Chapter 205 Lesson
Morse turned his golden penholder, and after a few seconds of thinking, he pressed the base of a chess piece with the end of the penholder and pushed one square on the chessboard.
Before Archon Connaught moved his pieces, Euton reminded: "You are going to lose, Connaught."
Connaught moved his pieces in silence, with low spirits. A white pawn carved into a tower eats one of Morse's pawns, causing the tower to appear at the diagonal angle of the war elephant.
"Well, maybe you're right," Morse said, "but you managed to persuade me to lose a round."
He moved the king hiding behind one space forward, approaching the moment when he was exposed outside the protection. It was just an ordinary board game, and after defeating Conor three times in a row, Mors didn't mind letting Robert Guilliman's adoptive father start winning.
Connaught touched the stubble on his chin without politeness, adjusting his chessboard layout, getting ready to eat the king.
"I like this. You didn't refuse it several times." Morse commented briskly. After several rounds, Connaught won by regulation. Youton saw the opportunity and waved to the attendants at the door of the room to come in with lunch, preventing the two of them from having another plate.
"Do you know where these ryes come from?" Morse asked with interest.
“Espando, the new wheat of the first season. The average price of a group of rye in the market is thirty aas copper coins. At the same time, the average price of a group of barley is fifteen aas, and that of wheat is It's twenty-seven As." The Archon replied, these numbers clearly appearing in the mouth of this mortal ruler who was no longer young. "Unfortunately, this piece of bread once required one Oris gold coin on the purchase bill."
"What now?"
"Ration quotas and low prices for all citizens in the city."
"Is this policy implemented successfully?"
"See you in Garland After passing the Primarchs, my obstruction in the Senate was suddenly loosened," Conor said, taking the bread and dipping it in some honey.
The various furniture in his room showed a mixture of mortal size and original model. The desk was just suitable for ordinary people. A square meditator fit both mortal and original models, but there was a chair and several The craft furnishings are too tall.
This is not the disharmony and chaos that a consul should endure, but Connuo happily accepted it all without saying a word. As a father, he tolerated all the traces his son left in his life.
"Ambitionist." Morse praised, "It is the luck of the Primarch and the Empire that a Primarch can have a father like you. You can't imagine that after listening to Perturabo and my introduction, After reading thirty rumored versions of Hamlet, it is such a surprise to suddenly discover that your inner court library actually has an original version of Hamlet.”
His topic jumped a bit. Perturabo was the only one who could keep up with his ideas for a while, and later the Emperor and Malcador could be added.
The mortals in front of him would not try to keep up with him at all. They start with the latest information, focusing on current realities and the attendant future: this is exactly how Connaught and Euton govern.
"You think so?" Jotun said. "I think the Imperials are more annoyed that they've lost a Primarch." The new word came out of her mouth like all the others. Skillful, common and spicy.
"You're still angry, Ms. Euton." Morse stood up and patted the Thinker.
The machine made a strange little alarm sound. Morse found the cancel button and turned the synthesized mechanical sound to the alarm stop.
“But that’s how children are. They use their own narrative structure to observe the world, and situations that are not within the framework will only be taken into consideration after they appear and cause certain consequences - Robert is grabbing his commanders one by one. They criticize, oh, he's showing he regrets surrendering all his trust so quickly, even though we all know he doesn't."
Youton dismissed Morse's words. "This is not anger, we have been prepared for this day. It is an accident that a huge human empire will respect us small rulers in remote frontier places."
Morse Laughed: "You are just angry, madam. Of course, they look forward to Robert Guilliman personally guiding them in government affairs, and of course they are dissatisfied with the Archon of Macragge taking precious time to teach them."
"They are very good students." Connaught said, "The ability to understand and learn is better than that of the entire Senate combined."
"But the respect they show you is a little too forced. , Archon." Morse returned to his seat, picked up a piece of lettuce leaf placed in the bread basket, and took a bite. "I am not 100% on the side of the Human Empire. Don't you join me in criticizing the Space Marines?"
"No need, Olympian craftsmen." Yuden's voice softened. "Robert is already doing it."
"Well, okay. If you really think this is enough, then I underestimated the tolerance of mortals."
"Why not underestimate mortals? Where is your sanity?”
"Oh, that means I underestimated the entire mortal group." Morse said, "I really can't list all the problems of this guy one by one. But I have a hunch now that there will be an eternal one here. Contradiction. Emperor, Primarch, Space Marine, Human, these are four kinds of life, and any one of them generally has a less conventional view of the other three."
"I think. We are all human beings." Konnor shook his head, "We actually use the same thinking and mentality. I can understand the voices of the Space Marines. They are just another group of warriors who left home since childhood."
"It depends on whether their self-identity really thinks this way, Archon." Morse raised a hand to support the side of his face.
The conversation with Connaught and Euton was a satisfying break for him. They had a common language that was enough to support the existence of such a rare thing as tacit understanding, and there were few conflicts. Except for Morse's wrong question when they first met, there was no further conflict.
“When it comes to this matter, I have a kind reminder here.” The craftsman said, “Be careful about your lives, Conor Guilliman and Tarasha Yuton. I have recently suspected The adoptive family of the Primarch is particularly prone to accidents.”
"Why do you say that?" Connor asked calmly.
"You know I always say what I think, Macragge. I just briefly reviewed the current adoptive family situation of the Primarchs, starting from the adoptive father of Magnus the Red. Mon, to Onomamos, Angron's adoptive father, you are the only adoptive parents who have not faced hardships so far and can give the Primarch a complete and normal family life. As the Primarch enters the stars, If you join the expedition, you will become too fragile a pillar." Konnor took a deep breath: "We will."
"What about the others?" Yodon asked. , "Who are the Amon and Onomamos you mentioned?"
"From the original body, we can see the conditions of its growth environment; but you haven't seen it yet. Magnus." Morse said, "If one day the empire completely solves the problem of interstellar communication, I would like to invite you to get together. Let me think about it, we can invite Califon-Perturabo. He has never admitted it, but his friend the king is indeed his family, Amon, Leman Russ's two wolves, Rogal Dorn's blanket, Onomamos, and Malcador Come together. Maybe we can add more places in the future. ”
"Imperial Regent Malcador?" Yodon asked. Recently, she and Connaught had gained a lot of official understanding of the current political leaders of the empire. They are fully prepared to follow Guilliman and join the Empire. In a sense, this is actually a manifestation of trying to seize the relative initiative in the changing political situation.
"I usually think that he is also half a caregiver of a certain original body." Morse knocked on the chessboard, and all the chess pieces jumped on the table and returned to their places, "Jotun, we are going to have a game. "I don't know how to use psychic powers."
Konnuo was stunned for a moment: "You just..."
"Used a little bit of mind-reading psychic powers, of course." He finished his vegetable leaves as if nothing had happened, "Does this count as cheating? I don't know."
——
"That's it, their armies were torn apart by our actions."
Robert Guilliman sat on his golden and blue seat, pointing his finger at the sand table in the center of the heavy stone table, a small The marking points were uprooted, symbolizing the demise of an opposing force. He then raised his head, staring straight ahead like the blue eyes of Macragge's clear sky, focusing on a distant place.
“There are no tricks, no probabilities and bets, and only relying on the simplest military formations and standard principles of action, we have retained the highest adaptability to any battlefield.”
He turned his head and raised his right hand, with his fingertips level with his lips. His resolute and extraordinary face was more completely displayed, emphasizing the noble will of the original body. "This is the way I choose to fight, the principles I carefully choose, the theory I hang in the air. We will continue to verify it, adjust it, revise it and make it more perfect in future practice."
“Now, I have a question.”
said the Primarch, lowering his hands and letting his tall frame relax in his seat. The passion of belief is weakened and invisible cues of control begin to rise.
“My warriors, tell me, if our enemy does not have a core leader, what will be the most efficient way to destroy it? I look forward to hearing your thoughts. Note: Use Ultramarines way to get answers instead of the slaughter and extermination of the children of war."
As he stood up from his seat, the video was terminated. Azak Ahriman, who was sent to take the camera of the original body, retrieved the holographic projection from the memory of the camera slave and sent it to the projector on the desktop for display.
Guilliman scrutinized his performance, looking for obscure flaws or holes in his narrative, while Azak adjusted the fragments for the Primarch that needed further refinement - more precisely. He said that he wrote down these fragments and waited to focus on them the next time he re-recorded them. Once the questions raised by the original body came up, he could stop them in time.
"One last time, Azak," said Guilliman, "we will record it one last time."
Roboute Guilliman unexpectedly kept his word, much to Azak's relief. For some reason, being around this primarch who seemed to get along much better than Rogal Dorn and Perturabo still didn't make him feel relaxed.
He missed the brief time beside Magnus more and more, as bright and comfortable as quicksand and gold. Recently, the crimson king was marching against the legion of Iron Warriors, deep into the other end of the vast galaxy. Direct communication between several Suns of Thousand Dusts and the Father of Genes had to be completely interrupted. They could only start from a few points. In the few words sent by the thin document, I recall my father's vivid and elegant glory.
What's more, after Kaidomo Frix disappeared, he never found another friend who could establish the deep friendship he once had.
"You can go and rest for a while." Robert Guilliman's face overlapped with the holographic image being shown. The difference was that the real Primarch was more serious than the one in the image. "I need to continue thinking about the manuscript for the second lesson. Come to me in three hours."
Perhaps it was a habit developed by Black Crow's training, Ahriman consciously did not turn around immediately. Sure enough, Robert Guilliman raised his hand and called to him: "Also, take this image to the ship's command room and let Glenn Vosoto organize the company commander and above to view it."
Azak was ordered to leave. Guilliman waited for the scholar of the Brotherhood to leave before getting up from his seat and walking slowly in the private corridors of Macragge's inner court. The sound of his footsteps echoed rhythmically between the marble and wooden boards, helping him gain the silence of thought.
When Connaugh had time to look up from the piles of data and tables on his desk and engage in the repeated contemplation and introspection that is indispensable for a qualified consul, he would choose these long, narrow and quiet corridors. , find his place under the attention of many portraits of the old kings of the past.
If Robert Guilliman had been by Konnor's side at this moment, a rough and warm hand would have fallen on his shoulders until he grew too tall. Once Robert was taller than Conor's mortal head, he would be walking down the corridor alone.
He stopped in the middle of the corridor, counting the time until he would leave the room.
Fifteen minutes, the clock in his head told him accurately, fifteen minutes and thirty-three seconds. This is how long it took him to complete the manuscript of his next article on war and then add thirteen iterations and improvements. He smiled to himself as easily as he could, telling himself that it was just his talent.
But Space Marines are warriors who are proud of their talents. That wasn't even deliberately arrogant, he knew it.
His warriors do not deliberately despise mortals, they just naturally feel that mortals are inferior to themselves; sometimes this can be said to be a fact that does not need to be denied, but this kind of thing happened to Conor and Yudun At that time, Guilliman could not accept it.
He looked straight at the portraits of Macragge's war kings hanging high on the wall, stopped at the end of the corridor leading to the inner court, and then turned back.
He has taken too much from this group of strange warriors, and the effectiveness of his teachings will decline along a curve. Now to gain further obedience a display of strength is necessary. Obedience is another name for receiving, and giving is the embodiment of control.
Next, he wanted to give his Ultramarines a victory, and the target was the battle they missed in order to rush to Macragge - the Osiris Rebellion.
(End of this chapter)