Chapter 455 Codex of Nicea
A Primarch arrived late - Robert Guilliman concluded after counting the number of bright curtains in the niche-like hall compartments in conclusion.
There are thirteen curtains hanging with crimson eagle emblem gems, and golden light shining from inside - the twisted light and shield used to cover the body operate under pure technology to cover each box. The identity of the intermediary; if necessary, it is enough to obscure their position and allow everyone to speak freely.
In addition to the Warmaster Perturabo on the rostrum high up, Horus Luperkar who was resting in Terra, and the two Primarchs Maag standing in the center of the venue talking. Nuth and Mortarion. The locations of the seventeen Primarchs have been determined.
One person has not yet arrived.
The arrival of latecomers is silent.
Amidst the horn sound during the intermission, when Magnus went down to the side of the stage and exchanged some topics about psykers with Jaghatai and Riemann, there was a room next to where Robert was. In the room, a beam of light blocked by black cloth quietly lit up.
Then, the curtain that obscured the identity was opened directly, allowing the legion representatives inside to look directly at the red carpet and the Skyhawk in the center of the Nicaea venue.
When Robert Guilliman found a pair of burned armor, with falling ash residue, sitting quietly not far away from him, his upper lip was slightly raised in surprise.
After seeing clearly the remaining golden words reflected on the shadowy face in the occasional passing light, his surprise quietly deepened.
Lorgar Aurelion felt something, looking at his curtain, his still smooth facial skin lingering in silence.
"Brother Robert Guilliman," Lorgar first sent the greeting through some intuitive way.
"Aurelion," Guilliman had to answer, politely raising the curtain. He couldn't help but read the changes in Luojia like a classic.
The Word Bearers and the Ultramarines have been at odds with each other for many years. Robert Guilliman has banned any religious belief in Ultramar, while the Word Bearers chose to stand aside after several nosy greetings. .
What surprised Guilliman was that Lorgar himself spoke highly of him, praising "the Lord of Ultramar's firm belief in the truth of the Empire" many times. This made Guilliman disagree and find it difficult to express.
His voice was as broken as his appearance, which turned his greeting into a hoarse quest.
A Word Bearers priest stood beside him, standing parallel to the Primarch. He had a strange face, and his cheeks were thin and bleeding, unlike a Word Bearers priest. Instead, he looked like a victim under torture.
"Nice to meet you, Robert," Lorgar said in a low voice, "Can you tell me how the meeting went today?"
"I can give you a copy of the meeting. Minutes, it's a pleasure to meet you, Aurelion." Guilliman nodded slightly to the warrior beside him and stood up from his seat. The two clerks took a step forward holding the scroll to match Guilliman's promise.
Logar stared at him, his purple pupils sunk deep into his eye sockets, and his golden skin was like a dry parchment. This was an illusion caused by the fact that he had not taken in water for many days.
"Thank you, Robert." He said softly and paused, "Is today the meeting of Perturabo's trusteeship?"
"It was the same yesterday." Guilliman said honestly.
Lorgar stared at him, as if trying to find some deeper point or view, until Perturabo called to him.
“I hear you coming, Lorgar Aurelion, come to me,” Warmaster Perturabo’s voice accurately reached him through the directional diffusion of the speaker device. .
Lorgar looked down, meeting Perturabo's eyes distantly, his silence unsettling to Guilliman.
"You missed the oath," Guilliman reminded.
Logar disappeared into the shadows of the alcove compartments, and soon appeared in the center of the theater below. He walked across the smooth marble floor and leaned under the statue of the Aquila.
Perturabo approached him, accompanied by two acolytes brought from Terra. The speakers adjusted their frequency, and the sound panels hidden on the walls of the arena moved in sequence to ensure that Lorgar Aurelion's oath was witnessed by all.
Perturabo stood on the steps, looking down at Lorgar slightly. A familiar scepter was held in the palm of his hand with one hand. It was the aquila staff of the Prime Minister of the Empire. In his right hand he held an unfolded piece of parchment.
“Dear brothers: We are gathered here today to discuss and solve the urgent governance issues facing the Human Empire, and more importantly, to pursue unity and truth under the guidance of the Emperor. Are you willing to cherish Listen to him and his spokesmen with humility and reverence, and make decisions that are in line with his will with honesty and reason?”
"I swear an oath based on what I have learned, what I ask for, and what I believe in. I recognize the Emperor as my only master, and I hope that this meeting will be blessed and bear fruit."
Logar's oath blurted out. , making an oath is as easy as drinking water for him, but few people know that Luojia can indeed remember every oath he makes, and through the words that are not valued by others, he can find the few words in each oath that are worthy of analysis.
"I bear witness to your oath, in the name of the Emperor." Perturabo said, motioning the acolytes to seal the parchment scroll engraved with the oath he recited and put it behind the rostrum. The candlestick in front of the emperor's statue was lit with electric sparks.
Just as the acolyte was about to take away the oath scroll, Luojia stepped forward and held the scroll.
The wounds that had not healed for several days overflowed with blood. He left his own red blood mark on the scroll and looked directly at Perturabo, his eyes telling silent persistence.
Perturabo returned his gaze in equal measure.
Around the high platform, several Primarchs were attracted by the situation of Lorgar and Perturabo.
A crashing sound broke the silence in the theater, and Leman Russ raised his hands to apologize for bumping into the round table beside the stage. Today he also wears a wolf skin on his shoulders, but in a different way from Horus. The wolf head hangs on the top of his head as a scary and wild gray round hat, which adds to his cheerful and embarrassed smile. Chills of Fenris.
Lorgar let go of the acolyte and bowed his head to Perturabo again.
A few minutes later, Guilliman watched Aurelion reappear in the compartment next to him. For some reason, Robert Guilliman sighed in his heart.
The second half of the meeting was held under the auspices of Perturabo. Within two days of presentations, the requirements of the empire's psychic system had been basically determined, and Magnus's psychic tome was officially named "The Saint of Nicaea". "The Code" will be gradually implemented in the entire range where the star torch can shine after correction and revision.
This is the time for suggestions and questions. Acolytes and Memoirs will faithfully note that Guilliman made his recommendations based on his knowledge of theory and management.
Even with the shadow curtain, he was sure that Magnus must have recognized that he was participating in the discussion. Although Magnus is arrogant and strict, and is particularly difficult to approach on academic issues, it is definitely not for this Imperial University scholar to directly ask the questioner not to waste precious meeting time. After the meeting, he will come to discuss these issues alone. Make a fuss.
After him, another legion provided some suggestions for reference.
“This is the psychic prohibition law that we have been implementing experimentally. If you are interested, we are willing to donate all our management experience to the Nicaea Conference. In addition, I support Magnus-if Motta Don't insist on keeping his guards 7,749 steps away from him, and we will support him."
Mortarion glanced gloomily at the dark curtain, standing proudly in the Nikea Conference Center enough to ignore the ridicule of others.
For this meeting, for the Emperor's promise that he had received a hundred and fifty years ago when he was still trying to survive in Barbarus, he had prepared for countless years and used countless compasses, cards, and bones. Use dice and abacus, even speech scripts, recordings and mirrors to rehearse your words and deeds and deliberate on your decisions.
He walked seven steps around Magnus: "This hidden suggester, if you can only talk nonsense on your own predetermined position, you should not join this moment. Discussion of complex issues." The shadows behind the curtain surged for a moment, and there seemed to be a burst of laughter like a gentle breeze in the rain before melting into silence.
On the stage, Mortarion was pacing slowly, looking around at every shadow curtain, his boots making a crisp sound on the ground, matching his speech.
With resolute confidence, he once again described the disasters that unregulated psychic energy has brought to countless worlds, about the agricultural world seduced by ancient psychics, about the collapse of temples and the evil spirits causing chaos, about the inability to give up witchcraft. The destruction and destruction, as well as the struggle, the internal and external struggle, and the most tragic, the endless struggle between the internal and external human beings.
Guilliman listened to Mortarion's statement until the Death Guard Primarch finally bowed in the direction of Perturabo and the Imperial Sky Eagle represented by the Warmaster, to greet the next question. author’s proposal.
"They are very firm in their views, Brother Guilliman." The hoarse voice floated into Guilliman's ears, like the collision and trembling of vitrified gravel on a burned dune.
"Exactly," Guilliman said, immersed in the collision and exchange of ideas in the theater below, enjoying the atmosphere of the place.
Everyone is contributing to the construction of the human empire, and all results will be further promoted in their respective territories or home planets. The Council of Nicaea was convened flawlessly, save for the Emperor himself being nowhere to be seen, and the fact that Horus was still awake.
"What about you?" Lorgar whispered, his voice reaching Guilliman's side through the sound hole in the wall, "How did you strengthen your mind, Guilliman?"
"Me?" This question made Guilliman wonder, "You ask me?"
"Why not? We all have our beliefs, Robert. A part of us believes in the Imperial truth, and this is among my Word Bearers It is also reflected. 'The heavens declare His glory, and the firmament declares His means.' Imperial truth, or science as some people call it, is the tool He has given us to explore and reveal the mysteries and laws of His creation. "
"I think what I believe is different from what you describe," Guilliman couldn't help but argue with Lorgar. He didn't like others to pounce on their mistakes solemnly in front of him," I believe in the imperial truth itself, not the truth reinterpreted by your ideas. In our observation of reality, based on the principle of cutting out the complex and simplifying it, is there room and necessity for the existence of gods? ”
"Then answer for me the meaning of psionics, Robert." Lorgar whispered, and Guilliman fell silent thoughtfully for a moment. As Guilliman thought about his response, he sensed that the atmosphere was not suitable for him to make his point.
Lorgar's silence made Guilliman gradually feel uneasy. Just across the wall, the Primarch with the most dangerous thoughts among them was experiencing the turbulent waves in his mind.
A premonition told him that Lorgar was trembling. In the world that he saw in the eyes of those who had the truth and was analyzed by another set of structures, he felt everything he could perceive turned upside down.
Because next, Lorgar asked softly: "But where is the Emperor?"
Lorgar Aurelion stood up, walked to the edge of the railing, and stared at the genes on the podium below. The Primarch was like gazing at three blazing stars burning on pure white stones and red carpets, like walking on the edge of a furnace.
Luojia's hand holding the railing stiffly squeezed the stone-coated iron under his hand, and he heard a subtle creaking sound spreading quietly like a continuous whimper.
He once wanted to promise you that at the Nicaea Conference, your doubts would be answered and your tensions would be relieved.
He said that he was extremely honest and talked to you about everything, but you felt the irreducible doubt swelling in your heart and contracting violently in your heart and lungs.
He answered your question honestly, but he told you: The Tyrant Star will not take us to heaven.
He refused to answer: Is the Emperor a Tyrant Planet?
He sees your pain but cannot understand it.
He can't see the world you see - or he can see it. Facing the Nightmare Sun and the Tyrant Star, he sees completely different results from you.
He saw - the morning star saw the enemy.
You gasped, looking at your beloved Perturabo. You know that everything here belongs to him, that after the fall of Horus, after the disappearance of the Emperor, the whole Imperium belongs to him, and you can be his too, if he will accept you.
The curtain in front of you is the window He set for you, locked in your own hands, you can easily unlock it, and you do so, exposing yourself to Him in silence, praying to Him Don't think you are acting out of self-pity and begging for his forgiveness.
It's not Perturabo you're afraid of, it's the Emperor's refusal to see you, even though you really don't want Perturabo to refuse to listen to you.
But you are standing here alone, your image standing alone in the entire wide theater, bringing out a dark lonely projection and a silent hollow echo. The wind blows through the corridor in your chest.
Perturabo focused on the meeting itself, those words drifted past your ears, as if knowing that your heart would not listen or listen, your reason was used to record the meeting in Nicaea all of the crucial decisions on the table, and your emotions are focused on the higher-level scenario, shrinking back as Perturabo ignores you.
The long gaze makes your eyelids begin to feel sore, and black ripples spread in your eyes like the blackened gravel of Colchis.
At this time you are observing the eldest son in your heart.
You inappropriately think of a word that makes your heart tremble, like a fatal snake biting through your finger. You think of the tenth disaster brought by Gu Terra and the disaster of the firstborn. In one night, all the firstborn sons were killed by the destroying angel.
You didn't know what this meant, except that you began to regret your premature judgment and title of Perturabo.
Through the hanging curtains, the vast empty space and the distance that makes your eyes widen, you stare at Perturabo, feeling unsteady on your feet. You thought you were sane, but fear has found you, swimming upstream through the cracks in your atonement armor of self-recrimination and sacrifice.
Then, you saw Perturabo look at you for a moment, and the iron wire on his head whipped gently like a whip, or there was a subtle silenced gunshot.
The invisible bullet penetrated you through his eyes, your heart trembled sickly for a cold moment, and then you knew that this was not a good thing, you breathed rapidly, waiting for Petula Beau delivers the verdict to you. Your limbs were panicking and trying to escape, but you fixed yourself on the railing and opened your eyes, but you seemed unable to see anything clearly.
"The psychic thing has come to an end," Perturabo said. "I will thank everyone for their participation. You have made indelible contributions to the construction of the empire. The historian will record our legend, No, history itself will write about us in turn. Every time another person is born in the galaxy who benefits from the decisions made today, our dedication will gain new meaning."
You looked at Perturabo without making any expression. You think, it's time, it's my turn, it doesn't look like the Emperor will be there. And he looks at you, and the firstborn in you invites you.
“Next, we’re going to discuss another important topic.
“I’m sure many of you are confused about this, especially since we just put the topic of psionics in On the table, acknowledge the existence of psionic energy, draw the line between psionic energy and witchcraft, and clarify the details one by one. The "Sacred Code of Nicaea" has been initially written, and everything is just waiting to be officially implemented.
“This does not seem to be entirely consistent with one of the tenets we have always believed in - the universe is rational, all knowledge is interpretable, and there is no mystery of psychic energy, witchcraft of the soul, or supernatural
“Of course we can think that all spiritual energy can be analyzed and all mysteries are just part of science; but according to our current level of science and technology, in the eyes of rational people, this is just authority. The protective coat woven by ideas is deceptive language logic, used to shield human beings from the world of endless darkness with ignorance and ignorance. ”
"Therefore, next, we will discuss the Imperial Truth again."
Perturabo declared calmly, stood up from the rostrum, held the Eagle Scepter in his hand, stepped off the platform, and walked into the theater In the center, the end of the scepter struck hollowly on the marble floor as he walked.
Then, the Iron Lord raised the Eagle Scepter high, and his cold gaze swept across each closed shadow curtain until his gaze rested on the pale face of Lorgar Aurelion.
(End of this chapter)