Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

The Emperor watched in confusion as Morse walked his thirty-first round in the snow outside the camp.

The snow here is almost a set of shoe prints made by Morse, but Roger Dorn is still waiting silently in the camp. From the rustling of paper, you can hear that he is sorting out the drawings—— There was nothing else for him to do.

+Why are you still going back and forth? +Cold psychic energy delivers the message.

+Because I'm scared of myself. +

Morse said irritably, rubbing his arms to smooth down the non-existent bristling hairs. He has returned to the size of an ordinary mortal, and he still looks pleasing to the eye from this perspective.

+ Your super dazzling golden throne is up here. I have never said such disgusting words in my life. Have you added any fatal spiritual temptation aura to your creation? +

+What did you say to Perturabo? +The Emperor asked curiously.

+Don't ask me, I don't know! +Morse muttered, +Don't worry, I will never tell you that kind of sensational plot. I have no idea what I was thinking an hour ago. Is there any psychedelic component in Inwit's natural environment? Or was the lemonade delivered by a mortal laced with a mysterious warp elixir that could charm a spirit? +

+I don't think so. +The Emperor paused, erasing the seriousness and solemnity in his tone that had been stained by chatting with Dorn for too long, and regained a little bit of relaxation.

+You can't blame the environment. +

Looking back on this whole incident, the two adult Primarchs fell into a cold war with each other ignoring each other on the first day they met. For the Emperor, it was actually a very interesting episode.

+Have you spoken truth to Perturabo? +There was a smile hidden in the Emperor's voice, +This doesn't look like you. +

+Remember the last time I lied to you in the palace? + Morse snorted and stopped his endless walking. +After all, it’s really hard for you to say something valuable. Speaking of that time, when are you going to let me into the network to take a look? +

+You're changing the subject, Morse. +The emperor said.

+And you actually understand the hidden secrets behind the language? +

+I am not Rogal Dorn. +The emperor said. This makes Morse suspect that this ruler has found a sense of humor after a lot of serious dialogue.

+You are not, because he is more normal than you. +Morse said, +What do you think of this child? +

+Can be trusted. +The Emperor replied, +A person worthy of trust. +

+What about Petula Bobby? + Morse smiled and said, + And Leman Russ and Horus? +

+...cannot be compared. +

Morse was no longer troubled by the Emperor, who even frowned with a noble and innocent temperament. This was one of those questions where the Emperor did have an answer and could not be forced to say it.

+Okay, what did you and Rogal Dorn talk about? + Morse asked.

+ Regarding this incident, I forgive him. 【】+The Emperor said that the Lord of Mankind can give no more comfort,+although he still has doubts in his heart, only you can answer them for him. In the subsequent conversation, I told him about the Legion and the expedition, and obtained Rogal Dorn's promise of allegiance. The Seventh Army was already on the route of the incoming Invite. +

"Then I'm entering the tent." Morse said in a voice that could be conveyed in the real universe, and heard the soft sounds in the tent that were blocked by thick cloth suddenly stopped. "Show me what Rogal Dorn is like."

"I will leave." The emperor's voice was calm, and the golden light was gradually replaced by pure white snow.

Moments before he completely disappeared, Mors thought of a question and accidentally blurted it out: "The Emperor——"

What happened in Moro?

The fading of the Emperor's projection paused, a cold wind blowing through his remaining silhouette.

"What's the matter?" he asked gently.

Morse's tongue scraped across the tooth surface.

"You look tired," he said.

"It doesn't matter." The emperor whispered, and his words and body shape disappeared in the wind.

Morse turned and lifted the curtain. The air in the tent was filled with warmth, melting away the chill brought by his clothes.

Rogal Dorn was sitting upright, the wound on his face had been healed. Judging from the time, it was the Emperor's doing.

What remains on his body as a mark of his fault is no longer the physical scars, but all the subtle arcs that appear on his facial features.

He is still a man carved from rock, and every line that shapes him hides the awe-inspiring ice of Inwit. However, these hard lines are trembling slightly and hesitating at this moment. This dissolves his superhuman sanctity and strips him of a return to his human qualities.

Morse sat down across from Rogal Dorn and used his powers to raise the height of his seat.

"It's just you and me here now. Let me get acquainted with you again. My name is Morse, a craftsman, Perturabo's teacher and the Emperor's friend. Don't delve into my form of existence. This has nothing to do with Related to the Emperor's plan."

"I am Rogal Dorn." The white-haired Primarch said, "The Primarch of the Seventh Legion. The current territory and future recruitment area is Invite and a few surrounding star systems."

He continued: "What can I do for you, Artisan Morse?"

"I don't need you to do anything unique for me except take the epigraph off my name." Morse relaxed back in his chair and draped his arms on the armrests. "Morse is enough."

"Morse," said Donne.

Morse nodded: "Okay. Next, I will explain to you the results of my discussion with Perturabo. First of all, I personally don't care about your accusation. I even find it a little funny. The Emperor is messing up every day. Call me a human, but at least genetically, I have nothing to do with humans. His son is more realistic than himself."

"I'm sorry." Donne said, "Even if you don't care, I still have the subjective intention to hurt you."

"That's right. So Perturabo doesn't want to forgive you for the time being, and I have no intention of convincing him. It was Perturabo who was raised by me, and I don't want to pretend that I am tolerant or just."

Donn's head lowered a little. "Do I have a chance to make amends?"

"You will need to reconcile one day," Morse said. "The glory brought by the Emperor's Crusade will not allow two Primarchs who should be partners to be hostile to each other. There will be a day when you shake hands in front of the Legion."

Dorn was even more uneasy. The forced cooperation brought about by missions and military orders could not save the rupture of a personal relationship.

He touched the edge of the wooden table, and a chill slid along his finger bones.

The texture on the table was no rougher than his hands. The table where the two Primarchs once sat face to face and talked lovingly had been repaired, but Perturabo did not return here.

"It's my fault," Dawn said.

Morse was noncommittal. "I asked you a question an hour ago, what was it?"

"If you were really an alien, would I reveal your identity?" Dorn accurately repeated Morse's words.

"You gave me an answer, you said you would," Morse said. "Why?"

"Because humans should not trust aliens." Dorn replied, wondering why Morse, as a friend of the Emperor, asked such a question.

"I'm not denying this. What I'm asking about is your complete behavioral logic. I want to know the reasons for every choice you make and talk to me." Morse said, "I'm here for Petula Bo is here to help you.”

Donn closed his eyes, his eyeballs trembling under his eyelids, showing his thinking. Such reflection was a new task for him, and he tried to do it better.

He decided to start from the beginning.

"After I saw you, I discovered that you were not human and obtained your confirmation."

"Well," Morse confirmed, "you didn't point out my problem then. Why?"

"I..." Donne recalled his state of mind at that time. Roger Dorn is not a person who analyzes and criticizes himself every day. His stubbornness comes from a combination of confidence and caution, which also adds difficulty to his analysis.

But he has one obvious advantage, honesty, both with others and with himself.

"I thought Perturabo had something in mind," Dorn said, "and the joy of meeting my brother made me ignore the problem."

"Okay, please continue."

"Then, as Perturabo, you, some members of Perturabo's legion, my subordinates, and I went to the settlement, I found that you did not hide your specialness, and Perturabo acquiesced in your The way you and Perturabo got along during this period puzzled me."

"In short, you find that Perturabo gives me too much credit," Morse concluded, earning a breathless nod from Dorn.

"Yes," answered Donne. "That puzzled me. Now that doubt has gone, you are a trustworthy person."

"Okay." Morse put one hand on his chin and put his elbow on the table. "continue."

"After we came to this camp, your influence on Perturabo became obvious in our quarrels. He is always paying attention to you unconsciously, which I think is extremely dangerous. After you left, I think I found time to talk to Perturabo alone, so I told him what I thought was the most serious problem."

"Except for the alien part, what you said is not wrong." Morse twitched the corner of his mouth, "Have you ever thought you would get beaten?"

"I thought about it."

"You care about Perturabo."

"Yes." Donne was not tactful. In his heart, there was nothing to argue with. The cold wind would not stop blowing just because people ran away. "I care about him. He is my brother. Not only is his ability similar to mine. , and I hope to have a better relationship with him.”

"He is not always rational." Morse sighed. "His psychology is actually very emotional. If you want to be friends with him, you have to pay attention to this."

"Okay, Morse," said Donne, "thank you."

"Then why did you tell him exactly what you thought was going on?"

“Because avoiding misunderstandings is what people in a conversation are supposed to do.”

"What should be done?"

"The right thing to do."

“How do you define the right thing?”

“Things that will lead to good results.”

"Have you achieved it?"

Donne's smooth answer ended, and he immediately found a crack in his logic. Morse quietly left Roger Dorn time to think, letting the occasional crackle from the heater become the only background sound in the room.

He didn't think this would be a new problem for Rogal Dorn.

It is impossible for a stubborn man who has been in power for twenty years to never make a mistake. However, due to the deviation in language, the damage to the brotherly relationship and the embarrassment of meeting the Emperor for the first time will undoubtedly make Rogal Dorn re-examine the seriousness of this mistake.

All Rogal Dorn needed was a reminder.

After a while, Dorn recovered from his stone-like silence.

"I rethought the content of our conversation. I think the potential threat of a candid conversation versus a conversation with something to hide is greater in that the latter is more likely to lead to good outcomes, which is generally the right thing to do."

"However, there are situations where I do make people angry, which can lead to bad consequences. I don't know how to avoid this problem." Dorn said, "I can't understand some people's anger."

"There is no need to understand." Morse put down the hand that was supporting his head. "People can't even fully understand themselves. You are a stone in the ice and snow, and your edges and corners are destined to not be completely compatible with people. I don't want to change you or your character. Precious in this galaxy of lies and mysteries, the Emperor's offspring are a miracle of his genetic engineering."

"I'm grateful for that. But how do I avoid problems?"

"It's very simple," Morse said. "Shut up before you get spanked. Unless you really want to make the other person angry."

Dorn took Morse's advice into consideration and envisioned how he might try the new approach.

“I have no experience,” he said, “so I look for trusted people who can try it with me and practice with me.”

"Oh, sure." Morse replied, suspecting that in the next few days, everyone around Dorn would be pissed off by him several times.

"Also, after I shut up, I need to find other opportunities to continue communicating. Do you think letters and telegrams would be a better way?"

"This is your business." Morse jumped out of the chair nonchalantly, "I am not your teacher. The reason why I am sitting here today is because your father ran away. Remember to find a way to repair your relationship with Perturabo. , which makes him happy.”

"Is he unhappy?"

"What do you think?"

Dawn shut up.

Then he said: "I will go to Perturabo, but where is he now?"

"Oh, he probably returned to the Iron-Blooded." Morse said, his smile well hidden. "Maybe he doesn't want to stay on the surface of Invite and shed tears."

Dorn's fingers immediately curled into fists, and he naturally concluded that Perturabo was crying because of his mistake. The overwhelming guilt hit him twice as hard.

He stood up immediately, and just as he was about to speak, Morse disappeared from before him. Dorn chased out of the camp in a daze. There were no traces or clues outside. He could only accept the cold wind and the vast white snow on the spot.

The right thing to do. he thinks. He needs to do the right thing.

——

Iron-blooded number.

"Damn Rogal Dorn, why did you let me meet him?" Perturabo said the name as if he was driving him into the wall with a hammer. "And what about your eyes?" "

Magnus's image was floating on the screen in the command room. Hearing this, he pointed to the opaque single-sided glasses that covered his left eye.

"Is this it? Well, considering the physical strength and symbolic intensity required to use the spell, combined with the importance of each part of the human body, I found that there is an organ that has both the high value of occult significance and the aftermath of loss in spell casting. The low price is one human eye..."

"You regard it as a consumable material?" Perturabo whispered in surprise, and this shock even succeeded in diluting his anger towards Dorne. "Use it as soon as it grows?"

"In fact, it's not that frequent. I don't use spells at will unless necessary..." Magnus embarrassedly touched his thick red hair that had grown longer, "Anyway, I did it. A pair of glasses to cover up. So what did Roger Dorn do?"