Chapter 314 The Hermit
"Mortarion accepted our first offer of help. This is a good start. It ends my psychic projection of the Emperor. I plan to stay here with Mortarion." Fourteen years of dangerous imagination. As long as the Primarch is willing, the conquest of a planet will not take long, even if his own legion has not yet arrived."
"Perhaps one year is enough. ? What's more, the Emperor is eager to help."
"After that night's battle, some villagers worried that Mortarion's presence had attracted revenge from the sorcerer overlord."
"Mortarion drearily tried to prove his good intentions, but Karas Typhon, a new born psyker whom Mortarion met, told the villagers that they could either follow Mortarion. Resist or die at the hands of the overlord. The latter's threats are effective."
"In any case, Mortarion is building a safe haven belonging to the Barbarus people - this is not an adjective, the name he gave to the mountain camp is safe haven. In this month, Mortarion has been working hard Diligently collected various transport vehicles, vehicles and airdrop aircraft. And of course people, people are the foundation of everything."
"This week, Mortarion is preparing to launch his first Overlord campaign. . The peasants transformed, and the warriors and sappers gathered at the gates of the Haven camp. Mortarion named his army, the Death Guard. He chose this name."
"I can't imagine the possibility of his failure. Sex, after all, under Karas’s suggestion, he selected an overlord with good paper strength, but a particularly serious internal shortage of actual combat power, to give him a good start in the war.”
“Let’s talk about your fortress. The Betagamon system is the throat of the Solar Star Territory, and the strength of the Titan Legion needs to be fully utilized. It seems that your behavior of building bunkers all over the place has caused a lot of damage from a military strategic perspective. Your father has a deep memory."
"After the unification of the galaxy, some of the planets that were hastily recovered during the Great Crusade are likely to carry out some confrontational actions against the Imperial Center, and your work will be remembered by them."
"Remember to reimburse the Emperor for the resources, materials and time costs you consumed in the construction of the solar system. Perturabo, don't be polite to the Emperor. Presumably the master of the galaxy will donate generously. According to the function point analysis, after the project is completed, it will be approved Calculation of function points and unit prices, as well as percentage rewards of costs and performance results rewards, payment to the Fourth Legion. "
Morse suddenly sat up from the recliner and felt something.
This was originally an abandoned stone hut owned by Barbarus. With just a little bit of psychic energy, the hut was cleaned up and made habitable, and the poisonous gas was dispelled.
At this time, outside the clean area he and the Emperor had cleared, the thin chemical mist was stirred by a large object.
+Emperor, come back. +
Morse called, yawning and symbolically putting on his own gas mask.
The torpedo boat "The Cliff" that Perturabo gave him did have a sufficient reserve of gas masks, all of which were uniformly black in color, with a light yellow Roman numeral IV on the left cheekbone as the legion mark.
A few seconds later, the Emperor's psychic projection appeared outside the stone house. The Lord of Mankind was carrying two small creatures that were pierced by arrows. The blood of the prey had not yet been drained. Judging from the pattern of the wounds, the Emperor should have thrown the arrow as a javelin with his bare hands.
+He is coming. +The emperor said.
Morse tossed him a knife, and the Emperor held the blade casually, went around the back of the house, and skinned his prey.
Shortly after the Emperor's return, a lone mechanical vehicle crossed some low hills and approached their location.
About a tenth of a mile away, the tracks of the vehicle stopped moving, and a tall and thin figure left the vehicle, walked towards them on foot through the yellow-green mist.
Mortarion walked outside the stone house and stopped outside the fence composed of pebbles and hedges. He brought no one, not even his close comrade and half-wit Karas Typhon. All he had with him was a new sickle, which was both a farming tool and a weapon.
"You are finally here." Morse's voice sounded behind him. "Wait a moment Emperor, he is busy."
Mortarion had a hard time grasping his emotions at this time. It seemed that there was some strange joy in it, but it was more of the long-lasting depression in his heart. and pressure.
He nodded gently and asked the black-robed wizard to come to him, remove the door latch, and then invite him into the stone house.
"Sit." Morse said, returning to his own recliner and pointing to a giant long log lying next to him. Mortarion unhooked the scythe from his back, set it aside, and sat down.
"I'm here to thank you for your help."
Mortarion looked at the dark wizard in front of him because he was wearing a gas mask, and said that he had been there along the way. A line that had been brewing in the transporter for a long time.
“Thank you for your contribution to the fighting and liberation of the Barbarus people.”
Without the guidance that Morse and the Emperor sometimes echoed in Mortarion's mind, even if he was the Primarch, it would have been impossible to assemble the vast and sparsely populated half of Barbarus in just one month. All human military forces within a continent that can participate in the battle are used to fight against the sorcery overlord.
From reconnaissance intelligence to construction methods, the two extraterrestrial visitors did not hesitate to provide any effective assistance other than actual hands-on work. Although these help remained in the traceless spoken language, the language itself The amount of information and value contained in it are beyond Mortarion's estimation.
Even the way this support is provided is worryingly witchcraft.
Every time Mortarion was praised by his subordinates and marveled at his foresight and comprehensive knowledge, Mortarion felt mixed emotions in his heart and felt deeply guilty.
Had Morse not told him not to make their existence known to the public, Mortarion would have already confessed the existence of the aliens to the children of Barbarus.
"You actually said thank you," Morse raised his eyebrows, "I thought you hated me."
Mortarion looked at him unhappily.
Morse shrugged and said casually: "You know, the only way the Emperor wants to thank you is for you to agree to join his legion and become one of his generals to conquer the stars."
The black-robed wizard began to write and draw on a piece of paper that seemed to appear out of thin air.
“And the only way I want to thank you is to finish defeating the Wizarding Overlord early so that I can go to the next planet and see who the Emperor’s other children are, and if they are willing to do so. A wonderful gadget to be an emperor.”
Mortarion was stunned for a moment, remembering that Morse had indeed mentioned that the Emperor had lost many heirs. He wasn't thinking about it at the time, but when he thought about it now, he suddenly realized that the number Morse mentioned at that moment was twenty.
In the Barbarus family he has seen so far, the couple with the most children only raised eleven children...
The Emperor of the Galaxy is also so outstanding in raising children. ?
Mortarion was briefly lost in thought until Mors pushed a stone drinking glass towards him. He lowered his head. The glass of crystal clear water without any turbidity was strange to Mortarion. It is difficult for Barbarus's decontamination water purifier to achieve this level of purified water.
He picked up the water glass and moistened his throat with clean water.
"I want to know..." Mortarion put down the cup, "Do you want to join my army."
"Oh, you mean, let the great emperor who commands the entire galaxy, among all mankind, The most unrivaled warlord leader, joining your small group of only four figures in Barbarus? And he is a wizard? Oh, although Karas Typhon is a wizard."
Morse said the gas mask dulled his laughter, lessening its offensive power.
Mortarion realized that his question was inappropriate, and was about to expose the matter when a man wearing gray robes and a gold-leaf laurel wreath walked out from behind the stone house.
Although the Emperor was not wearing armor, his cold and majestic expression immediately proved his identity. Facing the gray robe of the Lord of Mankind, Mortarion only felt that the pressure he had to endure was heavier than facing the warrior king covered in golden armor.
The pale primarch clenched his hands at his sides. "Emperor," he called reluctantly.
After the gray-robed king approached, the original body noticed that he was holding two fresh beasts still dripping with blood in one hand, and holding two pieces of gray animal skins in the other hand.
"Dinner." The Emperor glanced at Mortarion and said to Mors.
Morse snapped his fingers, and a faint blue flame suddenly burst out from the stove next to the stone house. Clear liquid flowed out from the water purifier hanging on the top of the iron pot, and he was ready to cook soup. water required.
The Emperor walked over, put the animal meat into the pot, making sure that all the pieces of meat were soaked in the water, and then returned to the center of the courtyard, staring at where Mortarion was sitting.
Mortarion's muscles tensed, and the log he sat on seemed more torturous than the torture tools of the sorcerer overlord Naklay. Obviously, he took the emperor's seat.
The emperor didn't say anything more. He lifted up his gray robe and sat on the ground with his hands on his knees. There was no longer a drop of beast's blood between his fingers.
"How is the war going?" asked the Emperor.
"I am preparing to launch the first battle." Mortarion replied, the questions and answers about the war intensifying the unchanging gloom on his face, "Typhon will take the lead against the secondary overlords of the Visili Mountains Launch a surprise attack, and in three days the main force will climb to the top of the same mountain, destroy the sorcerous overlord atop it, and feed his blood to the worms and thousand-legged lizards he raises."
The Emperor. He nodded slightly, without making any comment on Mortarion's decision, as if the whole reason he asked the question was just out of curiosity, not a leader's inquiry to his subordinates. "If you need help with the construction of the safe haven area," the emperor continued, the water in the pot on the open-air stove was already boiling, making a gurgling sound of bubbles rising, "you can ask Morse. The heirs he raised are second to none. The master of defense.”
Mortarion looked at Morse in confusion: "You also have children?"
"No," Mortar stood up, his movements seemed to be in a hurry. "That's my apprentice."
He strode to the iron pot, observed the state of the animal meat, and then used his spiritual power to lift the blanched meat out of the pot.
After changing a basin of water, Morse put the meat back into the iron pot again, took out two bottles from his sleeves that should not have been placed, and poured a bottle of strong liquor into the pot. Wine and some sauce.
Morse clapped his hands and returned to his seat, his expression invisible under his gas mask.
"But if you need advice on building a strong fortress strong enough to defend against the Overlord's artillery, I can indeed help you ask him. Perturabo will be willing to give advice to others who are interested in saving humanity after work. I would like to offer you a little help."
"No need," Mortarion said. "I can handle it."
Although he was unwilling to admit it, Nacre's cruel teachings to him included the construction of fortresses and the defense of fortresses. Before he could escape that mountain, he had to guard his dark castle for Nacre.
He stood up and fixed the scythe on his back again. His yellow eyes stayed on the two extraterrestrial visitors, preparing to say goodbye.
"Won't you stay for some soup?" Morse asked, shaking his hand wrapped in black cloth. "Of course, ordinary broth is not a dangerous soup containing viruses."
"My people are waiting for me in the safe haven." Mortarion refused with a dull expression.
For the first battle tomorrow, they will do the last mobilization work before the war tonight.
They had a discussion about how strong the drink should be.
Some warriors believe that they should drink as little strong alcohol as possible in order to remain calm and rational throughout the next battle; others insist that they should drink strong alcohol before a battle, for the sake of hesitation. The new combatants stirred up their spirits and used fierce and high-spirited attitudes to destroy every fortress of the Overlord and drive knives into the chests and bellies of the sorcery golems.
Mortarion had another suggestion: drink the rainwater that fell in the mist.
Yes, Barbarus’s falling rain contains toxicity, and this toxicity is particularly strong in dense fog areas. Unless absolutely necessary, almost no one would be stupid enough to open their mouth to the dim sky of falling rain—— The burning pain is enough to burn from the throat into a person's lungs, causing them to fall to their knees in heart-rending pain.
It is enough to test people's will, challenge the warrior's tenacity, and verify the fighter's physique.
If you can’t even withstand a cup of Barbarus’ poisonous rain, how can you defeat the witchcraft overlord who claims to control death?
The Emperor studied Mortarion, the way he studied his face as if the Emperor knew him better than Mortarion himself.
"Go ahead," said the Emperor.
Mortarion turned and walked away, stirring up dust on the ground heavily with every step.
Morse watched him return to the transport truck, took off his gas mask, and went to see how the soup in the pot was boiling.
Previously, Morse searched the entire stone house but could not find a pot lid that matched the pot. Maybe this will be the only place they need help from Mortarion: find an iron pot lid. .
Of course, when Mortarion appeared again, he was not holding the pot lid in his hand.
His second appearance was seven days later.
The human reaper still comes alone, with a sickle strapped to his back. But this time, he was holding a sorcery overlord with his limbs cut off and in a coma.
Mortarion said nothing, walked directly through the open fence, threw his prey hard at the Emperor's feet, and raised his chin.
The prey rolled around and landed right at the feet of the emperor sitting in the middle of the long log.
The Emperor raised his head and looked at Mortarion. There seemed to be a smile on his dark face, but it didn't seem to be there.
"And this was the beginning," Morse said of the scene. "An interesting starting point."
After discovering sarcastic statements such as "Your words are as gorgeous as the deep water gardens on the top floor of the Palace of Terra" in Perturabo's last reply to him. , Morse sketched directly on the letter paper the meeting between the Emperor and Mortarion: the Emperor himself crushed the sorcerous overlord's head with his boot, while Mortarion held his scythe with satisfaction.
“After that day, Mortarion would throw more defeated men to the Emperor from time to time. Sometimes it was a relatively complete enemy, and sometimes it was a skull or an arm. Even half a piece of clothing - usually because after the battle, the sorcerer overlord has only so many spare parts left."
"Mortarion expanded his haven, transforming it from what it once was to a bandit's den. , built into the new home of the Barbarus people. He cooperated with other clans to build his own arsenal, snatching heavy swords, acid guns, multi-barrel missiles, heavy armor and halberds from the sorcery overlords, as well as Food, water, and medicines that can be used by human warriors."
"I don't need to continue to provide him with more information, it's like a snowball rolling. It will become bigger and more unstoppable in the future. Of course, sometimes I will still send him some information, at the cost of hearing him come to the door and show off without knowing it, like a child."
"From the hands of some nomadic tribes, Mortarion obtained the technology to make armor capable of resisting Barbarus' poisonous gas, including a helmet equipped with multi-layer filters and air bags for oxygen supply. Overlord's mines and food bases Looted, tools and weapons seized, and more and more men began to join the ranks of the Death Guard, Mortarion had proven that he was unlike any other rebel before."
“Winter is approaching in Barbarus recently. The climate in this ghost place is usually harsh enough, but I didn’t expect it to be even worse in winter, whether it’s the extremely low temperature or the increasingly thick haze. I’d rather stay there Fenris spends the winter.”
Morse stopped writing temporarily and reached out to turn the three skewers of barbecue on the iron shelf. It was a creature that looked like a rabbit, but its teeth were particularly sharp and could even be used as teeth embedded in weapons.
“Are you writing to that Defense Master again?” Mortarion asked, sitting across the fire pit across from Morse.
The Longwood was now cut in two, half to the Emperor and half to the Emperor's son.
"Yes - and don't ask how the letter was sent, it was witchcraft." Morse said, turning the pen in his hand. "You've been here quite frequently recently. How do you explain to your subordinates that you're out alone?"
"Visit the hermit in the mountains." Mortarion answered. "In the process of unifying the southern part of the planet, they provided nameless attention and help."
Morse put down the pen and paper, pinched his chin, and looked at the unnatural expression of the Primarch. The dancing firelight added some warmth to the pale and thin face.
He leaned back: "Ever since you suggested that your pre-war drink was damn poisonous rain, the Emperor has been drinking and having fun. When he comes, please help me persuade him and tell him that I I have no interest in spicy poisonous wine.”
“I have no status to advise the emperor.”
"No, it will be there soon..." Morse said, "Let him tell you himself."
When the barbecue began to drip grease, the gray-robed emperor walked out of the stone house, Sitting on the long piece of wood where he was.
"You are an excellent general." The emperor said.
No matter how many times he heard these words, Mortarion still felt an indescribable tingling at the Emperor's tone.
He did not answer, his eyes focused on the barbecue, as if there were written the latitude and longitude of the defense weakness of the next witchcraft overlord's fortress.
"I wish to join your army," the Emperor's next words made Mortarion suddenly turn his head, "as the Hermit Fath."
"But..." Mortarion said. There was chaos.
The Emperor and Morse had done so much for him, it was a long and effective testament, and he didn't know how to repay it.
"Don't be stunned, are you going to say 'but you are a wizard'?" Morse reminded, stuffing a skewer of barbecue into Mortarion's hand, the original body subconsciously caught it, "It's going to be burnt."
(End of Chapter)