Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 23 Arachne
Why did Morse turn me down again?
A week ago, when Perturabo woke up from the ground and looked up at the back of Morse's chair, these words beat repeatedly in his heart, even covering the tiredness in his body.

He intentionally brushed the question out of his heart, trying to preserve some precious pride for himself, but all the self-encouragement only wiped the sentence brighter and clearer.

Perturabo had to lift the thick white cloth that kept his body warm and asked loudly: "Morse, why can't you teach me to win?"

Then he heard the answer, exactly the same as the one he had received before falling asleep.

"You have learned skills from the local masons of Lokos." Morse's voice came through the back of the chair.

That was all the answer he got.

Perturabo didn't know if his anger was too obvious, because in the next day, wherever he passed by, the people around him would immediately shut up and avoid his eyes, as if he could tear them apart alive. Like swallowing.

In his heart, he violently slandered the cowardice of others. Could it be that he is such a rough and ruthless person, with such a violent and unrestrained character?

At least he hasn't done anything out of the ordinary so far.

Will not do it in the future.

Thinking of this, he made a special note in his heart that the small scar he gave Morse a few months ago must not be counted.

Wandering around the whole circle, visiting the big and small corners of the capital city of Lokos one by one, the eyes are full of ordinary things.

Soon, Perturabo had to go back to the workshop quarters to check the sandals and the source of the scorching pain from friction on the soles of his feet.

He should have been accustomed to the weakness of his mortal body, but it seems that he has once again forgotten his current situation.

This mistake that came from himself caused him to redirect part of his anger towards his own mind.When he analyzed his behavior with a guilty look, reason came back to him.

Why did Morse turn me down again?
Perturabo sat cross-legged on a soft cloth cushion—he and Morse rejected the tyrant's brocade rug, Morse loved his wicker chair, and he sewed it himself so that it could be stitched tightly. Cloth cushions pinned to thirteen layers of leather.

The soreness from the ankle to the calf was gradually relieved. He counted the minutes and seconds, and countless thoughts in his mind swirled like a school of fish in the sea.

He did nothing wrong, did not violate the rules given to him by Morse; after all, Morse did not give him clear rules.

Whether it is cold words about transactions or urgings and orders about confession, they are all part of a vague rule. These hazy conditions jointly create an unreachable boundary. Perturabo is always aware of its existence, but But he couldn't pinpoint it with words.

He couldn't tell how many grains Morse's patience had, and he couldn't figure out how many drachmas Morse's tolerance needed to exchange.

He groped and tested, but every time Perturabo thought he had won Morse's love, the rope boundary like a spider's silk and a web would suddenly fall down.

Didn't Morse want him to win?Did Morse no longer think highly of him?
Perturabo thought dully, picking up the stitches of the cloth pad with the edge of his fingernails, and fiddling with the most inconspicuous piece of his countless works. His eyes slid over the large number of drawings and models scattered around, and fell on himself. One of the works he made most carefully.

A recreated double stone statue.

He stood up supporting the wall and walked to the stone statue.

Born out of his initial conception of the stone statue fighting with Morse, he applied all the knowledge and skills he had learned recently. Every line and every bend was rigorously calculated from drawings to wax models.

Yet his heart was still beating worriedly on his chest.

Perturabo gently touched the warhammer held by his image in the stone.The hesitating waves carried the angry boat, sometimes lifting it up and sometimes submerging it.

He read a vague lack in his carefully constructed objects, but he couldn't find a threshold to break through.

In the process of carving, what kind of necessary knowledge did he lack?

The artisans of this backward country could not finish teaching him.

And if Morse could take a look, everything would be right.

All he needs is a word of advice, and he obviously only wants a word of advice.

He picked out the sharp cone from the tool, and was about to modify it in some meaningless places, when a thin, stacked snow-white paper appeared from under the sharp cone.

He immediately knew the source of the paper, and the waves in his heart instantly calmed down, leaving only a little embarrassment that made his hands tremble.

Perturabo hastily unfolded the paper to the light.

Afterwards, he witnessed how economical a man who kept saying that he wanted to put everything to his mouth without making people speculate, so as to make the communication with each other reach the peak of efficiency, was saving pen and ink.

Morse may have many indicators that cannot be quantified, but his calligraphy must be sold at a high price, worth as much as the gold reserves of several city-states.

On the paper, a short line of handwriting read: "Who is Arachne?"

"He's simply inexplicable!" Perturabo blurted out.

"Who?"

Andos, who was sitting opposite Perturabo and observing the various life styles of the citizens who were gradually gathering below the high platform, was brought back to reality by Perturabo's sudden voice.

Andos subconsciously replied with a word, turned his head, and saw a boy whose face was a little red from the summer morning sun, torturing the edge of his seat with his nails.

Perturabo kept his mouth shut, telling himself Andros must have misheard.

Soon, Andos's confused face slowly turned away. The boy just breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Callifon whispering to the waiter, and then he personally placed a drink on the three-color concentric with mythical pattern in the center. The rimmed disc walked towards him, leaned down, and handed the fruit drink two feet in front of him.

Perturabo expressed his refusal with a sustained gaze, and Calliphon was lifeless.

"We should set up parasols here." The daughter of Lokos said with a smile. "Obviously there are no priests from the religious religion to preside over today, but everyone still abides by the custom of not blocking the sight of the gods with a canopy."

"You are too far behind." Perturabo said bluntly.

"Maybe." Callifon held the tray with both hands and stood up straight again.A soft strand of hair was hung on her cheek by the breeze. "Maybe comparing the knowledge we have with the knowledge held by your teacher, there is indeed a long river of distance."

Perturabo felt his hands tense up on the brocade cushion, and he didn't know what was wrong, so he had to attribute everything to the fact that he was still worried about Morse.

After all, he didn't even know if a man in black would appear in the spectator seats on the high platform today.

"This is the truth of the matter. Morse's knowledge is an endless library." Perturabo suppressed his confusion and said confidently, "But you can put down your worries, I will get Locus' approval, Use my ability to lead the Lokos people to overcome thorns and build a new life."

Kalifeng looked at the huge sea of ​​people under the high platform. It was late, the sun was getting higher, and people had already filled the street in front of the palace with their shapes and voices.

Different vivid faces are chatting happily, boasting about recent experiences, sharing wonderful things at home, and curious about the existence of Gaotai.Boxy patches of robes, newly made ornaments, yellow pottery pots, towels with curled hair, pitted fruits and vegetables with seeds to be sold in the market, and all kinds of fresh soil. Living things, spread out well under the bright sky.

Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, and the shadow of the white vulture in the air passed over her face, as if her face itself had waves.After the light and shadow flowed by, she was as elegant as ever.

"Locus will thank you." Callifon said, "One day, your statue will replace the statue of the former king of the city gate. But people have come, and I will go back to my place first."

(End of this chapter)