Chapter 126 The Primarchs' Chat Time
"You did well, Ahriman." said the Iron Lord.
After giving perhaps the news that Ahriman was most looking forward to at this moment, and letting the son of the Brotherhood leave - his footsteps were even more urgent than when he was marching, Perturabo found himself Shi unexpectedly, like Donne, relaxed his arms on the table, leaned forward, and stared face to face at the design model imaged in the air, gaining the pleasure of sincere discussion and in-depth exchange of opinions.
He immediately looked away, moved his arms wrapped in arm armor a few times, and leaned back.
Morse on the side of the square table has quietly found a chair to sit down for several hours. After seeing Morse's essential form, Perturabo did not think that the man in black robe still had the physiological function of sleepiness. But he was very sure that what Morse was reacting to with his expression now was the word "sleepy".
"Are we finished with our discussion?" Dorn asked, "but there are still some unconfirmed projects here."
"These are left for tomorrow," Perturabo took the time to calculate the time, "No. , Now the calculation is the day after tomorrow. We will continue the day after tomorrow."
"Then I'm leaving." Morse stood up quickly and prepared to leave. "You guys keep talking."
When the two Primarchs were on the verge of a fight due to extremely trivial reasons, he was indeed willing to stop them and prevent the situation from slipping into an unpredictable abyss. He had to report to the Emperor. "Yes, they fought because Rogal Dorn believed that washing one's face with ice water in the morning was the daily habit of a good warrior in Invite, and Perturabo felt that he was being harmed. too obvious a disparagement."
However, when the two of them concentrated on an endless discussion, throwing their respective opinions, hobbies, and some common points in personality on the table and arranging them, they couldn't help but wonder. Ernst had to start feeling sleepy.
Do they really need to list for discussion all one hundred and thirty patterns that can adorn the top of a column?
After Mors left the field, Dorn stared at Perturabo and looked at him, seeming to draw some conclusion from the Iron Lord's posture. Then, he also leaned forward with his upper body towards Pulled back to a vertical angle, maybe this sitting position is relaxing enough for him.
"The Astropath has sent the message to Terra," Perturabo said, "Your legion should be in the preparation stage. Morse has confirmed that the genetic seed of the you is stable. "
"Gene seed?" Dorn asked.
"One of the many creations of the Emperor." Perturabo explained briefly, "Using the gene-seed, we will select mortals from their respective recruitment locations-the recruitment locations are usually their respective home planets. They transformed into Space Marines"
"The appearance of the Space Marines can refer to my offspring - the original body should call his warriors his offspring."
"Son?" Rogal Dorn tasted the word. "This is a strange legion structure. The side effect of high cohesion is the loss of centripetal force when the leader of the legion cannot command."
He thought for a while, "In addition, I have no partner. Having children when I don't have a partner Not an act supported by Wit culture."
"Why do you think so remote?" Perturabo asked in surprise.
“You said that the recruitment location is the home star, so the culture of the home star should be taken into consideration.” Dorn said calmly, “I cannot lead a legion with a value system that is not accepted by the legion. It’s strange. Also, don’t they have their own father?”
"You underestimated the love of the Space Marines for you under the influence of genes, Dorn. The bond built by blood and ether is enough to make these small obstacles disappear."
Dorn frowned and seemed to start to check own thinking.
Then he gave the answer: "I take back what I just said, because I found that I just can't accept the sudden appearance of descendants. This is what I really think."
One day's acquaintance After their heated discussions, Perturabo was still constantly surprised by Dorn's candor.
“I also couldn’t accept tens of thousands of descendants suddenly appearing at the beginning.” Perturabo said, he believed that he was the best example.
This was not very convincing to Rogal Dorn. In his opinion, Perturabo did not display a character that would make it strange for him to easily accept a son.
"I will wait for my Legion," Dorn said, "There is one thing, in terms of the coloring of the buildings, that I would like to see done by the Seventh Legion." "You want to keep the Inwit style? "
"No," Donn thought for a moment.
This confused Perturabo. If another person were sitting here, he would wonder whether this meant that the Lord of the Planet wanted to weaken the influence of the Iron Warriors on Invite as much as possible in order to retain its own political influence and position of power.
The planets he had conquered did this, so Perturabo painted the stripes symbolizing the Iron Warriors all over the central chamber where they were forced to hang the double-headed eagle.
But he knew that Rogal Dorn’s reasons were definitely much simpler.
“I don’t want black and yellow stripes.” Dorn shook his head, “Your fleet is full of these stripes.”
“What do you think of my Legion’s characteristics? What do you think?" Perturabo asked as calmly as possible. Morse did not question his stripes.
"It's just not to my liking." Dorn said bluntly, "And it's not suitable for Inwit."
Of course, Perturabo knew that the black and yellow colors in the ice and snow would create a visually discordant sense. Even if Dorn hadn't said it, he had no intention of covering the snowy peaks of Invite with stripes symbolizing warning.
But his question still came out.
"What are your preferences?" said Perturabo.
"According to my hobby, I will use gold in large areas."
"It's too monotonous." Perturabo imagined the scene. Apart from the heart of the empire, the Emperor's Palace of Terra in the Himalayas, he could not think of any other place that could support the grandeur of being painted entirely in gold. "Might as well be black and yellow stripes."
"Is it monotonous?" Dorn thought seriously for a while. The way he turned his head while thinking made his light-colored irises stain with the warm light refracted by the heater in the tent, like fire on ice.
But it was more like the sparks from the arc during welding, and Perturabo immediately corrected his thinking.
“I do not think that gold is monotonous,” Donne concluded, “but from a mortal point of view, it is indeed possible. I will have the roof of my residence painted with gold Paint."
"You do like gold," said Perturabo. "Like the Emperor."
"I haven't met him, and I don't know if I resemble him," Dorn said.
"Do you hope to be similar to him?" Perturabo felt like laughing. He had already come to his senses. Morse said that the Dornish people were good, and he came to the conclusion by comparing them with the Emperor. "Our father has some qualities that are worth learning, and some that are not suitable for a Primarch."
In his heart, Perturabo quietly filled in a circle of golden glow and light around Rogal Dorn. The way he spoke seemed to have its own hymns and echoes, which made him shake his head.
"I don't know our father." Donne's logic is as perfect as the ice and snow of Inwit. "I can only draw conclusions after understanding him."
Then, The White-haired Primarch continued: "Speaking of fathers, I do have one thing to ask you. Do you see Morse as a figure who had fatherly authority early in your life?"
(End of Chapter)