Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

“Hello, Perturabo from Olympia, so you are indeed one man with three titles and not three.

This was the first thing his brother said after seeing him.

The Iron Lord would not be angry, Perturabo told himself. The ambiguity in his self-portrait was his fault, not that of the strange brother.

However, however...

Yes, how did Rogal Dorn, after apologizing for his misunderstanding, continue to ask with seriousness like stone whether there was a practical way to distinguish this situation in the Empire?

"There is no way, my brother." Perturabo replied, "A person can have many titles, and some of the titles used as introductions represent the identities he has and wants you to know."

"This will reduce the efficiency of communication, Perturabo." Dorn said, "Using titles to inform identity can only be effective within an established contextual cultural system, and will be ineffective for people outside the system. Confusion and misunderstanding.”

Perturabo stood up from a table on the Phalanx: "We'll talk about this later."

"Will we talk about it again in the future?" The giant with short white hair also stood up with a capable movement, "You are prevaricating me, my brother."

"Put this on my calendar, Nardole," Perturabo loudly informed his accompanying heirs. "This is not a priority at the moment."

"You're right, this is a secondary agenda," Dorn said, proving that he was merely suppressing his ambition before Perturabo could feel even the slightest bit of relief: "But I think it's necessary to do this before causing a When we recognize a problem, we can’t let it persist forever.”

The white-haired giant continued to find his supporting materials: "In my exchanges with other surrounding civilizations of different cultural environments, I have encountered conflicts and even bloodshed due to differences in language and customs.

"You're right." Perturabo closed his eyes. Rather than being offended, he felt a lump in his throat. "We can discuss this on a secondary day."

At the same time, he decided to add more titles when introducing himself to anyone in the future, to prove that Rogal Dorn was definitely the only one who would be meticulous about this detail.

Dorn agreed with Perturabo's advice, and in fact his affection for the brother he met for the first time grew.

This is exactly the kind of efficient communication he admires. In the ice and snow, the Inwit people don't have time to hold each other's collars until they are drowned in the snow before the blizzard comes.

Dorn took a standard step forward, moving closer to Perturabo.

Perturabo stared at him and stretched out his right hand: "Just in case, in Terra, the core of the human empire, this is the etiquette of meeting each other. Hold each other's hands to show friendship."

Dorn nodded and shook his brother's hand briefly: "Same as Inwit, thank you."

For the first time in the twenty years since he had grown so tall, he could communicate with others without having to lower his head too much. Dorn began to look forward to working more closely with Perturabo in the future.

This will definitely do the trick. thought Pertura. They settled.

Although Rogal Dorn neither acted as a tour guide like Magnus and invited him to visit the local area, nor introduced himself as enthusiastically as Horus and had a good conversation with him, at least he did not have a good conversation with him like Riemann. ·Ruth is generally obsessed with serving local yogurt that tastes like wall paint.

"Let's get down to business," Perturabo said. "Rogal Dorn, do you know that you are a son of the Emperor of Mankind and that you are born to do so?"

"Inspired. I will obey the Emperor's command," Dorn said.

"Then you will return to Terra and meet your Legion. Perturabo nodded, "I will have the Astropath send a message to Terra. "

"I don't want to return to Terra now." Dorn's words made Perturabo think he heard wrongly.

"But you just..."

"I haven't finished speaking yet, brother." Dorn slowly inserted his words into the gaps between Perturabo's words. "The battle fortress you are currently in is named Phalanx. I need to transfer it locally. Repaired to a navigable state, a freely movable space fortress can bring greater value to the human empire. "

What he said makes sense. Perturabo said to himself. Donne made a reasonable request.

He looked around, observing the complex structure of this huge ship from the inside.

This crystallization of technology simply made Petula happy to see it. Even though he didn't want to admit it, in front of this fortress, the Iron-Blooded was just a small paper boat that young children would throw into the river. It was far inferior in size and complexity.

Fortunately, his brain full of knowledge can still roughly understand the functions of the various devices he sees in front of him. As long as he is given enough time, and there are several worlds that can provide energy, materials and skilled workers at the same time, he believes that he can use... maybe two A three-digit year can create such a steel fortress out of thin air.

"So, how many years will it take you to repair the fortress?" asked Perturabo.

If he had made it all the way to Ultramar and returned with the Phalanx repaired, he could have taken Dorn back to Terra with him and announced to the Emperor that he had found a brother.

Dorn shook his head, his eyes as clear as the ice and snow crust on the surface of Invite: "I don't know."

Perturabo took a slow breath of air: "Can't you estimate?"

"Our engineers have spent ten years and one month collecting data on this battle fortress," Dorn said honestly. "It's been five years of research and restoration so far, and we haven't gotten to the core of the technology yet. Now. It’s impossible to get an accurate number by making an estimate.”

"Then how should I report to the emperor? You don't know how to report it truthfully?"

Donn thought for a while and nodded: "Okay."

"Okay, okay," Perturabo swallowed the words back in his mouth. Was he going to report to the Emperor that he had found one of his sons, but he said it would take him who knows how long to build a space fortress and then go home after repairing it?

"Do you still have any questions, my brother?" When Dorn saw that Perturabo didn't answer, he knew that he must have some questions that he didn't want to tell him. This happened often, and it sometimes made Donn worry about why people always just stared at him without saying anything.

Now he already knew that this meant that others had something to say, but it would be too difficult for him to guess what they were going to say out of thin air.

Think Morse. Perturabo thought to himself that Mors was far more unkind than Rogal Dorn.

"I don't think that's appropriate, brother." Perturabo's teeth rubbed against each other.

"Isn't it appropriate to report truthfully?" Dawn asked confused.

"You cannot leave our father and your warriors idly waiting for your unspecified return, Rogal Dorn."

"Oh," Dorn thought for a while, "You are right, I didn't think of it. Then please apply to Terra for me for some more outstanding engineers to help me repair the Phalanx and estimate the completion time."

"I am also an engineer. My flagship named Iron Blood was built by myself - it is coming from Terra."

"Really? Then you're very good."

"I mean, you're asking for extra people from Terra when you already have one of the top engineers in the galaxy standing on your deck."

"That's what I was doing," Donne said, pleased that his brother had another thing in common with him. He finished the last part of the sentence before Perturabo snapped the case and left: "Because I didn't know you were an engineer just now. I have changed my mind now. Are you willing to help me repair the Phalanx?"

Perturabo moved his fingers a few times, imagining the feel of the tool hammer in his hand. That's right, he thought.

"What do I get in return? A dear brother?" asked Perturabo, adding a touch of humor to the sentence. Repairing a magnificent ship side by side in exchange for the affection of a brother is absolutely worth it, not to mention that he is already eager to dismantle this ancient technological product - maybe he can build one in the orbit of Olympia.

"Do you need anything in return?" Dorn's tone dropped, like a stone rolling from the upper level to the lower level of a shelf, falling steadily and not moving again. He obviously didn't understand what Perturabo meant. "Since Wit can't afford to pay you, you can leave and continue what you are doing. Please report my situation to Terra. Thank you."

"I don't need anything in return, Rogal Dorn." Perturabo's fingers began to tighten, and the imaginary tool hammer gradually turned into a war hammer.

"Oh, was it actually a joke?" Dawn suddenly realized, "Then you are willing to cooperate with me for free?"

"It's not free, I need you to return to the empire."

"It was gratuitous, and I would have returned to the Empire. You are a selfless man, Perturabo," Dorn said. "You are different from local engineers because I still need to pay wages to the Inwit people."

"Wait here for a while." Perturabo stiffly clenched and relaxed his fingers, "I'll go back to the ship. Nador, follow."

"Oh," said Dawn, "how long will it take?"

"It won't take long, come right over!"

"Okay, I will wait for you. If it takes more than fifteen minutes, I will go to the Phalanx energy supply area to study..."

Perturabo had already strode away, and Dorn looked at the sudden departure of his brother who was clearly chatting with him in confusion, and began to sit down and count the time silently.