Chapter 278 Olympia
Olympia.
In Morse's memory, Olympia is a lush green planet.
Before everything began, the original body that fell like a meteor sent the prelude of the new era along the invisible line of music to this peaceful day that had spent too long in the old night. Before the planet, Olympia was such a place.
Silent and motionless, from the small needle-like green leaves on the tender brown treetops to the hazy mist at the bottom of the cliff that rotates every season, There are also snow-white cities among rugged rocks, and farmland villages beyond the bushes outside the city. Those soft lights tremble and burn slightly, and the flowing streams lap up on the shore and murmur.
People rode four-hoofed animals, driving nailed wooden carts, carrying bundles of animal skins, dried bird feathers, or newly harvested barley. If they were close to rivers and valleys, they would add more. Get on a cart of river fish pressed with ice, go to the market in the center of the city, pull on a colorful sunshade cloth, and put a string of homemade straw hats beside the stall.
Then, imagine how the poets would sing in front of the temple you passed by on your way home.
——On the way back and forth, remember to avoid the sheep grazing on the road. Who knows what kind of disputes there may be?
When walking outside the city, you can take a look at the barracks and tents in the distance. If you get too close, the spears of the soldiers of the local lord will be blocked by the door.
They won't let people in, but even if you are bored enough to change into a costume, perform a little deception, and enter the barracks, you will soon be bored and leave again. There is no other way. Besides food, spear racks and money bags, what else can be found in these places.
In Olympia, see these hills, many forests, valleys, oceanless rivers, flat heather fields, fortresses, dotted city-states, these scenes that have not changed for thousands of years - no, add Perturabo Before leaving Lokos, let’s do the magnificent work in the last ten years!
Then, there are still a group of factories built thirty years ago, some steel steam, a brand new military defense circle, and more gray or yellow and black traffic roads, which cannot be seen on the surface but The new drainage channels that do exist, the regular street lights brought by the new power supply system, and the double-layered glass windows that reflect the bright sun and need to be covered with curtains to block the midday sun in summer...
All All kinds of things are just like this, rolled up by the planet's atmosphere. The milky white clouds hovering above the earth are constantly wrapped in the silence of the universe, like solidified crystal or frozen amber, staying in Morse's last memory of this place. middle.
Like a transparent and clear crystal ball that can be held in both hands, everything is clear and clean, converging into a soft and rhythmic familiar word, Olympia.
His... home?
Did he ever say the word? Morse thought, He didn't.
Morse knew something would be different. The time he had lost was twenty years, and the separation from Olympia was more than thirty years.
If we put this period of time in the old night, it would not even be as long as a minute or a millisecond; but now is the Great Expedition, the day when the great hope shines like a bright and glorious dream. Here, everything is competing, dreams are flickering, and the years are changing incredibly fast.
Although it is only a few decades, it is not difficult to imagine that the people on this planet can make up for the scientific and technological progress that spans hundreds of years, under the guidance and planning of Perturabo and Califon , under the personal selection and leadership of the Primarch, no matter how Olympia changes, it can't be exaggerated.
Suddenly, everything appeared, updated. The planet appeared at the edge of his sight. His aimless imagination suddenly hit the bank of reality violently.
Those shiny thin threads, the bead-like monofilament network woven from metal, were clearly right in front of his eyes.
The space station floating in orbit suddenly appeared in circles like rustling in the dark universe, forming several intertwined artificial silver stripes, woven throughout the planet. external.
Countless merchant ships are exchanged between the space station and space. Although the number is not as large as that of Terra, the core throne world of the Human Empire, it is combined with careful planning against the background of Olympia's snow-like clouds and looming verdant surface. The orderliness and the regular interweaving and exchange bring about, but it emphasizes the beauty of the combination of regularity and practicality.
Behind the clouds, in the green planet that once had different shades of oil paint, there were silver and black walls running along the terrain, which reminded Morse of the silver edges on the shoulder pads of Space Marines. Or the flying tassels on the edge of the Sky Eagle flag, re-dividing and utilizing the original green material, transforming it into another thing that has been adjusted to adapt to the new era.
Olympia. Morse thought.
It is like an old olive tree with lush branches and leaves, dark green and standing for thousands of years. The branches and young leaves sway privately year after year. In the remote plain wilderness, they rustle to themselves, making the world A canopy as thick and concealing as black velvet covered it.
Until one day, people find it, discover it, decorate it with gold and silver ribbons, let it be rediscovered, and let the sky cover it again in another bright and joyful way, until It was sprayed with a layer of clear glaze again by thousands of golden lights.
It's different. It's no longer the Olympia it once was. Even though it still bears that particularly ancient name, it has left Morse's memory.
It’s not just the memories of the 30th millennium, what it really leaves behind are the memories that once belonged to him, and only to him, and to a few other lucky or unfortunate people 30,000 years ago. .
The more ancient Olympia, the original one.
Morse wasn't sure how to describe the present...Olympia. Now it was a planet that belonged to Perturabo alone, the experimental city and utopia of the Iron Lord. It is a forward-looking microcosm of the future and a transformative manifesto for the past.
He quietly looked at the changed planet through the porthole of the Iron-Blooded.
Of course the porthole was closed, reflecting his own face, a pale face divided by messy black hair, and an expression that always seemed to be a bit sarcastic.
On the outside, he has not changed much; but Perturabo and Olympia are moving forward, and the era led by the Emperor is constantly advancing, leaving the country roads unfavorable to the movement of vehicles. Leave behind are the pits, the peeling wood chips on the stair banisters and the thin, attractive wildflowers on the edges of the fields.
Morse listened to the blood flowing calmly in the simulated blood vessels. He did not feel hesitant or confused, nor was he very excited.
If he still loved the land, it was because it was Perturabo's work.
——Suddenly, all the thoughts gathered together to form a long thread, passing through the maze, leading to a clear end point: there were some words written on the end point, which read as if he had read them many years ago. Familiar language, the meaning is roughly that this place is called Olympia, but it is not Olympia of Terra.
Not from the beginning.
In the long river of time, it was once similar and became... Maybe this similarity also contains some of his handwriting, but he will not admit it.
Now, when the river forked and the planet chose the better course, it was never the same again.
No, what's wrong with that? He has never been one to dwell on the past.
Perturabo was proud of his achievements.
He turned from the window. Many familiar faces gathered in Perturabo's office.
Conrad Curze, who is as silent as if he does not exist; Magnus sitting on the pile of documents; the data tablet that symbolizes Horus Luperkar - the current plate The center of the picture is empty except for a map full of military markings hanging on the wall behind the desk; Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus each occupy a single sofa; they ran away because the room was too crowded. Angron and Vulkan went to chat in the corridor...
Of course, there was Perturabo himself, who changed into an Olympian toga, holding another data tablet, sitting on his In steel seats.
"Morse," Perturabo said, putting down the tablet and pointing out the window, "The Iron-Blooded is about to reach the half of the planet where my space fortress can be seen."
"Your space fortress... Morse raised an eyebrow and spoke in his usual carefree manner, "How does it compare with the Phalanx?"
"In what way?" Perturabo asked. , "From which angle should I begin to state the advantages of the Cheorwon?"
Behind him, Fulgrim let out a soft laugh.
“Rogal Dorn brought his Mountain Formation. If we can compare it directly, it is Ferrus’ favorite competition mode,” said Phoenix. “This is still my first I saw two space fortresses located in the same star system."
"It's coming," Cozz said, speaking in his unique sleepy and cold tone, but this time it was used to describe reality rather than illusion, "Cheorwon?"
"Cheorwon No." Perturabo confirmed.
He stood up from the iron chair and came to the window, staring at the outline of its creation gradually revealed on the hazy edge of the planet Olympia.
First, an iron-gray line segment about one-third of the diameter of Olympia appeared on the side of the planet. Then, the line segment expanded to one side, turned into a curved arc, and then expanded into a crescent-like edge. Finally, an iron-gray ring faced the Iron Blood's window and stopped steadily.
On the outside of this steel hollow ring frame with a diameter of about two thousand kilometers, hidden behind the well-sealed iron gaps, are undoubtedly numerous detection instruments, remote turrets and void shield generating devices. Arcs can supplement the firepower output of a fleet - and the firepower level is naturally matched by the fully equipped offensive fleet of the Iron Warriors.
Ferrus Manus turned sideways in his seat, his silver-mirror eyes filled with the structure of the Cheorwon. He was the Primarch who best understood the design of Perturabo's fortress. Because of this, he was particularly surprised by the effort and technology the Lord of the Fourth Legion put into this fortress.
In the hollow ring, three levels of concentric circles are nested. The central circle forms a cohesive and towering shape, like a double-sided tower. This is undoubtedly the core hall of the Cheorwon, as well as the control center of complex mechanical devices such as energy supply and transmission.
In the outer two floors, each round of concentric circles is divided into regular large sections, which serve as different functional zones. Different segments and different rings have gaps visible to the naked eye in the middle; segments are fixed by silver-white annular rings that they rely on together; rings and rings extend outward from the center of the circle to three straight steel bars on the frame. locking.
These structures nested in circles form the main structure of the space fortress, like a segmented rotating sundial, reflected in the light of stars, floating above the snow-capped mountains of Telefus. Each side is surrounded and set off by the pure luster of light and reflection, almost as if it is emitting light autonomously.
...or a city, a water city floating in the sea of stars, an ideal city that shines brightly in waking dreams.
On the outside of the closed hull, it was difficult to tell what each specific block was used for, but Morse never doubted Perturabo's planning abilities. Whether it is the bridges and tunnels connecting the blocks, or the different sizes and layouts of the blocks themselves, they were all carefully designed by a Primarch.
The resources consumed in the construction of this space fortress are completely unimaginable for any single planet, or even smaller galaxies.
"How do you feel?" Perturabo lowered his head and asked, "Is there anything... worth criticizing? I designed it as a city, a fortress and a ship at the same time."
"I was "How did you criticize the Iron Blood?" Morse said, "I remember I gave you at least a hundred thorns, Perturabo, you must do it in front of..."
He meant something. He looked around at the Primarchs in the office.
Fulgrim was listening intently to the conversation between Perturabo and Morse: The Purple Phoenix's curiosity about the mentor who could teach a Primarch like Perturabo was growing day by day.
Although he regretted that he could not continue to observe the two people getting along, he still said consciously: "Let's go find Angron and Vulcan outside first? I don't know what they are talking about in common. Topic... Ferus, stop staring at the Cheorwon. Your home planet can't dig out rocks to build one for you."
"Forget it," Morse gave in in a rare move. Patting Perturabo's broad sleeves, "Let's change the window... No, okay, I'll make you proud for a while. Looking at its appearance here, I can't pick out any obvious weaknesses or flaws. So, if you want to ask, I can only say..."
He smiled and said, "There is nothing to criticize, Perturabo. . Very creative. Considering that Rogal Dorn is not here, I will say that at least from a styling perspective, I prefer this fortress, not to mention that you finally stopped using the yellow and black stripes. ”
“ ...I'm here." Rogal Dorn's voice came from the tablet that Perturabo put down.
"Oh, okay, Rogal Dorn." Morse didn't care. "I didn't criticize you behind your back. My intention was to praise Perturabo behind your back."
"Exactly so," said Perturabo, turning back from the window. After receiving the approval, his behavior remained within the limits of composure, as steady and controlled as ever.
"Thank you, Morse." he said quietly.
Conrad Curze laughed silently, "Lend me to use the bathroom, Perturabo. Call me after whatever equipment is ready for landing. I thank you."
“I never thought there would be a Primarch who cared more about cleanliness than I do,” Fulgrim laughed at himself, lifting his long platinum hair and letting it slip from his fingers, "I think these hairs are smooth enough, what do you think?"
"Hmm." Ferus said, still looking at the appearance of the Cheelwon attentively, his lips moving slightly, as if he was making some secret calculations.
“Ferrus!”
“Oh, your hair is nice, Fulgrim.” Ferrus said, paused, “Really.”
"Then, when Conrad comes back, we can set off." Perturabo nodded, and Conrad Curze quietly slipped out of the door. His speed and erratic movements made it difficult for anyone who happened to pass by the door to Vulkan was slightly frightened for a moment.
"Shall we visit my space fortress first, or return to the ground first?" Perturabo returned to his seat and looked at Morse and said.
"Ground?" Morse picked an option.
"Okay."
——
"I thought you would accompany them to visit your main city, Perturabo." Morse pulled. The magnetic buckle inside the aircraft cabin secures itself like a normal person, even if he doesn't need it. "Those are your guests, the Lords of Olympia."
"They are the Primarchs." Perturabo answered, sitting on the seat next to the hatch, preparing for Rogal Dorn's Mountain The formation issued a temporary Olympia pass identification card.
"My brothers all have different personalities and different preferences. Instead of tying them all together and walking with me, I want them to be free to watch and play as they wish. Olympia is ready for today. Finally, we are in Los Angeles Just meet in the palace hall of Kos. "It makes sense." Morse agreed with his reason. He waited for a while and asked: "Has Lokos changed much?"
"It's okay." Perturabo replied, "I followed the design I designed thirty years ago. The urban framework is the design pattern of the reconstructed city after the Chang Prince coup. The current construction is mainly based on the addition of buildings and the partial rearrangement of non-residential areas. It will not change to the point that you cannot recognize it.”
Mo. Sis smiled and said: "I almost don't recognize Olympia, Perturabo. She is now a shining pearl in the vast universe, unique and important. She is your planet and belongs entirely to you. You take the credit. Greatest."
Perturabo glanced at him, then lowered his eyes. "I kept some things," he said. "You can't fail to recognize Olympia."
The aircraft landed smoothly, and the wind pressure flattened the surrounding grass. The hatch opened in the airflow. Perturabo took off the telescopic cable used for driving and left first, waiting for Morse to follow him out.
This is a jungle at the bottom of the cliff, with lush vegetation, branches and leaves blocking the sky, and birds chirping without a trace among the trees. Animal hoof prints and traces of wild beasts are densely distributed, and are everywhere in the dark green leaves and pale sky.
Looking up from here, except for the thin silver thread drawn by the orbiting space station that surrounds the entire planet, I can't see any evidence of rapid technological advancement.
Everything is sealed in a slow and peaceful primitiveness, supported by shorter ferns and topped by dense forest leaves in the sky.
Morse noticed some long and narrow marks on the tree trunks that looked like cuts by hot blades.
He stretched out his palm wrapped in black cloth, and then, thinking that he had actually prepared the inner body, he hesitated, let the black cloth fall off his palm, and directly touched the fire marks with his fingers.
"Lokos Deer..." he said, following the direction of the traces and looking deeper into the dense forest.
"Your hunting method is really unscrupulous," said Perturabo, "It is simply a misuse of psychic powers. And in front of you, the land that you have turned over completely, where the roots of the trees have been twisted Later, the trees were frozen, and it took several years to recover. "It takes about fifty years to recover, but what does it mean to be in a blink of an eye?" Morse retorted.
"Okay, you're right." Perturabo sighed, "It's exactly the blink of an eye. But your blink is a bit long."
"Oh, you have finally degenerated to the point where you use figurative words as expressions for literal meaning?"
"Who knows?" Perturabo asked, carefully pushing aside the branches blocking the road in front of him, Prevent these trees from being overturned by themselves.
"Okay." Morse sighed and snapped his fingers towards the dense forest. The trees that had just grown for several years were torn open to both sides again, rolling out a piece of moist black land. Then, clear ice crystals once again covered the straight road guarded by the trees. The frost crystals were very gorgeous.
"I believe they will grow in the next blink of an eye," said Morse. "Now, let us move faster and stop being as slow as molluscs gliding forward on slime. .”
Perturabo smiled. "If I let go, you won't be able to keep up with me. After all, our height difference is now..."
"Go on your way, Perturabo!" Morse floated up. "I don't think you can keep up with me."
His voice rippled far away with the wind, echoing and dissipating in the dense forest.
They moved forward on the frost road, sometimes Morse in front, sometimes Perturabo in front, like an inexplicable little game, in which a senseless joy gradually overflowed.
The wind blowing down the cliff came to them from the center surrounded by trees, and they chatted about little things, how much trouble they had been to each other, and how many miscellaneous things Perturabo had done. mistakes until the small three-story house appeared in front of them.
The hut was made of stone slabs and wooden boards, held together with an adhesive made from local clay and plant juices. The entangled green vines and buds are becoming more and more dense, almost blocking the pictures painted on the outer wall, and wrapping many semi-finished hand-sculpted statues in the vines, which seems to be protected and treasured.
The pointed awls, stone hammers, measuring rulers, and scrapers were all still scattered on the low table.
Morse pulled a lounge chair out of the air, without any additional decoration or imprints from Macragge, or Nostramo, or Commorragh, etc. . This is just a handmade wicker chair, woven by a soul who has lived alone for fifteen thousand years.
He placed the wicker chair in the center of the small courtyard, letting the sun and breeze blow through it, then lay down and let his hair spread.
"Why don't you come and sweep the dust, weed, and pluck some wild flowers for me," Morse smiled, closed his eyes, and let the wicker chair sway gently.
"Dare I touch your things?" Perturabo said, pure laughter in his voice. "You talk like this house is your tombstone."
"What are you afraid to move, Perturabo?" Mors said, tilting his head in Perturabo's direction.
He heard the sound of cloth robes rubbing together. Perturabo bent down and picked up a sharp-nosed chisel that was too small for him to use, and played with it in the palm of his hand.
"Is there anything I don't allow you to do?"
"I don't dare to try." Perturabo replied, walking to the side of the house and dragging out a cart.
Morse opened his eyes and raised his upper body. I saw a group of stone statues covered with black cloth on the cart. He did not use extraordinary means to peek.
"What is this?" he asked.
Perturabo tapped his fingers on the top of the statue. "I remember there was one little thing I didn't learn how to do."
"Carve a good enough two-person stone statue and vividly depict how you knocked my head off?"
"It's not that," Perturabo removed the black cloth, allowing the marble statue to appear in front of Morse's eyes.
The main subjects of the sculpture are still Morse and the young Perturabo, but with just one glance, Morse knew that this scene had never appeared in reality.
Because they were sitting opposite each other by the fire, each holding a grilled fish. Morse's fish was burnt to the bone, while the grilled fish in the boy Perturabo's hand was plump and shiny, and it looked like it was grilled. The ultimate master in the way of fish.
"Why do you need to defeat me on this road?" Morse shrugged, pinched his cheeks with both hands, and pressed the corners of his mouth downwards, "The intelligence the Emperor gave you , is it used for this?"
"You just said that there is nothing that I am not allowed to do." Perturabo pretended to shake his head and frowned.
"How could you, a four-meter-tall Primarch, act so coquettishly?" Morse said, turning down from his chair, "The stone was brought here, but it is inedible. Take it away quickly. Well, I have kept your original small stone here, and the statue that you later competed with Prince Andros. If you are willing, you can put it together as a series."
Perturabo. He stretched his eyebrows and covered the black cloth again: "I am indeed willing to make a few more sets of stone statues in my spare time to prevent my skills from becoming rusty and one day the level of carving will not be as good as that of my descendants in the stonemason club. But as an exhibition... …remains open to debate.”
"Okay, Perturabo," Morse put away the recliner, "What else do you have to show me, Lord of Iron?"
"Many things." said Perturabo, "I didn't move on the path we took to climb Lokos from the bottom of the cliff, but it is said that there have been some landslides recently... I don't think it will affect our climb. The stone statue at the entrance of Lokos was replaced by a statue of me. You know that thing The grand theater I originally designed almost went bankrupt due to poor management by the businessman who contracted it. Fortunately, Califon took it over and turned it into an open art park. The shops on the street are doing well and allowed. Space Marines dine for free, but each person has a limited share..."
He paused. "These are your part of Olympia, Morse."
"I don't know why you are smiling more exaggeratedly now than when I praised your Cheorwon."
" I don’t know why you didn’t forget to say something sarcastic to me when you laughed.”
"Now the Emperor is going to be shocked, because we don't know anything." Morse snorted, clapped his hands, and wrapped the black cloth again, "You introduced me like this, why don't you take me directly? Take a look?”
“Of course, you haven’t been back here for so many years.” Perturabo nodded and walked side by side towards the cliff with Morse, led by the late guard Miltiades many years ago. The path we have taken still exists today.
"Go back to where? Olympia?"
"If you want..." said Perturabo, walking with Morse up the cliff where he had to be helped to climb as a child. path. Now, what he has to worry about is not accidentally trampling on the road completely. "You can also call it another one. At least...I will call Olympia my home planet."
"My home star is definitely not Olympia. I remember I told you..."
< br>
"You pointed at the night sky, I remember. You were actually pointing at Terra."
"What a good memory."
"So what are you going to call this place?"
< br>"Oh, what did you think I was going to say? Home? Haha, don't even think about it."
They chatted tirelessly across the plain, talking about the Arxians and the Lokos Guards at that time. Fighting, thinking of Perturabo's sword; passing through the city gate, there was a fire here, but that was also many years ago.
On the streets, people knew exactly how to welcome Perturabo, how to approach the true master of Olympia, or how to keep a proper distance; when the teenage Perturabo passed through the streets with the fruits of his reforms, At that time, people also greeted the cold-faced young man who always looked serious.
They passed by shops and workshops. Some of the workshops that Perturabo studied with at that time are still open today, but the main force has been changed from masters to apprentices, or apprentices of apprentices. A shop selling parchment paper switched to making fruit cakes, but the cakes still seemed to smell like ink.
When Morse watched Perturabo plan the city, he pointed out the trees to be planted. Now they have grown up, and the shadows of the trees are swaying on the windows, tall, big and strong. The branches held up the green shade, and I looked blankly at the street. There were still a few leaves scattered on the ground.
They find the workshop used by Morse and Perturabo outside the palace. The place is still preserved, no one disturbs it, and it is only one step away from collapsing due to lack of repairs. Nowadays, their porches are crooked, and the corners of the walls are gray. The sunlight shines through the diamond windows and shines into the dust flying indoors, making it look like gray snow falling one after another.
“It looks like a tombstone now,” Morse said, stopping at the door. “But the geometric pattern you painted on the door was really ugly. I swear.”
"Where are my yellow and black stripes?"
"I can barely see it." Morse smiled. "When we return to Olympia, the first thing we should do is clean up?"
"You can...just like your favorite one..." Perturabo hinted.
Morse snapped his fingers with the rune that vibrated the air between his fingers, and the whole cabin seemed to turn back time. The dust dispersed, the door and wall were clean, and the erosion caused by the leaking water was repaired by a kind of power. Complete, restored. In the blink of an eye, everything goes back to thirty years ago - yes, the fleeting time is indeed not worth the blink of an eye.
“This is exactly the same.” Morse raised his foot slightly and pushed open the door.
"There are still a full shelf of works. You took them away at that time." Perturabo accompanied Morse into the room and touched the clean countertop with his fingers. "There are two more people."
"Andos, Callifon." Morse turned around, "How is Callifon lately?"
"I made an agreement with her to come here..."
"Come in Right." Morse interrupted. Just like in the beginning.
There was a slight push at the door without knocking. The wooden door opened, and a figure appeared outside.
It was a woman, her guards were far away from her surroundings, and only a close maid was looking after her. Wearing a loose golden and white robe, she held an iron-plated wooden staff with slight force, and wore her iron crown on the top of her neatly combed hair.
Even if she needs a wooden stick to support her, her posture still reveals her inner strength and firmness. At the same time, she has never abandoned the soft beauty she had in her youth.
Although her face has the traces of time, wrinkles are fine, her skin has become darker, and her eyes are not as clear as they were thirty years ago, she still maintains a dew-like brilliance, a kind of The depth and brightness that only time can give.
“Is my hair a little too curly?” Callifon noticed the two people looking at her.
She smiled slightly, with a gentle voice, and used her free hand to smooth the end of her curly hair mixed with silver threads.
"I've been wearing the hair tie you gave me for too long, Abo. Alas, my hair is not straight anymore - you are back now, so just give me a new one."
(End of Chapter)