Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 24
Perturabo tried his best to keep his breathing just enough to supply blood circulation. Even so, he couldn't adjust his heart that was beating faster and faster.

He gripped the seat cushion, the tiny raised threads of the embroidered pattern sinking into the gaps between his pale nails, as if he couldn't resist the non-existent tremors and shaking if he didn't hold something tight.

He still didn't see Morse.

Perturabo put his hands back on his lap, and looked around absently, listening for various movements.

Some rumors, the buzzing words of many people, the whispered conversation between the tyrant and his children, and more spectators gathered one after another.The noise haunts his mind, and he occasionally closes his eyes briefly to isolate his senses, but what this can bring is only a sharper hearing, and the noise and viewing anxiously gripping his nerves.

He knew he couldn't complain about the noise around him, it was his own fault.Although the number of people watching far exceeded his expectations, it was good for him to gain the respect of the Lokos people.

But he suddenly found that he no longer had absolute expectations about whether he could make the people here like him.

"Perturabo?" A male voice from Wendun called his name, and he immediately responded, "What, Andos?"

"I thought, Excuse me, what is the theme of your work?" Andos said slowly, the same tone as he had a month ago.The prince turned his head slightly to the audience's seats, and added: "They are far away...I won't cheat on purpose."

"You'll find out later." Perturabo didn't want to say more.He stacked his two stiff hands together, only to find that his hands were trembling.

Perturabo remembered every time Andos raised his eyebrows and thought during the meeting that day. At that time, he could tell that Andos had an unusual judgment on him.He could recall that face with a simple smile, all his hesitations, affirmations, appreciations and speculations, as well as his searching eyes and extra hidden mental activities.

From Andos's determination to avoid shortcomings and leave only prudent praise, what he gained was not the satisfaction of being praised, but a kind of nameless anger and frustration.

So he challenged him then and announced his decision.To this day, Perturabo still does not regret this choice.

Andos didn't mind his temper, as if nothing in the world could touch the prince's bottom line.

He said: "If you are willing, I would like to tell you the theme of my work."

"what?"

"The statue of the goddess Herphony, she symbolizes life and blessings." Andos said.There was a frightening calmness and sincerity in his ordinary face.

"Do you know that I don't like the religion?" Perturabo said uncomfortably.He subconsciously raised his tone and used an impatient refusal to end his trembling mood. Andos's kindness was almost annoying and annoying.

"Then forget the concept of God. She is a symbol of blessing. I have been thinking that since you came to Lokos, we have never given you a gift. If you will accept..."

"No need!" Perturabo turned his head emotionally. When did he need the offerings of these people?Could it be that these gifts from the Lokos and the looks of the Lokos on the street could make him better?

His growth is his own business, and his accomplishments will be born of himself.

Perhaps because the sound coming from his vocal cords was too loud, Callifon shifted his gaze.

Perturabo stopped speaking suddenly.When he knew his face was reflected in Carrie's dewy pupils, his swirling anger gradually calmed down.

He clasped his hands and changed his sitting position on the cushion.

The words he had said hastily just now were turning over and over again in his mind, and he could think of a hundred reasons to regret and make the answer better.

Maybe he should adjust his tone, restrain his emotions, and speak clearly.

Perhaps he should be calm, thoughtful, and use a rigorous logical chain to convey his principles to those who listen to his preaching.

Maybe he can do better, be better, and show more of his own excellent qualities, just like he did in the trial a month ago.

Only he himself knew that he had calculated several times in advance even the posture he would use to throw the forged knife into the raging fire.

He earned the respect of everyone at the time, including, Perturabo believed, Morse's.

There is no time to relax today.

The chaotic mind was gradually gathered away by him, leaving only a little shining flame, maybe waiting for fuel, maybe waiting for wind and oxygen, to illuminate him brightly again.

He stretched his limbs, moved his shoulders, straightened his back upright, turned his head sideways, and listened to the host in light yellow robes read out various cumbersome words and sentences for today's opening.

Following the host's introduction, countless pairs of eyes moved to him.He swallowed, and a hot illusion penetrated all the muscles in his body.He couldn't hear what the people in the audience were saying, and he could only hope that they would give the praise they deserved.

Just a few seconds later, Perturabo raised his chin, using his manner to avoid eye contact.

Surrounded by human voices from bottom to top, several people as judges began their evaluations in order.

Perturabo heard a variety of compliments, the repetition of words, the unity of tone, almost chilling.What they praised was not the work itself, but his identity.

He thought he'd be delighted to be appreciated, but he wasn't.His heart trembled violently, not from anxiety, this time it was indeed from humiliated anger.

In contrast, he realized how valuable Andos's sincerity just now was.What he objected to a few minutes ago is now what he wants to regain.

Then he saw the statue of Andros.

Obviously the statue had been exposed to the sky for a long time, but he really saw it now.

Whether it is the flat forehead of the statue, the long wavy hair, the plump figure, the soft figure, or the silk robe and skirt, they are all within the reach of the craftsman.Even taking into account the solemnity and tenderness of the statue, Perturabo dared to say that the statue of Andos was by no means superior to his work.

But as he stared at the statue, what he heard was the echo of Andros's words.His rich imagination helped him imagine the various moods of the craftsman himself when Andos was carving.

He saw a man full of concern and thought, pouring his careful and concentrated thinking into every falling notch, this concentration looked at him through the eyes of the statue, like melody drumming in the limbs, music vibrating in the intoxicated in the blood.

In this realization and testimony, he felt that he was constantly dissolving.

"How?" Anders asked.

"You're no less skilled than I am," said Perturabo, "and... no, it's nothing."

He stood up. "I'm going to put an end to this despicable show."

Because he saw a blessing.

And these people who play tricks and flattery they arranged shamelessly insulted his works and the blessings dedicated to him, that is, insulted him maliciously.

This is the only way to soothe the anxious thoughts in his heart.

(End of this chapter)