Chapter 219 An Unfortunate Workload
Of all the eighteen sons of the Emperor, Alpharius Omegon is far more mysterious than the Lions of the First Legion, the Bloodbats of the Eighth Legion, and Ravens of the XIXth Legion.
The heads of the Hydra who act alone are often labeled as elusive and incomprehensible, and their whereabouts frequently appear behind the shadows of mortal life in the empire. Rogue Traders, Planet Governors, Alien Scholars... Just like the Throne Watchers who returned the gold and disappeared into the shadows, snakeheads are everywhere.
The first appearance of Alpharius Omegon cannot be verified, but it is certain that the conflict between the twentieth Primarch and Robert Guilliman, the leader of the Thirteenth Legion, originated from the official Empire Before the announced return time of the original body.
Surprisingly, the Lord of Steel of the Fourth Legion did not hesitate to give relevant reminders, not even revealing them in good faith. This and the fact that the empire's important defense line at Betagamon was named Alpharius Fortress by Perturabo himself brought hints about the good relations within the original body, forming an unsolvable conflict. ——"Alpharis Omegon: Imperial Scourge Blade"
"Perturabo. What's the matter?"
Roger Dorn put down his hand reaching for the bell at the door and calmly called the name of the person working inside. The moment he arrived at the door of the ship-based workshop at the bottom of the Iron-Blooded, Perturabo controlled the thick iron door to automatically fold and open on both sides through neural cables.
Perturabo's workshop is extremely different from the entire Iron Blood, and even the entire Iron Warriors fleet.
The simulated natural light softly fills the slightly messy long wooden table. Tools such as drawings and hand saws are hung in a self-contained system or placed flat on the wall or tool table. Stepping into this place, it is as if the interior of the Glory Queen-class ship, which has assembled the most advanced human technology from space, suddenly fell into a hermitage in a quiet valley in a garden world.
Robert Guilliman and Perturabo sat on both sides of the wooden table, holding several thin drawings for observation and review. Perturabo turned to Rogal Dorn and waved: "Did your soldiers write you a report?"
Rogal Dorn sat down naturally in the empty seat next to Perturabo. "You mean Vladis Lorre wrote a report to apply for a joint operation request between this team and Iron Warriors Captain Barabas Dantioch."
"Of course." Petula Bo snorted, "Is there a second report that I'm curious about?"
"I haven't approved this application report yet. He failed to fully describe the reasons that are sufficient to establish it."
< br>"It seems that Dantioch needs to be more honest. This Vladis Lore has a recruit named Alexis Polax. My company commander said that he and this recruit It's a pleasure to cooperate." Perturabo didn't sound happy, "Dantioch, this is not the first time he has proposed such an individualistic action request." "Did you approve it?" ask.
Perturabo stared at Dorne for a few seconds and nodded.
Donn took out the data tablet and data pen, operated them for a while, and then put them away calmly. "Okay, I also approved it."
"You don't have to ask anymore...Okay." Perturabo took a deep breath and sighed briefly, reminding himself that this is Rogge Doug Well, and his legions are just as troublesome as he is.
Guilliman laughed, which suddenly turned into a cough, and focused his attention on the drawing in his hand again.
"Anything else?" Dorn asked, his calm expression as solid as a rock mask.
"If you have anything urgent to do, go ahead," said Perturabo.
"The second round of large-scale cleanup of the Phalanx is underway." Dorn replied, adding an additional explanation for Guilliman: "The first round is to clean up the mutant greenskins."
"Nothing else?"
"Is there anything you need me to do, Perturabo?"
"Well," Robert Guilliman said carefully, "we Scoring the new round of memorial statue drawings for the Iron Warriors ”
"I need subjective evaluation from non-professionals." Perturabo said, "Sit down and help me grade the design drafts of these guys."
Roger Dorn looked down at himself chair, as if thinking he was sitting there. However, he wisely did not say much: "What is the scoring standard?"
"The full score is five points, the specific standards are arbitrary. In the future, these statues will be displayed to Astartes and even mortals, so they cannot just use rigid Measure it with theory."
Perturabo said, pressing his temple angrily, taking a bunch of paper from the pile and slapping it in front of Rogal Dorn.
“I really don’t understand why they would design these shapes that either have no creativity and artistic tension, or are distorted in all kinds of weird ways! They are not as good as the works I made when I was six or seven years old!”
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"I think this kneeling shooting piece is very realistic," said Roger Dorn.
“But this is a statue of honor! This warrior should show his bravery and unyielding, not be so realistic as to first carve him with alien plasma stained by how many raglan reliefs are covered! He also The color is marked, 'Sixty percent orange'. Do I want mortals to think that we attack orange monsters in remote worlds every day?"
"Oh," Roger Dorn said, taking the pen. Turab handed him the pen and wrote "five points" in the upper right corner of the drawing.
Perturabo stared at Rogal Dorn's score for a while and said nothing.
Under the control of the data line, the simulated glass window built into the workshop was opened, and the cool artificial breeze and gentle sunlight filled the room, cooling Perturabo's nerves.
"Very good." Perturabo muttered, "Robert, are you done with your pile of marks?"
"Almost done." Robert Guilliman held up the drawings, and the light illuminated him Drawing a clear picture in his hand, "Don't be angry, brother. This statue of the legions supporting each other is very good, showing the fighting spirit and brotherhood within the legion. I will give him a five points."
"Guess which warrior is the protagonist of this set of statues?" Perturabo saw the content of the drawing from the transparent back of the drawing.
"I guess it is..." Robert reacted and raised his voice, "The one on the ground?"
"You guessed it, brother." Perturabo said dullly, "It seems The designer thought that by showing only one of his hands in urgent need of rescue in the entire work and depicting his heroic squad leader in a large area, no one would care that he rushed out of the array too quickly during the battle."
"Off topic, I'll drop it to one point," Guilliman said.
"Thank you, Robert." Perturabo glanced at Roger Dorn, who was reviewing the drawings in an assembly line, "He will be asked to redesign."
"However, Can I keep this statue in Macragge? "The Lord of Macragge asked, "This is enough to show the admirable fighting charm of the Iron Warriors and the indelible friendship between the Ultramarines and the Iron Warriors. ."
"If you really want, I can design it myself."
"That would be great." Robert Guilliman smiled self-consciously. Perturabo turned the pen in his hand irritably. No drawing on his desk received a rating higher than three.
Every time a memorial to the Iron Warriors was expanded or built, he would experience a surge of anger, so much so that he sometimes even wanted to quietly end this Legion custom, lest he finally couldn't bear it one day. Come on, build those legionnaires whose design level is several levels worse than mortals, along with their terrible written reports, into the walls of Olympia.
In addition, since the foreign exchange scholars from the Thousand Dust Sun finally ran back to the Magnus flagship outside Ultramar two days ago, the Iron Warrior's clerical skills have finally been completely improved. The sudden drop almost made Perturabo wonder if the group of brats hiding in the iron sheets every day were deliberately trying to anger him.
He took out a new stack of white paper from the drawer and touched the surface of the paper with his rough fingers, feeling the creative space contained in its smooth touch.
"I will design it for you now, Robert." said Perturabo. "What look do you want?"
Robert Guilliman was lost in thought, and many images flashed through his great mind, which was complex enough to handle hundreds of parallel events at the same time.
From when he learned in Illyrium that his brothers had arrived in Macragge, to the green garden maze when Harmony first met, to the vast number of things that rolled across the screen of the Gray Thinker during the advancement of reform. The violet data, the steaming white mist when the original bodies bathed together, and the scarlet blood bathing side by side in the subsequent war, and now the light golden light and shadow floating in the sunny workshop...
He was stunned. For a brief moment, he came back to his senses and described the scene where the waves of thoughts flowed through the brain and finally stayed on the shore of the soul.
"A few of us, plus Conor Guilliman, Thalasa Yuton, and Artisan Morse, we were in the wheat field together, wearing casual clothes and sandals, visiting generations The farmers who farm and grow in Macragge ask about their living conditions, talk about the future of Macragge, and tidy up the old gray-blue coat of the scarecrow standing in the field.”
Robert Guilliman smiled sincerely, his eyes bright: "This is the first one, placed on the central lawn outside the rebuilt chamber. Later, in the war memorial, we will also need a group of statues, or a group of Narrative murals depicting war scenes, the first of which is..."
"Stop," Perturabo said, "I thank you for your trust. In fact, this is the first time I have received a purely artistic commission. But you should give me a demand document afterwards."
< br>"I've finished the approval." Donne suddenly said.
Perturabo cut out the second pile of documents: "Thank you, Dorn."
"Are all the drafts placed on this wooden table? "Dorn asked.
"Yes. There are only three-digit drawings to review, and after that, Iron Warriors must also send me multi-directional view cameras of the semi-finished products at every step of the carving, until a week later The work was completed and sent by transport ship to several planets where the Iron Warriors had built memorials.”
"This is really...a lot of work." Robert said.
This alone is not terrible, but there are still many chores to take care of in the Primarch's day, especially Perturabo, a stubborn general who insists on maintaining a high degree of control over the legion. Sometimes this made Robert Guilliman think about his future work life - there was still a huge space in the Ultramar sector waiting for the Ultramarines to explore and reclaim it.
Perhaps designing some positions for Astartes warriors to take charge of several parts of Ultramar would be the right choice.
"I chose to finish the job." Perturabo answered. This is the simplest answer.
He makes choices and clears the path, so he must end the promises he makes. This is neither vanity nor honor. It is the promise of finality, like a finished work of steel, unchangeable until it is broken.
What's more, if he looks deeply into his heart and explores the fundamentals, he definitely can't be called disgusted with this work. In fact, in his free time, he was willing to imagine how he would take the blood brothers he met along the way to visit the memorial hall, so that everything the Iron Warriors had done would be evidenced and remembered.
Robert Guilliman leaned forward: "I wonder under what conditions this decision was born, Perturabo."
A man who had just won a great victory , reunited with his close relatives, not sure what to do with the army he had just acquired, and happened to learn that collecting other people's past histories can effectively cause a very effective psychological impact on others, of course he would do something that seems quite incredible now. interesting choices.
"At that time, I was thinking about the Legion's reward and punishment system." Perturabo replied, "I hope that my initiative can be innovative enough and become a cultural representative of the Iron Warriors. The memorial system was born. "
"Very creative." Guilliman nodded and looked around. This was his first time coming to the workshop on the ground floor of the Iron-Blooded. Everything on display here gave him a new understanding of Perturabo. "I'm thinking... maybe Macragge can also open a unique memorial hall dedicated to displaying works related to the Primarch. This will help mortals increase their understanding of the Primarch and the Human Empire."
"I have approved it." Dorn politely waited until Guilliman finished speaking before speaking.
Petura Bose handed Dorn another stack of blueprints.
"Nice idea, Robert. We can build a relief wall and carve our respective images according to the serial numbers of our Primarchs." Perturabo quickly came up with a new idea, "Second, Four, six, seven, twelve, thirteen, fifteen, sixteen... there are already eight reliefs to complete the design!”
“It’s indeed a good idea” Morse walked into the workshop. , followed by a box of floating documents. "You are really going to create a workload for yourself, Lord of Iron. Let's review the latest batch of report documents first. Your war blacksmith has been standing at the door of your office for two hours."
Perturabo immediately called up the surveillance neural interface and found that it had errors due to several new coding conflicts and failed to correctly update the surveillance image at the door of his office.
He shook his head in annoyance: "Give it to me, Morse."
The file box flew to Perturabo's feet and fell, making a dull collision sound.
"Don't be so downcast, Perturabo. The format of the report they wrote this time was surprisingly clear." Morse smiled and disappeared silently.
Full of doubt, Perturabo opened the first document.
“Operation Iron Warriors Report
To: Office of the Primarch Iron-Blooded, flagship of the Queen of Glory class Primarch
From: Eric Anderson, Commander of the 13th Company of the 9th Battalion, 2nd Battalion
Topic: About Howling Briefing on the arrival of the HMS Light cruiser at the end of its maintenance period
Attachment..."
He felt the swelling pain in his temples again.
"Robert..." Perturabo whispered.
"I'm going to ask who shared the official document template with the Iron Warriors." Robert Guilliman stood up and left quickly.
Roger Dorn looked at the pile of drawings that Guilliman had reviewed for a long time and had not seen any decrease. He stretched out his hand and decided to approve these drawings together.
(End of this chapter)