Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 200 Macragge’s Travels (End)

+That's why I think you're becoming dull from exertion, Malcador. +
+The lifestyle of the Imperial Chancellor... is determined by the work the Emperor brings to..., the craftsmen. +The Prime Minister's voice came intermittently. Even though the two people on the call were both peak psychic users that humans could reach, the conversation across half the galaxy was still quite challenging.

They are not emperors. They can follow the spiritual channel built by Morse, directly throw out a clone that is almost like a normal person countless light years away, and have a harmonious and intimate conversation with his heir - Morse He has already begun to think about how to call the Lord of Mankind to Macragge, and use his victorious glory to completely hook Robert Guilliman's heart to the huge warship of the Human Empire.

+ Oh, maybe that sounds rude, but the adjective 'boring' applies to you, not your life. +Morse corrected Malcador, +I just told you in detail how Perturabo successfully integrated an entire star cluster into his Olympian political system, but you didn't even say a word of praise. . +
Malcador gave a deep sigh.

+The Ministry of Finance has sent more than ten... briefings on tax... How should I praise you...? +
Morse shook his head slightly, making his behavior look like a small gesture that an ordinary passerby would make on the street, rather than a seriously ill patient talking to himself about a mental disorder.

+I will take the tax issue to Perturabo, Chancellor. +
He stepped away from the door of Macragge's public bathroom.

During his half-minute pause, he had regretfully realized that he probably shouldn't have committed the crime of laziness when fabricating his body, so that he couldn't enter the bathroom now.

Within 30 meters of the bathroom, Morse found a tavern. Looking at the boiling broth in the open-air stove and the owner's carefully painted decorations of figs, sausages, cheese, vegetables and other decorations on the simple walls, he decided here. Treat yourself to a long-lost midnight snack.He happened to not need a high-end venue with an elegant fountain and a small garden.

Low tables and chairs are arranged outside the bar. Sitting here, you can see how the deep night sharpens the edges of the laurel crown branches surrounding the forehead of the golden statue outside the Senate. Inside the windows of several large public places in Macragge The bright yellow lights flickered steadily behind the large residential area.

Morse ordered wine, stew, and oatmeal in the native language, even with an accent that blended well with the citizens of Macragge.

The style of his clothes was similar to Macragge culture. The shopkeeper had no doubt that he came from the depths of the galaxy. He just regarded him as a strange local citizen and asked him if he wanted to come indoors and lie down as if he were at home. Dine on a bench.Morse rebuffed him with a smile.

+What's your midnight snack today, Prime Minister? + Morse asked.

+ Terra It's lunch time. +
+What's your lunch today? +
+I haven't had time for breakfast yet, Artisan. +Makado replied. +The Legal Department is putting more procedural issues above the problem itself. According to the 1 sets of interim rules revised this year, more than one-tenth of our fiscal year report submission procedures themselves do not comply with the process specifications, the Legal Department proposed This part of the report should be returned, and the relevant officials should be removed from their posts or left pending review. +
+Oh, then you go to work. + Morse stirred his oatmeal with a spoon. The smell of cereals was close to him, and the temperature climbed into his palms wrapped in black cloth along with the rising heat.He suddenly missed the memory of his skin becoming warm and moist after touching the warm pottery bowl, although these details in life had long been far away from him.

But when he thought that Malcador hadn't had breakfast, these sentiments immediately disappeared.

Different from the silence of Olympia where only the wind blows through the trees outside the city at night, and also different from the streets of Inwit that are completely filled with fierce cold winds, the nights of Macragge have become a particularly intuitive symbol of its current prosperous development. evidence.

Local merchants from both Macragge and beyond gathered in the city for a night of what could be called a small celebratory feast before spices, silks, produce, and many other precious commodities were traded in the markets the next day.

After leaving the space port, travelers brought by short-distance navigation technology also came to the long streets of the city in search of food, clothing, shelter, and nighttime entertainment.

In restaurants, after people drank until they were tipsy amid the aroma of beans and meat dishes, they unsurprisingly enjoyed the worldly pleasure of discussing philosophy and politics.

Under the influence of some mysterious communication principles that are difficult to explain, the decisions of the leader of a certain political system can often be partially known to the people and trigger many extended discussions, not to mention Macragge's relaxed discussion atmosphere. It provides excellent soil for general discussions among citizens, and Robert Guilliman and Conor Guilliman simply announced the direction of reforms in the past month to win the support of the people.

Before he finished half of the bowl of porridge, Morse had already heard the soldiers at the table next to him, who were on vacation today, starting to discuss the two newly adjusted rules of procedure of the Senate: two-thirds vote and absolute majority. Various imaginative speculations, such as whether exactly one-third of the five hundred "nobles above" disagreed with Conor Guilliman, the consul whose face was on the other side of Macragge's coin. Does Guan Jialan's disappearance during this reform clearly indicate the friction between the two parties?

"You must have guessed wrong this time, Manicino," the craftsman heard one of the soldiers say, "my brother-in-law's father happened to be guarding the senate that day, and he saw the two consuls stand up and shake hands with each other. "

"I can testify," another soldier laughed, leaning against the horseshoe sign at the door of the tavern, hot water in a clay cup, "that the husband of my sister's friend's sister knew a janitor in the council chamber."

"Come on, friends, I will go back tonight and ask Gloria himself if he has shaken hands with Conor Guilliman." Manichino, a tall soldier, grinned, "I dare say they are definitely not on the same ship. sailors. I'll treat you to another twenty dinars of wine."

"You kid," a veteran hit Manichino on the shoulder, "are you buying us drinks with the money you won from us?"

Morse listened for a moment as the porridge and stew passed through the curved spoons and disappeared into his mouth.He was not sure whether the delicious taste he simulated was really what these dishes should taste like, and how much of it was born from his unintentional beautification.

At this time, the topic of this group of soldiers has already turned to whether the civil war on the next planet came from the secret instigation of the Senate. This is ridiculous, but it also proves how peaceful Macragge's reform period was, so that this Qunma Kurag soldiers ran out of the military camp when they had time to eat barbecue and drink wine on the street.

He stood up with the wine glass in hand and walked to the table of the soldiers.

"Friends of Macragge," Morse said, speaking in a tone that was thick for Macragge - well, Nucerian, "I am here to travel. To hear you speak like this , Is Macragge’s recent government unstable? My brother told me that he wants to come here and do trade with Macragge. I haven’t heard of it. Is the situation here still suitable for trade?”

Several soldiers looked at each other and looked at the gold pattern on the edge of Morse's black robe.

"Does anything look wrong to me?" Morse maintained his tone, pretending to be a little alert. "This is a place where we can discuss Macragge's Archons, right? They don't have their own secret surveillance force, do they?"

Manicino was the first to answer for Morse. "Of course not, friends from outside. Macragge welcomes merchants. The Archon's new policy has separate care for outsiders. It is posted on the notice board at the door. If you come to settle here, as long as you can prove your Due to your status, the Senate will also allocate excess land to you."

"Thank you, soldier." Morse bowed slightly like a true mortal and expressed his gratitude to the soldiers. "I'll ask around again."

Morse drank the two sips of sweet wine remaining at the bottom of the glass, gently placed the glass back on the table, turned and walked into the street.The bright lights of the night still fell on his black robe, and the hustle and bustle of the market had not yet returned to calm, so he could not be said to have entered the vast night.

+Are you still listening, Malcador? +he asked.

+Not here. +The Prime Minister replied gently, his tone sounded like he had finally resolved the dispute with the Ministry of Justice, +Any questions, craftsman? +
+No more, Prime Minister.Good night. +
-

Steam evaporates slowly in the bathroom, blurring the exquisite murals and various ornate patterns inlaid with gold and silver on the walls.Gold and silver products of incalculable value and extremely exquisite animal bone carvings are placed on the obsidian square low tables around this small private bath, with some kind of deep glazed blue that has been genetically selected. The bouquets complement each other.The warm spring water has become a simpler enjoyment for the Primarch, who is not easily contaminated by dirt.

Robert Guilliman takes on the role of mentor in the bathhouse.Finding a reasonable opportunity to talk to his brothers who are older than him is not always possible, let alone one of his three brothers named Rogal Dorn.

The white-haired original body seemed to never change his outspoken character like ice and stone. Robert admired his rationality very much, but sometimes, Robert had to admit that it was more beneficial to live with Perturabo. Stabilize your mental state at a relatively healthy level.

Guilliman stood up from the water, stepped onto the white stone steps, stepped on the carpet beside the bath and grabbed a towel to cover himself.He turned around and invited his brothers in the pool to follow him.

"We can go to the cooled room and rest for a while. Then we go to the heated pool, apply some essential oils and bathe again."

"In Olympia, we also have some public bathrooms," Perturabo said, "but this is the first time in decades that I treat bathing so formally."

Robert shook his head: "We will discuss many things here. The Senate will discuss in the bathroom which side's attendant will present the next day's proposal."

"People cannot fight each other in the bathroom, and the efficiency of hand-to-hand combat is always far lower than that of weapons." Perturabo answered, taking his towel and wrapping it around his waist. "Though we Primarchs, even with empty hands, are an irresistible threat to mortals."

"Exactly. Except for a few baths in my childhood, I never shared a bath with others. For me, today is also the first time in several years that we have shared a bath." Robert raised his gold-leaf laurel wreath with his fingers. , pressed between the damp hair covered with water vapor.

"It seems that this is the first time for us to do this." Angron said, flicking the towel, and the snow-white soft cloth happened to be wrapped around the scarlet scar around his waist.

Robert waited for the white-haired original body, whose face was unusually rosy after soaking in the hot water, to come out of the bath. Suddenly, he worried for a moment whether the brother who claimed to be from the world of ice and snow would be dizzy from the long hot water bath.He immediately wiped away his distracting thoughts and firmly let his reason help him choose to fully trust in the Primarch's constitution.

Roger Dorn tied the towel just like his brothers, tightening it as carefully as if he were making a handicraft.

"Yes," he said.

Several original bodies were wrapped in the warm air, sitting on the benches around the bath, slightly dissipating the heat from their bodies.

There were some prepared refreshing fruits on the small dining table. Perturabo chose the plate of green grapes and felt the juice fall into his throat, silently moisturizing the base of his tongue and esophagus.He spat out the grape seeds and threw them into the empty saucer.

Guilliman said: "A long time ago, Macragge nobles threw bones or shells directly on the ground when they ate, waiting for their servants to clean them up afterward. This was a habit that was corrected and abolished before I landed here."

"This is not an easy matter," Perturabo said. "It is not serious enough to legislate and difficult to enforce."

"When the Archon consciously reduced the number of banquets and took the lead in sitting upright, we proved that the Macragge's stomach was not designed to eat while lying down, or to eat more food by repeatedly inducing vomiting. "

"You're proud of that, Robert."

Robert Guilliman showed a modest smile: "This is not only the nobility of the person in power, but also the inevitable result of the self-iteration of culture and historical development. Every reform can only succeed when the reform is truly needed. .”

"You have to see what people really need." Angron whispered, "You have to see their hearts."

Perturabo spoke between bites of grapes. "Of course," he said. "You are popular among the people, Robert. Many people hope that you will become the next consul."

This did not please Robert.

"I need to know if the Crusade will allow me to serve as Archon as well. If I am unable to fulfill my duties as Archon, then," he paused, "I will not serve as Archon of Macragge."

Perturabo's eyes glanced at the laurel wreath on Robert's head.He did not wear a green leaf crown today, a gold crown replaced it.The Iron Lord realized that this was identification for the Senate Council and was unsure if it was some kind of final commemoration.

"Don't worry too early, Robert." Perturabo smiled, "Have a good rest tomorrow. Your army will be reviewed in front of you the day after tomorrow."

He put down the empty plate with only grape seeds left: "I want to know more now, what is the point of applying essential oil?"

(End of this chapter)