Chapter 273 Meeting
"Although Constantine Valdo has a bad character," Morse ensured that his words could be heard by the commander of the Imperial Guard walking in front, "but the changes in the Terra Palace are indeed beyond Imagine, in order not to fall into eternal loss and abnormal wandering between the halls and the high walls of the hall, we really need a person to lead the way-"
"Yes, Perturabo, I know you are now There is a map of the palace in my mechanical brain, but I just want to tell Waldo the first sentence reasonably."
Perturabo shut up.
The bright green light on his chest flickered slightly, dimming on its own initiative, as if even unconscious inorganic things would shrink away from the emperor's brilliant light that filled the golden palaces and pavilions.
"You're right, Morse, he didn't even introduce himself to me."
Conrad Coates rarely expressed his opinions about something in such a straightforward form. Views on things, or in other words, approval.
And all this is just to let the commander of the Imperial Army give a slightly different feedback, rather than acting like a precise golden instrument.
In fact, if the mechanical Perturabo and Constantine Waldo were placed together, perhaps the former would be more similar to humans.
Waldo held the golden helmet in his hand and turned a deaf ear to the chanting coming from behind. Either he thought it was unnecessary to join in the conversation, or he simply had some objection to the mission.
Or was he really a perfect machine built by the Emperor himself?
No, the birth of the Primarch showed that, at least in creating pure tools, the Emperor was not that successful.
"I don't think he's changed, Conrad," Morse commented, transmuting the playfulness in his tone into objective indifference.
"From the first time I learned of his existence - when was that? Thirty years ago, we were outside the Tower of Astartes, looking at the white marble tower in the distance, discussing the Emperor side by side How to create a group of ten thousand men to protect his fragile and too huge dream."
He said to the leader of the Forbidden Army: "So you are still the same Constantine Waldo. Appearance, or character.”
"What do you mean?" Waldo finally said. "Why do you mention this?"
"It's just a sigh, the emperor's shield." Morse replied, raising his right hand, using the space between his fingers to measure the two golden buildings in the palace. Distance between minarets.
“It’s the same with the Royal Palace. It’s richer and more splendid, the average distance between spiers has shrunk, and the old columns have been replaced with royal columns filled with more reliefs… But it hasn’t really changed. , just take a look at the golden dome of the main hall, and you will know that this is still the living place of the sun of all mankind."
"Actually, that is Dornxiu..."
"Don't worry. , I was about to ask you how you gave up the task of repairing the palace to others," Morse said, "And you, Prime Minister, your appearance has not changed at all. For the minute and a half I was curious, you were the wardrobe. There are a total of three hundred and sixty gray robes, or did psychic power help you keep the garments clean for six thousand years?”
"Good question, craftsman." Malcador walked over with the long staff and nodded slightly to Constantine. The commander of the imperial army nodded back. This time, his duty of guiding the way was completed, but he did not leave immediately, but remained sideways. Stand by and watch.
It seems that the invalid nonsense just now caused some ripples and waves in Constantin Waldo's heart to some extent.
“I also have a question, Morse.” Malcador said leisurely, “We both know that your clothes are made of fireflies of super-material reality, so does this mean that, You haven't washed your clothes in tens of thousands of years?"
"This debate is starting to become meaningless."
Malcador's smile lurked between the folds of his skin. , "You can't ignore the verbal smoke you lit in this way." He commented casually, turning to Conrad, with searching eyes: "His eighth child, he told me about you, a unique visionary. ”
Constantine Valdo turned around and left after Malcador mentioned the word about heirs, presumably finally deciding to continue devoting himself to the busy work of the Imperial Guard - no matter what he was busy with.
Koz seemed to think for a while, his dark eyes flashing slightly.
"Malcador, I met him in the wild world of Ibsen," he said lowly and softly, and the Gothic language became hoarse but sweet in his mouth, like a layer of black gauze mist, The ups and downs were hazy, "He... seemed fair."
"It's his style." Malcador said, and then sighed.
“I have not yet said my name, Conrad.” Malcador continued, “Maybe this sentence seems arrogant and useless in your eyes, but please use prophecy with caution and do not be superstitious. Regarding it, throughout the ages, those who have mistakenly been farsighted and indulged in foresight can never be counted with one hand. ”
Afterwards, Malcador watched with confusion as Coz suddenly fell into uncontrollable laughter. His actions even caused Constantine Waldo, who had just left, to poke out a red tassel from the shadow of the side door. .
"This is..." Malcador asked the mechanical Perturabo for help with his confused eyes.
Obviously, during these lost twenty years, Perturabo had proven his reliability by the Emperor's side, and by comparison, in ordinary matters, this reliability was definitely better than Mo's Erles's mouth is more trustworthy.
"No, it doesn't matter, Prime Minister." Coz suddenly stopped laughing wildly, and his face suddenly turned cold, "Prophecy, prophecy..."
He snorted a slight breath from his nasal cavity. , a bit of mockery leaked out of his tone. "Don't worry about it, Prime Minister. Apart from the group of Eldar who followed the Ark and fled in all directions, who else cares about it?"
Malcador nodded and held the surface of the scepter with his palm: "He is waiting for you in the hall, Conrad."
"For you," Malcador looked at the mechanical Perturabo and Morse's direction, "I think he's coming."
Morse turned around and saw the giant.
Within the scope of the more transcendent senses, he actually knew that in the laughter of Conrad Coates, the heavy and powerful footsteps behind him had already approached them and stopped not far behind. far away.
But he turned around just now.
The giant's size seems to have increased again, or maybe it's because he's wearing thick armor. The thick armor that Morse had never seen before looked dazzling in the sun, and the edges of the layers of iron armor were reflected by the golden light in the palace.
The number of jet-black cables that have definitely gone through several rounds of upgrades has increased, and the individual cables are more slender, blending invisibly with the black hair, directly connected to the armor's data system, and seeming to be hanging straight down. Within the armored gaiter.
And his face shows that even the Primarch will not change unchanged over the years. Some extremely small battle marks were added to the sharply contoured face, scratched on the left cheek, across the right eyebrow, and hooked on the chin.
Every scar that is too small for mortal eyes to detect, and can only be detected by fellow originals or those who are good at using psychic perception, symbolizes a difficult battle, whether it is a firefight or On another battlefield in other situations such as developing weapons.
Perturabo lowered his head and met Morse's gaze from a distance.
Then he squatted.
“Long time no see.” He said. "Oh...Hello." Morse said, and added inexplicably: "Can you still squat in this armor?"
He quickly stopped talking. , frowning, "No, just pretend I didn't say what I just said, Perturabo."
Perturabo slightly changed his crouching position, allowing him to stand in this heavy armor The squat became smoother and closer to Morse's height.
"I heard it," said the giant, "but I can pretend I didn't hear it, Morse."
He seemed to choke a little at the last name that came out of his mouth, and blinked. Eye. The eyes were still the glacier blue familiar to Morse, recalling the snow-capped mountains of Olympia.
"That's good." Morse tightened his expression, "You have changed a lot, Perturabo."
"Others' comments are that there is no change, why Is it different with me?" asked Perturabo.
"A feeling, a feeling." Morse replied, "I can't describe it in words. This...in short, it's not the same. I mean...forget it."
He took a deep breath, then sighed, slapping Perturabo's armored arm hard.
"Long time no see. We don't have to talk about this at the Emperor's gate, right?"
Perturabo showed a smile, not exaggerated, not restrained, just like that A plain and sincere smile stayed there, on his face that rarely smiled.
"Okay." Perturabo stood up straight again and looked at his other self. They nodded to each other, although this was no more meaningful to the same person than looking in the mirror.
Or, this is a double enhancement of some kind of affirmation and satisfaction.
"Conrad Curze," Perturabo said—the heavily armored one, flesh and blood covered in steel, extending a hand toward Curze. "I hope you can accept that I am not a machine."
"Wise words." Cozz whispered, amplifying his voice again, "You are one person, even though you are twenty years apart, this is you. Want to prove it to me and Morse? No, does this need to be proved?"
He briefly shook Perturabo's hand and smiled at Maka who was hiding behind the scepter. Duo Qing waved his hand casually, "Take me to see him, Prime Minister. The true glory of the Eternal King is not enough to blind a shadow bat born in the darkness."
He laughed harshly twice, "But if you continue to stay here, that's not necessarily the case."
"What does he mean?" Morse said to the closed hall door, "He is sarcastic again. Who? ”
"I don't know." The two Perturabo said in completely synchronized voices with slightly different voices. The mechanical voice's imitation of the human voice was flawless, but it was a slightly lower noise in the complete Perturabo voice. .
"No, you... just pick a body and speak." Morse deliberately showed an expression of discomfort.
"Whose?" said the two Perturabos.
"Oh, you can coordinate it yourself!" Morse shook his head, "Why should I care about this?"
He raised his right hand, and the golden rune string hanging on his wrist trembled from Appearing in the air, every rune seemed to be spiritual, flashing rhythmically.
"I don't want to hold this thing anymore. The psychic environment of the Terra Palace has given it signs of awakening. Which vault grid will your father put it in?"
"The edge of the Hollow Mountains. "Mechanical Perturabo said, "The space environment there is relatively far away from the artificial entrance, and any accidents may occur"
"Any accidents?"
< br>Morse shook his head, floated up skillfully, and kept up with the pace of Perturabo, which also ended the two people's deliberate slowdown in waiting.
"To be honest, I just realized it today. It's a shame that the Emperor dared to set up that important entrance directly in the Throne World. He couldn't study it slowly on the moon. If something went wrong, he would blow up the moon and build another one. .”
He shook his hand, threw the curse chain back into the invisible ether realm, tied up the Tuchucha engine, and made this dangerous and important thing move forward in a form that was incomprehensible to the material world.
"The matter is over." Mechanical Perturabo said, "Research has begun, and the resources invested cannot be recovered. Perhaps setting up the passage here also means to facilitate control and management."
< br>"Okay, let's talk to another person, you two...you, Perturabo." Morse said, "Can't you let me listen to the voice that is unfamiliar to me a few more words?"
< br>"Okay." Armor-piercing Perturabo nodded, "By the way, the pair of semi-finished products..."
"I'll keep them for you. When will you finish them and give them to Curze?" Do you have a name?”
"Although the materials blessed by the Emperor have been upgraded to a higher level of quality, the properties of the materials have indeed changed. Using Vulcan's forge again, I can only create a pair of defective products that waste materials. I need to It was brought into my forge, its properties were remeasured, and it was forged using my own tools."
Perturabo replied, every word speaking so naturally, as if he didn't. Willing to waste even a minute in the awkwardness and confusion that characterizes an annoying reunion.
"And names, in a sense, I've come to believe that Konrad Coates is a master of naming. So, leave it to him."
"Night Ghost, Blood Marquis, atonement, sin-washing..." Morse read aloud, "There are so many coined words, maybe only a teenager would name them like this."
"If he. He had seen many prophecies early on, so he was indeed more than ten years old when he created these words in his brain.
"What's wrong with you? Don't correct me like Rogal Dorn."
"This is not like Rogal Dorn. This is you picking and choosing among the problems exposed in other people's words. "
Morse stared at Perturabo in disbelief: "Here is the emperor's big golden chair. I swear you have definitely changed. You have been hanging out with the green-skinned orcs for too long. ?Eat their skogo?"
Perturabo shrugged. Only when he moves his head and neck, it is obvious that the pipeline on his head is not black. "If you are really curious, we can have a chat after putting the engine on."
"Of course we have to talk, Do you still want to say nothing?" Morse said coldly, trying to make sure his voice was the same as usual, "You can walk faster, I don't want to be floating here all the time."
(End of this chapter)