Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 450 Planets and Planets

Unlike the planet Sievers, which once belonged to the Silversmiths, the planet Ishtar is at the other end of the human habitability scale - if we had to use millennia to divide their time period, it would probably be the second human millennium. , and the population density here exactly matches this year.

The dark blue tint of the outer layer is nothing more than some kind of veil-like psychic shielding - it blocks prying eyes from thousands of miles away, unless the observer has a clear goal and extraordinary ability. Looking out from inside the atmosphere, the sky in Ishtar is whitening due to the cold.

It was probably an hour on the hour, and a bell swayed faintly outward from the town where they landed, brittle from the seasonal temperature.

Morse heard the bumps of the wheels over the ice crystals formed in the potholes in the road, and the squeak of the wooden spokes themselves under the weight of two bright blue ribbons tied to the hay cart. There was a family quarreling in the house, plates and bowls clattering, and the family next door was practicing the music of the triangle, and a violin that was out of tune due to the cold air was being tuned. The air smelled of firewood and cigars, and the unmistakable smell of livestock. A wealthy family lived on the outside, and those rose-colored lampshades reflected an unusual elegance through the glass windows, containing the essence of all systems and politeness condensed on the surface.

The town was so invisibly occupied by its residents themselves and the space they needed to live that Morse and Perturabo felt like they were being squeezed in from the outside world.

They did receive corresponding treatment. The weather was cold and there were not many people on the street, but everyone was curious about their existence.

Children wearing home-made homespun clothes looked up at them. They were also playing with a crudely made wooden doll in their hands - the body and arms were on one side, and the head and legs were broken, leaving it to another child to hold. With.

Their wet nurse or a neighbor - for the children's skin is not the same color as that of an adult woman - also looked up at Perturabo, holding the two children in her thin-boned arms with an expression of surprise. It broke the quiet concern she had for her children.

Soon a child asked timidly: "Aren't uncles cold?"

The language he used came from ancient Terra, and fortunately both the primarch and the craftsmen happened to have reasons that they could understand.

Morse and Perturabo looked at each other's attires. One was wearing a thin black robe, and the other was wearing a sleeveless white robe. White mist floated in the air when Perturabo breathed.

The woman asked: "Where are you from?"

"You probably don't know where it is," Morse said. "Lokos is also a big place, very far away from here."

"In a foreign country?"

"Not in your country." Perturabo lowered his voice, squatted down slightly, and took the doll and its parts from the child's hands, "Does it need to be repaired?"

The children nodded one after another, and the child spoke again: "Your accent is really strange, big brother."

"They called you two hundred years younger," Morse said, handing Perturabo a knife from his sleeve.

The Lord of Iron easily re-joined the wooden doll's joints, even though the doll itself was not as long as one of his fingers.

He made a set of movable joints and returned the doll to the children. The two children looked at each other. The woman took the doll and handed it to one of the older children: "Don't break it again. Thank you two big brothers."

They were thanked by the children, who then ran away.

The woman watched them hide under a low shed covered with an old blanket and didn't go far. She turned back, wiped her hands on her apron, and smiled at Perturabo, who had squatted down much lower, deliberately slowing down. The speed of her speech was slowed down, and she was worried that the two strangers in front of her could not hear clearly: "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"We heard that there were some old friends living here," Morse said. "It was a long time ago. The elders had some quarrels, and it took many years before they felt that we couldn't stop contacting each other."

The woman seemed to understand something and looked at the two outsiders with a different look.

She looked at their faces, and the focus of her observation gradually shifted to Perturabo, as if she wanted to read some familiar lines or recognizable outlines from that tall face.

"Yes, how can there be so many people of the same height and strength?" she said.

"Tell us about it?" Morse asked, leaning against a red brick wall. "I'm very grateful, really."

Before arriving in the town, his psychic energy had carefully swept through the entire planet, which was dominated by a peaceful environment. There were only a few places that were covered in fog, and one place that Morse could not clearly explore had already proved its identity. Strange.

They visited three towns one after another, and two of them said they remembered a tall woman and the snakes and sons she raised. Sometimes an old man dressed in a gentle manner would also go, with a conspicuous set of silver keys hanging on his waist. But for those two places, one said that their appearance was at least fifty years ago, and the other said that it was an old thing twenty years ago.

"Oh, I have nothing to thank you for. Everyone you ask will get the same answer," the woman said, taking two steps towards the two children she was carrying and watching them study the floral flowers on the blanket. Soften your tone. "They draw attention to themselves."

"Three or four years ago, a very tall woman came over with her taller child, talked to the owner of the house on the east side for a few words, and then bought his house. She was always wrapped in a blue cloth, Perhaps she has more than one dress, for no one has ever seen her cloth fade. The child is as tall as you," she said to Perturabo, "but the woman always looks at him, and looks anxious when he leaves. If you want to find her in person, look for her son. You can always see her nearby.

"In the first week after arriving here, they held a dance at the manor and invited us all there. Her son was familiar to everyone. He was easy to talk to and didn't speak much, but he was always very humble and a bit mysterious. Smell. She stood on the second floor and looked down, folding her hands together, silently, making the back of her neck feel as cold as the wind. Later, Serpent took Erda back to the room, and then came down again. There was something very peculiar in the tone of asking the waiter to light the fire hotter, and he did so with great pleasure."

"Serpent?"

"His mother gave him a name, but he doesn't use it himself. He calls himself 'Eleven', which we think doesn't sound like a name. Only a few young people are willing to call him that in private." The woman said, gradually, More memories came to her mind. Morse could transcend the boundaries of language and directly see the images passing through her mind.

He saw Erda, sitting quietly upright in a high-backed chair. The blue scarf that concealed the psychic deflection function framed a face as tight as sandalwood. One hand was resting on the table. There is a lamp. For a while she remained motionless, and then she spoke, and her voice was soft, as pure as her eyes.

"I know you can accomplish it," she said. "Although you bleed his blood, you don't have his arrogance. It's easy to detect his ambition, but it's hard to question him..."

The local woman's voice became louder again, filling the gap in her thoughts, "Serpente has a snake, but no one has seen it. There must be some hissing noises there. Serpente himself admitted ambiguously, and Erda She denied it firmly, when she came to the market..."

Morse's memory of seeing the local woman was filled with a layer of mist. It was the mist blown up from the glass windows, making the outside hazy in the snow. Two tall people walked side by side alone on the street at night. , said something inaudible. Morse read out the words. "You want to change your cufflinks," Erda said. "Change into a thick waistcoat to match your coat. You-"

"I don't need it."

"You are his son. You can't always wear old clothes. You also have to take care of your manor. This is very easy for you."

"I am a snake," said No. 11. "Snakes don't have to wear silk clothes."

They walked far into the snowy night street, and even the farthest lights could not illuminate their backs. The local woman came back from the cold window, adding a piece of pumpkin to the soup on the stove, and then the next One piece, cooked into a pot of warm, melting yellow stuff. She put on a pair of insulated gloves padded with several layers of cotton and cloth.

"It's on the east side of town, right?" Perturabo asked, his expression showing no emotion. He showed restraint.

"Yes, but they left town a few days ago, but the house has not been vacated. They may come back."

"Let's go take a look, thank you, ma'am."

The local woman hesitated to speak, as if she wanted to advise or comment, but finally shook her head. "I think... you should probably meet them."

——

Lorgar Aurelion sat down carefully on the front row of chairs in the chapel, the only place where he could rest his legs.

He holds two bunches of wisteria in his right hand, and a wreath of wild flowers surrounds his golden head. The long spring branches that are quite resilient have determined its shape. These were all picked by the locals for him in the morning when the dew was still wet. Luojia could only dry and bake the old dried flowers before giving them to his priests.

When he first arrived, he carefully tested the beliefs of the locals, fearing that the consequences of Erebus would happen again - he still did not let the poisonous snake die. This was one of the few things that Lorgar could not convince himself to tolerate; he hoped The longer the viper struggles in purgatory, the better, just as the man who holds the truth continues to flog himself every day.

The answer pleased him: the people of Asime really believed in the Emperor himself from Terra, followed His principles devoutly, and respected Him himself, rather than some false idol that deceived the world.

Lorgar was always very happy when he saw these people living in peace and happiness. He felt that nothing could soothe his soul more than the innocent joy of His children.

There was only one little thing that always bothered him. There is one thing the natives do that is not right, and even that is not a big mistake in principle, but simply the result of a lack of correct guidance.

"I told you, brothers and sisters."

He softened his tone gently, knowing that the sound of a primarch's full release would be loud enough to make the fragile heart of a mortal feel uncomfortable.

"Don't always intentionally ask Him for too many answers. We can't be that false empty shell, just waiting for His brilliance to fill us."

He took the palm of the mortal next to him and led him to sit next to him. "Tell me, why do you always try to prophesy in His name?"

"The Emperor will guide us, Aurelion," the mortal raised his head and said sincerely, "When we always don't know where to go, only the Emperor is protecting us, we are in His love."

Lorgar shook his head slightly: "You are immersed in His selfless love, Bondo."

"Is this not optional?" Bondo asked.

"This is what you should do, but it's not the only thing you should do." Lorgar said helplessly, "You seek guidance from Him on the road, which is good and not deviant, but how can you only ask for it from Him? He gives us love, what should we give back to Him?"

"Please enlighten me, Aurelian."

"This is understandable, Bondo. He treats us like a father and a mother; we serve Him like sons and daughters."

"In our confused childhood, He led us forward; when we grow up, we also need to give back, do our best to glorify Him, and offer Him all the help we can. Otherwise, aren't we just like the hungry child who has no intention of thinking about giving back and feeding back? Aren't we greedy for the love He gives us instead of learning to love Him himself?"

Bondo frowned, deeply Thinking about Lorja's words, "So, how should we give back to Him?"

Lorja smiled and nodded, and then said: "He has long told us: to test what is God's good, perfect, and pleasing will. Each one must carry his own burden; he who tills his own field will be well fed; but he who follows vain things lacks knowledge. Aim to be quiet, to mind your own business, to work with your own hands, so that you can behave properly toward outsiders and have nothing to lack."

"To do our own things well?"

"His voice guides us in these things, and we must also give back to Him in our own duties, instead of not knowing where to go, so that we often lose faith and wisdom. 'Wisdom is the first, and he who gets understanding is blessed.'"

Another female believer walked up to him and sat down beside him. Lorja made some empty seats on the chair for her and smiled at her.

"Aurelian, are you saying that if our hearts are toward Him, His guidance will be given to us. Unless we can no longer feel Him, we have to seek Him artificially?"

Aurelian's smile widened.

"Yes, if we pray with questions, then the questions must first be solved by ourselves intentionally, rather than just sitting there and waiting for His love to be selflessly given to us again."

"Then..." The female believer hesitated for a while, and Aurelian waited patiently, looking at her sincerely, silently encouraging her to speak out.

"What if He spread His love to us, passed on His prophecies to us?"

"That's enlightenment," Aurelion said happily. "That's what He wants you to hear and see for Him. That's what He trusts you to do for Him. Can you share it with me, Rivka?"

"Of course," Rivka nodded. "I-I saw His light, and then I heard your brother's voice, Aurelion. I know it's your brother, but I don't know who it is..."

"Tell me what you heard."

"I heard... I heard him say that my father would come to an end."

Lorgar's eyes changed slightly.