Chapter 218 Many Primarchs
Leman Russ was almost one of the first demigods among the Emperor's descendants to return to Terra. ׺°”˜˜`”°º×
However, compared to Perturabo of Olympia, Leman Russ's closeness to the other brothers is in stark contrast. While the Primarch Perturabo was taking back his brothers one after another, Leman Russ led his wolf pack alone to bring the oath of the Sky Eagle to the Emperor of Mankind in the distant galaxy. , with a winter-like ending.
This is not an isolated case. In fact, Imperial scholars often speculate that the Emperor's demigod descendants may not all know each other as well as their mortal brothers and sisters. ——"Leman Russ: Hunting for Winter and Death"
"It's time for you to return to Terra, Omegon." Morse casually opened the heavy oak door and stood leaning against the wall. "The Emperor has called for someone to pick you up."
"I know." Omegon said coldly.
At the moment he spoke, his image suddenly emerged clearly and clearly from the background inside the prison, even though he had been sitting here from beginning to end without moving at all. This was undoubtedly a gift that belonged to the Primarch and his twin brother: almost no one could detect his presence unless he wanted to.
"Why don't you act happier?" Morse asked, "You are about to see the Creator you have missed for decades. Don't tell me that you predicted that the food in the Palace of Terra would not be as good as Macragge's prison meals."
Omegon said nothing, staring at Morse's pale face with his blue-green eyes.
Even though Guilliman was extremely angry at Omegon's influence in the chaos of Macragge, the tolerant Lord of Macragge still chose to give Omegon certain preferential treatment.
His prison was chosen to be a remote noble manor that had been abandoned after the political changes. He was provided with a regular diet equivalent to that of the average Macragge citizen, and other than being prohibited from leaving the manor, Omegon was not subject to strict actions. limit.
Roboute Guilliman only manifested his vengeance in two rather loose forms.
First, this manor was strictly sealed off by Morse using his psychic powers. No one could enter or leave except Morse himself - and for Omegon, it was more important than treating Morse as a human being during this month. The only person to communicate with was worse than no one having any contact with this Primarch No. 20, who attached great importance to intelligence and communications.
Second, Robert Guilliman carefully considered each word and wrote a long letter. At the beginning of the letter, he expressed his infinite confidence and yearning for the empire with long continuous sentences and emotional words, and then mentioned him in humble and polite terms. Thoughts about Macragge and the father-son relationship that he couldn't bear to express to the Emperor were like a dragonfly touching the water or a hummingbird passing over the flowers and leaves. In a light tone like a flower leaf, he mentioned twice without leaving any trace what Omega had brought him for no reason. Troubled, and the damage caused to the harmonious life of the people of Macragge, the words finally turned around and returned to his heartfelt longing for the Empire.
After Guilliman finished writing the long letter, he went to several brothers to read it.
Perturabo kindly reminded Robert Guilliman that he should give Malcador an extra revision book; Rogal Dorn asked Guilliman why he didn't criticize Omegon directly so as to save the astropaths' workload; An Gronn stared at the complex hidden lines behind the words and the unique language codes of the upper-class dignitaries, euphemistically indicating that he was just a Nucerian warrior and could do nothing about such important matters.
"Okay, Primarch. Compared to Macragge, the food in the palace can still be significantly better in variety. I hope you are not really worried about this." Morse said.
"Who are you?" Omegon suddenly said. "Who do you serve? The Lord of Mankind, the Chancellor of the Empire, or some other power?"
"I serve one of the most absurd dreams in human history, the Primarch." Morse replied leisurely, with the emphasis clearly falling on the ruthless adjective in the sentence.
"I do not like confusing phrases," said the Primarch.
"Then you'd better hate yourself first, Omegon. To be honest, I'm starting to think that your twin brother is more lovable than you. His understanding of the world is a little clearer than you."
"He killed one of the Custodes. I did not kill anyone of importance, I ensured the survival of Tarasha Yuton." Omegon said, "He received praise, and I received a humiliating insult from my brother. Imprisonment.”
"Even if you try to provoke me, I won't tell you anything more." Morse smiled and gently broke through Omegon's thoughts, "After all, I can't even tell what you want to ask. Are you here?" Chasing a path that no one knows, you are proud of your secret mission. You have seen the depth of the galaxy that no one else has seen, and you believe in your own nobility that no one can understand. But now you still have to be carried back to Terra. Scolded by Malcador and the Emperor."
Omegon looked away, his emotions well hidden behind that cautious and cold face.
"I have the ability to return to Terra on my own," he said.
"You are saying something that everyone knows, Primarch."
Morse made a gesture of holding his palm, and the golden and blue light that had been looming around the manor in recent days lit up from all directions and returned to his palm wrapped in black cloth.
"And I want to tell you something you don't know, that is, the person who picked you up is here. Unfortunately, that is one of your brothers, who has quick thinking, sharp intuition, and strong fighting ability. In front of him, you are both You cannot glorify your failure in words, cover up the mistakes you made due to blindness and incompetence, and you cannot defeat him with force or escape from him.”
Omegan stood up immediately, but his reaction was not fast enough.
The sound of footsteps was heard in the corridor, the scabbard hit the buckle of the belt, the steel ring painted with runes and the round stone collided with each other, followed by heavy panting, the rubbing of large thick fur and the heavy muffled sound of multiple canine creatures hitting the fragile wooden boards on the ground when running, as if the giant beast was rushing on the winter night, releasing the heat and urgency accumulated in the fur in the snowfield.
A few seconds later, the half-closed door was suddenly thrown open, and two giant wolves wrapped in the cold wind brought from the outside world rushed towards Omegan. This pair of extraordinary creatures almost made Omegan unable to dodge.
A man much taller than Omegan appeared in the corridor. Because of his height, he had to bend down. His huge hand wrapped in dark brown leather armor supported the door frame that was too finely carved for him, and he peeked in silently, like a beast waiting for the opportunity to hunt in the cold background of snowfield and rocks.
"Let them go, Leman Russ." Omegan stopped trying to get rid of the two giant wolves of the Wolf King, and let them bite his collar, forming a bondage that was more symbolic than actual.
Leman Russ smiled. This was a subtle expression, different from the false intimacy revealed when a mortal smiles, the Wolf King's smile was more like a gesture combined with a fierce threat, a silent declaration and grand announcement that he had arrived within everyone's sight.
"Come here, Freki, Gerry." The Wolf King stared at Omegan and said. The two wolves let go of Omegan and returned to their master, close to the wolf skin on Russ's shoulders, like dark clouds surrounding snow-capped peaks, or the wasteland surrounding an ice lake. Russ laughed out loud.
"The Allfather sent me here to fetch Alpharius." He stopped laughing, hiding his sharp teeth, and nodded briefly to Morse, "What do you think, Morse?"
"I see your Gothic accent is still as terrible as ever," Morse said, "This short brother who looks like he wants to assassinate you is Alpharius. Keep an eye on him."
The Wolf King laughed, the sound like a short growl. "Of course, the sons of Fenris will take good care of him. Robert Guilliman - this brother's name is too difficult for Fenrisians to pronounce. He invited me to stay here for two days. I haven't had time to ask him, how is the wine here, craftsman?"
"I don't know, Wolf King. But Macragge's wine is far from enough to make you drunk."
--
"Those dense forests...hiccups, the plateau woodlands of Asaheim! Much colder than your pile of stones in Macragge! In the spring, when the snow is a little scattered and not piled up to bury ten Astartes head to toe, we will go to the woods to catch some wild deer...hiccups...those mountains! Like wolf teeth, one by one, white and piercing the sky, storms circling the tops of the mountains, scaring people to think there is a hole in the sky...our poets of Fenris!hiccups..."
The Wolf King flipped over the chair, covered his mouth for a long time, leaned back, and recovered. Robout Guilliman handed him a glass of water, not knowing whether he should thank Leman Russ for not vomiting in the quiet and elegant garden of Macragge.
He began to regret being stimulated by Russ's bold words and decided to challenge the wild wolf's drinking capacity with Macragge's strongest wine.
"Is there a poet in Fenris?" Angron asked, unexpectedly feeling close to Russ at first sight.
"Yes!" Russ suddenly pulled himself back to the table, "Have you seen the Eldar? No? God! Hiccup... My wolf cub writes poetry... Better than the Eldar's stuff! The sail blew the horn, and the snow in the ice field was redder than the rusty iron anchor..."
"The blood left after a person dies is not the same color as the rust..."
"Stop!" Russ shouted, "I know, I know... Dorne!"
"I'm here." Rogal Dorne said.
Interestingly, the seventh primarch drank no less wine than Russ, but he was able to give others the illusion that he had not drunk a drop of wine, or even a drop of wine. This may be attributed to his upright sitting posture, neat navy blue dress and the terrifying deep eye sockets of the golden skull placed on the table.
"Where is Perturabo?" Russ slowly leaned over the table, his misty eyes were hazy with intoxication, and he shook the golden cup in his hand. He did not smash any of the wine glasses to the ground today.
"He received a contact request." Robert Guilliman found a reason to join the conversation, and his spirits were lifted. "I think Perturabo has official business and has no time to participate in this banquet that is independent of social meaning..."
"I heard someone mentioned me." Perturabo walked steadily to the table with a data tablet and sat down in the empty seat Robert left for him.
His area was the cleanest small area on the entire giant marble table covered with a large snow-white tablecloth. The rest of the area was miraculously evenly smeared with wine stains and grilled meat grease by Russ alone.
"I heard Russ's voice again." A voice came from the communication channel maintained by the data board, brisk and cheerful, "There are Rogal Dorn and Angron. The remaining one, are you Robert Guilliman?"
"Yes." Guilliman was stunned for a moment, "May I ask if you are..."
"Magnus, the Primarch of the 15th Legion." Magnus said cheerfully, "I finally got around your Ultramar, although my psychic mecha caused unexpected interference to the navigator's observation when entering the warp channel... I haven't seen Perturabo for ten years!"
"Morse, help me get in touch with Magnus." Perturabo said calmly, placing the datapad in the middle of the round table, allowing Magnus' voice to reach everyone's ears evenly.
"I haven't seen you for ten years either." Russ muttered incoherently, "Counting you, Angron, Rogal Dorn, and Robert Guilliman, I guess we haven't seen each other for decades... Where were we born? The last time we met was in the incubator! How come no one misses me? Right, Perturabo?"
"Perturabo mentioned you to us, Leman Russ." Rogal Dorn justified his brother.
"Oh?" Russ raised his head and grinned, "How did he mention it?"
"It must be about your two consecutive victories over the Emperor of Mankind in the competition to directly target the source of desire that is necessary for human survival," Magnus announced triumphantly, "Am I right, Perturabo?"
Russ smacked his lips.
"Indeed," Perturabo said, glancing around the table at the Macragge classics that Leman Russ had swept away, without picking up his knife and fork. "Robert, this is Magnus the Red, one of the most powerful psykers in the galaxy that I mentioned to you, and one of your brothers."
"Hello, Magnus," Robert said, unsure of his tone.
He found that the image of Magnus he could imagine was based on Leman Russ's thick braids like a heavy mane and the huge broadsword thrown to the ground. Before meeting Leman Russ in person, he had never imagined that he would have a brother who looked... like a mountain man from Illyrium.
"Oh, hello, Robert Guilliman." Magnus said, "It's incredible, Perturabo. I haven't met anyone in this period of time, and you have found three brothers at once, oh, and Alpharius. Four brothers!"
"Alas, Magnus, do you expect Perturabo to be alone in the galaxy like you?" Russ's voice was mixed with a strong smile.
"How can you slander me!" Magnus shouted angrily, "I am happy for Perturabo!"
"I believe you are a trustworthy and broad-minded brother, Magnus." Rogal Dorn put his hand on the golden skull, and the skull spoke the modified words for Rogal Dorn in a mechanically synthesized voice. "The psychic assistance that Azak Ahriman provided to our expedition reflects part of your selfless character."
"Who is talking?" Magnus asked hurriedly, "Did you find a fifth brother and didn't tell me, Perturabo?"
"No." Dorn said, releasing his hand on the skull and speaking in his own voice, "This is a gift from Perturabo. Use it to improve my wording."
"Oh, Perturabo gave you a gift." Magnus said, "I see..."
Russ laughed: "My God, Magnus! Do you have wine? Drink with us, brother!"
"No, I have to continue the experiment in an hour, testing the enchantment effect of the natural properties simulated by psychic energy on large weapons..." Magnus said, pausing, "But the storage room should still have the wine that was replenished in the Gothic Sector before. Wait a minute!"
"Okay." Perturabo said, picking up his empty wine glass, "Is there any wine here that Leman Russ hasn't drunk up, Robert?"