Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 408: Chess (Part )

"When the City of God travels on earth, it calls for fellow travelers from all nations in the world, regardless of differences in laws, systems, and virtues. As long as they love Him, it points to the peace of heaven." - "The Book of Lorgar"

Malcador carried his Aquila Scepter and walked into the room where Morse and the Emperor were.

In terms of age and appearance in the secular sense, the Imperial Chancellor was undoubtedly an old man who would be respected in any race and culture, but when he was in the same room with the two people in front of him, he was not sure whether his steps could not help but become lighter and his emotions more varied.

Well, he thought, after so many years, he should have admitted it long ago: if he did not delve into the experiences and thoughts hidden deep in the soul, and only looked at the many superficial phenomena of an individual's existence, he, the seal holder, was the oldest among the few people, and the situation would not change even if Waldo was included.

"How's it going?" Malcador walked over to the big table and looked down at the endgame on the table. Some of the original chessboard shelters were destroyed by the two unruly chess players, turning into small piles of dust on the table, flying in the air flow driven by the sleeves.

He noticed that the decorative angel statue in the center of the table was also destroyed, and the Emperor's golden psychic energy was reduced to tiny fragments that merged with the dust.

Regarding the fate of the Second Primarch, as with the Artisan Morse, the Sigillite only pieced together the whereabouts of the entire Legion as the battle progressed.

They all believed that the Emperor knew more, even though the Lord of Mankind far away on Terra might not really know the whole story - but as the Primarchs were the only twenty precious creations in the universe, the Emperor could not possibly erase any of them without reason.

At least, based on Malcador's understanding of the Emperor, he still did not think that a Primarch who was behaving like this now could reach the bottom line of being completely destroyed.

"Now?" Morse turned his head. "According to the Terran calendar, we just got to 854."

The Artisan and the Emperor now stood on either side of the table, leaning over the edge and leaning towards the ongoing battle. The former stepped back, lifted his hands from the edge of the long table, and flexed his fingers in a ritualistic manner, briefing Malcador on the situation.

"Randan suffered a severe blow in the first quarter, mainly led by the Luna Wolves. In the following quarter, they established more reserve forces and tried to retake the planets captured by the Imperial Fleet but failed.

"During this phase, the alien angel families we faced were quite flexible and showed obvious signs of obeying unified dispatch. They were preparing to detour their forces from the west and south to try to attack the defense line built by the Iron Warriors."

His hand rested on the side of the table, and there was nothing in the direction he pointed, but Malcador could imagine the battle scene. He nodded slightly.

"At the same time, an unexpected angel family intends to set out from the 177-54 area on the northwest side to attack our flank and carry out an auxiliary assault on the defense line. If they succeed, the two camps of the Iron Warriors will suffer heavy losses, and the area from 52-61 in the middle may become a breakthrough point for a roundabout attack on our main force. After removing the intercepting detachment, the entire route of advance and charge will be opened."

Malcador tilted his staff toward the table, the eagle on the tip of the staff watching the area Morse pointed to. "No danger is coming."

"Thanks to the news from the Dark Angels." The Emperor said, he pulled the rosewood chair under him forward a little, sat down slowly, and placed his hands quietly on the table.

"Yes, for strategic reasons, Lion El'Jonson still shared with Perturabo the Randan attack signal he obtained from his own sources - he even skipped Horus Lupercal and connected directly with the Lord of Iron."

"Where does this conflict between them come from?" Malcador sighed, his old face tilted towards the Lord of Mankind, as if hinting at something.

The Emperor picked up a retired Luna Wolf chess piece on the low table next to him and fiddled with it in his hands, carefully observing the painting skills of the craftsman Morse.

“In short, after the corresponding deployment plan changes, the Iron Warriors are ready to hold on.

"They first strengthened their use of the system's natural shelters, then brought in a destroyer fleet from the surrounding area - I know this looks like a fleet of Kratos tanks on this table, and aircraft from the reserve - referred to here as the god Aetos (tos Dios), and concentrated a large amount of firepower on Section 56 in order to thwart the enemy's strategy in defense.

"Since each Randan angel family has different characteristics, we cannot calculate the exact enemy configuration, so Perturabo chose the most reliable configuration strategy, which is to first consume the enemy's attack power, and then switch to the offense to crush the enemy family group."

"Another victory for the Iron Warriors," the Emperor said, with the expected recognition in his words.

"A very reliable legion, isn't it?" Morse couldn't help but smile and nodded to Malcador.

The Imperial Chancellor could only nod in agreement with a silent sigh. In recent years, the craftsman Morse's preference for the Iron Warriors has gradually lost its last bit of cover. Although this makes sense, it is sometimes a bit heartbreaking.

"The Iron Warriors hold their ground, while the remaining three legions, after drawing up a training plan, strengthen their firepower deployment in different directions. The main force will march to the north, with the command post set up in the Vengeful Spirit Command Hall, and the deputy commander designated as the Wandering Sanctuary." The Emperor's lips inevitably showed some unnecessary fluctuations after mentioning the special place inside Lorgar Aurelion's fleet. "The headquarters is designated as the Iron Won in the rear."

"Anyone willing to make a military proposal can submit the idea to the senior commander of their respective legions. Finally, after being integrated by several on-duty war blacksmiths, it will be presented to the desk of the Primarch, and the remaining ideas will be stored for archiving." Morse said, and the Shadow Moon Wolf chess piece in the Emperor's hand rose quietly under the guidance of the golden runes, flew to the table, and joined his companions.

The emperor did not stop him, but just gave him a brief helpless look in return.

"As time went on, the cosmic tides in this star region changed to a certain extent, and both sides adjusted and assembled their forces again. Another family of Randan Angels appeared, and they had a stronger sense of military deployment, which brought greater obstacles to the attack of the Imperial Fleet - not to mention that they had already penetrated too deep into the interior of the Randan Empire.

"Whether it's a problem with the supply line, which doesn't even necessarily require the Ran Dan aliens to take action, or a large-scale attack in a certain strategic direction, it may cause part of the military force to be crushed, and then the advantage of the entire situation will gradually tilt towards the Ran Dan side.

"At the same time, after exchanging information and intensive communication, our three legions: the Luna Wolves, the Word Bearers, and the Iron Warriors, have also discovered the existence of a Silver Angel family, but have not yet determined the other party's purpose and behavior logic."

Some silver angels that were shattered in the previous simulation reappeared on the desktop in the form of phantoms, and were destroyed in the void war accompanied by the ruthless fire of the Imperial fleet.

This is the most mobile unit on the entire table, but also the model with the weakest armor. Even though they seem to be covered with silver shells, it is later proved to be some kind of crystal-like decoration rather than actual armor structure.

"Nice unlucky fellow, isn't he?" Morse shrugged. "I can think of some unkind comparisons, but I won't describe them in front of you."

"You had better speak frankly, Morse," said the Emperor.

"Well, I think silver is more pleasing to the eye than the previous gray-yellow paint," Morse replied. "That's what you asked, my Lord."

In the shadow of his hood, Malcador assessed Morse's words, trying to discern any hidden hint of plea or intercession.

The attempt was a failure for him, and as for the Emperor, the Master of Mankind simply said: "Your taste is baffling."

Morse shrugged and took out a golden-skinned chess piece holding a power hammer, followed by a primarch chess piece with golden hair like a lion's mane, and held them together above the table.

"Lorgar Aurelion approached Lion El'Jonson without hesitation and raised a serious question: The Dark Angels and the Silver Angels' routes should have intersected many times, so why had they never heard of it from Lion?

"His questions were more doubtful than questioning, but Lion still seemed deeply offended, and his displeasure only provoked Aurelion's dissatisfaction. This time, Horus reconciled the relationship between the two, telling them to put the Emperor's will first."

"Horus," the Emperor repeated Horus' name.

"Yes, Horus. He was sad for half a year because of what Lion said at that time, but people always have to move on - oh, sorry, he is the Primarch," Morse put down the Primarch chess piece, walked around the table until he reached the side of the long table, and continued his narration.

"The Lion promised to share more information, and further stated that this was what he had intended to do, and was not forced by any Primarch. Regardless, no one ever questioned his ability or his commitment to his word. The Dark Angels' record, even with all its doubts, earned the respect of his brothers."

"After that, battle after battle continued, and the Dark Angels' behavioral logic changed. They returned to large-scale legion combat and no longer traveled through the warp, as if they were guided by something in the void." Morse stretched out his hand and drew a new deployment line on the side of the long table, redeploying all the Dark Angels behind the new deployment line.

A few years ago, during a break from work, he and Magnus finalized the rules of this war chess game, and gradually improved it in subsequent updates. Morse often believes that sometimes it is harmless to relax the adherence to the rules.

"But they seem to be attacking in a certain direction in order to eliminate a specific family. The Iron Warriors cooperated with them to establish a deep and echeloned defense in important directions, and assembled the troops to the areas that were more likely to be threatened. They also planned the main combat forces for each stage, the location of the battle, and the best time to switch from defense to offense for the four legions."

On the table, as Morse narrated, the Space Marines' pieces moved closer and closer to the Randan aliens' backfield, and the casualties on both sides became more obvious.

Even though both players were constantly adding more chess pieces to the table through means beyond the rules, and using verbal narration to emphasize the newly added attributes and different aura abilities of each model unit, on the low table next to them, chess pieces symbolizing the dead were still accumulating rapidly, overlapping each other and lying in the bright light of light in the palace.

"This is where we stand, Malcador." Morse gave the Imperial Chancellor a dramatic, formal bow to show that he had completed his introduction, then slumped back into a rattan chair, folded his hands, and regarded the new player with interest.

Malcador stroked his fingers over the scepter and sighed softly.

"The game continues," the Emperor said, giving his reminder, rising from his rosewood chair and returning to the chess table.

Malcador had to take over Morse's position. The Emperor and Morse's deduction had already simulated a time point close to reality, and the round had reached the fifth round. Even though he had not yet received the latest war report, the remaining few decisions were not difficult to infer based on the military strength and personalities of the Primarchs.

Strengthening defense or attack commands, using the cover on the table, moving, charging, shooting, and carefully adjusting the direction of advance of each army, Malcador and the Emperor are both focused on this game.

"There are no mission rules," Morse suddenly said, casually giving a cold reminder, "The only chance of winning is to clear the opponent's army from the table."

The Imperial Chancellor met the eyes of the Lord of Mankind, and then he placed the scepter against the long table, with the wings of the Sky Eagle resting on the edge of the table.

The Chancellor calculated the theories of probability and numbers - not only the probability of this dice game, but also the probability of the Emperor using unique commands.

He thought the Emperor would not use reinforcements to widen the invasion field of Randan, but that was a mistake. A group of Silver Angels appeared on the side of the Space Marines without coordinating with the Dark Angels; due to the existence of the One Inch Principle, Malcador had to consider how to destroy them in advance.

The best mobile force was the Dark Angels, and the Chancellor pushed a team of Ravenwing motorcycles forward to take the lives of the Silver Angels.

Malcador looked up, observing the Emperor's expression as he realised what he had done.

He noticed that the other party became more focused, concentrating on the situation on the table, and his dark fingers with neatly manicured nails were set off by every brightly colored chess piece.

The Emperor gazed at the vast desktop with the universe and the galaxy as its background, and his next decision was still about the movement of the Silver Angels - in order to obtain the bonus of rapid-fire combos, another team of Silver Angels approached the other Randan families on the front line, but this also exposed them to the sight of Lion El'Jonson and other legions.

The Silver Angels did not approach the Space Marines, but they were within six inches of the Dark Angels; if they exploded after death, the amount of fatal damage to these team members with limited health would be enough to kill them all.

What's more...

After a reverse move, Malcador announced another shot at the Silver Angel.

As he made this decision, he found his heart twitching quietly, but the Dark Angels had already opened fire, burying the evidence of their secret communication with the alien beings in the ion beams in front of the other three legions.

"One step closer to victory, Malcador," Morse said from the side. "Clear all enemies, Vizier. I believe this will be the choice of the Dark Angels as well. The Core is near, and it is time to exterminate any unnecessary collaborators. After all," he smiled, "they have already exchanged fire twice."

Malcador glanced once more at the center of the chessboard, and even though there was nothing there... No. There had once been a statue of an angel there.

The Emperor abandoned the strict restrictions of rounds and phases. More Randan angels came from different directions, waiting outside the lines occupied by the Iron Warriors, preparing for the next round of attack. The Silver Angels were also selected from the reserve team and infiltrated into the limited battlefield in the no-man's land.

Malcador could see the Iron Warriors' observation and guidance duties running around, the void station defenses being organized, the engineering work going on, all based on precise mathematical calculations; the legions of the Word Bearers pouring onto the battle lines, and the Luna Wolves and Dark Angels carrying out every deadly mission.

The universe trembled in silence, explosions roared in nothingness, and the bombardment of heavy artillery and the vibration of engines were like the most heavy rain that Terra had not seen in many years, smashing into the vast black universe.

"Shoot," the Emperor said, and his choice was not what Malcador had expected. "Strength twelve, thirty-six attacks in a row, on the Flamewing."

In the end, the Silver Angel still targeted the Dark Angel.

"My Lord?" Malcador asked softly, his expression becoming more serious.

The Emperor looked at him and nodded softly, a smile crossing his face that, in the circumstances, was grim encouragement.

"Of course they would, Chancellor," Morse said, holding a paper volume and a thin golden pen in his hands, without looking up. "If the Second Legion had been willing to be slaughtered, the Silver Angels would never have existed in the first place."

"Go on, Malcador," the Emperor said. His tone was so calm, but Malcador could already see the choice that Lion El'Jonson would make - this was undoubtedly what Morse had laid out from the beginning, but the craftsman handed the last chance of making a move to the hands of the Sigillite.

"At the start of the battle, the Silver Angels were included in the designated primary targets of the Flame Wings," the Imperial Chancellor said, repeating the military ceremony that Morse had set for the Dark Angels at the beginning of the battle. "Therefore, I get a plus-one to the hit result."

He then pushed the Firewing squad with the Lion El'Jonson model forward, and after an easy charge roll, locked in close combat with the Silver Angel.

“At the same time, I gain a buff that increases my number of attacks by one,” Malcador announced, his voice low. “Lion El’Jonson saw the advantage, and he chose to march.”

The Emperor raised his hand, and spiritual energy swirled around like a trickle, suddenly sweeping across the table, wiping out the models of the Silver Angel and the Flame Wing like ashes.

"According to the rules, we will die together." The emperor said, lowering his eyes.

"My Lord?" Malcador's heart beat faster, a shaky feeling hitting his nerves. He opened his mouth and found that his words were no longer under control. "Do you really want to..."

"Hey, Emperor!" Morse shouted in dissatisfaction, "You can't just turn it into a pile of ashes just because you didn't paint it yourself."

Malcador turned his head and subconsciously looked at the craftsman who had sat up in the wicker chair, trying to discern whether Morse was truly confused or puzzled, or even some other emotion, or was just making some verbal jokes like he and the Emperor usually did.

He did not get an answer. There was no unnecessary expression on Morse's face, and he did not know when he had put away the notebook and pen in his hand.

When the Imperial Prime Minister turned his gaze again, the wooden chair opposite the long table was empty.

(End of this chapter)