Chapter 337 About Nikaea

The wind and sand rolled under the bright white sky, rolling Morse's black robe, passing through his ethereal body, and briefly flashing a ray of light as it passed through those strange runes.

In front of him, the world blurred at the edge of his vision and merged into the depths of the colorful and unpredictable sea of ​​souls. In the center of his vision, where it was still clear, was the shadow of a shining city, with pure white stone as its foundation, supporting a clean place that shielded from danger.

Approaching the city wall, Morse pulled down his windproof headscarf, letting it roll and disappear in the narrow gap between the present world and the vast ocean, looking up at this ancient city that he had not visited for a long time.

In the center of the city, a pyramid made of white stone was plated with a sun-like golden layer, emitting thousands of rays of light, reflecting the five shorter pyramids around it. Above each of the spires were different school logos, proving that they were the retreats and libraries of their respective schools.

Prospero, the City of Light, Tizca

Of course, this is just a projection of Magnus's Tizca engraved in his mental world.

Morse walked through the city gate and entered this huge empty city.

Except for the huge collection of books in each pyramid, which was classified and stored according to the needs of the five major subjects, the buildings in this projection, whether it was the houses of Tizca or other civilian or military blocks in the pyramid, were all empty.

It seems that Magnus subconsciously only wanted to repair the appearance of the city and make it generally acceptable; apart from the collection of books, nothing else mattered.

Morse walked through the streets of the city that were different from reality. The fig trees, water lily ponds, green water with clumps of reeds and obsidian paths have been reorganized recently and intertwined in the roads connecting the pyramids. The arrangement is unique and seems to conform to some mathematical principles.

Morse easily calculated a few numbers and couldn't help but feel funny.

In this world of nothingness, every scene, every object, every blade of grass, and every tree, all reflect the true thoughts in Magnus' subconscious mind, presenting them to the visitors in the most concrete way.

Not far away, there is a low shed built next to the pool, and Morse sits down at the table under the shed.

"You are deeply influenced by Mortarion, Magnus," Morse said. "Your spiritual world is left with traces of numerology."

"That's not my problem," Magnus pushed open a door facing the street and walked in front of Morse. "That's Mortarion!"

The Primarch breathed a sigh of relief, "But I haven't seen you like this for a long time, Morse. Nothingness, nothing, only some shining characters."

Here, his image returned to the original appearance in Prospero, with a fluffy and lush copper-colored hair and a parchment-like scholar's robe. The only difference is that he has a pair of thick leather boots that are very inconsistent with the style of a hot sunny day, which makes people worry whether he will feel too hot.

"Well," Morse looked at Magnus with interest as he hurried over, and counted the number of onyx and emeralds on his bracelet, which was a disastrous fourteen.

"What did Mortarion do to make me invite the Emperor to personally devote himself to the dream of Sanguinius, but he refused by saying that he could not spare his precious and rare time?" Morse asked curiously, noticing a familiar psychic fluctuation in the air.

He turned sideways and looked at the young figure looming behind the prism with fluttering flags.

It was a silver-haired young man, wearing a long robe, with plump skin, standing upright, wearing a laurel crown on his head, and the eagle scepter in his hand shining brightly.

It was a pity that the young man's face was haggard, which was not in line with his age, making him look old for no reason.

"You are here too, Malcador," Morse said.

"Mortarion used a compass to calculate the location of the Terran Webway Gate." Malcador said nothing false, nor did he waste time in the silent gaze between them, even though time was the least valuable artificial definition in the world outside this dimension. "My agent told me this."

Even Magnus would not ask Malcador where the agent came from at this time.

Malcador walked to the table, and the mirror-like pool next to it reflected the appearance of an underground palace.

Brass cables coiled and intertwined, and the sound of pistons and welding became an accompaniment to the sound of heavy hammers. The huge iron chains creaked, and the hiss of cooling and heating accompanied the melting wax and iron, and the hymns to Om Messiah, flowing in different molds. Arcs flickered between the gaps, and the buzzing technological creations and the runes left over from ancient Terra surrounded each other, constructing a magnificent and complex framework.

In front of a huge adamantine door spanning more than hundreds of meters, the gray figure of the Primarch Mortarion stood there, without a mask, revealing his skin ravaged by venom.

What is that? Mortarion said this with his mouth, and his voice was drowned in the beeping of the machine.

The Prime Minister of the Empire walked to the Primarch and gave advice as gently as possible: Why are you here, Mortarion?

Mathematics reveals secrets to me, old wizard. Mortarion lowered his head and said, the Emperor has so many secrets hidden from us, there must be your secrets...

The Primarch closed his mouth, frowned, and stopped expressing his dissatisfaction to Malcador.

He really didn't like Malcador, whether it was his pretentious style, his sorcery magic pattern, or the subtle views of the Primarch by the Imperial Guards and Malcador's subordinates in the entire Terra Palace.

But considering that the Emperor was the greatest master of sorcery in the galaxy, Mortarion knew he had to accept the Emperor and those around him using sorcery, or as they called it, psionics.

He should have sworn never to complicit in sorcery, and now Mortarion was glad that he had not yet spoken of his oath. But that doesn't mean he accepts it willingly.

The only thing that comforted him was that Magnus, the empire's most proficient in sorcery, was on the same front as him, and even went further than him.

In the picture, the Primarch and the Prime Minister continued to discuss the Emperor's little secret back and forth. Although it was not a tit-for-tat confrontation, it was still a refusal to give in and a gentle warning.

"Do you think you are capable of calculating the location of the Webway Gate, Magnus?" Mors asked, "assuming you were unaware of the Emperor's plans."

"Perhaps," Magnus said humbly, "but I would not think of conducting a divination in the Palace of Terra. It would be too offensive and would likely cause damage to the palace's psychic defenses, or even to the Webway itself. ”

"If the Emperor is not on Terra, I have to convince Mortarion myself," Malcador reluctantly picked up a bright yellow fruit from the fruit plate on the low table.

This fruit should be some kind of miniature lemon modified by the Mechanicus based on a sample of a small tomato. At least there is a series of alternating prayers of praise engraved on the plate.

"Fortunately, he is here, you can just call him to take care of his son." Morse said. "Mortarion is quite willing to listen to the Emperor now."

Malcador sighed with a headache, "For the sake of me arranging a palace room for him, Mortarion is not as hostile to me as I expected."

"But how did he come up with the idea of ​​divination in the palace?" Magnus was still in disbelief.

The Red Primarch pointed his finger at the water waves, and the perspective in the screen changed. On the other side of the outer door where Mortarion was, Magnus himself was there, looking at Mortar in surprise through the Mechanicum's camera. Li An came to the door.

For a moment, Magnus thought Mortarion was after him again to hand in the article.

The moment this thought arose, a new monthly magazine appeared on the table surrounded by three people in Tizka's mental world, Mortarion's "In-Depth Exploration of Mathematical Rules Based on the Attention Mechanism" Just write it on the first page of the journal.

Despite Magnus's condemning and begging look, Morse took the Journal of Thousand Suns into his hands, pressed the journal on the table with one hand, and started flipping through the table of contents.

Malcador waved his hand tiredly, and the scene in the pool changed rapidly. Under Malcador's secret message, the Emperor on the surface put down his affairs and ordered the Imperial Guard to wait where he was. He quickly rushed to the underground palace, strode through the dripping corridor, nodded to Malcador, and replaced the dilemma. Prime Minister of the Empire.

Morse observed the emperor's movements without speaking.

"Then you called me here," Makado said, turning the bright yellow fruit in his palm. "Well, if Magnus hadn't told me, I wouldn't have known that my old friend lost an opportunity to be invited out by you to enjoy his leisure time."

"He was actually watching," Morse said. "He was just not acting in Sanguinius's dream."

The flow rate of the picture returned to normal, and that was exactly what was happening in the Terra Underground Palace.

When Mortarion met the Emperor, the change in his expression was not much different from when he met Malcador before, but his overall temperament had obviously changed. The resistance of the original body increased with every step of the Emperor's approach. Transformed into quiet waiting.

What's this?

Mortarion asked, his voice still hard to hear.

Malcador tells me nothing, Emperor.

By the pool, Magnus whispered to the two of them: "Mortarion has not called the Emperor father until now."

"Not surprising," Morse said, looking up from his journal, even though no one could make out the movement of the head, a mass of golden runes. "But Mortarion has learned to complain, which is gratifying."

The Emperor gently placed his hand on Mortarion's back, touching the scars on his heir's back through the heavy clothing worn by the Primarch.

This is a kind of future for empire. said the Emperor. Come on, this is not what you should know. It's not time yet.

What should I know? Mortarion asked stubbornly, not wanting to move his steps.

I have lived in Terra for such a long time, watching military battle reports, understanding your empire, recognizing the systems and ideas you support, studying them, and trying to better understand the thoughts hidden behind your silence. But the more I studied, the more my confusion grew, and everything seemed to conflict with one another. I don’t want to waste my time aimlessly anymore, that’s your time too.

You should join the expedition when you are better back. You're still adjusting to a different climate than Barbarus.

I adapted well enough.

The Emperor glanced casually in the direction of the outer door of the underground palace. Magnus, who was snooping inside the door, trembled and obediently left the screen used for broadcasting surveillance and returned to his work.

"Oops..." Magnus blinked.

In the pool, half of the field of vision returned to clear and tranquil water waves.

The perspective provided by Malcador was retained, and the prime minister readjusted the perspective in the pool.

"I thought my father was going to tell Mortarion about the webway," Magnus said. "He thinks so highly of him."

"If you were to list them in order of importance, Luperkar would not know anything about the Web Channel until now." Morse said sarcastically. "Although I really think it's time for him to tell Horus."

"Horus will know that there is a secret beneath the palace," Malcador said, "if Mortarion happens to mention this to Horus in casual conversation."

The Prime Minister paused, judging the Emperor's character and behavior, and then said: "Yes, my Lord will allow this level of suggestion."

Inside the pool, the scene continued.

You should know the responsibilities I leave you. Only you can do it, says the Emperor.

This time, as he pushed at Mortarion's back, his son followed him obediently.

The Emperor led Mortarion into a narrow chamber, a dark setting that drew away the light.

"Oh, that's my room," Malcador played with the fruit in his hand helplessly. Everything in the palace was open to the emperor.

The emperor knocked on the table, and the holographic three-dimensional image quickly took shape.

The first thing that popped up was a planet marked as a sentinel. The Emperor quickly moved across it and found the planet he needed - the surface was severely damaged, covered with the ash left by volcanic eruptions, and as desolate as the Death Star. . The engines of the Adeptus Mechanicus hovered nearby, enveloping the planet.

Mortarion read the small words as labels in the dozens of frames floating around the screen. All the transformations carried out by the Mechanicus on this planet were made public: those red-robed men from the Mechanical Kingdom, repairing The surface environment of the entire planet creates a broad plain, preparing it for further construction and transformation in the future.

The Emperor stared at the planet.

"Nikea," said the Emperor, "your duty will be fulfilled here."

"What is that?" Mortarion asked confused.

"After Perturabo returns from the Satradar Abyss, his next task will be to build the amphitheater here." The Emperor said, "When the amphitheater is completed and all my heirs are involved in the expedition, A trial will take place here, and you will speak here to express your views.”

Mortarion was not sure of the meaning of the Emperor's words. He was not sure whether what the Emperor was referring to and what he expected in his heart were fortunately the same thing.

The projection of the Milky Way swirled before the Emperor, magnifying the image of Nikaea even further.

"At this time, we still need to use impermissible means to create the unification of galactic humanity. But when the meeting is held, we will renegotiate all regulations regarding the ether." The emperor glanced to the side, as if he knew that Mage Nus was also listening to his words at the same time, "How will Magnus's think tank system be implemented correctly, and how will psychic energy be disciplined and controlled to deal with the temptation and threat of subspace?"

Mortarion stood silently, staring at the unrepaired ruins on the planet's surface.

"You will be one of the protagonists of that day. This is the duty I give you, Mortarion."

Mortarion's eyes softened. "I will fulfill my responsibilities..."

"There is one more thing." The Emperor continued, curling his fingers and placing them at his sides, hidden in the folds of the fabric. "At that time, the regulations of the Empire's truth will also be re-formulated."

"How to enact it?" Mortarion asked, "Revise the regulations on psionic energy?"

"More than that," said the Emperor, his voice almost a sigh, "the Space Marines, the Primarchs, and my own place and identity in the Imperium will also be reaffirmed, lest any heretical ideas take advantage of them. And come in and create divisions in disagreements.”

The next words brought a trace of unacknowledged pain to the Emperor's face, "The Imperial Truth will no longer be a scripture."

Morse's attention became focused.

"The Council of Nicaea," he picked up a yellow fruit from the plate, chewed it in his mouth, and the food fell into the void. "Okay, it's the same old thing again. I should have thought of it when I heard the name. To be honest, I don't think the success rate is high."

In the picture, Mortarion couldn't help but ask: "I'm not familiar with these contents..."

"I will choose the right man," said the Emperor, "a reluctant Icon. I have seen him."

Malcador thought thoughtfully: "My lord is talking about Sanguinius? I haven't seen him yet."

"It can't be Lorgar Aurelion." Mors ate another modified fruit lemon. "I have heard about him. If he is really the protagonist that day, I'm afraid he will have to go through two rounds. judgment seat."

Magnus stared at Morse who had eaten two fruits, showing a complicated expression.

"Lorgar Aurelion." Speaking of the Primarch, Malcador couldn't help but sigh, and he put the yellow fruit he had been playing with for a long time into his mouth, "He...ahem..."

The moment he bit into the peel, the young prime minister immediately coughed and lay prone on the table, unable to speak a word.

Magnus couldn't bear to look away.

"What does it smell like?" Morse was curious. "I can't eat it in this state."

Malcador continued to cough.

Magnus whispered softly, "It's spicy. Very spicy. Dorn is turning red from eating it."

Malcador raised his head, glared at the whispering Primarch, and disappeared from Tizka's mental world.

"Okay, he's gone." Morse shrugged, "It seems really spicy."

He took another one, then turned to Magnus: "Now, I'm curious what that planet is."

"You mean Nikaea?" Magnus asked, looking at the fruit lemon produced by the Mechanicum on the table in awe.

"No, the planet that flashed on the holographic projection before Nikaea, and was written in the official documents that the Emperor was processing before going to the underground palace." Morse said, "Do you know? Well, it seems that you don't know either."

Note: An interesting point is that the former Mechanicum was an independent state regime, but the Mechanicum/Cult Mechanicus/Adeptus Mechanicus that has been incorporated into the Empire in 40k is not.

However, due to the conventional translation habits, it is not easy to reflect the difference.

Another note:

The Council of Nicaea in 325 AD is undoubtedly the real prototype of the Warhammer Council of Nikaea, and it is also one of the most important meetings in the history of the church. Some far-reaching issues were discussed. If you are interested, you can check the information yourself.