Chapter 314 Hermit

"Mortarion accepted our first help. This is a good start. It ends my dangerous imagination that the Emperor's psychic projection intends to stay here to accompany Mortarion for fourteen years. As long as the gene If the Primarch is willing, the conquest of a planet will not take long, even if his own Legions are not yet there."

"Maybe a year is enough? Besides, the Emperor is eager to help."

"After that night's battle, some villagers worried that Mortarion's presence might have drawn vengeance from the sorcerous overlord."

"Mortarion drearily tried to prove his good intentions, but Karas Typhon, a new born psyker whom Mortarion had met, told the villagers that they could either follow Mortarion in rebellion or die. Death at the hands of the Overlord. The latter's threats were effective."

"In any case, Mortarion is building a safe haven belonging to the Barbarus people - this is not an adjective, the name he gave to the mountain camp is safe haven. In this month, Mortarion has been working hard Diligently collected various transport vehicles, vehicles and airdrop aircraft, and of course people, people are the basis of everything.”

"This week, Mortarion prepared to launch his first campaign for Overlord. Peasants transformed, warriors and sappers gathered at the gates of Camp Haven. Mortarion named his army, the Death Guard, a name he chose. "

"I can't imagine the possibility of his failure. After all, under Karas's suggestion, he selected an overlord with acceptable paper strength, but a particularly serious internal shortfall in actual combat power, to give him a path to war. A great start.”

"Let's talk about your fortress. The Betagamon system is the throat of the Solar Star Territory, and the strength of the Titan Army needs to be fully utilized. It seems that your behavior of building bunkers all over the place has made your father vivid memory."

"After the unification of the galaxy, some of the planets hastily recovered during the Great Crusade are likely to carry out some antagonism against the center of the Empire, and your work will be remembered by them."

"Remember to reimburse the Emperor for the resources, materials and time costs you consumed in the construction of the solar system. Perturabo, don't be polite to the Emperor. Presumably the master of the galaxy will donate generously. According to the function point analysis, after the project is completed, it will be approved Calculation of function points and unit prices, as well as percentage bonuses on costs and performance results bonuses, to pay the Fourth Corps.”

Morse suddenly sat up from the recliner and felt something.

This was originally an abandoned stone hut of Barbarus. With just a little bit of psychic energy, the hut was cleaned up and made habitable, and the poisonous gas was dispelled.

At this time, outside the clean area he and the Emperor had cleared, the thin chemical mist was stirred by a large object.

+Emperor, come back. +

Morse called, yawning, and symbolically putting on his own gas mask.

The torpedo boat "The Cliff" sent to him by Perturabo did have a sufficient reserve of gas masks, all of which were uniformly black in color, with a light yellow Roman numeral IV on the left cheekbone as the legion mark.

A few seconds later, the Emperor's psychic projection appeared outside the stone house. The Lord of Mankind was carrying two small creatures that had been pierced by arrows. The blood of the prey had not yet drained. Judging from the pattern of the wounds, the Emperor should have thrown the arrow as a javelin with his bare hands.

+He's coming. +The emperor said.

Morse tossed him a knife, and the Emperor casually grasped the blade and went around to the back of the house to skin his prey.

Shortly after the Emperor's return, a single mechanical vehicle crossed some low hills and approached their location.

About a tenth of a mile away, the tracks of the vehicle stopped moving, and a tall and thin figure left the vehicle and walked towards them on foot through the yellow-green mist.

Mortarion walked outside the stone house and stopped outside the fence made of pebbles and hedges. He brought no one, not even his close comrade and half-wit Karas Typhon. All he had with him was a new sickle, which was both a farming tool and a weapon.

"You're finally here." Morse's voice sounded behind him. "Wait a moment Emperor, he is busy."

It was difficult for Mortarion to grasp his emotions at this time. It seemed that there was some kind of unfamiliar joy in it, but it was more of the long-lasting depression and pressure in his heart.

He nodded gently and asked the black-robed wizard to come to him, remove the door latch, and then invite him into the stone house.

"Sit," Morse said, returning to his recliner and pointing to a giant log lying next to him. Mortarion unhooked the scythe from his back, set it aside, and sat down.

"I'm here to thank you for your help."

Mortarion looked at the dark wizard in front of him because he was wearing a gas mask, and spoke the lines he had been preparing for a long time in the transport car along the way.

"Thank you for your contribution to the fight and liberation of the Barbarus people."

Without the guidance that Morse and the Emperor sometimes echoed in Mortarion's mind, even if he was the Primarch, it would have been impossible to assemble the vast and sparsely populated half of Barbarus in just one month. All human military forces within a continent that can participate in the battle are used to fight against the sorcery overlord.

From investigation intelligence to construction methods, the two extraterrestrial visitors did not hesitate to provide any effective assistance other than actual hands-on work. Although these help remained in the traceless spoken language, the amount of information and value contained in the language itself , which Mortarion simply cannot estimate.

Even the way this support is provided is worrisomely witchcraft.

Every time Mortarion was praised by his subordinates and marveled at his prophetic calculations and extensive knowledge, Mortarion felt mixed emotions in his heart and felt deeply guilty.

If Morse had not told him not to make their existence known to the public, Mortarion would have already confessed the existence of the aliens to the children of Barbarus.

"You actually said thank you," Morse raised his eyebrows, "I thought you hated me."

Mortarion looked at him unhappily.

Morse shrugged and said casually: "You know, the only way the Emperor wants to thank you is for you to agree to join his legion and become one of his generals to conquer the stars."

The black-robed wizard began to write and draw on a piece of paper that seemed to appear out of thin air.

"And the only way I want to express my gratitude is that you finish defeating the Wizarding Overlord as soon as possible so that I can go to the next planet and see who the Emperor's other children are and whether they are willing to be the Emperor's wonderful child. tool."

Mortarion was stunned for a moment, remembering that Morse had indeed mentioned that the Emperor had lost many heirs. He wasn't thinking about it at the time, but when he thought about it now, he suddenly realized that the number Morse mentioned at that moment was twenty.

Among the Barbarus families he has seen so far, the couple with the most children only raised eleven children...

Is the emperor of the galaxy also so outstanding in raising children?

Mortarion was briefly lost in thought until Mors pushed a stone drinking glass towards him. He lowered his head. The glass of crystal clear water without any turbidity was strange to Mortarion. It is difficult for Barbarus' decontamination water purifier to achieve this level of water purification.

He picked up the water glass and moistened his throat with clean water.

"I want to know..." Mortarion put down his cup, "if you want to join my army."

"Oh, you mean, let the great emperor who commands the entire galaxy, the most unrivaled warlord leader in all mankind, join your small group of only four figures in Barbarus? Not to mention he is a wizard? Oh, but Karas Typhon is a wizard too."

Morse said the gas mask dulled his laughter, lessening its offensive power.

Mortarion realized that his question was inappropriate and was about to reveal the matter when a man wearing gray robes and a gold-leaf laurel wreath walked out from behind the stone house.

Although the Emperor was not wearing armor, his cold and majestic expression immediately confirmed his identity. Facing the gray robe of the Lord of Mankind, Mortarion only felt that the pressure he had to endure was heavier than facing the warrior king covered in golden armor.

The pale primarch clenched his hands at his sides. "Emperor," he called reluctantly.

After the gray-robed king approached, the original body noticed that he was holding two fresh beasts that were still dripping with blood in one hand, and he was holding two pieces of gray animal skins in the other hand.

"Dinner," the Emperor said to Mors, glancing at Mortarion.

Morse snapped his fingers, and a faint blue flame suddenly burst out from the stove next to the stone house. Clear liquid flowed out from the water purifier with a water outlet hanging on the top of the iron pot, preparing the water needed for making soup.

The Emperor walked over, put the animal meat into the pot, making sure that all the pieces of meat were soaked in the water, and then returned to the center of the courtyard, staring at where Mortarion was sitting.

Mortarion's muscles tensed, and the log he sat on seemed more torturous than the torture tools of the sorcerer overlord Naklay. Obviously, he took the emperor's seat.

The emperor didn't say anything more. He lifted up his gray robe and sat on the ground with his hands on his knees. There was no longer a drop of beast's blood between his fingers.

"How is the war going?" asked the Emperor.

"I am preparing to launch the first battle." Mortarion replied, and the questions and answers about the war intensified the ever-changing gloom on his face. "Typhon will take the lead in launching a surprise attack on the secondary overlords of the Visley Mountains. Three days later , the main force will climb to the top of the same mountain range, destroy the sorcerer overlord on top, and feed his blood to the worms and thousand-legged lizards he raises."

The Emperor nodded slightly, without making any comment on Mortarion's choice, as if the entire reason for his question was simply curiosity, not a leader's inquiry to his subordinates.

"If you need help with the construction of the safe haven area," the emperor continued, the water in the pot on the open-air stove was already boiling, making a gurgling sound of bubbles rising, "you can ask Morse. The heirs he raised are second to none. Master of defense."

Mortarion looked at Morse in confusion: "You also have children?"

"No," Morse stood up, his movements seemed a little hasty. "That's my apprentice."

He strode to the iron pot, observed the state of the animal meat, and then used his spiritual power to lift the blanched meat out of the pot.

After changing the basin of water, Morse put the meat back into the iron pot again, took out two bottles from his sleeves that should not have been placed at all, and poured a bottle of spirits and some sauce into the pot.

Morse clapped his hands and returned to his seat, his expression invisible under his gas mask.

"But if you need advice on building a strong fortress strong enough to defend against the Overlord's artillery, I can indeed help you ask him. Perturabo will be willing to provide a small amount of help to other people who are interested in saving humanity after work. help."

"No need," Mortarion said. "I can handle it."

Although he didn't want to admit it, Knakre's cruel teachings included the construction of fortresses and the defense of fortresses. Before he escaped from the mountains, he had to guard Knakre's dark castle.

He stood up and fixed the sickle on his back again, his yellow eyes lingering on the two aliens, preparing to say goodbye.

"Don't you want to stay for some soup?" Morse asked, shaking his hand wrapped in black cloth. "Of course, ordinary broth, not some dangerous soup containing viruses."

"My people are waiting for me in the safe haven." Mortarion refused with a dull expression.

In order to prepare for the first battle tomorrow, they will do the final mobilization work before the war tonight.

They had a discussion on how strong the wine should be.

Some warriors thought that they should drink as little liquor as possible so as to remain calm and rational throughout the next battle; others insisted that they should drink strong liquor before the battle to boost the spirits of the hesitant new fighters, and use a fierce and high-spirited attitude to destroy every fortress of the Overlord and stab the knife into the chest and belly of the witchcraft puppet.

Mortarion made another suggestion: drink the rain falling in the fog directly.

Yes, the rain of Barbarus is poisonous, and this poison is particularly strong in the foggy area. Unless it is absolutely necessary, almost no one will be stupid enough to open their mouths to the dim sky of rain - the burning pain is enough to burn from the throat into the lungs of people, making them kneel on the ground in the heart-wrenching pain.

It is enough to test people's will, challenge the tenacity of warriors, and verify the physique of fighters.

If you can't even bear a cup of Barbarus's poisonous rain, how can you defeat the witchcraft Overlord who claims to control death?

The Emperor studied Mortarion, studying his face as if the Emperor knew him better than Mortarion knew himself.

"Go," the Emperor said.

Mortarion turned and left, stirring up dust with every step.

Mors watched him return to the transporter, took off his gas mask, and went to see how the soup in the pot was doing.

Before that, Mors had searched the entire stone house and had not found a lid that would fit the pot. Perhaps this would be the only place where they needed Mortarion's help: to find an iron lid.

Of course, when Mortarion appeared again, he did not hold the lid in his hand.

He appeared again seven days later.

The human harvester still came alone, with a sickle tied to his back. But this time, he held a limbless and unconscious sorcerer in his hands.

Mortarion said nothing, walked straight through the open fence, threw his prey heavily at the Emperor's feet, and raised his chin.

The prey rolled around and landed right at the feet of the Emperor who was sitting in the middle of the long wood.

The Emperor looked up at Mortarion, and a smile seemed to slide across his dark face, but it seemed not to.

"And this is a beginning," Morse described the scene at the time. "An interesting starting point."

After finding sarcastic sentences such as "your writing is as gorgeous as the deep water garden on the top floor of the Terra Palace" in Perturabo's reply to him last time, Morse drew a sketch of the meeting between the Emperor and Mortarion directly on the letter paper: the Emperor personally crushed the head of the sorcerer overlord with his boots, and Mortarion held his sickle with satisfaction.

"After that day, Mortarion would occasionally throw more of his defeated enemies to the Emperor. Sometimes they were relatively intact enemies, and sometimes they were just a skull, an arm, or even half a piece of clothing - this was usually because after the battle, the sorcerer overlord only had so many spare parts left."

"Mortarion expanded his safe haven, turning it from a former bandit den into a new home for the people of Barbarus. He worked with other clans to build his own military factory, snatching heavy swords, acid guns, multi-barreled missiles, heavy armor and halberds from the sorcerer overlords, as well as food, clean water and medicines that could be used by human warriors. He built a special granary."

"I don't need to continue to provide him with more intelligence. It's like a snowball rolling, getting bigger and more unstoppable. Of course, sometimes I I still send him some information, but the price is to hear him come to the door and show off like a child. "

"From some nomadic tribes, Mortarion obtained the technology to make armor that can resist the poison gas of Barbarus, including helmets with multi-layer filters and air bags for oxygen supply. The mines and food bases of the Overlord were looted, tools and weapons were seized, and more and more people began to gather in the ranks of the Death Guard. Mortarion has proved that he is different from any rebel in the past. "

"It's almost winter in Barbarus. The climate in this damn place is usually bad enough, but I didn't expect it to be worse in winter, whether it's too low temperature or the increasingly thick yellow haze. I would rather spend the winter in Fenris. "

Morse stopped writing for a while and reached out to turn the three skewers of barbecue on the iron rack. It was some kind of creature that looked like a rabbit, but its teeth were particularly sharp and could even be used as teeth inlaid on weapons.

"Are you writing to the Master of Defense again?" Mortarion asked, sitting across the fire pit from Morse.

The Longwood was now cut in two, one half for the Emperor and the other half for the Emperor's son.

"Yes - and don't ask how the letter was sent, it's witchcraft," Morse said, twirling the pen in his hand. "You've been here quite frequently lately. How did you explain your absences to your men?"

"Visit the hermit in the mountains." Mortarion replied. "They provided nameless attention and help in the unification process of the southern part of the planet."

Morse put down his pen and paper, pinched his chin, and looked at the Primarch's unnatural expression. The flickering firelight added some warmth to the pale and thin face.

He leaned back: "Ever since you said that your pre-war drink is a damn poisonous rain, the Emperor has started drinking it for fun. When he comes, please help me persuade him and tell him that I have no interest in spicy poisonous wine."

"I don't have the status to persuade the Emperor."

"No, it will be there soon..." Morse said, "Let him tell you himself."

When the barbecue began to sizzle and drip grease, the gray-robed Emperor walked out of the stone house and sat on his long wood.

"You are an excellent general." The Emperor spoke.

No matter how many times he heard this sentence, Mortarion still felt an indescribable scalp tingling because of the Emperor's tone.

He did not answer, his eyes focused on the barbecue, as if the latitude and longitude of the next defensive weakness of the sorcerer's fortress were written there.

"I hope to join your army," the Emperor's next words made Mortarion turn his head suddenly, "as the Hermit Fass."

"But..." Mortarion was in a mess.

The Emperor and Morse had done too much for him. This was a long and effective proof, and he didn't know how to repay it.

"Don't be stunned, are you going to say 'but you are a wizard'?" Morse reminded, stuffing a skewer of barbecue into Mortarion's hand, and the Primarch took it subconsciously, "It's going to burn."