Chapter 164 Preliminary Demand Analysis
Perturabo, who put on a new robe, appeared together with a simple cloth robe he brought. Because all the data cables had just been removed, the top of his head was reflecting bright light.
"You can try this robe, Angron." Perturabo said, looking at Angron who sat silently beside the mortal's bed. The apothecaries had left one after another to give the Primarchs enough private space. "We didn't expect to meet you, and we didn't prepare anything for you. But I do have some regular clothes that haven't been worn yet."
Angron emerged from the hospital bed with the still comatose old fighter Onoma Moss Looking away, Perturabo found that the ferocious pain on the face of a warrior who was still immersed in a deep nightmare when he left unconsciously faded away, and the old man's expression became calm and soft. Is this just the power of family affection? Perturabo wasn't sure.
Angron took the robe a little awkwardly.
In the life of the gladiator, he had never come into contact with such a clean and complete piece of clothing. Even though the piece Perturabo chose was already the most common and ordinary one in the cabinet, to him, this piece of cloth was still As soft and distant as the clouds high in the sky.
Perturabo nodded to him, went out and walked around, and happened to meet Rogal Dorn who was holding a golden skull translator in his left hand and holding two data pads in his right hand.
"This data pad is Morse and Magnus," Dorn shook the outer data pad, then turned his wrist to show the other one, "This one is Horus. , he currently has a few days to spare."
"I heard someone calling me?" Morse's voice came.
"I look forward to meeting our new brother." Horus said seriously.
He had already learned about Ange from Dorne - this was also his first interview with Dorne. The Son of the First Returned tried to accept Rogal Dorne's way of speaking which was very unpleasant no matter how he heard it, with complicated emotions. Lon's general situation, it did change the target of his anger: first at Dorne's mouth, and now at the actions of the Nucerians.
"Okay," said Perturabo. "His mortal mentor is still in a coma, and Angron is currently accompanying him."
He paused: "I did not expect that the walls of the Iron-Blooded were not as strong as your armor. I guess you didn't Injured?"
"No." Dorn shook his head. "I considered advising him to control his emotions and observe the situation before acting."
"Fortunately you didn't." Perturabo took a breath. "I mean, it's a good thing you didn't persuade me."
"Leaving private communications to you has proven to be the wiser choice," Dorn said, letting Perturabo take the two dataslates. "Let's go see Angron."
They returned to Onomamos's ward, and Angron had already changed into a robe. After his scars were covered up, an inhuman calm came over him. He seemed so out of place with everything in the room, except the old soldier who still hadn't opened his eyes.
Aware that someone was approaching from behind, Angron's habitual desire to attack flashed away, and his tense muscles relaxed again in an instant.
He immediately stood up, turned around, and said, "I'm sorry. You saved us all, and I attacked you with suspicion and violence. Rogal Dorn, I apologize to you."
In the chaos just now, he almost forgot about it. This made him feel particularly guilty.
"It doesn't matter." Dorn said, pressing the gem on the golden skull to activate it, and explaining at the same time: "This is a translator. Perturabo commented that my way of speaking is not conducive to communication, and I need the assistance of a translation instrument."< br>
A line of text floated on the translator, "What Rogal Dorn means is: he is not good at words, and sometimes unintentionally offends others, but this is never his intention. Perturabo hopes to use this translator , help him solve the problem to a certain extent."
Angron was a little stunned. "Is this... a tradition outside of Nuceria?"
From when I inserted the Butcher's Nail in my head - no, it was a data cable, to now I carry a golden skull to translate, Both of these things puzzled him greatly.
"No. It's a personal characteristic. You don't have to apologize for anything anyway," Perturabo said, stopping Angron from making more apologies, "before we start discussing Nuceria in detail. Before you ask any questions, let me introduce your other brothers and my mortal mentors. We all care about you, brother.”
He pulled the low table beside the bed and propped up the two data tablets. The background of the first data tablet was the Terra Palace Library. A black-haired man and the little red figure on the table waved at the same time.
Looking at the little man called his brother, Angron realized that there was one more thing that puzzled him.
"Hello. I am Morse, the mentor Perturabo talked about," the black-haired man said, tapping the table at the feet of the red figure, "This is your brother Mag A temporary body of Nuth, he himself is conducting long-term experiments on the kinetic energy weaknesses of psychic robots on the other side of the galaxy."
Horus spread his palms, and you could feel his smile through the screen. of sincerity. "Angron, meeting you is the greatest good news I have received in these days. I am Horus Luperkar, the first Primarch to return and the sixteenth among brothers."
Angron couldn't tell whether he felt more joyful or uneasy right now.
After the night when the letter arrived, everything suddenly turned upside down. He wasn't sure how he should accept the concerned eyes that were all looking at him, and he wasn't even sure whether the kindness and concern that filled the ocean of emotions here were real - ever since he discovered his gift of touching the hearts of others, This was his first time entering such a peaceful and warm emotional world.
Accept them, Angron. he said to himself. To repay the kindness of these... brothers, and for the sake of his brothers and sisters in the cave.
"I am Angron," he said. "I have nothing to introduce to you, thank you. I can give any return that I can give without hurting others."
"You are a little nervous." Morse said, adjusting He adjusted his sitting posture and quickly returned from sitting upright to leaning on the back of the chair. "There's no need for that. If you feel that chatting with a group of good people is very stressful, I can point out the shortcomings and bad things of everyone present with you in turn."
"That should not include me." Horus said.
"I condemn you for ruining our Perturabo's taste for hair." Morse said, "How about it, Angron?"
Angron tried to put more hair on his face. Putting on some genuine smiles, he found it became much easier. These demigods suddenly add a touch of life. "No, Morse."
"Then we can start talking about Nuceria." Perturabo said, "What do you envision here?"
"No more slavers," Angron blurted out. The presence of these people was one of the few things that still aroused his wrath.
"Of course." Perturabo said immediately, he would like to see his brother put to death those who have hurt him. "I am opposed to this system."
Even if we don’t mention the issue of humanity, holding a large-scale gladiatorial arena is a serious waste of resources. So many talented people in various industries are wasted in unnecessary blood, and the spirit of the people in the audience is constantly being consumed by absurd low-level entertainment. corrosion. He was quite disgusted.
Rogal Dorn said in agreement: "Okay, then what?"
The skull said: "Rogal Dorn means: You still have more hope in Nukai Did Leah see it?”
Everyone present stared at the words floating above the skull, and Horus muttered: “You should really give each brother a Dorne. Translator, Perturabo, and especially to me."
This made Perturabo briefly wonder what Horus and Dorn had talked about. Angron thought silently. He had never had the time to think about such a long-term problem. On the few nights when he could sleep and had the energy to dream, he would either imagine how to escape from the arena, or think about how he and his brothers and sisters could have a wonderful life where they would not have to fight each other but could still have enough food and clothing.
"I wish all gladiators could escape the arena," he whispered at last.
"Okay!" Magnus clapped, and then realized that he was the only one applauding. He put down his hands and tried to think of a way to explain: "One of the recent batch of aliens we fought has a psionic power (Shockwave) that amplifies the sound of clapping palms to cause a devastating impact. I am studying the practicality of this spell."
"It sounds like we have obtained a project with very free indicators, but I still want to make your needs as clear as possible." Perturabo said, "Except for slave owners and prohibiting gladiatorial events, let's first note these two "Point. Morse, can you show me my construction achievements in recent years?" "I am your clerk?" Morse said, while comparing it to Perturabo. The message sent, looking at every detail of Angron's body.
Spartacus, a Thracian name that had become an adjective, jumped into his mind. To be more precise, this is a Spartacus whose destiny has been terminated prematurely, losing its tragedy - this is the kind of thing Morse would pursue only when he was writing scripts in his spare time, and cross Having reached the boundary between life and death, Angron entered the ashes-like calm and tired platform of his life early.
He usually has no interest in taking on the role of motivator unless the person he is focusing on has a stake in it.
“Your brother with a yellow and black stripe on his collar has some wonderful persistence in construction.” Morse said, a light spot gradually expanded into a screen between his fingers, “I think You know that this person is committed to promoting the welfare of mankind under the Sky Eagle throughout the galaxy. To this end, he has done many meaningful and meaningless things, such as demolishing a chattering emperor's council chamber and changing it to a room occupied by the Sky Eagle. The democratic parliament hall is filled with eagle flags and yellow and black stripes."
Several pictures emerged one after another: "In addition to the parliament, industrial and agricultural facilities all over the ground, and various military track protection strips, He even once changed the residential buildings into yellow and black stripes. "The photo that finally stopped in the air was of a square residential building with a plain main color, but the window frames at each interval were colored yellow or black.
Horus laughed and returned to his seriousness before Perturabo had time to look at him: "You see, my dear brother, Perturabo is ambitious and wants to paint his color all over the place. The entire galaxy. He now wants you to give him a chance to satisfy him."
"I don't!" Perturabo tapped Morse's data pad, "Donne, help me prove it!"
"Okay, I can prove that Perturabo has no ambition to color. "He didn't bother with me after I rejected his design for the theater."
"You'd better stop talking."
"Why?" Donne asked puzzledly. A line of words floated on the skull: "Excuse me, did I say something wrong?"
A low hoarse laughter sounded in the room. After a moment, several guys who were not quite human realized that this was Angron laughed for the first time.
Angron only discovered his change after laughing out loud.
Looking at these dizzying large numbers of architectural photos with various yellow and black stripes, he was a little dazzled, but he noticed that there were several happy smiling faces in the corners of many pictures.
It is different from the numb smiles of joy among the gladiators, and of course it has nothing to do with the bloodthirsty laughter in the audience. These warm expressions appear on the faces of adults as well as children. That naturally becomes the most vivid embellishment in the image. A warm current from the outside world was injected into his blood vessels, making the cold blood warm again.
“I can testify,” said Magnus, jumping up to the bookshelf on the upper level, at the same level as Morse’s head, “that the house Perturabo built in Prospero was very Normal!"
"So the yellow and black stripes are not normal?" Perturabo said in disbelief. He took a deep breath: "Okay, I don't care about the color matching of Nuceria, no. , I don’t care about this aspect.”
What he wanted to ask at the beginning was definitely Angron's views on Nuceria's future institutional and economic construction, and how to deal with slave owners. At some point, the conversation turned into a collective contempt for his excellent aesthetics.
"This is Perturabo," said Morse. "By the way, did anyone tell you that you have a whole legion waiting for you?"
"I..." Angron wanted to refuse directly. He was not interested in foreign wars, but he didn't want to He directly let down these kind-hearted people, not to mention these... The identity of the brothers seemed to be different from the general he thought he was. "I am not ready yet."
"There is no need to worry, brother," Horus said. "As much as I would like to invite you to join me in the Crusade, I must respect your opinion. We They are relatives, aren't they?"
Perturabo waved his hand: "Of course, it is normal if you want to deny our biological relationship, even if we have only known each other for such a short time. We have no connection with each other, and restoring the world along the way is one of the core tasks of the Great Crusade. When we leave, I will ask you again if you are willing to be our brother."
"Remember to call me," Magnus said, "I really want to know the answer!"
"I think I can always spare some time. At the worst, I can ask Sejanus to help me direct."< br>
Dorn nodded. There was a line floating on the golden skull: "I have always been there."
Angron admitted that his heart was shaken. His teeth scraped together, and then he asked, "So, what was the Great Crusade?"
"Oh, that's right," Morse said, "There's a guy who lived a long time, hiding out all day long. I drank tea and slept in the laboratory until the end of mankind, and then I was persuaded to reluctantly raise an army and establish a country. I randomly named it 'Emperor' and thought of cooperating everywhere. Although there were Sometimes it will turn into fighting everywhere, trying to pull up mankind one after another, so that more people can live a little better. This messy plan is called the Great Crusade, so as to match his golden image. , let the whole thing not be as careless as an old man’s random thoughts.”
He shrugged and stared directly at Angron with his dark eyes: "I don't have the patience to say too many nice words in roundabout ways. I still have a lot of things to be busy with next - Perturabo, the holy scripture you wrote is just a bunch of whimsical things. paper - so I said so. If you're expecting to unleash your wrath on the weak, the Emperor will disappoint you, and if you're a Liberator, maybe you'll find something new with us. , enough to support the meaning and value of your future life."
After finishing speaking, Morse closed the data screen, causing his interface to fall into darkness. Perturabo was silent for a few seconds, then his tone changed to a powerful declaration.
"Forget all our persuasion today, Angron. Don't let the sweet talk bother you. But remember what we do next, remember that we have repeated this process of rebuilding the planet countless times. , will be repeated many times in the future. Before I leave, I will ask you for the second time if you are willing to join the Great Crusade."
"Angron..." Onomamos's fingers on the hospital bed. He placed it on Angron's hand, and the latter held the old warrior's hand without hesitation, almost crying because of his awakening.
The old fighter opened his eyes with difficulty and looked around with blurred vision. He was sincerely relieved that Angron was safe and sound, but the unfamiliar environment around him was completely beyond Onomamos's understanding.
"Is this..." he couldn't help but ask, coughing midway through the question.
"This is lemon yellow," said Donne, who was being watched, "a color that simulates the color of ancient vitamin-rich fruits."
He paused and reacted : "And, this is the Iron-Blooded, we rescued you and Angron."
"Thank you, adults," Onomamos said vaguely, the anesthetic effect had not yet worn off, "We need ...for what?”
“Just stop saying thank you,” said Perturabo. "Your safety and happiness are their own reward."
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(End of this chapter)