Chapter 220 Open Every Day
During the Great Crusade, the World Eaters were one of the most respected and beloved Legiones Astartes. This is not only because their loyalty to the Emperor and persistence in their ideals are widely spread, but also because they are the only Space Marine Legion that completely discloses to the Imperial people almost all of the Legion's affairs and anecdotes that do not involve Imperial secrets.
To quote the famous opinion of Angron, the Primarch of the World Eaters, "There is nothing we must do behind the backs of those we protect."
And Angron With the records of the Society of Narrators, the permission of the Primarch, and the compilation of the Emperor's Memoir Armaan Laroni, the origin story has been adapted into many versions of dramas, literary works and even educational picture books, throughout the vast territory of the Empire. Launched on many planets.
Today, even the most remote frontier planets in the Obscure Star Territory are aware of the cruel deeds of the oppressors in the shadow of human history in the past, and the unyielding battle of the gladiator Angron in the red sand field. ——"Angron: Soul of Blood Sand"
"Perturabo. What's the matter?"
Roger Dorn put down his hand reaching for the bell at the door and calmly called out the name of the brother who invited him to the workshop. After he completed this process, he suddenly discovered that a similar incident had just happened yesterday.
But today, the chaos in the workshop forced him to carefully search for every stable foothold in order to pass through the messy ruins of this place and move to Perturabo - later The reporter is sitting in a safe corner that has not been affected by the devastating battle storm, watching the fierce melee fighting here without stopping, while completing the daily official duties he is handling.
"Stop them?" Dorn asked.
"They destroyed half of my exhibits, Dorne." Perturabo said, suppressing a deep-seated emotion in his words, "I want them to destroy the remaining half again." What can we do? ”
Dorn looked at Perturabo for two seconds and began to select the appropriate tool.
He picked up the base of the iron-cast creative sculpture at his feet, confirmed that the sparkling fluorescent light cables on the sculpture could supply a moderate amount of electricity, and stepped over the broken wood, broken pottery pieces and The flying confetti was drawn towards the two Primarchs who were threatening each other's necks, lungs and arteries in twisted postures.
Due to some judgments made by Rogal Dorn himself, the target he chose to attack was not Robert Guilliman, who had the upper hand in this fight, but was trapped in his hand. The guy between his elbow and a strong iron stool leg.
Compared with Dorn's small attacks that had almost no damage to a Primarch, what really stopped the Primarchs in the battle was Robert Guilliman's gradual return to rationality. He used all the strength he had developed in more than ten years of healthy life to throw the other exhausted primarch away, his eyebrows lowered, and his roar full of anger: "I warned you not to show up on Macragge!"
< br> "I am Alpharius -" The Primarch, whose brow was bleeding, coughed out a mouthful of saliva mixed with blood, which made Perturabo grit his teeth even more in silence.
"I know you are Alpharius! Get out of my Macragge!"
"No!" Alpharius grabbed a long bar that could support his weight and pulled it Pull your upper body up until you are sitting up straight. He later discovered that it was the metal bar of the chandelier in the workshop. "My name is Alpharius..."
"Each of you is called Alpharius!"
"...But his name is not!" Alpharius finally shouted. In the second half of his sentence, the cold smile that always appeared on his calm face disappeared, and only pure eagerness remained, "We just all have code names of Alpharius!"
"It seems that I The warning given at that time was not clear enough! All individuals with the code name Alpharius are not allowed to appear in Ultramar! Otherwise, they will be wanted by the Macragge Council at the highest level!" br>
"I did nothing to Macragge, Robert Guilliman -"
"You are all Alpharius!" Guilliman's voice drowned out Alpharius's defense.
Donne stood there, thoughtful.
"I do not come to fight, brother," said Alpharius, "I come to help! I know the Alpha Legion, and the numbers returning to Terra are far from what they should be, and I must Take every one of them personally!"
"So, Alpharius." Perturabo stood up and pulled out another unconscious Alpha who was almost the same as Alpharius. Rhys.
The two Alpharius are almost the same in height, body shape, and appearance. They are like a batch of artificial models covered with masks, differing only in the subtle muscle directions and bone structure. To a certain extent, these subtle but clear enough differences and differences have especially strengthened Alpharius's confusion.
Perturabo threw the warrior he knocked unconscious next to Alpharius: "How many more Alpharius did you bring, brother?"
"Only the necessary subordinates . The Alpha Legion is still not openly established, my power..."
With a top-down punch, Robert Guilliman struck Alpharius - the awake one - hard again. It fell down, causing a dull sound, and the original body struggled to cast a look at Dorn for help. It turned out that the only one among the few people present who was willing to give Alpharius a little help may be Rogge of the Seventh Legion. Donne.
The eyes of the two original bodies met, and then Rogal Dorn stepped forward, raised his hand accurately, and blocked Guilliman's second punch with his right arm.
Guilliman looked at Dorn with a hint of surprise in his eyes.
"Thank you..." Alpharius squeezed out a gasp from his trembling lips.
Before the words were finished, Rogal Dorn stepped forward and leaned down, punching out. Alpharius dodged to avoid it, but Dorn quickly moved his center of gravity to pursue the second punch. This attack did not fail. Alpharius covered his chest and weakly tasted the rich taste of blood in his mouth while breathing violently.
"What is this!" Alpharius' voice finally showed anger, "Did I attack your home planet, Rogal Dorn!"
"Mountain "Array number." Dorn said briefly, moving his wrists, his fists as smooth as pale stone statues stained with blood from the Primarchs' unarmed fights, "Sigismund"
Alpharius glared at Rogal Dorn, giving up on explaining that the Shlothians were really not Alpharius.
Under the orders of Malcador, he and several genetic descendants followed Leman Russ's fleet into Macragge, with the purpose of getting in touch with Perturabo and assisting in the search for the remaining aliens that may remain. , to mend the rift in the relationship that Omegon had created between the original bodies, and to bring back Omegon's subordinates who were still scattered.
Compared with several complex and long combat missions that he had completed silently in the past few decades, this mission should not have been a problem. But Robert Guilliman's rage beyond reason caught him off guard, and after Perturabo's large battlefield sandbox was overturned by the two men's fight, the Iron Lord's gaze made Alpharius feel a sudden feeling. Unfamiliar pressure.
To protect everything the Empire has and will have, Alpharius will not shirk any action. But whether this included being pinned in a corner by three complete and powerful Primarchs and taking turns physically attacking him, Alpharius was not sure.
In other words, he was at least sure that this was by no means necessary.
"Stop, brother!" Alpharius said, "This is Perturabo's workshop!"
For a moment, several Primarchs simultaneously turned their attention to the owner of the workshop in the corner. , Robert Guilliman's eyes flashed with unexplainable guilt and guilt, while Rogal Dorn's expression remained controlled and cold as usual, with no trace of the fact that he had just punched a brother before. .
"You have finally remembered." Perturabo said coldly, "Pack up my workshop, take away all the debris and debris you have caused, and sweep the ground, Robert Guilliman, Alpharius. This is a workshop, not a construction site!"
"Okay, brother." Guilliman glanced at Alpharius and said to the two people.
Alfaris said nothing as he picked up the unconscious Agent Alpharius from the ground.
"Perturabo," Dorn asked, "What brings me here?"
"It's okay now." Perturabo waved his hand, "But you can come and take a look for me. This Olympia sector expansion plan. I'm not sure whether the expansion of Olympia's sphere of influence is appropriate. Is there anything you want me to do in return?"
"Strengthen the identity verification system for power armor. , to prevent more misappropriation,” Roger Dorn said.
"This is indeed a security issue that we generally ignore. The appearance of disguised Space Marines in the Brotherhood is an unimagined precautionary point." Perturabo nodded slightly, the anger hidden in his expression was intentional in the original body. Under the control of the government, it finally calmed down.
He slowly sighed out the turbid air gathering in his chest, comforting himself that his creative work had been properly placed in the many display cabinets or collection rooms in the Iron Blood, and there was no irreparable loss today.
"Alfaris," Perturabo said, "No matter why you are here or what your intentions are, I just want to confirm one thing. Are we all serving the great vision of the Emperor of Mankind?"
"Of course. ." Alpharius responded, blood flowing down his ghostly cheek, "The Empire will win."
"Then I apologize for today's battle." "I am here for the Alpha Legion. Macragge apologizes for everything he has done, brothers." Alpharius replied.
"Good. The rags are hanging on the rack over there in the sink. Go ahead."
——
"Perturabo. What's the matter?"
Roger Dorn put down his hand reaching for the bell at the door and called out calmly.
"You can change your opening remarks next time, Donne." Perturabo, who was standing against the wall of the door, pulled Donne into the workshop. "Keep your voice down, someone is angry."
Dorn nodded and quietly closed the sliding door of the workshop for Perturabo. After the last fighting incident, the interior of the workshop took on a new look - half of the site was cleared into a training room with nothing but soft mats on the ground, and the remaining part was reorganized into a regular art space.
At this moment, Robert Guilliman was sitting awkwardly cross-legged in the middle of the black cushions, his eyes tightly closed, his face full of frustration and despair. This emotion is extremely rare in the Lord of the Ultramarines, but it is especially vivid and real now.
“I don’t understand, brother!” Another voice came from the electronic screen in the workshop, and the pessimism contained in it was even worse than Robert Guilliman’s. “You really don’t even have the lowest state of mind. Are you unable to sense it, or are you really so resistant to the existence of psychic energy? You said that you want to improve your understanding and prevention ability of psychic means, but do you really listen to my explanation and follow my practice to enter meditation to perceive yourself? Is it more difficult than managing an entire legion, Guilliman?"
Guilliman frowned, sweat almost falling from his forehead: "I can't understand all this, Magnus, this It is so contrary to the current systematic scientific theory that I can't find any link that is accurate enough to locate the problem."
"Throne, Guilliman! Before any theory can begin, you must first understand it. This creates basic empirical understanding! You can’t use limited technology to analyze content beyond the scope of theory!”
“But I really can’t sense the hot and numb rich perception you mentioned. The lightness falling off from below...am I not in a battleship?"
"Emperor!" Magnus sounded as if he was drowning in the vacuum of space. "Guilliman!"
"Ahem." Perturabo coughed lightly, drawing the horse to Genus's attention.
The latter's momentum suddenly decreased, and his sadness increased sharply: "Perturabo, can you let someone else teach Guilliman? Mors should be by your side?"
"No , he's not here," Perturabo said. "He has business to do with the twentieth Primarch. I think that's what that man came to Macragge for."
He paused: "Do you wish to continue teaching, Magrag? Nusi?”
Magnus's silence was long and solemn.
“Perhaps today we will—” Guilliman opened his eyes and asked tentatively.
“No, go on!” Magnus refused to back down, “I believe in your potential, Robert, and I believe even more in my teaching ability. Let’s learn from the beginning, shall we?”
< br>"Well..." Rogal Dorn asked quietly, "So why are you calling me, Perturabo?"
"Let's go out and talk." Perturabo replied in a low voice.
The soundproof iron door opens and closes. Perturabo opened the data pad and showed Rogal Dorn several of his reports and reports. The first one was from Magnus. Interestingly, the letter was sent only three minutes ago.
"He also took the time to send a letter." Perturabo received the letter from Magnus and found that the content was about "whether there is a need to establish a psyker management unit within the Legion. It is convenient to complete the strict supervision of uncontrollable factors and to promote the solution of related problems when the Primarch cannot handle psychic events alone."
“I believe that except for a very small number of humans and Primarchs, almost all humans have the potential of psychic energy from birth. We cannot erase the existence of psychic energy, the only way is to strictly control it. And use this unfortunate gift sparingly when you have to," Magnus wrote. "For the sake of Mankind, we should consider these things."
"The Emperor should be asked about this matter," said Rogal Dorn.
"This will also be my answer to Magnus." Perturabo replied, "Let's look at other things first."
"The territory where the Ultramarines have taken over contains some interesting forge worlds with very rich technical resources. Before the arrival of the Mechanicus, we may be able to make some additional use of them."
< br> "Yeah, I don't want to talk to the Adeptus Mechanicus about everything. I'm really fed up with them. Working with these arrogant and weird guys who believe in heretical gods and are full of conservative selfishness in their machine heads, I really don't understand the Emperor." How can we manage the entire galaxy smoothly!"
"For the empire." Dorn nodded.
——
"Perturabo. Here I come."
Don stood at the door of the workshop, changing his daily lines.
He found that he had almost developed the habit of coming to the iron-blooded workshop on the ground floor every two days, and every time the unchanging iron door slid open in front of him, new character status and The internal environment of the workshop will be accompanied by the advancement of the expedition process and a new round of conquest by the imperial fleet.
Arguments, collaborations, debates, thinking, great souls collide and mingle here; truth, paradox, interpretation, analysis, surrounding each new event, the original body never stops to reach every transcendence. Instructions and decisions beyond ordinary imagination; classics, administration, industry, welfare, human societies that have become dilapidated in the storm of the old night are reborn here. The magnificent and majestic reflection of the entire shining Milky Way is concentrated in this small workshop, changing with each passing day.
"Orbital fortresses and defensive fortresses can be built."
Rogal Dorn saw how he was focused on examining the defense systems of habitable planets.
"This hive city is simply crumbling. Look at these chaotic aerial ropeways and the messy residential construction. This place must be completely re-planned!"
Perturabo slapped the scanned drawings on the table in annoyance.
“Be careful of the psychic powers hidden in local religions and ritual cultures, brothers.”
At the end of his daily teaching time with Guilliman, Magnus tiredly made his point .
"Change the ruler, brother. This beast cannot continue to rule this planet."
Angron snorted coldly.
"Don't watch me, I won't plant agents here."
Alfaris appears occasionally.
"Also, we must not let the locals think that after they join the Empire, their lives will not be as good as before."
Robert Guilliman spread his hands sincerely, The morning dew still seems to have lingered on the green leaves.
"This is what the Great Crusade is about, isn't it?"
Rogal Dorn blinked slowly, listening to the echoes intertwined with his breath in his memory, withdrawing from the silhouette fragments of time, waiting for what would happen today. Gained insights.
(End of this chapter)