Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Perturabo poked the barbecue steak on the silver dinner plate with the enlarged original fork. His eyes drifted from the deep oil paintings hanging on the walls of the room to the netted white curtains, trying to use the brand new image in his mind. way to arrange new simple golden trims and replace today's complicated designs.

When Morse called his name, he immediately replied, "Morse always exaggerates the truth." At the same time, he turned his attention back to the current thing that puzzled him and could not be dismantled, and was played by small animals. At the center of a complex scene full of mystery, like a ball of thread.

"Am I exaggerating?" Mors put the thumb pad and index finger knuckle of his left hand against his chin, and sat on the emperor's left side. He was obviously speaking to Perturabo, but he looked at Horus, "But you So remarkable, Horus. Both of you bear a perfect resemblance to the one who now sits on the throne, and I never tell lies."

Perturabo felt Horus, who was sitting directly opposite the Emperor with him, quickly raise his head to look at the Emperor, and then pretended that the glance he had just intended to observe the Emperor's reaction had not happened.

He nodded together with the wolf head connected to the pearly white fur on his shoulders, like half the host of the party, polite and tolerant.

"Thank you for your praise, craftsman," Horus said contagiously, "and thank you to my father, for we are only one percent similar to the image in his design.

The Emperor tried his best to respond after being mentioned: +You...have all met my expectations. +

"Does it fit?" Morse suddenly asked, successfully intercepting Horus' joy as he was about to rise.

Malcador sat at the Emperor's right hand, silently cutting the gratin of long-handled green leafy vegetables on the plate.

The Prime Minister pulled up his black hood. The only thing left in his world was the difficult-to-handle vegetable leaf stalk, but Perturabo didn't think that the Prime Minister really didn't know how to cut it with a spoon instead of a table knife. How tough the dish was.

"Do you have any suggestions for our actions?" Horus asked.

"Well, actually, I have no advice for you." Morse picked up a wheat flour product from the plate and twisted it on the tip of his fork. "You are the person on this table who I know least about the spiritual things. As for the non-spiritual things, I am more interested in the origin of this viscous drink."

"Do you know my father?" Horus's voice became a little sharp. "How long have you known the Emperor of Mankind?"

"...This drink is the milk of a beast of burden in the Obscure Star Realm." Malcador said slowly, proving the emperor's true intention of letting him sit at the table together. "Helps increase the body's resistance to toxic substances."

"I was still young then." Morse let out a light snort without being disturbed by Machado's thoughts, and let go of the innocent pasta with the fork in his hand. "I have known him for a long time. But I guess you have been through thick and thin with him, Malcador. Your appearance is much older than your soul."

The Emperor drank his way out of the answer naturally.

"I have also been with my father for many years. I returned to my father very early," Horus said, trying not to fall into Morse's rhythm. "And Perturabo was the first brother I met."

The Shepherd God finally made the opening statement that he had been preparing for many years. In today's snowstorm, he never found a chance to speak. This made him doubt whether his father would think he was slow in the past ten minutes.

He said to Perturabo seriously: "Perturabo, I am Horus. As the first son of Horus, I think it is my obligation to be friends with you and help my father give you some guidance."

"I'll need it." Perturabo decided to speak truthfully. "I still know little of the Crusade you speak of, and nothing about you or the Emperor. But be prepared, I do not share your good temper, Horus."

Every time he saw the Emperor tearing bread, he would think of the joke in his mind a few days ago, that is, he had to tell Morse that he had to follow the Emperor, his biological father, so as not to be criticized and ridiculed by Morse every day.

Now he decided to keep this idea in his heart forever and never say a word, because after the Emperor drank the wine and tore the bread, he studied peeling potatoes with the tip of his fork.

"It doesn't matter, my brother." Horus seemed relieved, "We can discuss all this in detail, such as how you will take over your legion, and the truth of our empire."

"You did lead him personally for a long time, Emperor," Mors said. "'Imperial Truth,' sounds like you. And the color of the armor, pearl white again? I'm surprised you would want that." This color that a commander once had once again appears under your waving banner."

Horus's attention was successfully diverted to a few words in this passage. He glanced down at the color of his vambraces, feeling visibly confused.

The Emperor put down the imperfectly peeled potatoes unmoved.

+I won’t limit myself on color. + Psychic energy carries the language into the minds of everyone present, which not only reflects the Emperor's power, but also saves the Emperor the trouble of choosing a tone of voice.

"You will only limit it on names." Morse whispered, giving the Emperor a deep look, "Although I only know it within twelve hours, you still remember things so long ago."

Macado finally cut off the vegetables with a spoon, and the metal made a crisp sound when it hit the ceramic surface.

The old man said "Sorry" calmly and slowly picked up the overcooked vegetable leaves with a fork.

"My father's memory contains the knowledge of all mankind," Horus said uneasily. "He remembers all the shining moments of the stars in human history."

"Perhaps you are right, Luperkar," Mors said. "The Emperor mentioned to your eldest son, what names did he give to his other children? Macedonia? Carthage? Byzantium? Frank?" "

"I didn't mention it." Horus didn't know the truth, and Morse had no intention of targeting him. He had no idea of ​​the existence of Horus himself, except that the young extraordinary man worshiped his father too much. Apparently it wasn't Horus' fault.

The Emperor's lips pressed together under Morse's gaze, and the golden spirit made his face more sacred and lofty.

+I did not give them the name of the ancient Terran country, Morse. The old empires have collapsed. +

"But you remembered the name of a cave," Morse chose the title, "Emperor."

Horus gripped the fork as tightly as possible without breaking it, almost impatient to get to the bottom of this mysterious riddle. Morse almost flinched in disbelief at the intimacy symbolized by his proximity to the Emperor.

The returning eldest son quietly observed Perturabo, and the new young man obviously knew nothing about it. At this moment, the curiosity exchanged by the two brothers' eyes became the first link between the two.

The Emperor was slow to answer, + Yes. +

+I thought you didn't like it there. +Morse also used psychic powers. His aggressiveness in this moment was, ever so briefly, replaced by a shrinking fear of the answer.

He then suddenly became more forceful: +You have new heirs and companions. You are building a new empire. +

+Oh...+The Emperor said,+Everything is moving forward. +

"But we also need help from the past." Malcador's old and tired voice sounded.

"Like Morse?" asked Perturabo.