Chapter 495 The Light of the Star Torch Afterwards
“What?” Olanius waited for Morse’s further explanation, and he added in advance: “Thank you.”
“Hidden words. Spells. Babel...Those things that you did not hinder the Emperor from obtaining, those things that you refused to use," Morse said, "I can give them to you, and you will choose the next learner. —Stop looking at me like that, Perturabo, this doesn't mean I'm going to say goodbye to you this way. I'm just going to send you a teaching book."
He pulled one out of the air. The hard-covered luminous scroll is like taking a roll of soft silk. Every character on it is as hard to distinguish as if it were engraved in the air, and is as small as dust. Around it, a series of constellation-like words floated and swayed in all directions of the scroll.
John Grammaticus glanced at it and looked away, his expression so bad that he seemed about to retching in the next second. He decisively faced the wall, holding on to the dripping stone, waiting for himself to slowly recover.
"Why?"
"You didn't destroy it then, and you won't destroy it now. And your harshness even refused Neos' control of the curse. You will choose a suitable carrier for this power , not to mention Constantin Waldo will accompany you, Orr."
Orr Persson said softly."
"Why not?" No matter how much you refuse, Orr, you can leave. I will still have something to say with Perturabo later."
Morse nodded to them, and the scroll fell into Orr's rough palm. Take it: "I'm sorry that I've been gone...Morse."
"Goodbye, Orr. And you two." Morse waved briefly.
John found that his body began to merge into the air. Before he shouted, a circle of runes lit up around them. Within the range framed by the runes, the silver light swayed like a mercury-like vortex. , a few seconds later, with an expressionless gaze from the commander of the Imperial Guard, they disappeared into the formation leading to the webway.
"Now it is our time," Perturabo spoke, his voice like the heavy roar of armor clashing when the Titan's machine was running, "Where are you going?"
" You feel it." Morse smiled and raised his hands, holding a symbolic ball of phosphorus in his looming palms. "I won't go around in circles with you, Perturabo. I will say goodbye to you for the time being. "
"Because of the Star Torch?" Just looking down at the ball of light in the hands of the black-robed craftsman, Perturabo understood what he meant in an instant. The corner of his mouth trembled for a moment, then was suppressed with all his strength.
"Everyone has a role to play, and it's rare for Constantine to say something that will ring a bell, Lord of Iron. The Webway is not safe and cannot be passed by our entire army... We need the Star Torch, and for that, we need a Personally giving power to the Hollow Mountains."
Morse explained briefly, and then found that the simplicity he thought was not so straightforward, he paused, "I know what you are worried about, I just. A guide of power, not a fuel for the Star Torch. I will find the time to return after this war is over."
Looking at Perturabo, he emphasized again.
“I hate leaving without saying good-bye, Perturabo, and I never sugarcoat you, delaying matters until they are irreversible and then regretting them. I make my decision clear to you: I I will go to the Hollow Mountains to guide the extinguished light of the Star Torch. If possible, I will explore ways to prevent the throne from seeing the pilot light of the Star Torch.” That's enough.
He paused and looked at the silence on Perturabo's face: "Since we are competing for the throne, we need to grab more chips on our side."
Perturabo slowly said Nodding, in this time of nodding, a Primarch can think enough to precisely control the direction of all artillery in a planetary battle, or improve the built-in energy engine of a Glory Queen. However, however... He did remain silent once. Time to nod.
"Besides, the Imperials need this light." The Iron Lord said, "They are the ones who really need it. Five million planets - before they are affected by the war. Star Torch's Extinguishing affects far more than just a few armies."
"Life will continue until death," Morse laughed at the nonsense of this statement, listen to what he is saying!
But, of course, the territory of the Milky Way is so vast - paradoxically, it is not unreachable... Even if Terra is going to burn, they would really rather that most of the people who surrender to this empire don't even have to know this. The occurrence of a war... until the results of the rebellion are announced, the change and return of the throne, or the end and death...
Although this is just a wish...
"So, who is supporting the light of the Star Torch now?" Perturabo asked, "It has not completely dimmed, but has left a trace of light."
"Like a candle in a storm, right? I have some guesses - literally, I ran through the list of Imperial psykers in my head, and I wish I The first guess is accurate, otherwise it will be extremely regrettable."
"I understand." Perturabo nodded, and a candidate who had been silent for a long time also appeared in his heart.
At this moment, he realized that he didn't have much to say. He thought of the wine creatively brewed from almonds and grapes by the son of the Red King. The taste was mellow and bitter, full of contradictions, rising on the tip of his tongue.
"Are you leaving now?" he asked.
"Unless you have something else to say, Perturabo." Mors replied, exhaling a breath. He hoped that this would happen quickly and simply, rather than in some grand and unreasonable way. As for the environment that seems to be enough to constitute a kind of fateful farewell ceremony.
He wished he could finish his words right here - those things that must be said, rather than unnecessary trivial words: those overly complicated words seemed like soft and sharp claws, scratching his cerebral cortex... ...the claws of some abandoned small forest beast, the thing wandering hopelessly back and forth in the dense forest, rampaging.
However, what is there to be sad about? He himself couldn't tell, and he thought there should be no such thing.
Morse smiled, and his figure expanded in an instant. He looked levelly at the giant before him and patted Perturabo on the shoulder...an equal, a man who had grown.
A question ran through Perturabo's mind, a question without an answer. He asked himself who else had the ability to maintain the Star Torch today, especially under the threat of the Dark Throne... none. Indeed no more.
He shouldn't have thought about this issue until now: navigation, this should be a doubt that was as important as any of his previous considerations, or even more important. This is enough to determine the success of the rebellion. He should really think about it carefully instead of forgetting the answer the first moment he comes across it. Perturabo felt his heart become heavy for an instant, and a smoldering coldness burned through it. He silently accepted the pain and chewed it in silence. Yes, everyone has a role.
"No more," he said softly, maybe even smiling a little, "go ahead. I thank you."
Morse's figure melted into In the dust and gray mist raised by the cave, his body collapsed downwards along with gravity. He paused before disappearing completely, bringing a few words that he could not hide.
"I know the strength of your will. Now you have grown like no other. You can withstand everything, and you have been called by the road. Twenty years later, or ten years later, maybe earlier, you will come with your legend. Tell me, and I will tell you with a smile, that wherever the light of the star torch reaches, I am not blind."
Then, he turned around in a hurry, and he was able to support the inner part of the shell. Finally leaving completely, Perturabo waited for another standard Terran second - was it really a standard second? Or did he feel that way - then, he knelt down, picked up the shell left by Morse, and looked down.
With a very strange feeling, he slowly folded it up and decided to put it in the cabinet he left for Morse, just like he often did.
Soon after, he summoned the transport boat and waited for the metal slope to be lowered in front of him, and a passage leading to the interior of the steel creation opened to him.
Soon after he returned to his flagship, he first put down the empty body in his hand, paused briefly when passing by the lower elevator shaft leading to the workshop, and then turned straight to the elevator leading to the command hall. the way.
A portable servo board has been connected to his nervous system. He summoned the senior commanders on the Iron Blood one by one, and before they arrived, he confirmed that they had not received any signals from outside Moro—— Of course, the navigation hall sent negative information, and the navigation has not been restored yet.
When he arrived at the command hall, the soldiers who had received the order were already waiting for him indoors. Some even put on combat armor. This was a potential statement that they were ready. Welcome to war. Even though they don't know what happened yet...
"Who do you think we will fight?" He named one of them and watched the armored warrior stand up. Bowing to him: "I don't know, father."
"Now, give me an answer." Was Perturabo marveling at the roughness in his own tone? No, he calmly expressed his turbulent emotions through words. He has learned that he will not be able to maintain complete composure throughout the ensuing battle, that he will often be bitter and angry...and that he will endure it gladly.
"...The Word Bearer." The warrior said respectfully, feeling slightly uneasy about his own answer. "There is a conflict between us."
"Very well. Are you willing to go into full-scale war with the Word Bearers?" He said coldly, folding his hands to form a hollow triangle on the table.
"Father! That is our cousin after all. This will..."
The warrior paused for a moment, and continued without waiting for Perturabo to interrupt: "...the impact Our reputation within the Empire, and our credibility with the Throne, has been lost in this regard, my lord, and this may mean that we will be stopped by the Emperor."
"Except. Besides, no one likes to attack their cousins and brothers, do they?" Perturabo sneered.
“I believe in your orders and decisions.” The soldier said decisively, “Of course I don’t like it, but we will obey all your orders.”
Perturabo looked around at his heir, motioning for the warrior to sit down. "I believe you all have the same idea. If you have any additional objections, it is best to tell me now."
The silence in the room seemed to stretch infinitely under his gaze, and for a moment , and at an appropriate moment, sufficient for their preparation, Perturabo broke the silence.
"Very well," he said, "I appreciate your attitude, however, there is one thing you have made a mistake. This is not a war between us and the Word Bearers, my warriors."< br>
He stared at them, looking for signs of disapproval and uneasiness. He does find some, and He will correct them.
Under his silent command, the door of the command hall was quietly closed.
He stood up, his voice like rolling thunder in the rain, rolling over the tense faces with clenched teeth.
"The Great Crusade is over, warriors, but there is no end to the blood and fire, and what awaits us is the next dark undertaking -
"I won't use any words to say that. To whitewash what I am about to do, if there are people in the empire who regard us as traitors who broke the alliance and broke the promise, that is correct. If you realize that next we are going to be wading into thorns and going into darkness and going through a period of difficult times, that's also accurate. Except for one thing: I don't think I betrayed humanity, and if you think so, that's wrong. There is no chaos in heresy.
"Because this is a war between us and the Throne World, I have made such a decision. Yes, next, the Iron Warriors will betray the Golden Throne."
He said , who solemnly greeted his senior commanders with uncontrollable shock. Their uneasiness and confusion made his heart feel cold and sour, and also felt strangely happy. This wasn't what he expected - it was what his blood was waiting for. This was what the Primarch was created to do, and he stared at the dangerous edge beneath his feet, trembling at the challenge he had chosen.
"Whether you are aware of Terra's anomalies or not, and the strangeness of everything these days, darkness is approaching. As the Warmaster of the Human Empire, since I cannot save all this from under the Dark Throne, I will let the galaxy burn.
< br> "Magnus the Crimson has laid the first step, and we will continue in his footsteps, destroying everything we have built, destroying everything the Throne seeks to strengthen - and then, we may be able to lift humanity from darkness. to be saved from it, and we must do so. "
The paradoxical irony in these words caused a cold smile to freeze at the corner of his own mouth.
"Since you have heard my words, it means that you must be with me. . Next, I will give you five minutes to think about all the questions you will ask next. We will then discuss in detail how this decision will be put into practice. ”
(End of this chapter)