Chapter 205 Courses

Morse turned his golden penholder, and after a few seconds of thinking, he pressed the end of the penholder against the base of a chess piece and pushed it one square on the chessboard.

Before Conor the Archon could move his piece, Eudon warned: "You're going to lose, Conor."

Connor moved his pieces in silence, with low interest. A white pawn carved into a tower eats one of Morse's pawns, causing the tower to appear at the diagonal angle of the war elephant.

"Well, maybe you're right," Morse said, "but you managed to convince me to lose a game."

He moved the king hiding behind one space forward, approaching the moment when he was exposed outside the protection. It was just an ordinary board game, and after defeating Conor three times in a row, Mors didn't mind letting Robert Guilliman's adoptive father start winning.

Connaught touched the stubble on his chin without politeness, adjusted his chessboard layout, and was ready to eat this king.

"I like this. You didn't refuse me several times." Morse commented briskly. After several rounds, Connaught won by regulation. Youton saw the opportunity and waved to the attendants at the door of the room to come in with lunch, preventing the two of them from having another plate.

"Do you know where this rye comes from?" Morse asked with interest.

"Espando, the new wheat of the first season. The average price of a group of rye in the market is thirty aspen copper coins. At the same time, the average price of a group of barley is fifteen aspen, and the average price of a group of wheat is twenty-seven aspen. ." The Archon replied, these figures clearly appearing in the mouth of this mortal ruler who was no longer young, "Unfortunately, this piece of bread once required an Oris gold coin in the purchase bill."

"What now?"

"Limit low-price rations for all citizens in the urban area."

"Has this policy been implemented successfully?"

"After meeting the Primarchs in Garlan, my obstacles in the Senate suddenly loosened." Conor said, taking the bread and dipping some honey.

The furniture in his room showed a mixture of mortal dimensions and primordial models. The desk was just right for a human, and a square cogitator was suitable for both mortal and primarch, but a chair and a few artifacts were too tall. .

This is not the disharmony and chaos that a consul should endure, but Connuo happily accepted it all without saying a word. As a father, he tolerated all the traces his son left in his life.

"Ambitionist." Morse said with praise. "It is the luck of the Primarch and the Empire that a Primarch can have a father like you. You can't imagine that after listening to Perturabo and I introduce the thirty rumors of Hamlet, After reading the edition, it was a surprise to suddenly discover that you actually have an original copy of Hamlet in your inner court library.”

His topic jumped a bit. Perturabo was the only one who could keep up with his ideas for a while, and later the Emperor and Malcador could be added.

The mortals in front of him made no attempt to keep up with him. They start with the latest information, focusing on current realities and the attendant future: this is exactly how Connaught and Euton govern.

"You think so?" Jotun said. "I think the Imperials are more annoyed that they've lost a Primarch." The new word came out of her mouth as deftly, as ordinary and poignant as the others.

"You're still angry, Ms. Euton." Morse stood up and patted the Thinker.

The machine emitted a strange little alarm sound. Morse found the cancel button and turned the synthesized mechanical sound to an alarm stop.

"But that's how children are. They use their own narrative structure to observe the world, and situations that are not within the framework will only be taken into account after they appear and have certain consequences - Robert is grabbing his commanders one by one to criticize, oh, he was expressing he regretted surrendering all his trust so quickly, even though we all knew he didn't."

Eudon dismissed Morse's words. "This is not because we are angry. We have been prepared for this day. It is an accident that a huge human empire will respect us small rulers in remote frontier places."

Mors laughed: "You are angry, my lady. Of course, they expected Robert Guilliman to personally guide them in their affairs, and of course they resented the Archon of Macragge for taking precious time to teach them. "

"They are very good students," Connaught said. "They understand and learn better than the entire Senate put together."

"But the respect they showed you was a little too forced, Archon." Morse returned to his seat, picked up a piece of lettuce leaf placed in the bread basket, and took a bite. "I'm not one hundred percent on the side of the Imperium of Man. Don't you join me in criticizing the Space Marines?"

"No need, craftsmen of Olympia." Yuden's voice softened. "Robert is already doing it."

"Well, fine. If you really think this is enough, then I underestimate the tolerance of mortals."

"Why don't you underestimate the sanity of mortals?"

"Oh, that means I underestimated the entire group of mortals." Morse said, "I really can't list all the problems of this guy one by one. But I have a hunch now that there will be an eternal one here. Contradiction. Emperor, Primarch, Space Marine, Human, these are four life forms, and any one of them generally has a less conventional view of the other three."

"I think we are all human beings." Connaught shook his head. "We actually use the same thinking and mind. I can understand the voices of the Space Marines. They are just another group of warriors who left home since childhood."

"That depends on whether their self-identity really thinks this way, Archon." Morse raised a hand to support the side of his face.

The conversation with Connaught and Euton was a satisfying break for him. They had a common language that was enough to support the existence of such a rare thing as tacit understanding, and there were few conflicts. Except for Morse's wrong question when they first met, there was no further conflict.

"When it comes to this matter, I have a kind reminder here." The craftsman said, "Be careful about your lives, Conor Guilliman and Tarasha Yuton. I have recently suspected that the adoptive family of the original body will Extremely prone to accidents.”

"Why do you say that?" Connor asked calmly.

"You know I always say what I think, Macragge. I just briefly reviewed the current adoptive family situation of the Primarchs, from Amon, the adoptive father of Magnus the Red, to Angron Onomamos, the adoptive father of the Primarch, you are the only adoptive parents who have survived so far and can give the Primarch a complete and normal family life. Too fragile a pillar.”

Connor took a deep breath: "We will."

"What are the other people like?" Yodon asked, "Who are the Amon and Onomamos you mentioned?"

"From the original body, we can see the conditions of its growth environment; but you haven't seen Magnus yet." Morse said, "If one day the empire completely solves the problem of interstellar communication, I would like to invite you Several people gathered together. Let me think about it, we can invite Califon - Perturabo has never admitted it, but his friend of the king is indeed his family, Amon, Leman Russ's two The Wolf, Roger Dorn's Blanket, Onomamos, and Malcador will all come together. Who knows?"

"Imperial Regent Malcador?" Yodon asked. Recently, she and Connaught had gained a lot of official understanding of the current political leaders of the empire. They are fully prepared to follow Guilliman and join the Empire. In a sense, this is actually a manifestation of trying to seize the relative initiative in the changing political situation.

"I usually think that he is also half a caregiver of a certain original body." Morse knocked on the chessboard, and all the chess pieces jumped on the table and returned to their places. "Jodon, do we want to have a game? I won't use it. Psychic."

Kangnuo was stunned for a moment: "You just..."

"Using a little mind-reading power, of course." Morse finished his vegetable leaves as if nothing had happened. "Is this considered cheating? I don't know."

——

"That's it, their army was torn apart by our actions."

Robert Guilliman sat on his gold and blue seat, pointing his finger on the sand table in the center of the heavy stone table. A small marking point was uprooted, symbolizing the death of an opposing force. He then raised his head, staring straight ahead like the blue eyes of Macragge's clear sky, focusing on a distant place.

"There are no tricks, no probabilities and bets. We only rely on the simplest military formations and standard principles of action. We have retained the highest adaptability to any battlefield."

He turned his head and raised his right hand, with his fingertips level with his lips. His resolute and extraordinary face was more completely displayed, emphasizing the noble will of the original body. "This is the way I choose to fight, the principles I carefully choose, the theory I hang in the air. We will continue to verify it, adjust it, revise it and make it more perfect in future practice."

"Now, I have a question."

said the Primarch, lowering his hands and letting his tall frame relax in his seat. The passion of belief is weakened and invisible cues of control begin to rise.

"My warriors, tell me, if our enemy does not have a core leader, what will be the most efficient way to destroy it? I look forward to hearing your thoughts. Note: Use the Ultramarine way to get the answer, Rather than the slaughter and extermination of the children of war.”

As he stood up from his seat, the video was terminated. Azak Ahriman, who was sent to take the camera of the original body, retrieved the holographic projection from the memory of the camera slave and sent it to the projector on the desktop for display.

Guilliman scrutinized his performance, looking for obscure flaws or holes in his narrative, while Azak adjusted the pieces for the Primarch that needed further refinement - or rather, he noted them down. The fragments are waiting to be focused on during the next re-recording. Once a question raised by the original body arises, he can stop it in time.

"One last time, Azak," Guilliman said. "We will record it again for the last time."

Roboute Guilliman unexpectedly kept his word, much to Azak's relief. For some reason, being around this primarch who seemed to get along much better than Rogal Dorn and Perturabo still didn't make him feel relaxed.

He missed the brief time beside Magnus that was as bright and comfortable as quicksand and gold. Recently, the crimson king was marching against the legion of Iron Warriors, deep into the other end of the vast galaxy. The direct communication between several Suns of Thousand Dusts and the Father of Genes had to be completely interrupted. They could only start from a few points. In the few words sent by the thin document, I recall my father's vivid and elegant glory.

What's more, after Kedomo Fricks disappeared, he never found another friend who could establish the same deep friendship as before.

"You can go and rest for a while." Robert Guilliman's face overlapped with the holographic image being projected, the difference being that the real Primarch was more serious than the one in the image. "I need to continue to conceive the manuscript of the second lesson. Come to me in three hours."

Perhaps it was a habit developed from the training of the Black Crow, Ahriman consciously did not turn around immediately. Sure enough, Robert Guilliman raised his hand and called him: "Also, take this image to the ship's command room and let Glenn Wosoto organize the captain and above commanders to watch it."

Azak took the order and left. Guilliman waited for the scholar of the Brother Legion to leave before getting up from his seat and walking slowly in the private corridor of the Macragge Court. His footsteps were presented between the marble and the wood, echoing rhythmically, helping him to gain the silence in thinking.

When Connor had time to raise his head from the data and tables piled on his desk and conduct the repeated contemplation and self-examination that a qualified archon could not do without, he would choose these narrow and quiet corridors and find his place under the gaze of many portraits of former kings.

If Robert Guilliman was with Connor at this time, a rough and warm hand would fall on his shoulder until he grew too tall. After Robert's height exceeded the height of a mortal head of Connor, he would walk in the corridor alone.

He stopped in the middle of the corridor and calculated the time he left the room.

Fifteen minutes, the clock in his mind told him accurately, fifteen minutes and thirty-three seconds. This was the time he took to write the next manuscript of the war theory and add thirteen iterations and improvements. He smiled to himself as easily as possible, telling himself that this was just his talent.

But Space Marines are warriors who are proud of their talents. It's not even deliberate arrogance, he knows it very well.

His warriors did not deliberately despise mortals, they just naturally felt that mortals were inferior to themselves; sometimes this could be said to be a fact that did not need to be denied, but when this happened to Connor and Jotun, Guilliman could not accept it.

He looked straight at the portraits of the warlords of Macragge hanging high on the wall, stopped at the end of the corridor leading to the inner court, and then turned back.

He had already asked too much from this group of strange warriors, and the effectiveness of teaching would decline. Now, in order to gain further obedience, he must show strength. And obedience is another name for receiving gifts, and gifts are the embodiment of control.

Next, he wanted to give his Ultramarines a victory, and the target was the battle they missed in order to rush to Macragge-the Osiris Heresy.