Chapter 54 Snow on Mount Televers (Part 2)
"Perturabo?" Morse rolled the name on his vocal cords and took the cards from the table with his left hand.
"I don't want to deceive anyone, including myself. So you are right, Palmist. Overall, I feel lucky to have met Perturabo in Olympia."
Palm The reader's surprise was fleeting: "I haven't heard such candid words in a long time. Five, four, six, stop."
Morse easily tilted his head to show acceptance of the compliment.
On the scoreboard on the side, there are three vertical lines under the name of the person who signed the card and his own name.
He paused here, and considering what a brave and fearless prime minister the person holding the seal was, he decided to add one more point to the opponent.
"Six, nine..." He took two cards first. Those whose points total is greater than blackjack will lose directly. At this time, if you continue to take cards, the loss rate will be higher.
"What do you think I am, Signer?"
The young Signer leaned forward: "You are a man shrouded in mist, Morse."
"I have a lot of mysteries for you? I'm going to take the card, three, and now the total is eighteen."
"I think it's not just for me."
"Okay Well, I have to admit that in the whole of Olympia, the person who knows me best is probably my private storage room among the cliffs. It seems that I should swear that I am not a person who is used to cheating in games."
"Perhaps this wording comes from another person we all know." The imprinter suggested euphemistically.
Morse frowned slightly and silently pulled out another card from the top of the deck.
"One." He gathered the remaining cards with one hand, "Blackjack, Blackjack. This is not my luck. You are here, Emperor."
He turned sideways and faced the entrance of the grotto, Waves surged in the golden light, and a tall shadow was projected into the light, shaking like a reflection of flames.
The signer stood up from the table, picked up his cane, and welcomed the guests.
And Morse picked up the last playing card between his fingers, and he could not tell whether it was a provocation or a greeting, and calmly waved to the visitor.
"I did think for a time that you didn't want to see me again." Morse said. "What made you change your nature?"
The man with dazzling golden light took another step forward and stepped out of the excessively tall halo.
The magnificent golden colossus seemed to evaporate and dissipate from his body, peeling off its ostentatious halo, leaving only a man with simple clothes stained with Olympian dust, broken leaves and dew.
Before the emperor dissipated the golden light, Morse subconsciously thought that he should look more energetic and charming than the bearer. After all, for many years, the core of his memory was the back of that dazzling leader walking in front - radiant, dazzling, boundless in momentum, promising countless great possibilities.
But not only did he not look like an emperor, he was not even as young as the prime minister who accompanied him.
The traces of wind and frost made his cold dark eyes show a vague majesty. When the mask-like golden light was removed, his lofty and firm image in Morse's impression was also peeled off. Faded to a pale sign of decay.
Morse suddenly caught a flicker of panic in his heart. The great and mysterious statue that had been forever shrouded in halo for so many years suddenly voluntarily disintegrated and fell before his eyes, reorganizing into such a trance and despair. image.
This made him remember his entire past, re-experienced thousands of years in this momentary dumping and spinning, his non-existent heart tore his chest, some vague and uncertain The absurdity and confusion squeezed his blood vessels in his heart, making him unable to help but want to use his lost right hand to grasp something stable and unchanging to resist the intense dizziness.
He discovered that he was not indifferent to everything.
"You are growing old, Emperor," Mors said. However, how he said this sentence was something he couldn't remember clearly.
He realized that he was still sitting, and the rough solidity of the rocks in the illusory space pulled him back to the middle between consciousness and wakefulness.
He carefully detected any possible surprise or doubt on the emperor's face, but there was none, not at all. He immediately felt much better.
He stood up, then remembered to put down his cards, so he did so.
"You were in Olympia," said the Emperor, answering the question, "I should have expected that such was your character, Rei..." "Morse."
< br>The Emperor looked at him intently, "Morse."
Then he turned his head and looked at the golden-robed sealer. "This is Malcador."
Morse sat back on his stone bench, pressed the back of the cards on the table with his fingertips, and pushed the deck of cards one by one to the middle of the table. "It really amazes me that you can recruit such an excellent assistant."
"He persuaded me to come to Olympia in person." The emperor said, walking into the grotto, looking down at the table A crude scoreboard. "But I would have come."
"After you threw your creation half way across the galaxy, you decided to retrieve it?"
"And you. "The Emperor said, stern lines etched on his face, foreshadowing a familiar solemnity.
Morse suddenly saw that dazzling flash of light in the middle-aged man's tired depths.
The years have left him with a vague outline of exhaustion, but the most critical part of him - that tragic, endless, futile and absurd soul is still proven in his cruel and endless struggle The distant pursuit of his absurd fantasy.
Morse suddenly felt peace regained in his heart. This was exactly the person he had known in the past time, a miserable Eternal, a cold fire thief, and a ball of fire itself.
"My work will require your participation," the Emperor said. "I wanted to tell you the last time we met."
The last time. he thought.
"But that time was too sudden, and you forgot to mention it? You are still willing to control the fate of others, Emperor." Morse said, but it was not out of ridicule. As he said, the effectiveness of self-deception was completely lost on him.
He drew four kings from the deck. David, Charlemagne, Alexander, Caesar. The four playing cards are arranged one after another with their backs facing up.
Malcador rubbed his hand on the surface of the cane, and looked at the emperor with a look of kind inquiry.
Morse spoke calmly: "You hope to achieve your goal, and I can never even deny your nobility. This is a terrible thing. You just make all entities and non-entities theories and Things catch fire."
"Who can do this?" the Emperor asked.
"That's the scarier thing," Morse looked at Malcador, "He always sounds right."
"Actually," Malcador said, "He's always wrong. "
Morse smiled: "Your description is more accurate, Palmist. So please, any one of you, tell me, what great job is recruiting temporary workers this time?"< br>
"Your Majesty?" Machado hinted.
The Emperor blinked. "I want to take back the galaxy."
Morse leaned back. After hearing this ambition, he found that he was not surprised at all: "This work will start with retrieving the creation you lost, right? Let me guess, your greed is not It will allow you to create only one child for Perturabo."
At least there should be a backup.
"I have recovered one," said the Emperor. "Number 16. He came with me on his own flagship and insisted on welcoming his brother."
Morse suddenly had a not-so-good premonition. "You recovered...one?"
"Yes, twenty in total." The Emperor said calmly. "Perturabo is the fourth among them. I am recovering them and delivering them." Legion, and begin to reclaim the Lost Sector of the Galaxy, Morse, you know this is a time of peace not to be missed.”
The excessive amount of information helped Morse regain his dizziness. He held the edge of the table with one hand, and a deep nightmare of being surrounded by twenty Perturabo appeared in front of his eyes.
The Emperor thought for a moment, then added: "Also, the name of No. 16 is Horus Luperkar."
(End of this chapter)