Chapter 128 Apology for Failure
The golden light faded from the wall, the wooden structure with broken wall panels was repaired under the influence of the curse, and the colors of the white snow and ice earth were blocked again by the sealed tarpaulin wrapped in the outer layer. outer. The tent once again fulfilled its role of blocking the cold wind on the surface of Inwit.
The light and heat of the heater returned to the tent, shining on the two primarchs who were hiding in two corners of the tent and did not want to see each other - mainly because Perturabo unilaterally He almost turned his head away before seeing Dorn for the first time.
As for Dorn, the self-healing ability of the original body has not yet had time to heal his injured face. Blood has scabbed on his brow bone and cheekbones, adding a different look to the blue half of his face. color. He squatted down and silently picked up the drawings scattered everywhere on the ground. His mixed emotions made it impossible for him to leave the mind to sort out the drawings. He could only put all the messy papers into his wide and rough hands.
"...Yes, that's how it is." Morse leaned against the support of the tent and said to the golden figure floating in the air, "Your two sons saw each other for the first time. God, a brother who had never made such a big fuss in the six years of the expedition was punched into the wall, almost blowing away the firmly nailed tent.”
The Emperor's image turned back to his two sons.
His brilliance is as sacred as ever, with a faint and dazzling arc of light floating around him, like a golden thunder descending from the sky, carrying the revelation of judgment and instruction.
Donne's Adam's apple rolled obviously, his eyelashes nervously fluttered the air, and his hands pinched the paper tighter at a loss, and the edge of the paper pressed against his tiger's mouth.
Perturabo glanced at the Emperor, and then, as if his eyes were burned by the Emperor's golden body, he quickly lowered his head and wanted to bury his chin in the arms wrapped around his chest.
The Emperor solemnly stepped out with his noble steps, slowing down until the golden boots with floating thunder and eagle phantoms appeared in front of Dorn's eyes. The hesitation hidden in his brilliant brilliance made Morse curl his lips.
"My son," the Emperor said, "raise your head."
Dorn raised his head in response to the Emperor's words, his eyes not daring to blink. The wounds on his face were more visibly exposed to the Emperor's sight, and the Emperor fell silent, even though his silence seemed to contain the prudence of infinite wisdom.
"Father." Don said, his frustration was poorly hidden, not to mention the swollen cheeks that hindered his normal speech. "I am Rogal Dorn, currently the patriarch of the Dorne family and the lord of Inwit and some surrounding systems."
"Rogal Dorn." The Emperor said, "My first Seventh Son, tell me what happened. "
Dorn tried his best to focus on the sight the Emperor gave him, and he was immediately shocked by the stern and noble face of the Lord of Mankind.
This face, edged by golden laurels and shoulder-length black hair, was molded by tens of thousands of years of broken hope. Under his majestic brow, there is no doubt that all the wonders and dreams of the entire human race are gathered together. For example, the unparalleled authority of the cold storm of Yinwit and the orange-red fire of the long night heater are unified in him. No one who has ever looked the Emperor in the eyes can resist the desire to serve him with undying loyalty.
However, the kindness and trust contained in those eyes did not comfort Rogal Dorn's heart. A confession of wrongdoing as an opportunity to meet the Emperor for the first time was clearly one of the worst things a Primarch could imagine.
"I mistakenly thought that Artisan Morse was an alien," when he spat out this word, Dorn felt a biting chill coming from the direction of Perturabo, but Dorn knew that he could not The statement was evasive, "and used it to verbally attack Morse and Perturabo. I seriously insulted them."
Perturabo let out a suppressed snort.
"Morse is a human, Rogal Dorn," the Emperor said, making Dorn's breath skip a beat. Shame gripped the white-haired Primarch.
"What caused you to make this mistake?" asked the Emperor.
"I have not considered Morse's particularity." Donne quickly replied.
Although he still doesn't know what this specialness is, someone who can summon the Emperor and talk to the Lord of Mankind like an old friend can never be an enemy of the Empire. "I was limited by my vision before raising questions. I mistakenly believed that my investigation was enough, so I blindly made accusations."
"Obviously this is because there is a person When the Primarchs were created, some instructions were stuffed into their genetic spirals, like hating xenomorphs?" Morse said.
No one paid him any attention except Perturabo, who looked at Morse. The Emperor had long been accustomed to ignoring Morse's cynicism, but Dorn could not talk to him beyond the Emperor.
Morse grinned at Perturabo. Perturabo nodded silently, and his frowning eyebrows finally relaxed a little.
"How will you atone for your wrongs, Rogal Dorn?" asked the Emperor.
"I will apologize to Morse and Perturabo," Dorn did not add words such as hoping to be forgiven. Considering that this was Dorn, his concession at this time was not a technique to show weakness. , just do not think they are qualified to forgive the insulted person. "And make any compensation within the scope of my acceptance."
"There is no need to apologize to me." Perturabo's voice was soaked in indecipherable coldness and anger, "I am not the one who suffered the shame for no reason. ”
Donne had to turn his face in Morse's direction.
He rarely faced such a dilemma, and the Primarch's errors of judgment were far less frequent than his accusations, not to mention the seriousness of the false accusations he made in the tenets of the Imperium of Man.
"I deeply apologize to you, Craftsman Morse." Dorn's voice was no longer calm, "My accusation is ill-founded and very egregious. It was entirely caused by my wrong judgment. . I am willing to bear..."
"Pause, dear Roger Dorn." Morse said softly, "Let's assume a situation. What would you choose? Reveal my identity like you did an hour ago? "
Dorn's lips moved, and his heart beat harder, but he couldn't deceive himself.
"Yes, I will," he said. "I'm sorry."
"Stop your apology," Morse stood up straight, his black robe rolled over the stand he was leaning on. "You chat with your father first, I will come to you later. Perturabo?"
Perturabo immediately put down the hands folded on his chest. In fact, when wearing the armor, he put his hands down The most comfortable position is to place it on your side.
"I am here." The Iron Lord said.
"Boy, let's go out and talk." Morse said, extending his hand in the direction of Perturabo.
After a quick nod to the emperor, Perturabo strode to the door and opened the curtain at the entrance to the tent for Morse.
The two stepped into the ice and snow one after another, and Morse patted Perturabo's gauntlet. The next moment, they appeared on the top of a towering snow-capped mountain in Invite where no one had set foot and no one monitored them, overlooking the eternal ice of the vast wasteland.
(End of this chapter)