Chapter 271 On the Road

Fulgrim's purple robe swept across the white hall floor of the Emperor's Pride, and he stopped at a mahogany table with a gold vase.

The raw material of this tabletop has the rarest excellent texture among the pure natural non-synthetic wood currently available in Galaxy. His descendants brought him materials to perfection after a fruitful conquest.

Fulgrim selected the mahogany tree presented by Julius Kaisoron of Chemos into his hall. Kaisoron raised his head proudly, while the other children looked lonely.

But it's inevitable.

In the long road to perfection, there will inevitably be competition between people. If you overcome it, you will find that you have gone further than others. This is the easiest way to quantify the results in the process of progress.

He smiled slightly, plucked a new bouquet of purple and orange flowers in the vase with his white fingers, and looked back at Ferus Manus, who was looking at his iron hands idly.

Fulgrim remembered that the Primarch of the Iron Hands obtained these shining silver hands in a unique battle - he drowned a silver dragon beast with living metal skin in the lava with his bare hands. among. When he let go of the dead monster, the living metal permanently coated the outside of the skin on his hand.

How similar to those ancient myths, Fulgrim thought to himself, those who are smeared with dragon blood will be invulnerable from now on.

"What are you thinking about?" Fulgrim sat down next to Ferus.

Ferus raised his head: "Calculate the remaining time required to return to Terra. What about you?"

"I'm thinking that I really lost a rare opportunity," Fulgrim replied, "I failed to put a series of brothers on his flagship to welcome the Palace of Terra like Perturabo. Even if only Conrad Coates...despite his eccentric personality, he is still a good person, don't you think?"

"I don't think it's possible for Perturabo's machine body and Konrad Curze to arrive on Terra earlier than us if we return at the current speed. To be precise, I have trouble understanding that they will How to cross half of the galaxy with a single ship and return to the Sun Star Territory.”

"Perturabo is a man full of secrets." Fulgrim smiled, rearranging the rug placed on the armrest of the bench.

"Among my descendants, those who are still serving as exchange members in his legion have never mentioned when Perturabo developed a perfect mechanical body! There is not even a trace of it."

He put down the folded square blanket, pretended to half-cover his mouth with one hand, and looked at Ferus: "And those Iron Warriors who were exchanged in my legion are still confirming for us inadvertently. An interesting anecdote.”

"What's the matter?" Ferus replied cooperatively.

"Perturabo's mentor is probably real." Fulgrim whispered, even though he and Ferrus were the only two people in the entire hall, the soundproofing panels of the Emperor's Pride were obviously not bad. To the point where even the whispers of the Primarch could leak out.

"Really?" Ferus responded.

"More than twenty years ago, that mentor definitely appeared on the Iron Blood. At that time, the war blacksmiths of the Iron Warriors were said to not be the current group of warriors..."

"I'm not sure if I, now complete, have chosen his trident," Perturabo said, ignoring the seemingly invisible hidden person in the shadows, and sitting with Morse in a grid styled in the style of believers of the Laughing God. Patterned variegated card tables on both sides.

They were on this ship because the Tuchucha engine was still tied to the stern. This subspace engine, which caused twenty years of separation and many subsequent changes, must be personally escorted.

"...I'm not sure about the current development of Olympia and the current construction status of 'that' in Terra..."

"Webway." A gloomy murmur came from the shadows, "I know that word, two of you, why are you hiding it from me? Does this have real value? Or is it some kind of metaphor that contains hints and symbols? ?”

Perturabo frowned: "Why don't you come out and talk to us, Conrad?"

"Because I hate this outfit." Conrad Coates's mood was rarely excited by some trivial events. "The floral plaid! It's just crazy..."

"This is your problem, Conrad," Morse opened his eyes and propped up his upper body from the soft chair covered with a thick sword cat fur.

"Who lets his wardrobe be so full of leather goods that he can't find even a single piece of normal clothes when he gets on the ship? These busy little Eldar in colorful clothes can take the time to tailor a clean outfit for you. The new robe is already difficult enough, why should we be dissatisfied?"

Curze used some obscure Eldar words, so ancient that neither Perturabo nor Morse knew them. However, the meanings of these words are not difficult to guess.

"I'd rather put my leather clothes back on," he said, switching back to Gothic, "than step foot into the Palace of Terra wearing this outfit."

Perturabo sighed and looked at Morse helplessly: "He is very troublesome."

Morse snapped his fingers, and a ripple of reality reached the target through hyperspace. "Unexpected trouble, really," he said.

Curze shook his re-dyed pure black robe and finally left the shadows. "My solemn thanks to you, Morse."

"Emperor," Morse shook his head and ignored Conrad Curze. He sat up straighter again and tapped the table with the pads of his index and middle fingers. "You can contact the complete one now, Perturabo."

"Oh..." Perturabo was slightly surprised. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded: "Come on, are you still going to share our memories directly?"

Morse's hand made a gesture of weighing an item in the void: "Judging from the total quality of the information, yes. I don't have the patience to sort out what you did second by second. How about you read it and paraphrase it?" "

Perturabo's electronically charged core flickered. "Thank you, Morse."

“Hell, it’s enough to have one person in this room profusely thanking you!”

"Then I withdraw my thanks," Cozz said, grabbing the imitation wreath of thorns thrown here by the Pied Troupe, and twirling it around his fingers in boredom.

Perturabo held out his hand, and Morse threw the invisible object to him, signaling the establishment of a bilateral connection.

Soon, even within the limitations of the mechanical face, Perturabo's expression immediately became complicated. He was immersed in a long reading and thinking, and he was stunned for far longer than a Primarch should have to react.

Morse folded his hands on the table and waited quietly for his answer. Even Conrad Coates duly remained silent.

Soon after, the gleaming light in Perturabo's extinguished mechanical eyes began to flash again.

"Very..." He looked for an appropriate description.

"Not bad?" Morse asked.

"We have two hundred thousand people." Perturabo said. After opening his eyes, his eyes never left Morse. "202,232 active legion soldiers, divided into one hundred and ninety-eight companies, a total of thirteen A warsmith; there is still no Trident installed, and I am waiting for a decisive large-scale battle to make the decision to install a higher-level commander more reasonable and avoid causing unnecessary shocks in the existing command system. "

"In terms of weapons, based on the existing Land Raider model, we developed a modified Land tank that focuses on long-range fire coverage and precise control. We eliminated the overhead tracks of the prototype Land and increased the maximum loading capacity of Falcon missiles. As well as hit accuracy and enhanced salvo fire capability, the average penetration depth is 1500mm. In addition, I have also strengthened the tank’s protective capabilities. However, considering the thickness of the armor, the current turret penetration resistance is only about 1200mm. The front of the car body is Rand I think this design can be named the 'Perturabo Land Raider'. I think such a name is flashy and unnecessary to name the designer, so the tentative name is 'Land Raider' Type Four'.

"In addition, we have also made a series of prototype-based improvements to the current design of small cruisers, as well as ordnance at different combat levels such as Storm Eagle gunships. For example, the Olympia-type gunships that are being put into use follow the characteristics of a sustained-air firepower platform. Change the direction and strengthen the continuous shooting capability and precise firepower.”

"As for individual armor, we are currently studying a new type of Astartes armor, which is stronger than power armor, but ensures the flexibility of infantry units. I tend to name it 'Tactical Dreadnought Armor', or 'Terminator' ', with fine gold as the skeleton and ceramic steel as the coating, equipped with one-handed heavy weapons, such as heavy flamethrowers, automatic cannons, shoulder-mounted cyclone missiles, etc. But in the process of manufacturing and experimenting, we did not have enough raw materials, and due to the war, we did not have enough time to focus on developing armor..."

At this point in the narrative, Perturabo stopped his plain and powerful talk, looked at Conrad Coze for a moment, and expressed his respect with his eyes: "You once mentioned that there are things buried under the surface of Nostramo. A large amount of gold? The Olympia Star Cluster will provide the most objective trading conditions. I will not favor one party without reason, but I can ensure that I can provide you with conditions that are satisfactory, my brother.”

"Hmm..." Coze leaned down and took a closer look at Perturabo, who was sitting on the seat. Perturabo turned his head and met Conrad Coze's eyes calmly.

"What's the matter, Conrad?" asked Perturabo.

"You have changed." Coze stood up straight again, walked around Perturabo's back, and wandered to the other side of the card table.

"I would be grateful if you would be more specific about your basis," replied Perturabo, "even if I can understand what you mean. Your observations are as meticulous as ever, and it is clear that no one can pass through time without change. , but I don’t think my changes have touched the fundamentals.”

"I am still Perturabo, the Fourth Primarch, Lord of the Iron Warriors. As for Olympia, it is currently expanded to include the United Kingdom with four major sectors, and is still named the 'Olympia Star Cluster'."

Coz made a circle gesture and threw the Eldar performance garland back into the pile of props.

"You've made this place look like a lecture hall, Perturabo."

"Really?" Perturabo asked, returning his gaze to Morse. His words were also addressed to Morse. The Iron Lord was waiting for his evaluation. "I haven't seen a man in black robe in my lecture hall for a long time, and now there are even two here."

Morse waved his hand and covered the lower half of his face with his palm. "It sounds like your research on weapons is much more in-depth."

"It's just preparation for peace." Perturabo immediately explained, "I am not immersed in war, and I am not a weapon."

"You talk a lot," Morse rubbed his face. "It was like a switch suddenly turned on."

"A necessary introduction," Perturabo replied. "This is part of my twenty years of achievement. This is not a brief moment."

"I heard you," Morse said. "I know, good."

"Okay." Perturabo nodded slightly, "I hope you...can know them."

"Then I remember," Morse said clearly.

Perturabo nodded and looked at Morse: "In terms of legion affairs, we are currently promoting a series of legion member exchange activities. Fulgrim and I exchanged a group of children because I discovered that I have a company commander. It's like he was born in the wrong army. He's half a head taller than most of his peers, and he doesn't look like one of us. Plus, he reads poetry, really reads it, and appreciates it."

"It reminds me of a guy," Morse said.

"War Blacksmith Bill Perrin? He is still in the webway, alive." He emphasized the second half of the sentence, which was completely subconscious. "Actually, he is guarding the other pole of the channel we are currently in. , maintaining some works within the network that combine art and spiritual symbolism.”

"Oh?" Coz became interested. He could guarantee that that thing was not included in his prediction.

"You will be astonished at it, my brother." There was a powerful promise in Perturabo's voice.

He continued: "Some Primarchs were not involved in the exchange, such as Angron, who spent too much time assisting with the Webway and did not have Magnus's fractal abilities."

"Magnus once got his wish and couldn't wait to send several of his descendants into Leman Russ's legion, intending to spy on the other party's use of psychic energy."

"Within a month, those scions fled back to the Sun of Thousand Dusts from the mead, wolf skins, and greasy roasts, and the wolf cubs were troubled by many unintentional disturbances in the library and their daily diplomacy and reading. I was in a daze with the writing task, and was rushed back to the Space Wolves by a speedboat.”

"I like this story." Morse's eyes slightly curved in the upper half of his face that was not covered by his palms.

"As long as you like it." Perturabo nodded, "In the process of building defense fortresses in various star regions, as well as building railways, industrialized agriculture, local opera houses and other facilities, I still have more in the past twenty years. stories to share…but now, I have a new one.”

He temporarily looked away from Morse's face and looked through the curved window of the Eldar airship towards the webway where they were. This space is completely white, and time and space are out of order here.

"Only a few of the newly-built experimental network tunnels are enough to be put into use, and their stability is not enough to support the march of organized armies. Angron is focusing on enhancing their stability. This one is... and the original New roads connected to the network. I think you will see those signs soon."

"What's your new story about signs?" Morse asked.

"To be precise, it has something to do with the gift." Perturabo replied, a smile blooming at the corner of his mechanical mouth.

"Oh?" Morse gave up covering the smile on his face with his palms.

He also looked out the window.

A statue. At the edge of his vision, he made out a huge statue.

A less refined statue. The edges are rough, the materials are strange, patchwork, and full of blasphemy and violation of physics.

At the same time, it is also a cheerful statue. Exaggerated movements. Covered with graffiti. The images are vivid and free, not bound by any human rules.

"What did you do by letting the greenskins do it in the webway?" Morse asked curiously. From some of the iconic features of the statue, he vaguely got an answer that made his smile widen.

"Angron," said Perturabo. "Not Rogal Dorn, not me. And certainly not Magnus, who tortured them so much in his studies. The orcs have recently been building a statue to their beloved 'good-hearted' Angron, and no one has persuaded them to do so. Live."