Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Of all the eighteen sons of the Emperor, Alpharius Omegon is far more mysterious than the Lions of the First Legion, the Blood Bats of the Eighth Legion, and the Ravens of the Nineteenth Legion.

The heads of the Hydra who act alone are often labeled as elusive and incomprehensible, and their whereabouts frequently appear behind the shadows of mortal life in the empire. Rogue Traders, Planet Governors, Alien Scholars... Just like the Throne Watchers who returned the gold and disappeared into the shadows, snakeheads are everywhere.

The first appearance of Alpharius Omegon cannot be verified, but it is certain that the conflict between the twentieth Primarch and Robert Guilliman, the Lord of the Thirteenth Legion, originated from the official return time of the Primarch announced by the Empire. before clicking.

Surprisingly, the Lord of Steel of the Fourth Legion did not hesitate to give relevant reminders, even unkind revelations. This and the fact that the important defense line of the Empire at Betagamon was named Alpharius Fortress by Perturabo himself brought hints about the good relations within the original body, forming an unsolvable conflict. ——"Alpharis Omegon: Imperial Scourge Blade"

"Perturabo. What's the matter?"

Roger Dorn put down his hand reaching for the bell at the door and calmly called out the name of the person working inside. The moment he arrived at the door of the ship-based workshop at the bottom of the Iron-Blooded, Perturabo controlled the thick iron door to automatically fold and open to both sides through neural cables.

Perturabo's workshop is extremely different from the entire Iron Blood, and even the entire Iron Warriors fleet.

Simulated natural light softly fills the slightly messy long wooden table, and tools such as drawings and hand saws are hung in a self-contained system or placed flat on the wall or tool table. Stepping into this place, it is as if the interior of the Glory Queen-class ship, which has assembled the most advanced human technology from space, suddenly fell into a hermitage in a quiet valley in a garden world.

Robert Guilliman and Perturabo sat on both sides of the wooden table, holding several thin drawings for observation and review. Perturabo turned to Rogal Dorn and waved his hand: "Did your soldiers write you a report?"

Rogal Dorn sat down naturally in the empty seat next to Perturabo. "You mean Vladis Lorre wrote a report to apply for joint operations between this team and Iron Warriors Captain Barabas Dantioch."

"Of course." Perturabo snorted, "Is there a second report that I'm curious about?"

"I have not yet approved the application report. He has not fully stated the reasons that are fully established."

"It seems that Dantioch needs to be more honest. This Vladis Lore has a new recruit named Alexis Polux. My company commander said that he and this new recruit work very well together. "Pleasant." Perturabo didn't sound happy, "Dantioch, this is not the first time he has made such an individualistic request for action."

"Have you approved it?" Dorn asked.

Perturabo stared at Dorn for a few seconds and nodded.

Dorn took out the data tablet and data pen, operated them for a while, and then put them away calmly. "Okay, I approve it too."

"You don't have to ask...well." Perturabo took a deep breath and sighed briefly, reminding himself that this was Rogal Dorn, and his Legion was just as troublesome as he was.

Guilliman laughed, which suddenly turned into a cough, and focused his attention on the drawing in his hand again.

"Anything else?" Dawn asked, his calm expression as solid as a rock mask.

"If you have anything urgent to do, go ahead," said Perturabo.

"The second round of large-scale cleanup of the Phalanx is underway." Dorn replied, adding an additional explanation for Guilliman: "The first round is to clean up the mutant greenskins."

"Nothing else?"

"Is there anything you need me to do, Perturabo?"

"Well," Robert Guilliman said cautiously, "we're grading a new round of drawings for the Iron Warriors' memorial statues."

“I need subjective evaluation from non-experts,” Perturabo said. “Sit down and help me grade these guys’ designs.”

Rogal Dorn glanced down at his chair, as if thinking that he was sitting there. However, he wisely did not say much: "What are the scoring criteria?"

"The full score is five points, the specific standards are arbitrary. In the future, these statues will be displayed to Astartes and even mortals, so they cannot be measured by rigid theories."

said Perturabo, pressing his temples angrily, taking a wad from the pile and slapping it in front of Rogal Dorn.

"I really don't understand why they would design these shapes that either have no creativity or artistic tension, or are distorted in all kinds of weird ways! They are not as good as the works I made when I was six or seven years old!"

"I think this kneeling shooting piece is very realistic," said Roger Dorn.

"But this is a statue of honor! This warrior should show his bravery and unyielding, not be so realistic as to first carve him with alien plasma stained by how many raglan reliefs are covered! He also marked the color, 'hundred' "Sixty percent orange", do I want mortals to think that we attack orange monsters in remote worlds every day? "

"Oh." Roger Dorn said, took the pen Perturabo handed him, and wrote "five points" in the upper right corner of the drawing.

Perturabo stared at Rogal Dorn's score for a while, saying nothing.

Under the control of the data line, the simulated glass window built into the workshop was opened, and the cool artificial breeze and gentle sunlight filled the room, cooling Perturabo's nerves.

"Very good." Perturabo muttered, "Robert, have you finished your stack of scores?"

"Almost done." Robert Guilliman held up the blueprint, and the light illuminated the clear picture in his hand. "Don't be angry, brother. This statue of the legions helping each other is excellent, showing the fighting spirit and brotherhood within the legion. I will give him a five. "

"Guess which warrior is the protagonist of this group of statues?" Perturabo saw the content of the drawing from the translucent back of the blueprint.

"I guess it is..." Robert reacted and raised his tone, "the one on the ground?"

"Guessed right, brother." Perturabo said dully, "It seems that the designer thought that if he only showed one hand in urgent need of rescue in the whole work, and at the same time portrayed his heroic captain in a large area, no one would care that he rushed out of the formation too fast in that battle. "

"Deviating from the topic, I will reduce it to one point." Guilliman said.

"Thank you, Robert. "Perturabo glanced at Rogal Dorn, who was reviewing the drawings in an assembly line manner, "He will be asked to redesign it." "But can I keep this statue in Macragge?" asked the Lord of Macragge, "It is enough to show the admirable fighting charm of the Iron Warriors and the indelible friendship between the Ultramarines and the Iron Warriors." "If you really want, I can design it myself." "That would be great. "Robert Guilliman smiled in self-restraint to show his gratitude.

Perturabo turned the pen in his hand irritably. No drawings on his desk received a rating higher than three points.

Every time he expanded or built the Iron Warriors' memorial hall, he would experience a surge of anger, so much so that sometimes he even wanted to quietly end this legion custom to prevent him from finally being unable to help one day and building all those legion warriors whose design level was several levels worse than that of mortals, along with their poor written reports, into the walls of Olympia.

In addition, since the foreign exchange scholars of the Thousand Dust Suns finally ran back to the Magnus flagship docked outside Ultramar in high spirits two days ago, the clerical level of the Iron Warriors has finally plummeted completely, which almost made Perturabo doubt whether those cubs hiding in the iron sheets every day were deliberately irritating him.

He took out a stack of new white paper from the drawer, touched the surface of the paper with his rough fingers, and felt the creative space contained in its smooth touch.

"I'm designing for you now, Robert. "Perturabo said, "What style do you want?" "

Robert Guilliman fell into thought, and many images flashed through his great mind that was complex enough to handle hundreds of parallel events at the same time.

From the time he learned in Illyrium that his brothers had arrived in Macragge, to the green garden maze when they first met, to the large amount of blue data scrolling across the screen of the Gray Thinker during the reform, to the white mist rising when the Primarchs bathed together, and the scarlet blood they bathed side by side in the subsequent war, to the light golden light and shadow floating in the workshop in the sun now...

He was stunned for a short moment, then came back to his senses and described the scene that finally remained on the shore of his mind after the waves of thoughts surged through his brain.

"A few of us, plus Connor Guilliman, Talasha Udon, and Craftsman Morse, we were in the wheat field, wearing casual clothes and sandals, visiting farmers who had been farming and growing in Macragge for generations, asking about their living conditions, talking about the future of Macragge, and tidying up the old gray-blue coats that were about to fall off for the scarecrows erected in the fields. "

Robert Guilliman smiled sincerely, his eyes bright. "This is the first one, placed in the central lawn outside the rebuilt council chamber. Later, in the war memorial, we need a group of statues, or a group of narrative murals, depicting war scenes. The first one is..."

"Stop," Perturabo said, "I thank you for your trust. In fact, this is the first time I have received a purely artistic commission. But you should still give me a request document afterwards."

"I've approved it." Dorn said suddenly.

Perturabo cut out the second pile from the pile of documents: "Thank you, Dorn."

"Are all the drafts placed on this wooden table?" Dorn asked.

"Yes. There are only three-digit drawings to be reviewed here, and after that, the Iron Warriors must send me multi-directional view cameras of semi-finished products at every stage of the carving, until the work is completed a week later and sent by transport ships to several planets where the Iron Warriors built memorials. "

"This is really... a lot of work. "Robert said.

This one thing alone is not terrible, but the Primarch still has many chores to take care of in a day, especially Perturabo, the stubborn general who insists on maintaining a high degree of control over the legion. Sometimes this makes Robert Guilliman think about his future work life-there is still a lot of space in the Ultramar sector waiting for the Ultramarines to explore and recover.

Perhaps it would be a right choice to design some positions for the Astartes warriors and let them govern several parts of Ultramar.

"I chose to complete this work." Perturabo replied. This is the most concise answer.

He made a choice and clarified the path, so he must end the promise he made. This is neither out of vanity nor honor. This is a finalized promise, just like a completed steel work, which cannot be changed until it is broken.

What's more, if he looks deeply into his heart and explores the fundamentals, he definitely can't be called disgusted with this work. In fact, in his free time, he was willing to imagine how he would take the blood brothers he met along the way to visit the memorial hall, so that everything the Iron Warriors had done would be evidenced and remembered.

Robert Guilliman leaned forward: "I wonder under what conditions this decision was born, Perturabo."

A boy who had just won a big victory, reunited with his loved ones, was not sure what to do with the army he had just acquired, and happened to learn that collecting other people's past histories could effectively cause a very effective psychological impact on others, of course he would. Making some interesting decisions that seem pretty incredible today.

"At that time, I was thinking about the Legion's reward and punishment system." Perturabo replied. "I hope that my initiative can be innovative enough and become a cultural representative of the Iron Warriors. The memorial system was born."

"Very creative." Guilliman nodded and looked around. This was his first time coming to the workshop on the ground floor of the Iron-Blooded. Everything on display here gave him a new understanding of Perturabo. "I'm thinking... maybe Macragge can also open a unique memorial hall dedicated to displaying the works related to the Primarch. This will help mortals increase their understanding of the Primarch and the Human Empire."

"I have approved it." Dorn politely waited until Guilliman finished speaking before speaking.

Perturabos handed Dorn another stack of drawings.

"Nice idea, Robert. We can build a relief wall and carve our respective images according to the serial numbers of our Primarchs." Perturabo quickly came up with a new idea, "Two, four, six, seven, Twelve, thirteen, fifteen, sixteen...there are already eight reliefs to complete the design!”

"It's indeed a good idea." Morse walked into the workshop, followed by a box of floating documents. "You are really going to create a workload for yourself, Lord of Iron. Let's review the latest batch of report documents first. Your war blacksmith has been standing at the door of your office for two hours."

Perturabo immediately called up the surveillance neural interface and found that it had errors due to several new coding conflicts and failed to correctly update the surveillance image at the door of his office.

He shook his head in annoyance: "Give it to me, Morse."

The file box flew to Perturabo's feet and landed with a dull crash.

"Don't be so downcast, Perturabo. The format of the report they wrote this time was surprisingly clear." Morse smiled and disappeared silently.

Suspicious, Perturabo opened the first document.

"Operation Iron Warriors Report

To: Office of the Primarch Iron-Blooded, Flagship of the Queen of Glory Class Primarch

From: Eric Anderson, commander of the 13th Company of the 9th Battalion, 2nd Battalion

Topic: Briefing on the cruiser Howling Light reaching the end of her maintenance life

appendix……"

He felt the swelling pain coming from his temple again.

"Robert..." Perturabo whispered.

"I'm going to ask who shared the official document template with the Iron Warriors." Robert Guilliman stood up and left quickly.

Rogal Dorn looked at the pile of drawings that Guilliman had reviewed for a long time and had not seen any decrease. He stretched out his hand and decided to approve these drawings together.