Chapter 421: The Emperor's Children: The Feast of Blades
Cooper knew that he was not made to be a memoirist - even though his father, his mother, and the camera servants they carried with them were all talented and conscientious. Earth completed the glorious task of recording the story of the Great Crusade for the Emperor of Mankind. It seems that his family's writing genes should be good.
But to be honest, he felt dizzy when he saw the quill, and his tongue felt bitter when he smelled the ink.
Perhaps in a sense, this is the normal state that Necromunda should have. You don’t have to know the characters, but you must be able to fight.
From the top of a termite nest branching into the sky, to the edge of a cooling pipe that is almost rooted deep into the planet countless kilometers below, all children must learn to join gangs at the corresponding level— —Unless the family suddenly gets lucky, then you can join a gang in a higher residential level.
Then, if you get a gang tattoo, swear a few more oaths, pay a sum of money or get a few heads, you can spend a peaceful and restful life under the humiliation and protection of this second family. . Maybe five years, maybe fifty years, until you die or the gang falls.
If the latter is the case, you'd better find a new family at this level and pray that their initiation ceremony won't consume too many parts from you.
In Necromunda, life has been like this for thousands of years. Even if a few nobles fall from the upper echelons, it's best not to wishfully hope that there is a way to climb up - you think, the thing is like this, there is one missing surname on the top, it is not just to make room for an illegitimate son who lacks a surname ?
This cycle of personnel work is the crystallization of the wisdom of mankind through the dark ages. Unless external light illuminates this dark eggshell, the iron laws of our ancestors are unlikely to be changed.
“No outside light,” Cooper’s father said, muttering as he studied the latte art in his coffee and pondered whether to urge the family’s servitor to go to the Coffee Association to take the top barista certificate.” Necromunda has no external light, only external fists - bang, the Seventh Legion, the iron fist of the Empire, smashed a hole in our ceiling with one slap."
"That's a good thing," his mother said, floating over with the data pad in her arms, leaning out the window and overlooking the infinite scenery of the top nest. The chaos of steel lay like a thick layer of dirt below, piling up on the ash wastes and filling Necromunda's residential quarters.
"It is a good thing for our family. The emperor's errand has promoted us from the middle level to the royal nest." Father finally drank his coffee, "In order to make it easier for the ship from Terra to pick us up. "
Necromunda's only spaceport hangs above their heads, the "Eye of the Moon" space station, which is the only one capable of accommodating transport ships in orbit.
All transportation and trade are closely related to it. As for whether Necromunda has the most prosperous royal nest on the entire planet first, and then the Eye of the Moon on the top, or vice versa. ——No one can tell clearly.
They have such an intimate relationship, which is as eternal as the classification of middle and lower nests on the hive planet.
"I'm not talking about this." Mother rolled her eyes and smoothed the half of her blond hair that was left after the mechanical transformation. "I mean, since the Human Empire provided us with an official promotion path, we plan to leave the nest." The number of people who came up through the nonsense suddenly decreased."
"You are right, although the Planetary Defense Force and the Imperial Fist recruit only a handful of people every year." Father nodded pretending to be elegant. .
Cooper didn't want to hear this, and he couldn't say why. He didn't like the tone of his parents when they talked about the relationship between Necromunda's upper and lower nests, but he couldn't tell what was wrong.
Parents always have a point, he thought uncertainly, maybe - maybe, one day in the future, he will listen to what they say and inherit their will.
But not today.
He jumped off the high stool at the dining table, intending to go out and fight to release his inexplicably uncomfortable mood.
He is not someone who can get along with other kid gangs. He just doesn't want to drink happy water with them, and he doesn't find it much fun to bully the lower class hooligans.
No, he will have a fierce fight with those who are equally matched with him in terms of status according to his own wishes, no matter who is on the opposite side or how many short-barreled guns there are.
He is fearless, loves to fight, and loves to single-handedly tear off the opponent's fragrant silk robe and throw it into the nest with the wind. In a sense, he felt it was his glory—even though he wasn't quite sure what that glory was.
In a word, Cooper is a loner.
After going out, Cooper found that it was surprisingly empty outside today. There were no bastards running around on flying skateboards on the street, nor was there a fleet of two-wheeled vehicles.
He thought for a while, squinted his eyes and raised his head. Sure enough, there was a circle of suspended aircraft floating in the sky, a bunch of bright yellow dots. The Imperial Fists returned from space and sent a fleet back to their major recruiting ground.
Ever since the Seventh Legion saved Necromunda from the orc threat, the great Emperor of Mankind gave them special permission to recruit troops here.
Whenever their expedition fleet hangs in the sky, the entire Necromunda - the part that can see them, not counting the residents who huddle in the middle and lower levels without seeing the light - rush out and run away. Go surround the fortress of the Imperial Fists and pray that you will be able to function on any level.
Cooper got on the rail car, and his curiosity made him determined to find out. He circled around a few times, unable to break through the crowd in front of him, and his height was not enough for him to see clearly where the unexpected congestion came from.
He drifted with the crowd, gradually blending into a group of boys of his own age, and relied on his tattoos to identify the middle-class gang with whom he had some old grudges.
Last time he ran into the boy they were holding and bringing up from the lower level, trying to push him down from the top of the tower in order to test the constant of Necromunda's gravity. Their excessive complacency provided Cooper with a perfect opportunity to attack.
He didn't see the upper-class young men from the top families, and he didn't know why they weren't there.
The bastards obviously saw him, and Cooper waited for them to make a move.
But the strange thing is that those bastards wrapped in gorgeous satin were particularly quiet today. They just cast contemptuous glances at him, or put their thumbs on the tip of their noses and flapped them without any attack. The remaining four fingers.
Cooper bared his teeth at them and cursed freely in Gothic. This is the benefit that having a pair of educated parents brings to him. His vocabulary of swearing is far better than that of the average Nirvana gangster.
"Just wait," the person opposite sneered at him, "your good days will come to an end sooner or later!"
Cooper shrugged, "You guys are going to be finished! One day , Bastards!”
He continued to walk along the line, looking for opportunities to drag the bastards out of the group and beat them in the branches of the street. But until the group of bastards entered the small tent that looked like a makeshift tent in front of him, he didn't find a chance.
Soon after, the gang members emerged one by one in disgrace - this is not an absolute metaphor. Half of them were limping and sweating, as if they had just been whipped from head to toe with a whip. Cooper was delighted to see it.
He laughed at them before it was Cooper's turn to enter the tent.
Then, he was grabbed by the shoulders and turned to the front by a sergeant with a clenched fist, who was wearing a brown lining, with a golden triangle embroidered on his shoulders and embedded in a chain, and looked at him ruthlessly from head to toe. .
"The conditions are good." The sergeant said, as if Cooper had passed some kind of preliminary screening unknowingly. When he boldly glared at the sergeant, he got a second comment: "Nice look."
Then, the guy irresistibly put his arm around his shoulders and took him indoors. The inside of the separated tent.
There are not many things in the tent: a desk with application forms, a clerk copying, a one-way silver mirror, and something that is obviously some kind of modified electrocution chair, with a majestic pestle In the middle of the tent, a pile of instruments full of needles and cables was installed. The belt buckles were loosened one by one, obviously waiting for the next child to sit on them.
"No, sir!" Cooper hissed, not afraid, but really surprised. "What is this?"
"It's used to test your physical condition." The sergeant said, Signaling the clerk to draw a registration form from the table, "Age."
"Fourteen...Wait a minute, why do I need to test my physical condition?"
"For the preliminary screening of eligibility. Height."
"Five-point-seven feet, what qualifies for the Planetary Defense Force?"
The sergeant gave him a strange look: "Any history of drug abuse?"
"I don't knock, not at all - God, it can't be a Space Marine, can it?" "Of course. Mental illness level ?"
"Not tested!"
"It's okay, we'll test it for you. You have one, right?"
"Helm'ayr! I don't want to test-"
The clerk stopped registering, and the sergeant looked at the boy in front of him in disbelief: "Necromunda's Memories Envoy Helmar? You're so young? I've heard that you go to great lengths to get first-hand information into the legion..."
Cooper Helmar's mind changed and he now admitted The fact that he accidentally entered the Imperial Fist recruitment tent seemed too late, and it was a matter of his face. He coughed, vaguely claimed his father's identity, and prayed that the sergeant would enforce the law impartially and kick him out of the recruiting tent.
“And I heard that the great Seventh Legion will recently launch activities in the fortress of Necromunda. I hope that observing this from a more realistic perspective will help deepen our understanding of the matter. Events known to the Imperial Fists..." he said randomly.
The next moment, a low, thunderous voice sounded from behind the one-way mirror. A giant pushed open a door hidden in the wall and had to lean down slightly because of his height when entering the room. This casts his shadow even more heavily on Cooper.
Cooper looked at the giant, almost fascinated.
His parents' pretentious and gorgeous words could not describe all the extraordinary features of the giant in front of him - whether it was the muscles tightly wrapped in bright yellow clothing that symbolized infinite power, or the firm look on his face. His face, as deep as a rock, filled him with yearning in an instant. That kind of infinite brilliance...a real honor that he had never heard of...
In a sense, he began to regret that he did not just give an unknown last name, and then sat on that chair and waited. Become a qualified person. Yes, he has the confidence to pass the test.
One day, he will become as great a man as the Space Marines. He was happy to climb up.
"You are well informed, Memoirs Helmar," said the Space Marine. "I will consult the Primarch. Until then, do not move."
——
“At first, it was just a friendly match, originating from the large-scale sports meeting held by the Fourth Legion in Olympia fifty years ago.”
The Space Marine introduced him while flipping through his book data pad. Cooper immediately guessed that the Imperial Fist had probably written everything that could and could not be said on that data pad.
“At that time, the Primarchs were discussing, and it was the Eighth Primarch who proposed the name ‘Feast of Blades’ for the first time... But the real origin of this battle started between the Eighth Legion and us. In the dispute at Chelawt.
“In order to confirm the final plan for launching the attack, our Templar Chief Sigismund once again volunteered to engage in a sword fight with the leader of the Eighth Legion. ”
"Again?" Cooper said, trying to keep his composure and sound more like the Emperor's Remembrancer.
He is not afraid of being exposed. He is indeed Helmar, just not the old one.
He just didn't want to miss this precious information and go home and get a beating from old Helmal.
“This is our habit, to decide the stalemate through duel. And Sigismund was almost invincible. But that day, he fought with Jago Severtalion. Tie."
"Who is that Savita Leon?" Cooper asked. "Is this something I have a right to know?"
"The newly promoted first company commander of the Night Ghost Court in recent years is highly regarded by the Lord of the Eighth Legion. His martial arts was personally tutored by his original body." The warrior of the Imperial Fist said, "This is not a secret."
"So, our Sigismund is tied with him..." Cooper mused thoughtfully.
“This does not detract from the glory of the Imperial Fists, but Lord Sigismund launched a deep reflection on this.
“After the battle of Chelawt, he invited the Emperor’s Sons Akul Duna of the World Eaters, Karn of the World Eaters, Coswayne of the Dark Angels, and Ezekiel Abaddon of the Luna Wolves entered the Court of Narni in the Iron Warriors and started a battle that lasted for several days. Martial arts training. ”
Cooper kept these names in his heart. Although he knew nothing about them, the mere existence of these names and the infinite space for imagination that followed were enough to make his heart surge.
This is a true honor...the highest praise a man can receive. he thought vaguely.
“After that, our first internal competition was held within the Templars. Every warrior must participate in this competition to test their martial arts level in actual combat. Sir Roger Dorn and Pei After Lord Turabo heard about this, he agreed to officially name the competition as the Feast of Blades and standardize the event."
"Each round of Feast of Blades first begins with a regular competition of varying duration, with specific duration. Depending on the war status of the Great Expedition. During the competition, players will receive points for victory. Each fleet will be ranked by points until the Year of the Feast... Do you need to record it, Helmar?"
Cooper nodded his head confidently: "I can remember, my lord."
The Space Marine continued: "In the Year of the Feast, all contestants will be eliminated after a defeat. Within the fleet The top two to seven fighters will compete again, and the winner and first place will be qualified to go to the host base for the second round of competition
"In this round, the Haskar Guard will be screened for entry into the team simultaneously. In addition, warriors from other legions can also participate in the competition. Fighting with them will not count for victory or defeat, but the winner's honor will be obvious to all.
"In the end, under the watchful eye of the Primarch, the eight warriors will compete until the winner is born - he will be the Templar recruit of the year. ”
Cooper nodded, trotted two steps, and kept up with the Space Marines. They were moving along a road that Cooper had never walked before, and Cooper guessed that this must be the path leading to the blade in the mouth of the Space Marines. The road to where the feast was held - at least the place where the division was held.
Just imagining the grand scene of the duel made Cooper excited. The fights in his own life were all meaningless. A small fight, a stupid dispute with no goal, if he can one day participate in the great battle of the Space Marines...
"Then...we will fight this round. Where have you been? ”
"This is the Year of the Feast," said the Space Marine, proving that even these giants had moments when their voices grew increasingly high. "We are holding the first round of trials. After that, the winner will ascend the Mountain, see the Primarch for himself, and even gain Lord Dorne's approval..."
"Can I--" Cooper swallowed a few words. It was obvious that he couldn't go on the field to fight in person, "Can I record all of this?"
< br>"If you know how to write," the Space Marine said, "you have Lord Dorn's special approval. Good luck to you, little Helmar."
Cooper was surprised, His face flushed with excitement. He clenched his fists: "I will always remember this day, Lord Space Marine. I...I swear to the Emperor that I will join the Imperial Fists!"
The Space Marine nodded. "For Rogal Dorn, and the Master of Mankind. The Imperial Fists welcome true warriors."
"For Rogal Dorn, and the Lord of Mankind!"
——
"Today, Imperial scholars tend to believe that the Garrison of All, Lord of the Nest Tower, and the Imperial Fists are under the The ruling family of Necromunda, the Helmawr family is led by family leaders of all generations. While governing the entire hive city of Necromunda and maintaining the internal operation of the planet, it also provides an endless supply of troops to the Imperial Fists. The glorious history of eternal allegiance to the Seventh Legion began on the day that Cooper Helmar was specially allowed to watch the Feast of Blades
"Even if Cooper Helmale lives his whole life. None of them have ever joined the glorious Seventh Legion. His family's great and selfless contributions to the Empire of Man will still be remembered forever. "——"Lord of Necromunda: Loyalty to Hemar"
(End of this chapter)