Chapter 240 Konrad Curze
The question raised by Konrad Curze caused Perturabo to fall into a silence that was difficult to answer.
He did not really know how a Primarch ended up in an Eldar port city deep in the Webway, but it would undoubtedly be an irresponsible lie to say that he knew nothing about it. .
The Steel Doll believes that he should truthfully tell the known contents of his memory. A brother who may have been unintentionally harmed by him has the right to know everything.
“In my memory,” he said, running his mechanical sound-producing structure in the universal Gothic language of mankind, “my mentor, Morse, and I were trying to Capturing a powerful unearthly creation caused a false warp travel, and I vaguely remember..."
"You hit my nursery." Cozz said softly, the corners of his mouth raised slightly strangely, and that strange frustration was quickly being replaced by another, softer and subtle emotion. "I remember that day, the whirlpools and ripples shook violently outside my metal cabin, and the world receded from my unopened eyes..."
He suddenly stopped and cut off the rest of the gorgeous description, Change the conversation back to a more objective narrative. This gives him a contrasting docility.
"You bumped into me and sent me down to the bottom of Commorragh, into the spiral labyrinth of psychedelic rivers, until someone fished me out of the muck."
"I I thought I should tell you..."
"No!" Curze shouted sharply, and then his tone dropped back to a low whisper. "I don't want to hear any apology, Perturabo. I want to thank you, my blood relative... If it weren't for the coincidence you brought me, how could I have enjoyed this delicious feast in Comoros?"< br>
He laughed infatuatedly, the twitching of his cheekbone muscles showing a kind of pain, while the emotion brewing in his dark eyes was intoxicated and alienated.
"If you really think so, brother." Perturabo looked at him deeply, hoping that his mechanical side could fully express his feelings.
"You have a soul that sheds tears for your blood relatives in winter." Morse said, trying out the Eldar language once, paired with some deliberately selected Eldar cultural idioms.
"Don't use that tone," Curze snorted, "the tone of the cowards who fled according to the prophecy, the fools who dare not face their fate."
He then added Explanation: "In case you are not clear. Before the Great Fall, several Eldar groups fled in advance to the ark world they created according to their own craftsmanship in accordance with the prophecies of destruction."
"Are the Eldar left behind more worthy of praise?" Perturabo asked disapprovingly. "Stay, and wallow in murder and orgy?"
"I do prefer them, they are more numerous and therefore more likely to provide a sufficient number of deaths..." pondered Konrad Coates Said, "Please cry bitterly because civilization was ruthlessly wiped out at its peak, and then start thinking about what kind of survivors the disaster will breed that should not survive..."
Without triggering conditions , he suddenly began to bow and laugh, the two shoulder blades protruding from the back of his thin back pushing up the thin, close-fitting leather jacket. Afterwards, Cozz stood up again, with a hint of fatigue in his expression.
He shook his head.
"Let's go, now that you have seen that this is the front hall that is isolated from my residence. I will take you to see... my nursery cabin. I found it."
< br>
Perturabo glanced at Morse, and the craftsman crossed his arms over his chest and nodded to him.
"Let's go." The steel doll said briefly.
Following Conrad Coates, they opened hidden doors one after another, shuttled through the complicated passages, and felt that this place was more like a simple shelter than a residence.
There are a large number of pipes and wires scattered along the corridor, extending to hidden compartments behind the soundproof walls. Perturabo decided to pretend for the moment that he couldn't hear the faint wail coming from behind the wall.
Conrad Curze led them carefully through the too narrow corridors. As a Primarch with a little knowledge of architecture, Perturabo easily judged that the stone walls of these corridors were It was re-carved in recent years.
He couldn't help but guess what the real wall behind the stone wall was.
"I... hope you get used to this messy place." There was an indelible sarcasm in Kurtz's words. "It's better than those shadow realms where Mandela lived, isn't it?"
They entered an open courtyard deep in the darkness, from where they could even glimpse a dark sky high up in the sky. The faint twilight that came slightly illuminated the deep darkness. The chaotic outline of a half-collapsed, unrepaired mansion appeared before them.
No matter how luxuriously decorated and respectable this building once was, it has become synonymous with being tarnished and damaged. The base of the carved stone statue was torn apart, faking pure whiteness and degenerating into ancient and terrifying. A bloody symbol of dismemberment.
In the eyes of the Eldar themselves, they are recorded as beautiful and light, advanced creatures with keen senses and long lifespans. From art to technology, from aesthetics to morality, and even the essential perception of the cruel nature of nature, When compared with other races, they are like adults facing children, not on the same level.
When this understanding gradually deepens, it also means that a long decline has begun.
Conrad Coates’ house is the condensation and reflection of this historical feature. The Eldar fell into the agony of ruin and endless quarrels, while the wheel of destiny in the universe rolled past them.
His nursery cabin is surprisingly well preserved, with the conspicuous Roman numeral "eight" engraved on the front of the cabin door. Apart from the collision during the drift, it has almost no meltdown or deformation.
The thick and unfathomable mud at the bottom of the Comoros River accepted the baby's cradle and took him into the depths of a sinful city.
"Primarch Eight," murmured Perturabo, "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Me too, my brother." Conrad said softly, drawing his nails across the numbers on the nursery cabin, cutting a mark across the center of "eight", as if he wanted to cut the number in half. "Nice to meet you, Primarch No. 4."
"Where do you know all this." The steel puppet asked seriously.
"Which 'everything'?" Conrad looked at Perturabo curiously.
"My name. My serial number. The Human Empire. How much do you know?"
"Oh... maybe I know nothing, maybe I know everything - except you, Mo els.”
Conrad changed the subject and squatted down in front of Morse, approaching him as coldly as a large carrion-eating animal, staring at the craftsman with his too-dark eyes.
"I have not heard of you, the temporary one-man...human."
"What a shame, but I have heard of you. Gifted Visionary." Moore S said, stepping back calmly, refusing to get too close to an unfamiliar Primarch.
"Vision? Are you also a visionary?" Konrad Coates stood up with an indifferent expression. "You don't know my fate, so you dare to provoke me?"
"You mean you were gibbering at the false emperor, and was stabbed to death by a mortal with two knives, with bones all over the galaxy, and fingers The bones were taken away by a genetic descendant and used to transform them into pipes for inhaling hallucinogenic products?”
"I..."
"Stop, you two!" Perturabo roared. The excessive shock and confusion rarely made the usually steady Lord of Steel question whether he was really in the real world. The illusion of the universe.
His mechanical eyes and simulated human eyes showed equal confusion: "What false emperor? Why was he stabbed to death by a mortal?"
"I was not stabbed to death by a mortal -" Conrad After holding back the second half of his sentence, he suddenly lost the motivation to explain why he was willing to be killed at the hands of a mortal assassin.
"Yes," he leaned against his nursery cabin depressedly, with a casual attitude, "I saw the ending of being killed by mortals from the beginning, until I found the first person I saw when I opened my eyes. The living creature has multiple modified arms, half of which holds a short knife, and the other half of which holds an injection..."
Blood Marquis Conrad lowered his eyes, leaving time to the heart that was beating against his chest in his torso.
After a moment, he cheered up, applauded himself twice, picked up the tarp covering the nursery cabin, turned around, and swung the tarp lightly like the creator of magic and miracles, letting the snow white of fabric re-covering the huge metal-clad appliance.
"Come, Imperials. Please come and drink two glasses of Comorian wine." Konrad Curze bowed exaggeratedly, as if he was about to fold his body in half.
——
“We all have many questions that we want to ask each other.” Conrad said, shaking the bottle of wine in his hand casually.
He did not look for redundant ceremonial items such as wine glasses. He simply took out three bottles of purple-red, low-alcohol red wine from the storage cabinet, threw them to Perturabo and Morse, and watched with a low smile as the mechanical doll drank. The unfulfilled wine was placed on the ground, and there was a hidden helplessness in his movements.
“Outdated prophecies continue to bring us a blinding fog that obscures the future.” Morse knocked on the bottle, and the cork disappeared into thin air.
On the other side, Conrad Coates broke the slender neck of the glass with his knuckles and drank his bottle of red wine through the shards of glass.
"Sometimes prophecies can bring us salvation, or disaster, but sometimes..."
Kuzz muttered some trivial words in a low voice like a whisper.
"But we will eventually face the darkness of the end. These Eldar, they have given the answer time and time again. They are torn between resisting the prophecies and obeying their fate, all of which push this once glorious race towards its end. The end of being immersed in the ocean.”
He chewed the glass shards, letting the inorganic shards crunch in his sharp teeth.
"But I like prophecies, Imperial. I like these stories that are not mine."
"Understandable." Morse replied, sniffing the scent in the bottle. "Although I don't like it."
Koz shook his head regretfully: "It's a pity, the weird one."
"Perhaps what you see is the illusion of error, Primarch," said Morse.
“Ah, do you know Nostramo?”
“Never went there.” The craftsman said, while explaining to the mechanical doll sitting next to him: “After we Before crashing into Commorragh, this brother of yours was floating above Nostramo's orbit."
"That's true." Conrad took a sip of red wine, and the wine spilled out of its thin layer. Before touching his lips, he took out a white handkerchief from his leather coat pocket and wiped it away.
"If you really don't want to hear the relevant discussion, I won't insist on apologizing unnecessarily." Perturabo finally found the opportunity to speak.
He had just gotten the answer, from a conversation between Morse and Konrad Curze, that the Eighth Primarch was a strange seer.
In this way, Konrad Curze has the answer to his understanding of the human empire.
Although he still wants to know who the "false emperor" refers to.
Koz shrugged indifferently, and the steel doll continued: "My brother, in the more than ten years of my expedition, I have brought back four of our blood relatives to the human empire..."
“You want to know my opinion.” Curze suddenly interrupted him almost rudely. Perturabo’s invitation to return to the empire aroused a strong desire in him without any warning. hostility.
"You want to ask me when I will go to your empire, take over a legion, and then wait for the legion to be corrupted by criminals and gangsters, become a laughing stock in the struggle for power, and split into several claws in absurd jokes."
Perturabo looked at him and changed his words: "You are full of hatred for this world."
"No, I am not blind." Conrad roared angrily, his dark eyes shining coldly The wine bottle was crushed in his hand, and the glass fragments and remaining wine fell to the ground, forming a map-like pattern.
Then he took a deep breath, held his forehead with his long-nailed fingers, remained silent for one to two seconds, and then released his hand: "I am not blind." He repeated. "I see images of the world reflected in my eyes. I see many different events," he whispered, aggressively taking control of the conversation. "I can see clearly how the fire of sin burns in all living things. On the wings of existence, I was able to make my choice.”
"I know what I am doing, Imperial. Don't persuade me to return to the human kingdom so easily. I am not blind and can't see the path under my feet..."
"Respect." Moore Si said, "This is what you want."
Koz closed his eyes, his silky hair hanging down on both sides of his haggard face, his head swaying gently from side to side, as if he was secretly conforming to a certain kind of desire. The rhythm of music ringing in the Primarch's ears.
“I saw a world when I was in the incubation chamber. An eternal night star full of blood and sin, a corrupt skin covered with expensive metal, I accepted my fate , my pain, knowing that everything will end when I fall in Tagusa..."
He chanted in a hissing voice, leaning his head on his right shoulder, half lying and half curled up on the seat. Life among the Eldar gave his language additional tunes and rhythms.
"When I opened my eyes, I saw a city, equally filled with blood and sin, with corruption growing on gold, silver and jewels, and corruption growing on past glories. I floated up from the river, and the corrosive water invaded me The ears..."
"The one who found me was a Haemonculus, Hexakeris."
He twitched in pain, leaning his head on his shoulder. After falling down, his eyes suddenly opened, and his rapid breathing gradually returned to calm.
Xuehou sat up straight again in his seat, his expression extremely cold and self-controlled. He became no longer like a crazy executioner who would rush into the banquet crowd and kill, but a criminal leader and a cruel king.
“It took me twenty years to get to where I am today. I found relief from the pain caused by the prophecy, gained my name, established my prestige, found my allies, and agreed with him. The conspiracy will rule the City of Darkness together in the future."
"You don't want to give up what you have achieved, Konrad. You want to unify where you... grew up, and then think about the empire later. Is this what you want to express?"
Pettu Rab swallowed the word "homeworld," unsure if it was appropriate to refer to Commorragh as Konrad Curze's homeworld.
He got the first answer to his question from Curze's words, and at the same time, he also gained an uneasy possibility.
"Also," he said, "Are you sure you have been using it for twenty years?"
"If I did not learn the human calendar by mistake, yes." Xue Hou calmly responded, "Am I too slow to disappoint you, my blood relative?"
Perturabo took a deep breath, and ritually put the air from the bottom of Comoros, which was still smelly no matter how clean it was, into his mechanical chest that did not need oxygen, and reluctantly suppressed his desire for oxygen. The shock of time passing.
Twenty years. he thought. Perhaps he should be grateful that the person who followed Morse into the Perditus system was only a body based on machine structure, rather than the complete Perturabo himself.
He simply could not imagine the tragic consequences if the Iron Warriors were separated from their primarch for twenty years.
+Twenty years indeed. + Morse’s message added a rare sigh, + I simply didn’t dare ask the Emperor if he thought I had run away again. +
+What about the other me? +Perturabo suddenly wanted to ask.
+I don't know. +Morse replied stiffly.
“You are having a conversation with each other,” Marquis Xue tapped the armrest of his seat gently with his fingertips, “I can see the time gap between your minds.”
< br>"Indeed." Perturabo admitted this, and there was no need to hide it. "I was surprised by the time span you mentioned. In my subjective consciousness, Morse and I only spent a few hours drifting through space. You rejected me once, and I want to ask again, Do you need me to apologize for your experience?"
"Do I need to thank you for the gift you gave me, blood relative?" The Blood Marquis changed two words and decided to expose this matter.
He said forcefully: "I have no intention of mentioning my past. This is not out of escape, but out of emphasis on the real moment. We still have many cooperation matters that need to be discussed urgently, and we have no time to waste time on My self-pity. I hope you see me as a rational person, not a humble and crazy pathetic lunatic, understand?"
"Of course, Marquis." Perturabo noticed Conrad's choice of words, cooperation.
The brother's alienation from Imperial determination prevented him from taking any pleasure.
Perturabo changed his attitude silently.
He should not have expected to easily bring all the new Primarchs back to the empire with just a few words, but the success in the past still allowed him to subconsciously retain such expectations.
The Blood Marquis nodded calmly. When his face is neither angry nor smiling, it especially highlights the nobility of the Primarch.
"During the banquet the night before, with your wisdom, you should be able to see the trajectory of Asdubal and me. We borrowed the existence of the theater troupe to give a reasonable reason for the death of everyone in the banquet hall."
"If there is no such coincidence that day, I will only be able to assassinate a few people I particularly dislike. Maybe I will classify them according to the eye color of the Eldar in the hall."
He deliberately He laughed a little, explaining that his classification criteria were just a joke in the conversation.
“For this, I would like to express my gratitude to you in the name of Konrad Curze the Haemonculus and on behalf of Asdubal Viktor, the leader of the Black Heart Conspiracy; at the same time, considering that I intend to Moro has been included in my order, and I hope to achieve some possible cooperation with you."
"What I can provide you include some of the technologies of today's Haemonculi - although humans may not need them, and Part of the military and resources after taking control of Comoros in the future."
"So, what kind of support can you provide?"
"I will not waste the blood of the Imperial Expeditionary Force here, so it is only myself, Morse himself, and our abilities." Turabo replied, hiding the parts of the C'tan shard and Tuchucha's engine. "As a Primarch, I believe you are aware of my potential; and my strengths lie in technology and command."
"If you have any questions, come to me and I will tell you what I can do based on the situation. It can't be done." Morse said casually, "In addition, if you have anything to do with that troupe, I can forward the information to you. Do you think we can cooperate with you enough?"
Speaking of this. , Morse put down a drop of the untouched wine bottle and leaned forward: "Oh, before that, I have one more request."
"I hope that I can return to the empire, obey the emperor's call, and lead the legion. Conquer the Galaxy? ”
"I'm not asking about this, Konrad Curze. What I want to ask is, as a race that relies on the Webway to travel, how much knowledge do the Eldar have about the Webway? Repair it? Build it? Know the way?"
The craftsman's question made the Blood Marquis' left eye blink in confusion. "A good question." He said, "An unexpected problem."
His eyes slid to the side, and after a brief thought, he gave an answer.
“Comorragh is attached to the webway, creating enclaves, connecting paths, and growing naturally. We have navigation with several areas, and ships come and go through the doors. For me personally, I often use The vehicle does preserve some of the labyrinth routes around the Dark City, but I have not collected more maps."
"In addition, after the Great Fall," the mention of this word made him smile. Smile, "Many of the original ancient passages have been broken in the storm. I am afraid that most of the old maps are also outdated. Does this answer satisfy you, Morse?"
"Not bad." Morse said, "What about you?"
The Blood Marquis stood up lightly, and the white hem of his clothes wrapped around his pale and thin body, like a ray of light from the midnight of death. of night ghosts.
"When I rebuilt the mansion, I never took visitors into consideration, Imperials." He said, glancing at Perturabo's steel body, his solemn face turning into a cold smile, " If you don't mind, just use one of the unlocked rooms. I don't think you need a bed or quilt."
——
"Morse. , you can contact——"
"Don't be impatient, big robot. I'm searching all over the galaxy to find where you are now. Do you think this is an easy task?" Morse lay half in the seat, his will touching the sea of souls. shadow.
When he played the role of the Thirsty Him for the troupe, of course he didn't mind blowing up the entire Commorragh, so he boldly directly imitated the inherent impression given to him by a very small amount of Paradise in order to achieve a better performance. Effect.
But now, in order to avoid contacting Perturabo and accidentally summoning a bunch of various demons next to the person he was looking for, Morse could only slowly explore the depths of the warp bit by bit.
"There should be an occult connection between me and the other me..."
"Yes, so this one of you should not exist." Morse opened his eyes and turned to look To the steel doll wandering indoors. "Without the Star God fragment, a body that is disconnected from the main body should not move. I think you should thank Zahurash for his contribution."
"I might as well praise the Emperor, Morse." Perturabo stopped, and the hum of mechanical movement finally stopped temporarily.
"Looking at you like this, you might as well praise Ohm Messiah."
"Stop joking!"
"Okay." Morse really stopped him It was a joke, which actually made Perturabo a little stunned.
The craftsman stood up, the seat disappeared behind him, and the only furnishings in the room were the chandelier in the air and an extra-long sofa. This was the empty room where they found the most furniture, while the other rooms were, almost literally, empty.
It is not difficult to imagine how Konrad Curze was driven by the pursuit of a high degree of cleanliness when he took over the Haemonculi lair, throwing all the original furniture one by one into the river or broken space outside.
Morse walked to the window and looked at the other spiers outside twisting on both sides of the road, the cracked railing falling from one of the tower's balconies into the sparkling black water, a demonic coal A creature with black skin and covered in sickly green taboo runes flashed by.
"I know you are worried about the state of the Empire, Perturabo. You don't know how the Imperial Crusade is progressing, the current status of the Iron Warriors, the relationship between brothers, and the secret plans of our Emperor. But I think you are not really absent from all of this."
"Give yourself more trust, Perturabo, you can still be a good gene source even without additional multiple bodies. Everything the body needs to do," Morse said. "Whether it's you or this one."
"At least Alpharius went back and reported our whereabouts." Perturabo took a breath, and the wind flowed from between his metal ribs.
"So don't worry, droid." Morse happily used the new nickname he had just chosen for Perturabo. "We are just working for the Emperor, escorting the Tuchucha engine back to Terra. It's just that. The work took a little too long, and strange side branches sprouted from it. "
"Emperor," the word evoked Perturabo's unfinished questions. Conrad Coates mentioned too many things that were difficult to decipher, but one term particularly attracted his attention, "I remember Conrad mentioned...'false emperor'? Who was he referring to?"
Morse leaned on the window frame and laughed. "Who else could it be, Perturabo?"
"Why would he call the Emperor that?" Perturabo frowned in displeasure, and then he realized that only half of his machine body had a face. Eyebrows, so instead of tightening the fingers of both hands together.
"I didn't realize when you started to respect the Emperor of Mankind so much." Morse turned back. "Remember, Konrad Curze was a seer with a bad eye. Apparently, in the world he foresaw, someone called the Emperor that way, and our Eighth Primarch thought it sounded too easy to pronounce. ”
"Conrad Curze." Perturabo said his name. "He is a..."
He searched for appropriate descriptions from his vocabulary, and finally he gave a simple shake of the head, covering more emotions with his movements.
Morse continued Perturabo's words: "An indescribably unique Primarch, a dramatic madman with eccentric tendencies and high self-esteem, a ghost haunted by pain, and a man who clearly The Midnight King, who is aware of all his actions and goals, can take these words with him, because..."
"...This is exactly what you said to me." Conrad Curze. He murmured and watched Mandela disappear into the depths of darkness along with the emerald green runes covering his body, throwing out the dagger in his hand.
The tip of the knife was embedded in the middle of a painting that had been torn down to only half of the canvas hanging on the wall. The metal blade trembled slightly. After a few seconds, it gradually became still along with Conrad's laughter. .
(End of this chapter)