."

"You could just talk to me."

"No." Morse lay back in his chair, clasping the datapad to his chest and closing his eyes. "But you can ask questions, as a guessing game, how about that?"

Perturabo did not answer immediately. He frowned slightly because he received a new summary of casualties. At the same time, in this batch of reports, he received another application report on the application to cancel the squad mode and rejoin the legion-level front-line combat.

This is not an isolated case. But this time the applicant is the 23rd Squadron, which had a great record in the past.

"Why wouldn't Horus like it?" He asked first, unfolding the report in his mind and retrieving the data information of Kroger's team again, adjusting his thinking and welcoming the emotions implied in this report in a more emotional state.

"Why wouldn't Horus like it? The reason is simple. Why didn't Horus like Malcador? Why did he hate Valdor? It's the same thing. He doesn't know who I was, so he can't imagine me the same way he imagines Malcador," Mors shrugged. "Oh, but I'm lucky to have sided with Horus on the Mortal Council."

"The Luna Wolves, I do sometimes feel that this Legion is a more sentimental one," Perturabo said, partially absorbed in the transmission recorded by Krog's auxiliary system, listening to every subtle change in the Moon Wolf's tone.

"The essence of each legion is based on the coexistence of sensibility and rationality," Morse commented. "You can feel their emotions, and it is their sensibility that makes them space marines - because anyone who is rational enough knows that they should not completely immerse their limited lives in the abyss of eternal battle."

"No," Perturabo raised his head. "They..." He paused for a moment, then continued: "They show more of their mortal-like side."

"Really?" Morse did not comment. The electronic pen in his hand turned half a circle. He suddenly raised the data tablet and wrote two lines on it. His eyes stayed between them, and there was no fluctuation in his expression.

Perturabo attached the request with the responses they would need, and set about reassigning the two warriors to their company, as well as promoting Kellogg to squad leader.

As for Hammer, Perturabo thought for half a second and upgraded him by one level.

"Any questions?" Morse asked, looking away from his notes.

"What about Lorgar Aurelion? What could possibly displease him? He has an extraordinary regard and respect for anyone close to the Emperor."

Perturabo said, noting that Lion El'Jonson refused to rejoin them even after the ground operations were concluded. Instead, he moved the fleet and headed straight in a specific direction.

Perhaps revealing the Legion's movements to them was the last kindness the Dark Angels could give them.

"I remember you've read a lot of ancient Terra history, my Iron Lord, otherwise you wouldn't know the story of the two wolves." Morse said, his voice sounding a little playful, "Although I have always had a lot of opinions about Rome because of the unpleasantness when the city was founded, sometimes I find their words very interesting."

He reached deep into his memory, recalling some pleasant little quarrels, which were surprisingly clear, proving that people who are too old are indeed more likely to remember stories from earlier in life more clearly.

"They pursue worldly things and abandon heavenly things. When these slanderers of the law reject the judgment of heaven and plead with me, what do they think of the Savior? The Donatists appealed, although this sect is probably also a heresy in Aurelion's eyes today." When mentioning these topics, Morse perked up a lot. "Guess what the emperor said in response to this petition?"

"Criticism." Perturabo could guess some fragments of history just by looking at Morse's attitude.

"He burned the petition," Morse said briskly, "and said that we mortals had no right to judge bishops; if they were going to appeal, it should not be taken to the courts, but left directly to the gods to do their divine justice."

Perturabo gave a brief smile. "It is in accordance with the canon law. Literally."

"Let them live in a vacuum, and don't let the world taint their faith." Morse shrugged. "Many believers call Rome an evil kingdom, but some of them support the continuation of Rome. 'Rome is the last human kingdom before the end of all things. Giving the Roman Empire a respite will delay the great changes that will envelop the world.'"

"The end of the world?"

"And then build a new one or something like that," the tinkerer said. "But if you must ask, I think Terra ended a long time ago. The thing now is probably some suspicious gilded corpse. As for the new world, Aurelion should know - by the way, did I mention that he has almost the same name as a Roman emperor? This makes me even more curious about the origin of your name."

"You are in conflict with each other, your Rome and the Church."

"Sometimes they combine with each other." Morse sneered.

"It sounds like you know a lot of interesting facts that are barely preserved in any of Terra's great libraries."

"Because that is a story from 30,000 years ago, and we can't even understand the history of a hundred years ago." Morse laughed.

“So, you hate religion?”

Morse turned his head and glanced at Perturabo. "The Edict of Milan stipulates that all other people should be allowed to practice their religion freely and without restriction. This is certainly to ensure the stability of the monarchy, but why would denying the sacramental life of the church be detrimental to the rule of the empire?"

"Citizens," the Lord of Olympia answered easily, though perhaps not everyone noticed that for most of Perturabo's life so far, he had been the master of a not-so-small polity.

Morse raised the corner of his mouth: "Let's make a simple assumption. We all know that people have things they want and things they don't want. Right - you can actually continue to multitask at the same time. If I delay your work, I might as well go back to Terra to report on my work."

Perturabo took up his paper again and superimposed a new silhouette in the center. The first subject he chose to draw was Aurelion - even if it was just a dark back, bowing in reverence before the Emperor's image.

"tell him.

"What they have done here is to make a definition of a term, calling the place with the former heaven and the place with the latter hell, and then add a theory of divine command, saying that the moral law was established by Him."

"A decree?" Perturabo raised an eyebrow.

"The essence is more fundamental than the decree. They did not fundamentally change anything, Lord of Iron. They just built an explanatory framework and created a set of formulas to analyze the world. While limiting people's perspective on the world, they also provided a basic a priori perspective."

Morse paused. "It provides an inspiring law for those whose perception of the world is limited, and a perfect object of ridicule for those whose perception of the world exceeds the interpretation provided by that framework, or who are simply hostile to that framework."

“Teach people how to view the world from different perspectives?”

"For whatever reasons the creator of that angle needed."

"Like calling psychic powers numerology." Perturabo put down his pen and smiled.

"That's right," Morse said. "That's a very good metaphor. It's not even a lie, it's just... let me think about it, another framework that is particularly limited, particularly dogmatic, and particularly unwilling to be violated. The City of Earthly Destiny versus the City of God, Rome versus the Church, two interpretive frameworks and the power systems that come with them are always separated from each other, and always trying to infringe on each other."

The Thinker's screen beside Perturabo lit up.

The Iron Lord distracted himself again, put down the drawing paper on which he had just drawn a figure of Morse secretly extinguishing a candle beside Lorgar's back, and went to receive the latest astropathic communication information. At the same time, he said, "Perhaps Lorgar knows nothing about Rome, Morse. He won't think there is anything wrong with your background."

"But he will definitely hear my position," Morse joked. "Perhaps the day when our two sides can be united can only be brought about by an angel after the Book of Revelation. At that time, I will admit that their interpretation framework is closer to the truth."

"Oh," Perturabo made an odd sound in response, "don't swear yet, Morse."

"how?"

"The First Legion has just completed a submerged dive, and has surfaced - almost immediately." Perturabo reviewed the information at hand.

"Damn the warp-time velocity," Morse said. "And what?"

"Now the Dark Angels are fighting the Angels."

(End of this chapter)