Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

Ahriman did not like Perturabo.

But this did not prevent him from admiring the beauty of art created by the Primarch.

While listening to the reminder from the son of Magnus to him in the telepathic communication, and feeling his unstoppable sincere admiration for the scene in front of him, Morgan couldn't help but have funny thoughts in his heart.

It is understandable that such a scene would occur. After all, Perturabo - regardless of his personality, is indeed a master of architecture and art.

Everyone knows that Invet's Dorn and his Imperial Fists are the founders of countless fortresses, but they don't know that the Iron Warriors and its Primarch are actually better at this, but their talents rarely get opportunities to express themselves. .

Different from its rough and majestic appearance, the interior of Salimavis Fortress was transformed by Perturabo into a work of art full of exquisiteness and digital style. It is like an imperial palace in ancient legends: the walls are Polished marble, dotted with black lampstands, golden textures, huge tapestries and scattered paintings, clean and orderly.

And in the gaps between these decorations, Morgan could see the hidden shooting ports and whistles. They were distributed at the corners of the corridors and around the main hall, enough to turn the entire fortress into a silent cemetery in an instant.

The group of people moved forward steadily under the leadership of the original body. They soon passed through the initial front corridor and passed through a secret room full of meditators and technical terms. It was full of busy Mechanicus personnel. Their electronic screens flashed with messages from around the world.

Tens of thousands of messages are undergoing screening and feedback in the calculations of these visitors from Mars. From the loading of ships to the supply of materials, the huge data is enough to easily drain any staff composed of mortals, even the Adeptus Mechanicus. The elites can only ensure that these data will not have too serious errors. As for the more precise calculations and decisions, they can only leave them to the more mysterious and core room in the secret room.

Specifically, the room was a mezzanine connected by a wide staircase. From the outside, it looked like a square processing workshop, exuding a mixed smell of precious metals and industrial grease.

When they entered, Perturabo himself was there.

If every soldier of the Fourth Legion is steel who can walk and fight freely, then the Primarch of the Fourth Legion can be said to be the living embodiment of the word "steel".

Every piece of protection, every chain and even every screw on Perturabo's body was made by his own hands, which made him look like a rock sculpture with a human face. He was shorter than his brothers. A little older, but still a giant enough for the Astartes to look up to. The hard features carved by axes pieced together the entire appearance of a great monster hunter, a ruthless victorious general and a god-given master of art. .

"You came too slowly, Magnus, we don't have extra time for you to delay now."

Perturabo's voice echoed repeatedly in the secret room like thunder, and Magnus just spread his hands like a beg for mercy in return for his brother.

With great difficulty, the Primarch of the Fourth Legion hugged his brother, and the plotting instrument he held tightly in his hand was revealed to the eyes of several senior officials of the Thousand Sons Legion. They could see that it was covered with numerous... The data stars the stars: loading rates, travel times, cargo capacity, fuel reserves, fleet rotations, population inflows, food and water supplies, airdrop schedules and the hundreds of variables that come into play in the evacuation equation.

"Those numbers..."

Atava, who was always known for his ruthless calculation skills, sighed softly to his brother.

"There were so many of them... it made me dizzy... they were like a wave over me."

Ahriman and Forsis did not reply, but their equally serious expressions were the best answer. None of the three of them noticed Morgan, who had a normal expression. At this time, she was looking at the numbers intently.

In almost a breath, Morgan blinked and turned his attention elsewhere.

"My advisors, you may also call them my trident."

After a brief exchange of greetings, Perturabo pointed to the only two Iron Warriors behind him.

"This is Xaka, the other is Barben Falke, and Fricks is in charge of the outside."

"Ahriman, my right hand, Captain of the Legion."

"Atharva and Forsis, my senior think tanks."

"[Think Tank]? I thought you had decided to give up on this project. Magnus, our father and some brothers may not like this."

"At least Sanguinius supports me. He is a truly smart man on this matter."

"Then I can only hope that you will be careful enough... huh?"

Perturabo seemed ready to say something more about psychic powers, but his eyes were quickly attracted by the only mortal present.

"What role does this mortal, my brother Magnus, play in your legion?"

"This is Morgan, Ms. Morgan, my Legion's senior advisor and one of the candidates for the think tank."

As soon as Magnus finished speaking, the silver-haired female officer could detect the gaze from Forsis, which was some kind of hostility mixed with surprise.

"A mortal?"

"A clever, hard-working, and capable mortal. You know, Perturabo, that I would not turn my back on any capable wise man."

"I hope she is who you say she is."

The Lord of Steel waved his hand, gesturing for his subordinates to continue their previous work, and he came to the west edge of the secret room, pressed the switch, and a huge window appeared from the cover. Through it, one could easily The entire city of Kalena can be seen.

As a relic of the golden age, Kalena is a city that perfectly blends history and splendor. Magnus first took a second to marvel at its exquisite layout, and then his eyes were drawn to the truly important things.

"The Steadfast Light, I am ready to reactivate it."

Perturabo's voice came from his ears, and what he was referring to was the huge colonial ship in the center of Kalena City. It was this ancient giant ship that carried the first batch of humans thousands of years ago. The colonists came here and created everything that belonged to Dawnstar, and now it stands there as a pure monument.

"It is already a relic, Perturabo, a pure antique."

Even Magnus was surprised by his brother's brief arrogance. He walked forward quickly, looked at the giant ship carefully, and soon discovered that it was covered with dense steel: It was the scions of Perturabo and the laborers of the Adeptus Mechanicus at work.

"Are you really going to activate it? Trust the lives of hundreds of thousands of refugees to a... antique?"

"I have no choice, Magnus."

Perturabo's hand pointed to his workbench, which was already filled with a large number of diagrams and sketches, some of which Magnus could recognize as data for various cross-track conveyors. "

"Our cross-orbital transport aircraft can perform approximately 200 launches a day, carrying six to seventy thousand people off this dying world and onto our fleet. This is just an ideal situation where the ground launch center will not be disturbed, but you and me Everyone knows how serious the panic among the people is now."

"But that's not the most serious thing: the population of the entire Dawn Star exceeds two million, and the fleets of you and me combined are only dozens of ships. Even if every cabin is filled, we can only No more than 1.6 million people will be taken away, and in the remaining three months, our fleet will not be able to complete the round trip between the nearest habitable world and the Dawn Star."

"In other words, if I don't enable it, then one-fifth of the world's population will be abandoned and die in despair."

Magnus breathed heavily and lowered his head. He could not refute his brother: the Thousand Sons Legion came more than fifty days earlier than the Iron Warriors, but these numbers had never appeared so clearly in his mind.

"You're right, brother..."

Just as Magnus's deep voice began to echo, perhaps in order to relieve his father's embarrassment, or perhaps simply thinking so, Forsis of the Thousand Sons Legion took a step forward and signaled that he wanted to speak.

"We don't need to take such a risk, my lords."

"Why?"

The Thousand Sons Think Tank handed Perturabo the thick document he had in hand, which was a report on the evacuations of people around the world by Hathor and others.

"There are many people in the world who refuse to evacuate. In those remote and barbaric mountain villages, they are simply unwilling to obey our orders to move away from their homeland, even in cities. In the resettlement area of ​​Kalena City alone, every day There were at least hundreds of people who fled back into the wilderness privately, and Ahriman can prove all of this."

Forsis first stated his argument, and after receiving Ahriman's silent nod, he slowly stated his plan.

"In view of this situation, I think that since these mortals who have abandoned reason and logic are not even willing to rescue themselves, why do we still need to care about them? Anyway, even if these stupid guys are rescued, it will not be beneficial to the entire empire. By killing them, our rescue plan can be launched much more quickly."

When his last letter landed, the room fell into absolute silence, except for the sound of the two tridents working.

"...You think so?"

Perturabo leaned on his conference table, his eyes blazing away from his brothers and others, all focused on Forsis. The Primarch's expression was like that of a disappointed teacher. Students who look at themselves as uneducated and incompetent.

The Lord of Steel's question was low and calm, without any hint of violence, but it made Forsis lower his head involuntarily, and beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead uncontrollably.

Magnus opened his mouth to say something for his foolish son, but before he could do so, Perturabo's unwavering and unquestionable declaration exploded.

"listen!"

"No matter how bright the flowers are, I would not let a young child run to the edge of a cliff to pick flowers without stopping him."

"I won't let you get anywhere near the Fourth Corps mine defense zone in this fortress without a map and proper training."

We must throw away this childish and ignorant idea and do the right thing, now do you understand why we must do our best to save more people?”

Fussy's head almost dropped to the ground. He was as quiet as a dead corpse, and it wasn't until a while later that he answered quietly and sincerely.

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry."

Almost at the same time, Magnus walked up with a smile and patted his brother on the shoulder.

"Forsyth is a master of numbers, and he is better at arbitrating issues that consist of experience and absolute views of right and wrong, rather than philosophical and moral debates."

"I know, Magnus, I know."

"Such voices have also appeared among my Iron Warriors. They do not know the importance of rescuing mortals. That is why you and I need to work together more closely. My brother, spur our heirs to do their best. Rescue as many people as possible."

"Of course, man, I've been working so hard."

"Then, I hope that every warrior of the Thousand Sons can devote themselves to disaster relief, just like my legion, instead of digging for ruins and ancient libraries."

Morgan saw a quick flash of cunning on Perturabo's face.

"That's just a small team, Perturabo. I swear I won't send more people. A small team is harmless to the overall situation."

The discussion between the two Primarchs soon became fast and furious, as they quickly divided up the areas and tasks of their respective Legions: the Iron Warriors would gradually take over everything regarding evacuation and construction, and the Thousand Sons would Spread into small groups to assist them, Perturabo would be responsible for all this, while Magnus would immediately set off for a city inland, where the governor and his team were said to have appeared.

As for Ahriman, Atava and Forsis, they each have their own tasks, either leading their own teams to defend one side, or going deep into the ruins to find those things that haunt Magnus.

The discussion between the Primarch brothers progressed rapidly in an increasingly friendly atmosphere until the final question arose.

"No, Magnus, you must leave one person behind, at least an officer who can contact you directly."

Perturabo retorted fiercely to his brother.

"We must be able to maintain communication at all times to prevent any emergencies. Don't rely so much on your psychic powers. You know, there are countless ways and accidents in this galaxy that can cause this power to suddenly fail!"

"Okay, Perturabo."

The Lord of Steel's repeated words left Magnus speechless, or maybe he just simply didn't want to continue arguing. The Thousand Sons' Primarch looked around and then pulled Morgan to his side. around.

"The senior officer you want, my brother."

"A mortal?"

"I repeat, my senior advisor."

"Have you tested her yourself?"

"My best descendants all recognize her wisdom and ability, and I trust their judgment."

Perturabo sighed, perhaps also tired of the quarrel. He finally nodded and allowed Magnus to lead the three heirs away quickly.

Ahriman was the last to leave, and as he passed Morgan, he stuffed something secretly.

It wasn't until their footsteps disappeared that Perturabo slowly lowered his head. He casually glanced at Morgan in front of him and walked back to his workbench.

"Get to work, mortal."

"I hope my brother didn't exaggerate this time."