Chapter 500 Red Sand
Barabas Dantioch discovered subtle changes in the furnishings that Perturabo had arranged in the main hall of the Royal Palace of Lokos. Looking from a distance, he was sure that something was missing beside the Iron Lord's table, but he couldn't be sure what it was.
"What are you waiting for?" Perturabo's voice came from the hall, pulling Dantioch's feet over the threshold.
The war blacksmith stepped into the hall with the main tone of ivory white, and heard the sound of his armor gently tapping.
Perturabo's hall is still wide and bright. The extremely high ceiling is painted with the Iron Warriors' numerous military exploits and the glorious palace built over the past two hundred years. It is surrounded by flags and pillars as decorations. Each Iron Warriors company has its own formation number and logo on the dark iron-colored tiled floor. The natural wind from the Lokos Highlands swayed through everything in the hall through the wide window sill and swept out from the other side. Even today, this is still the case.
One difference is that the eagle emblem on Perturabo's back has been removed.
That gap stung Dantioch's eyes, and his chest seemed to let out a weak scream in the armor. In front of Perturabo, who was sitting on the Iron Throne, he leaned down low: "Dantioch is called, father."
Perturabo did not start a topical conversation immediately. His eyes were as cold as glaciers piercing between the gaps in his armor, as if he was peeling off his armor and looking directly at the scarred old flesh and blood underneath. He was holding something in his palm, which was obscured by the broad back of his hand and Dantioch couldn't see it.
"I remember that you no longer need this armor to survive." Perturabo said lightly.
"This is my habit, my lord," Dantioch quietly changed his title.
"What habit?"
"Remember the disasters that have happened before so as not to repeat them in the future."
Perturabo looked at him quietly for a moment, his hand squeezing something Tightened.
"Change it, change the way you commemorate it. I will not allow my trident to wear a functional medical armor that can be easily penetrated by plasma."
Dantioch He paused at a certain word in Perturabo's sentence, even if he did expect it, this was probably the reason why Perturabo summoned him today.
"Trident?" he repeated.
"You are my second Halberd, Barabas Dantioch."
"Yes, my lord."
"I appoint you the Trident. A member of the Halberd, serve as my legion's deputy and follow me to attack the empire."
Dantioch leaned forward again: "Yes, sir"
"Speak out your dissatisfaction." Perturabo tapped the table sternly, instantly disrupting the rhythm of Dantioch's two hearts.
"No dissatisfaction, sir, I accept your judgment and appointment. I will never let down the Iron Warriors." The new Trident said quickly. "I will change the armor."
He felt Perturabo looking at him. The stagnation only lasted for a moment, and Perturabo issued the second order.
"Come to me, Dantioch." The Iron Lord said, the focus of his words no longer remaining on Dantioch. "In addition, you can keep your visor design later."
The Iron Lord's heart returned to the galaxy star map in front of him: a bowl-shaped pit with complex projections floating in the middle , the original body's hands do not need to move, relying only on the nerve control of these cables, he promotes the information on the image to change rapidly every moment, just as a burst of crystal light appears on the cables like the Lord of Iron's hanging black hair. cold light.
He was constantly calculating and reasoning, and several bright spots were gradually marked, listed on the edge of the projection in the local language of Olympia. Each place was the intersection of subspace routes, and each place was located on the track leading to the throne of Terra. superior. He is working, but the work content is different from the past.
For some reason, this reminded Dantioch of Olympia in recent days. He had not seen large-scale construction projects on this scale for a long time: new airports were planned, and heavy transport platforms and residential modules occupied them. Originally a vast plain of green wilderness in Olympia, a large number of new railways and roads criss-crossed the map like a spider web. Orbital fortresses and a large number of artillery batteries were put into the production lines of factories. As for the factories themselves, a number of civilian factories were being transformed into wartime arsenal.
While doing all this, Perturabo was very handy. He masterfully controlled every chord of the entire variation, as if he was born for this. His gift is both creation and destruction, and he thrives in both. What restrains him from feeling happy about the latter is simply the fragile morality built into him over the past two hundred years.
Dantioch thought, and with an unspeakable complex psychology, he walked to the Lord of Iron and watched the galaxy that was about to burn from the same perspective as him. After he approached, Perturabo quietly put away the things in his hands and placed them in the hidden compartment of the long table.
"The Sun of Thousand Dusts is on the verge of destruction, and Azhak Ahriman has other aspirations. They cannot be relied upon."
Perturabo raised his head and spoke in a low voice. His fingers clenched tightly to avoid any signs of spasm.
“There is little news about the Imperial Fists, and he is not under our control for the time being. Many other legions that can be won have also failed to get in touch; except for the World Eaters Legion Commander Kahn sent a letter saying that Ange Long is not in the Legion, and his current location is unknown. This is not a good situation, Trident. "
Angron is not in the World Eaters Legion... Is this an excuse, or is it a real situation? Considering Kahn's character, Dantioch thinks it's the latter. But perhaps this is worse news: the last missing Primarch was named Magnus, after all.
"The light of the Star Torch has just lit up. It will take time to restore contact, sir." Dantioch said restrainedly, "We still have a chance."
"In the first Before the battle begins, we must at least ensure that there are more than three legions on our side. We still have a chance, but we don’t have time.”
When Perturabo said this, his eyes suddenly moved to the east side of the hall, and a trace of thought passed between his frowning eyebrows.
He withdrew his gaze and exhaled a breath of hot air from his heart: "Assist me to select combat locations. I will describe the geographical and strategic significance of these locations, as well as the differences that are suitable for tactics."
Iron The Lord's narration was smooth and indifferent, as if there was a machine sitting here operating rather than a more concrete person. Vigilus, Helotas, Istvan, and even Orathk in the Ultramarine Sector near the edge of the Solar Sector...and Colchis.
Yes, Dantioch noticed the worlds listed in the directory, even including the former home planet of the Word Bearers, now the death world of Colchis. If he hadn't always been by Perturabo's side, he would have thought that this traitor to the Human Empire had foresight to seize another primarch's home planet early because Colchis was indeed a suitable battlefield. …
The Trident accompanied his Primarch, pondering and analyzing the pros and cons of each location, even as he quickly realized that Perturabo did not need his help. The Iron Lord alone is enough to complete the planning and prediction of all battlefield strategies. The amount of data flowing through his mind in an instant is a hard work that can only be handled by a large company of Astartes. And he, an Astartes, stood here... because he acted as a living listener or recorder, and he believed that Perturabo was dissecting every aspect of his soul. .
In front of Perturabo, he is the representative of the current state of the Iron Warriors. He is confirming whether they fully support his plan and evaluating the strength and determination of his subordinates. This scrutiny made Dantioch shudder. He tried to wipe away the fear that rose in his heart, a physiological reaction to facing a terrifying giant beast.
Know this: when Perturabo decided to betray the throne, they actually had in mind - it's strange that before they heard the reason given by the Iron Lord, they actually had the intention to follow. As early as the first oath, Perturabo stated that he was willing to share weal and woe with them, and they vice versa.
"Father," he said softly, the softness of his rough voice surprising himself.
"Huh?" Perturabo looked at him.
"Your decision is valuable." Dantioch emphasized seriously, even though he initially wanted to persuade Perturabo, who had been working all day long recently, to relax for even fifteen minutes.
"Yes." Perturabo nodded, and at this moment, the atmosphere between them seemed to suddenly relax. Dantioch regained possession of the Primarch, and Perturabo believed he had him again, along with all the Iron Warriors he stood for.
Under the watchful eye of the Lord of Iron, a batch of new icons appeared on the galactic interstellar map. Every surviving Iron Warrior Dalian inscribed on the floor tiles of this hall was possessed in the projection. An icon of your own. Gradually, some icons shimmered with imaginary light, starting from Olympia and trying out the possibility of going to different places under predetermined dispatch.
Perturabo's story came to an abrupt end when a cold wind from the mountains suddenly surged through the hall.
He narrowed his glass-like light blue eyes, turned his face to the east side of the hall, and sat silently in the Iron Throne, still holding the unknown thing in his hand.
Around them, an invisible energy shield rippled faintly in the air, blocking the wind. Above the pillars, the originally invisible disassembly artillery battery quietly poked out, and the defensive laser rotated, locking a specific angle - Dantioch quickly realized that that angle was manually designated by Perturabo himself, because His own monitoring equipment detected nothing.
"It is a pleasure to see you again," said Perturabo, his statement slow and like a question.
"Really, Perturabo?" The visitor did not hesitate to expose the Iron Lord's greetings.
He stepped into the room against the east wind, but before that, a fishy smell of melted essence and a faint smell of dried blood had already entered the palace of the ruler of Olympia.
The originally light footsteps suddenly became heavy, demonstrating the uprightness of the visitor: such a tall giant, the bloody aura occupied by his existence was greater than his own body covered with scars and bronze armor. Several measures, the first moment he stepped into the hall, he firmly attracted Dantioch's attention, because the entire gorgeous ruling hall was eclipsed by his primitive and rough blood.
A pair of amber-like eyes were brightly embedded in the dark, rough face of the visitor, as if they were burning. The healed blood marks around him marked every turn of his cheek, and some scars were still dripping with dark blood. A pair of battle axes were held in his hands. They were not stained with blood, but they were indeed covered with dangerous scratches. Other than that, his expression was unusually calm, neither angry nor hesitant.
Perturabo nodded to him, letting the blood dripping down his calf soak the iron-colored ground. "I was indeed waiting for you, Angron, and here you are."
"And I was surprised by what I heard, Perturabo." Angron said coldly, in a dangerous tone . He slowly raised his battle axe. The edge of the sharp weapon seemed to have been damaged by long-term chopping and some kind of energy turbulence, and was covered with sharp tooth-like bumps.
Dantioch took a step forward, walked around the long table, and guarded his original body. The tip of the battle ax pointed in the direction of Perturabo, stopping steadily at a diagonal downward angle.
"You come from the webway?" asked Perturabo.
"It is full of cracks and storms, Perturabo. Every corner is filled with dangerous debris and debris, and darkness lurks outside the barrier, watching with eager eyes." Angron said seriously, taking a step forward, "They Dead in pieces, and I know...I can feel that Magnus is gone"
"I know, is the webway still available?"
< br>Angron stared at him.
The nerve cables fell off the interface one by one. Perturabo stood up from his Iron Throne and walked slowly to the edge of the energy shield. His breath caused a ripple of steaming heat on the transparent shield.
"So you have found a path that is still connected, Angron, and come to me for help and answers." Perturabo said, "I accept your trust."
< br>
"First tell me what happened, Perturabo!" Angron roared, and the hall trembled. "Tell me what I heard! What are you thinking, attacking Terra? Is this you, Perturabo?" Turabo?"
"Does this disappoint you?" Perturabo asked, with an unmistakable calmness in his voice.
He fearlessly stepped out of the range of the energy shield, grabbed Angron's raised wrist with his free hand, and stared at the other person's sad face: "You shouldn't ask this "Is it me, Angron? You should ask if the one on the throne is still the emperor."
Angron's blood vessels contracted.
"Explain it all, Perturabo," he said hoarsely.
Perturabo did not let him go. "You will listen to my statement and then make your choice, Angron. If you reject me..."
He let the hidden words that followed dissipate into the air.
“But I believe you will choose me because of your reason and emotion.” The Lord of Iron said bluntly, mentioning this group of words just like mentioning bolts and plywood.
"Perhaps," Angron whispered, still clutching his axe. Perturabo is so close to him...
"Then, let's start with Magnus." Perturabo said, looking away and spreading his other hand , revealing a tiny model with red hair.
What he recently placed in the palm of his hand was the miniature statue left by Magnus in the past - it was no longer agile, but it was still exquisite and lifelike, and it could still bring some kind of ethereal imagination.
(End of this chapter)