Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Perturabo was in a good mood, very good.

If he didn't want to tell lies to himself, then he couldn't forcefully turn down the corners of his mouth and make a fierce and cold face.

So when Morse climbed onto the high platform, he saw a boy with a calm expression and even a little head-high attitude. Real and not false victory gives him confidence, and confidence makes him tolerant. If there was any unpleasant expression on his face it could only be a hint of dazzling pride.

Perturabo stood upright, which must have made every citizen respect him with solemn respect. He raised his head, and his majesty was reflected in the long straight folds of his robe.

"Citizen, you are the last person to leave a review for these two works." The boy said, "I hope you will not deceive, flatter, be rash, or be careless."

He turned his head and looked at the two works with equal eyes. He paused for a moment on the vivid pattern of the missing petals on the skirt of the goddess statue, and motioned to the young man in blue robe to look at the two statues.

The instrument officer on the side quickly calibrated the radio equipment to ensure that the blue-robed young man's voice could reach everyone's ears.

"I'm a playwright, my lord." Morse's character smiled and spread his hands, the fake skin on the fingertips being calluses from friction.

"I am not a craftsman, nor a craftsman. All my abilities are pinned on a few things that are repeated over and over again. Those identical pieces of paper and charcoal are endlessly replaced, replacing them with exactly the same thing. Destiny. As for me, I often spend my years in my wicker chair, thinking about when my script will be exchanged for food."

"I have a dream that the Olympia Games, which symbolizes peace, will come again on our dear land. Unfortunately, I don't know when that will be."

"That's it, I really don't have the time to think about how beautiful a piece of work is. After all, my knowledge is limited. How can I be proficient in two things in my life? I can't understand which sculpture is better. I'm here today. , but to observe the people associated with the work.”

He constantly observed Perturabo's expression, inferring what kind of emotional boat the boy was drifting in the ocean of thoughts at this time.

He saw that Perturabo was not impatient at all, but instead became more focused and interested.

Despite the slight regret that the child did not see his true identity, Morse was quite satisfied with Perturabo's performance.

The young man in blue robe stepped forward, his left hand behind his back, and the thumb of his right hand rubbed his chin, as if he was thinking about it.

"Can I get a closer look at these two works?" he said.

"As you wish, citizen," Callifon said, her eyes showing quiet reflection.

The young man approached the statue curiously, and he first chose the statue of the goddess Hephonia. After scanning the details of the statue with pure eyes, the young man nodded slightly and asked, "Can I ask, what is the original intention of this work?"

Andros hesitated, and Callifon knew that his brother could not answer at this time.

Princess Lokos said: "This is a gift of blessing, given to the person the creator wants to be friends with."

The young man commented in surprise: "Is it a friendly gesture to the opponent? Then I have a question to tell."

His gaze passed from Andos's face to Perturabo's ice-blue eyes, "Is such a vain blessing more generous, or is an actual victory more generous?"

The boy's eyes were unwavering, and his irises were like the clean frost on the top of a mountain: "False victory is nothing and stingy."

"Then your greatness needs no proof of flattery, Lord Perturabo."

Morse found that it was particularly interesting to call the child "adult" in another identity, and then get a small expression of pride from the boy in return.

So he took the word seriously.

He continued to look at Andos's work and easily judged that the prince still had strength left in him - not that he had any reservations in his skills, but that he still kept his soul in his body. Andos's work has not been stained with the soul and blood of his own sacrifices, and has not burned out his own heart and energy, so it is still within the limits of what mortals can copy and recreate.

Morse had no problem with that. The young man in blue robe said: "The goddess Hefengni is still so noble. I praise her. From her, I seem to see the real mother of human beings. Please let me get close to another work."

"There," said Perturabo, a polite reply which proved that he was in a good mood.

Morse walked up to the two figures.

Putting aside the events alluded to by the subject matter itself, and forgetting that Perturabo always secretly wanted to rebel against him, the work itself is not bad either.

On a technical level, unless one pursues perfection too harshly, there is not much to question and criticize.

After looking around, he also nodded. "I may use paper and pen to record what happened today, so that it can be passed down in historical records from now on, and serve as a shining example for Olympia amidst all the wind and frost. But before that, I have to cast my mind first My pottery."

The officer was about to hand the pen to the young man in blue robe, but at this moment, Perturabo stopped the officer.

The boy asked in confusion: "Why did you only comment on one statue? Are you determined to leave a mark on the pottery of the goddess statue?"

"No, Perturabo," said the young man in blue. "I want to make my choice on this double portrait."

"You are the only one who hesitates to comment on this work, citizen." Perturabo said with doubt in his eyes.

"I have heard a legend, my lord." The young man in blue robe smoothly drew a stroke on the pottery piece. The long and thin ink marks were like the marks left by a knife blade, cutting Perturabo into a winner in today's competition. "A legend about spiders."

He said this without further explanation. Perturabo raised an eyebrow, and then his attention was drawn to the sweet victory that was about to come to him.

The official took the pottery piece, put it together with another statistics board, and passed it to the presiding officer. The host came to ask if it was time to announce the victory. Harkon wanted to wait, but Callifon let the competition end here.

"Citizen, please wait here for a moment." Callifon said. "Let the people gathered today hear the result and no longer have to stand in the scorching summer sun. As for your legend, please allow us to talk about it later."

Then the music played and the officials lined up. When the winner was announced, the cheers thundered to the ground and the chariots rolled.

Perturabo accepted the praise he received from the crowd, and he was pleased with this real victory, although it also made him regret Morse's absence even more.

Harkon smiled and gave him a golden cup for the second time. He proudly drank half a cup of water from the Fountain of Hephonia. The golden pot was placed obliquely in the palm of the goddess statue, allowing the clear water to flow out of the pot, pouring out clear water. waterfall.

Morse looked at the gold-painted clay pot and grinned. Without saying anything, he stayed on the side of the high platform, waiting for the ceremony transformed from the competition to come to an end.

He tapped his fingers on his arm, and the ice sealing the stranger with the clay pot continued to remain invisible in front of everyone.

When the people in the audience and on the stage slowly dispersed, Callifon went to whisper a few words to the tyrant, so that the middle-aged leader no longer had to stay in the sun and continue to challenge the limits of his majesty.

Then, Callifon nodded softly to Morse.