Chapter 173 The unfinished memorial hall
Kahn is waiting for the moment to put on the ceramic armor. He saw his blue and white armor being arranged in different parts, and soon his attention was attracted by the red hound on the shoulder armor.
The hound opens its mouth and sticks out its fangs, and its four claws are stretched out ready to attack, which hides its violent and blood-thirsty nature; and its throat and neck are surrounded by a nailed iron ring, which symbolizes There is an emphasis on restraint and order.
Kahn often believed that this symbol accurately depicted the internal characteristics of the Twelfth Legion of the Empire with surprising accuracy. After they went into battle together with the Thirteenth Expeditionary Fleet, they cooperated with troops from the wild world and even the demihuman race for a long time. Through a series of violent conquests, they established a strong foundation for the Aquila Flag in those areas where annihilation and large-scale massacre were particularly needed to demonstrate its power. When serving in military operations, their role is that of violent hounds who can be restrained.
He did sometimes think that when the Thirteenth Expeditionary Fleet, known as the "Blood Thirteen", became famous in the galaxy, people looked at the Emperor's real thirteenth Astartes. Will the legion be troubled by duplicate names?
In short, he happily accepted this title because compared to the heroic stories and the glory of leaders that were widely sung after the war, a word used to describe collective bloody acts was obviously closer to the essence of war.
Kahn looked at the battle ax next to him. This battle ax helped him win fame and military exploits. When the enemy's head slipped from the tip of his axe, he knew that he was closer to the efficient and deadly killer his brother warriors said.
Now that he has become the commander of the 8th Assault Company, more brothers have entrusted their lives and honor to him.
Similarly, he accepted all of this calmly, viewing them as an essential part of the experience of the Great Crusade. This does not mean that he was born as a higher being, a gifted person who stood under the scorching sun and commanded soldiers, because even if this did not happen to him, it would definitely happen to another battle brother. On the body.
When he thinks about all this, he often feels a deep sense of honor, which has nothing to do with his military rank. He just discovered that his name, like countless brothers, was written in perhaps the greatest legend in human history.
Kahn's boots were stained with blood stains that couldn't be washed away, like dust adsorbed on a smooth surface. This is what happens when you choose a light-colored armor while actively engaging in countless galactic carnage.
Hidden in these traces of blood are the air swirled by all the gunboats, the oil mist and powder formed by the melted and deformed iron and steel helmets in the burning city and the fuel spurts. The blood of different races fell on the surface of the collapsed building. Some blood stains grabbed his boots at this moment, seeping into the gaps of the pale leg armor as proof of their existence, absorbing all the billowing smoke, burning noise and The roar stayed with the warrior who finally stood between the blood river and the ruins.
He ruthlessly enjoyed these moments that were difficult to describe in words, recalling the scream of the swing of the battle ax and the touch of broken flesh. In every millennium of human history, wars have been reincarnated in the blood shed. When his brother fought alongside him, the support from his back and the silent fall of the enemy in front under the axe, reminded him of the existence of life.
He is fulfilling the mission given to him by the Empire's truth and finding the meaning he can from this chosen path.
However, it is undeniable that Kahn has expectations for a certain time point in the future.
When Horus Luperkar led his Luna Wolves into battle, the legions he collaborated with were under the command of the First Returned Sons. Their honor and sacrifice are often unintentionally overshadowed by this pearly white pack of wolves, as the demigod Horus fights before the military formations.
When the original body of the Fourth Legion returned early, the Iron Legion, which had experienced many battles and had numerous achievements, but whose thinking in forming camps and fighting was almost questioned due to solidification, was reborn. The Legion had found a way to build something as important as the war itself, and while it had assumed a completely irreplaceable place in the Emperor's plans, the Twelfth Legion still faithfully performed their fixed function of spilling blood across the galaxy.
Let’s not mention the Fifteenth Legion, which was led by the Primarch. This is simply incomparable. Their first battle was fighting alongside the Primarch. The Ninth Legion was attacked for unknown reasons. The suppressed bloody nature was temporarily ignored. What really shocked Kahn was the arrival of the Sixth Legion's original body.
With the most understatement, Leman Russ blew the cold wind of Fenris through the entire extremely barbaric army. The two became one, their aimless brutality transformed into a unique Legion ethos, and the Space Wolves were born.
At this time, the 12th Legion, named War Hounds, was still wandering in more fire and blood, looking for no way out.
When will their Primarch return? By then, what changes will the Twelfth Legion undergo?
Blood Thirteen is the name of the entire Thirteenth Expeditionary Fleet, and the War Dogs are the names given to them by the Emperor. So what expectations does the Primarch himself give to his heirs?
Kahn asked questions in his heart, waiting for someone to give him an answer one day.
The servant visited him and appeared at his side. He waited for them to help him penetrate the armor, but today, from the unusual movement speed of these servants, he keenly sensed that some unexpected message was coming. In fact, this abnormality was already reflected in their fleet's excessive stay on Terra this time to obtain supplies.
A soldier who showed his status as a legion veteran through the iconic pattern on the Mark II helmet walked towards him. His usual firm steps became rapid, and the short ax and pistol on his waist struck the legs. Armor.
His wire-woven cloak looms over his armor, its deep blue, bronze, and cream tones mirroring the blue and white armor of the warhound itself. Legion Commander Kil[1] personally awarded him this cloak as a reward of honor after the commander turned the tide of the war with his outstanding ability and crushed an armed team of technological barbarians in one fell swoop.
Captain of the 18th Company, Margot.
Margo found Kahn alone. The battle brothers such as Flag Bearer and Executioner who always accompanied him did not appear. Even through the iron barrier, Kahn could still feel the abnormal joy and eagerness from this legion brother who joined the War Dogs at almost the same time as him.
"Kahn!" Margot got straight to the point and couldn't hide her excitement. Before Kahn invited him to discuss the matter in detail, and even before he finished his next words, his footsteps were already on the verge of leaving.
"The Resolute Resolve is about to set sail. Our Primarch has been recovered. He personally requested from the Lord of Mankind to meet us - come here and tell the news to others with me. My Brother!”
——
Desia. The city of high-level riders. Scar of Nuceria. A city governed and enslaved.
The Liberated City. The city of red sand. The city of Angron. City of Tears. Brand new city.
Perturabo handed the parchment to Angron.
"Choose two names that contrast with each other." He said, "as the city name that will be used for the memorial I give you. The war hounds have set sail, and before your Twelfth Legion arrives, we You can build it.”
"I don't need a memorial," Angron said. "This is something that the upper class rulers need. Only those who lack real merits will need to add those to themselves by building these statues and preaching everywhere. Artificial radiance."
He was no longer nervous as he sat next to Perturabo. The trauma that had shrouded his heart as a shadow a few days ago, and was reflected externally through subtle tremors and hallucinations that sometimes woke him up, was gradually eliminated by the busy war arrangements and every smile that appeared in front of him after victory. The war with hope and lofty goals gave Angron his expectations for the future, and turned it into new hot blood, injected into his heart and soul.
It is pleasant for Perturabo to witness the growth of a brother, especially when this transformation occurs with his help - the exception of Magnus's growth, even if he thinks about it today, It was still a rare set of disasters.
"No, my brother," said Perturabo, "all that you have done for Nuceria should become part of their history."
His attitude He was more serious than the last time he met Angron. The anger left over from the recent foreign conquest, as well as the deliberate behavior of maintaining dignity to distinguish himself from his own mentality in the Webway, combined to fix his current psychological state. But he still retained the patience to face his brothers.
In the entire universe, there are only twenty beings made of similar materials to him. He tries to avoid getting angry unless the person is too good at unintentionally annoying others with an unpleasant mouth.
“If a person has no real achievements and has never really brought tangible benefits to the people, then his statue, no matter how beautifully carved, will be covered with dust. But if he has been Even if he does not erect a statue of someone he loves and praises, people will create their own heroes out of stone and clay," Perturabo advised.
"Then let people build their own statues." Angron shook his head. "I don't want to decide for them."
"How about treating it as my personal gift to you? Except for some completely unmined building materials, the Iron Warriors will not use any extra money from Nuceria. People and Resources.”
"Perturabo, this is not necessary. Give the power of soldiers to those who need it more."
Perturabo leaned forward a little, "You are accepting the consequences of war. No matter what I offered you, you always objected. I'm not sure why you refused. I, I can assure you, my gift is out of pure good intentions."
Angron was stunned for a moment, and it wasn't until Perturabo made it clear that he realized that this was indeed the case - He usually doesn't have time to review these little things about himself.
“Gladiators never accept free rewards,” he said. “We rely on our fighting to gain praise from the outside world and hugs from each other.”
Petula There was a fleeting tinge of rage in the mood around Beau, and though it was quickly replaced by restrained sadness, Angron was still aware of it. He couldn't help but start to wonder if he had said something wrong.
Perturabo stood up, his robes floating with the change of posture, and the golden dark lines reflected the light when the angle of light and shadow was just right.
He opened his arms and stared into his brother's brass eyes.
“Have you ever noticed this, Angron: that is the ‘we’ you call us, belonging only to you and your gladiator brothers and sisters.”
“You occasionally call us I am a brother, but you talk about "brothers and sisters" every day. I can see that when you see the gold thread on my clothes, you have a look of disgust on your face that you didn't even notice. After confessing our wishes and sincerity to you so unreservedly, you still presented my gift as a reward for the ruler..."
He paused for a moment, briefly thinking whether he had anything to do with Mo Ernst's sharp style comes a little closer. Then, using Morse as a negative example, he dialed back a bit.
"Yes, it is not difficult to understand..." Perturabo lowered his voice to hide his frustration. "They have been your companions for many years, while the high-ranking riders who look similar to us have tortured you for many years."
Angron's hand grasped his arm, and the son of the red sand had stood up eagerly, The way he shook hands was the way warriors cheered each other up before surrendering to dust and blood.
"I...can't say that I never meant this," Angron said, "but I absolutely respect you. This is because I cannot correct my attitude immediately, and it is not your problem."
"No, of course it was an oversight on my part, I was too eager...but I still insist on building a building for you and we can talk about what you really need at this stage - I should have paid attention to this . In addition, I actually have my own needs here. I recently need to use this method to observe and select some descendants to engage in a confidential mission."
Perturabo said, finding himself feeling stressed. The awkwardness of living quickly dissipated, surprisingly quickly, and another kind of peaceful peace filled the void.
He blinked and suddenly felt something was wrong.
With a thought, he noticed Angron's hand grabbing his forearm, and at the same time, more clues were quickly connected.
"Angron, I noticed that I no longer have negative emotions." He raised his head, searching for clues in his brother's expressions, "And I know that some of us have abilities beyond the ordinary. Ability."
"I guess it's my gift," Angron said gently, letting go of Perturabo's hand. "I don't know what to call it, but I can get into negative territory. Emotional people feel better."
Perturabo did not deny that he was interested. Based on his experience of many battles with psykers in recent years, as well as being interfered with by Magnus through various strange accidents, he felt that this sounded like the use of some kind of psychic talent; this was similar to the Sun of Thousand Dusts. The styles of Tianxiao School are somewhat similar. The difference is that one side prefers exploration while the other side prefers guidance.
"Such a treasured ability, I will invite Magnus to come and discuss it with you," Perturabo said, that comfortable sense of peace continuing to envelope him, making him feel like he was in his favorite Lokos workshop , the sun opened the window, making him relaxed and focused, "Your talent may be further developed."
Angron smiled. "Okay, thank you, brother. And you just mentioned that building a building is based on your needs?"
"You can think of it as a selection before a confidential mission." Perturabo said .
“Can this be said directly?”
“Keeping secrets, rather than keeping the existence of secrets. But I can’t provide more information. Since you don’t want a memorial, we Let's see if we can build some other buildings..."
There was a sudden knock on the door outside. Perturabo and Angron looked at each other. The latter looked at the door and said loudly: "Come in. What's the matter, Kleist?"
Female Character The fighter pushed open the door and entered, and it was her signature sliding sound of the tip of the knife that made Angron easily identify her.
“Two of the Hozan gladiators we rescued committed suicide.” Kleist said, “Angron, I think you will want to know about this as soon as possible.”
[1]Yes, I have advanced some timelines, such as the time when the former WE Legion commander who was sent away by Angron after meeting him took office
(End of this chapter)