Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

[The Emperor just sent me a new order, brother. 】

【He is calling me. 】

"Father summoned you? What to do?"

[He asked me to immediately stop the work at hand and lead the team south to meet his expedition fleet in the Maelstrom area: He wanted to take me to the southernmost point of the Storm Star Territory, where a war that devastated mankind was taking place. The planet's civil war is closely watched by the Lord. 】

"...involving one of our brothers?"

Closing his eyes, frowning, and thinking, Perturabo only hesitated for less than a moment, then raised the corners of his mouth and confidently put forward his [hypothesis]: and then naturally enjoyed the praise from Morgan.

[Still as smart as ever, Perturabo. 】

The Lord of Avalon clapped slowly, with a smile on her lips. Her slightly raised tone made her words sound particularly sincere, and it also made Perturabo particularly happy: In her joy, the Lord of Steel even forgot that they were actually there. It was such a private occasion until the sound of steam coming from Morgan's feet woke him up.

[Well, it’s a bit noisy. 】

The Spider Queen frowned, swung her two long legs, and knocked the black anvil under her butt with the sharp point of her riding boots. There was a banging sound, and the sticky sound of the remaining liquid metal flowing again.

[Have you set up any automatic opening function for it? Perturabo. 】

When Morgan turned around and asked him with a smile, the Lord of Steel was in a trance for a while. Thinking of where they are now: At this moment, Perturabo and his most trusted blood relatives are at the deepest part of the bottom deck of the [Iron-Blooded]. There is a foundry built by him himself, which is almost perfectly restored. Carved into his private forge on his homeworld of Olympia, one of the few places in the galaxy that could grant him peace and quiet.

Very few people are allowed by Perturabo to enter this foundry. Except for a few of his most trusted war blacksmiths and heirs, even the blood brothers of the Lord of Steel have never entered or even known about it. This place: But just a few minutes ago, when the Lord of Olympia visited this place after a long absence, he discovered that his blood relatives had been waiting for him here for some time.

Perturabo was not angry, because it was he who told Morgan personally where the foundry was and made an appointment to meet here in advance: when he wanted to chat with his blood relative of Avalon, the Olympian almost I chose this private occasion out of instinct.

So, when he opened the door, he found Morgan sitting on his favorite ancient anvil, bending over, squinting, crossing his legs, and leaning on one side of his face with his arm on his knees. Like a napping rabbit, the Lord of Steel just smiled, ignoring the sparks caused by Morgan's riding boots rubbing against the anvil, and patiently explained to her.

"Of course, Morgan, I have set up mechanisms for every item in this foundry, as well as the foundry itself. Only my fingerprints can open them: when I push the door open, every item in the room Things will work at full strength.”

【Amazing. 】

Morgan smiled.

[What you said really makes me feel a little greedy, brother, I also want my throne room or those private spaces where treasures are stored to have this function: if one day you can be a guest on my Queen of Glory, maybe Can you give me some advice on my architect? 】

"It's a deal."

Perturabo responded lightly, and then his eyes focused worriedly on the slim blue and white skirt on Morgan and the almost bloodless calves exposed above the riding boots: They almost hugged the anvil beneath Morgan's seat, creating a stark contrast.

"Are you sure you want to sit here?"

Perturabo's voice was strained.

"I mean, I brought this anvil from Olympia, and it's been burning for at least a few centuries, and I've even given up on taking care of it: it might be a bit... to your clothes. …unfavorable."

[Afraid I’ll get it dirty? 】

Morgan squinted her eyes and licked the smile at the corner of her mouth. Then, while maintaining her sitting position, she rotated her waist and raised half of her buttocks, showing her blood relatives that she was not really sitting on it, but Sitting on a nearly imperceptible psychic membrane visible only to the Primarch.

"Brilliant manipulation."

The Lord of Steel nodded, admiring: In his impression, he had never seen a psyker use his invisible power so carefully and casually, maybe the Lord of Prospero could do it too. That's true, but given Magnus's character, he would definitely clean out the entire foundry in Perturabo on his own initiative first.

[It’s not perfect, it’s just habit and practice that makes perfect. 】

Morgan jumped down. This equipment was handy for Perturabo, but it was a bit too tall for her. She flashed in front of the Lord of Steel in the next moment, then pinched two fingers and lifted up the hem of her skirt. One corner was stretched out in front of the blood relative.

【check it out. 】

"...?"

The Lord of Steel was a little confused, but he still took off his gloves obediently. His rough fingertips grabbed the skirt of the Lord of Avalon, and just rubbed it cautiously. After thinking for a moment, the frowned eyebrows appeared. Then it suddenly exploded.

"Excellent materials, and..."

"Psychic...?"

"How many psychic marks did you add?"

[I can’t remember clearly either. 】

Morgan took out the hem of her skirt from Perturabo's fingers, and caressed the string of words on her chest that symbolized the Dawnbreaker with some nostalgia: For her, this slim blue and white dress is a This is a very memorable treasure, because as early as on the Dawn Star, when she first met Magnus and Perturabo, she was wearing this dress, and she has never worn it in all these years. Replaced.

Of course, just like the ship of Theseus in ancient mythology, the Primarch has continuously mended and reprocessed this slim-fitting dress over the years. It is no longer the ordinary piece of clothing it was originally: There are hundreds of psychic marks on it alone, and even the firepower of the Titans can hardly damage it.

[Anyway, my habit is that whenever I have a flash of inspiration and come up with a new psychic imprint template intentionally or unintentionally, I will just take a photo of it on my long skirt. If I want to find it then, it will be fine. Convenient: After so many years, there are at least more than 500 psychic marks with different functions on this suit, right? 】

Morgan licked the corners of his mouth.

[If I remember correctly, what I took recently was an imitation mark. Anyone who touches this piece of clothing, I can transform my own image in the eyes of others into that person's appearance: that is to say, maybe I'm gonna be you, bro. 】

"I suppose that's a loss for your narrator."

Perturabo smiled. He did not think carefully about the dangerous meaning of this sentence like he did when facing other people. Instead, he responded rather self-deprecatingly, not forgetting to pat his rough face.

"After all, the narrators probably prefer Morgan's appearance to Perturabo."

[Yes, those narrators from Terra do attach great importance to appearance. Of course, in their words, they are looking for the beauty in the legion. However, in my legion, there are no narrators worthy of my attention: Their artistic level is completely inferior to that of my image director. 】

Morgan shook his head.

"You also have an image director?"

[A respectable old-timer and a pleasant guy. 】

The Lord of Avalon blinked, ignored the topic, and changed his tone.

[Compared to those mortals, I care more about another thing, Perturabo: How did you know that our genetic father had found another lost blood brother just from my few descriptions? ? 】

"It's just simple logical reasoning."

After Morgan left, Perturabo came to the anvil, started it, then turned around, picked at the exhibition wall on one side, and selected a few that he thought were not very good. Successful works, put in it.

As he watched the molten iron slowly flow into the furnace, turning everything into a dazzling red slurry, the Lord of Steel raised his head and continued to answer this question.

"After all, a mere planetary civil war cannot attract our genetic father. He is the master of the Empire and the Great Crusade. Even the riots that swept through several star sectors are not enough to make him travel all the time."

"Then, this planet where a civil war is taking place must have its own unique value. It is either located in an important geographical location, or it is extremely valuable in itself, or it contains treasures that cannot be given up."

"And considering that you said that this planet is at the southern end of the Storm Star Territory, then the first two speculations can basically be given up: because there are no important worlds there, and it itself is just a desolate place for the empire."

"In other words, there is only one answer left: on that planet, there must be a treasure that the Emperor cannot give up. And at this moment, among the countless treasures buried in the entire galaxy, what else is there? Who is more worthy of the Emperor’s personal visit than a [Primarch who has not yet returned]?”

"And our brother returned a little too late."

Perturabo smiled confidently and tapped his temple with his finger.

"At this point, I have absolute confidence, Morgan: In the first year of my return to the Human Empire, I had already imprinted the map of the entire galaxy in my mind and memorized hundreds of thousands of important worlds. "

[I don’t remember that place. 】

Morgan snorted.

[But you, my brother, can you actually remember so much information? Even it took me many years to fully imprint the entire Far Eastern Frontier area and its general information in my mind: and even now it takes me a while to remember them all. 】

"I think there are two main reasons for this."

Perturabo's face was illuminated by the swirling smoke and flowing liquid metal. When he raised his head, his face looked like the ruthless demon generals who guarded Hell in the ancient legends of Terra.

"First, Morgan, you really underestimate yourself, and you really underestimate your Far Eastern Frontier: Your Far Eastern Frontier is a powerful country that is constantly expanding and changing. For any Primarch, It is very difficult to completely copy it, because it is constantly changing every moment, just like any emerging country, it is full of vitality, changing with each passing day, and it is dazzling.”

【Is it……】

Morgan smiled weakly. Although she knew that the Olympian's words did not actually have any malicious intent, she still instinctively avoided topics related to the Far Eastern Frontier: keeping a low profile on this issue has become part of the Lord of Avalon's philosophy of life. One, so she picked up the shield named Guilliman as a matter of course.

[But Robert...]

"He is him and you are you."

Perturabo didn't wait for her to finish speaking, and waved his hand indifferently, knocking the half-picked [Macragge's Shield] from Morgan's palm to the ground. Gululu rolled into the darkness and disappeared. In the service area of ​​Lord of Avalon: Guilliman is really becoming more and more difficult to use.

"Besides, maybe the size of Five Hundred Worlds is twice that of the Far Eastern Frontier, but in terms of influence within the empire, Guilliman is beyond your reach: even if your kingdom is on Holy Terra, We are still a group with a strong sense of existence.”

【……】

What?

The Lord of Avalon's brows frowned all of a sudden: she just felt like the unlucky Lord of Macragge, who accidentally fell asleep one day and woke up to find that the entire human empire had They collectively believed in Luo Jia's divine religion, and by the way, they also tore apart his Ultramarines Legion and the Five Hundred Worlds to pieces.

How would Guilliman feel when facing all of this? So how does Morgan feel now: What a pity. She has been working diligently to reduce the reputation of the Far Eastern Frontier within the Human Empire for decades. Replacing your own personal influence is to achieve a delicate balance.

Turns out her Avalon is actually more famous than she thought?

[You mean...influential? 】

"At least, if compared with Five Hundred Worlds, it's true."

Perturabo nodded.

"Tyla obviously likes you more."

"About three years ago, I returned to Holy Terra for some reason, and I discovered that at the port of Terra, there were actually many cargo ships from the far eastern frontier: the Avars piled up in their cabins If Long's special products are sold in Holy Terra, they can generate a profit factor of several thousand percent, which is enough for these merchants to travel half of the galaxy."

"At the same time, I can also hear discussions about Avalon and the Far Eastern Frontier from the mortal officials of Terra. Most of them are well-intentioned. There are even some Terran officials responsible for commerce, trade and foreign affairs. Speaks Gothic with an Avalonian accent fluently."

【There is no shortage of capable people everywhere...】

"However, there is one thing worth noting."

Perturabo touched his chin and began to rummage for his tools.

"I once observed it out of curiosity, and found that these Terran people with higher eyes are actually not very able to distinguish the subtle differences between Avalon, Five Hundred Worlds, or even Nostramo and the Maelstrom. They Some planets and atmospheres from the Five Hundred Worlds or the Maelstrom are often regarded as coming from the rule of Avalon, and are named the Far Eastern Frontier.”

"What's more, most people don't even bother to distinguish between these areas. Instead, they collectively call these areas [East]: the eastern part of the galaxy conquered by the empire, a wonderful area where wealth and barbarism coexist."

[Eastern part of the empire? 】

"That's right."

Perturabo carefully fumbled for his slender casting tool and welding laser machine, then turned around and took out a few precious alloys, placing them in front of the blazing flames one after another, thinking about what to use later. to the blueprint.

There was no trace of sarcasm on his face.

"Terran arrogance, isn't it?"

"It's like a Roman living in Rome looking at Constantinople."

[Your metaphor is not very nice. 】

"Just tell the truth."

The Lord of Steel smiled.

[So, what about the second reason? 】

The Spider Queen then asked, and the Olympian was about to answer, but was suddenly stuck: Perturabo seemed to have thought of something, his body trembled slightly for a moment, and the expression on his face flashed with confusion for a moment.

It was as if the so-called two reasons were just what he said outright at the moment, and the Lord of Steel himself didn't actually want to say the second reason: at least not now.

This conclusion was a bit strange, but based on Morgan's thorough knowledge of the person in front of her and her careful observation at that moment, she was sure that this was the truth: So, the Lord of Avalon just smiled and did not say anything to the so-called third person. Any interest brought up by the second reason is nothing more than Perturabo's inner bragging about his own excellent abilities.

Then, the Spider Queen quietly changed the topic, seamlessly connecting to a topic she had already thought about before, a driving force behind why she came to Perturabo: after she received the letter from The plan had already been conceived in Morgan's mind the moment he received the Emperor's letter.

[Forget it, brother. 】

[Compared to these, I have a suggestion. Do you want to listen to it? 】

"Tell me."

The Lord of Steel stood still, coughed pretentiously, and stared at the fire in front of him.

And Morgan just chuckled. She was no longer surprised by any of Perturabo's actions: on the contrary, she had absolute confidence to use the next sentence to tear the Olympians' defense to pieces. .

[Brother, my suggestion is: Do you want to go with me to see the emperor? 】

"!"

Perturabo's huge head suddenly turned around.

"...He summoned me?"

[No, just my suggestion. 】

The light in his pupils dissipated, replaced by a heavy cough and a lingering hesitation forced out of the Lord of Steel's throat.

"But...I still have a mission..."

[If I can convince the Emperor on this matter, brother, will you go? 】

"...But this is against..."

【going or not? 】

"..."

"go."