Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 29 Aftermath
"I'm awake." Perturabo reminded.

Morse glanced at him and ignored him.

He lay in the wicker chair and changed to a pocket knife with a shorter blade to sharpen his wood.The sawdust disappeared before falling on the black clothes, and if one looked carefully, they would be found piled up in a small mound in the corner of the room.

Perturabo stared at Morse for a while, as if warning him not to remain indifferent with his eyes.

His mind was still hazy, as if a tight gauze had bound it, making quivering spots of gray and white and multicolored before his eyes.Fatigue made his limbs heavy, like bound steel, immovable.

Thirty seconds later, Perturabo lay down again. The touch of the pillow on the back of his head made him unsure when Morse's temperament would reverse, so he found him a normal soft quilt, mattress and pillow.

Then he judged from the court tassels hanging from the pillow and the soft brocade covering that it wasn't Morse he was to thank.

"Harcon is here," Morse said slowly, with the soothing rhythm of his words like a knife scraping wood. "Apologise for his negligence and declare your victory."

He used a little force on the tip of the knife to trim the arc on the outside of the wood. "I told him that when you wake up, you will claim your prize. I believe you have thought about the content."

"Hmm," said Perturabo.Morse used repeated teachings to make him understand the terms that need to be announced after payment. "I heard that the library of Lokos has been in dust for many years, and the key to the door is in the hands of the royal family."

"Good choice," Morse said, blowing so that the sawdust would stop interfering with the blade's motion.

Perturabo looked at the ceiling he was familiar with from bottom to top, his mind was still filled with a gloomy mist, his body was hot, but his forehead felt cold, as if being swept by a shaking sea tide, everything was unclear.

Then he remembered how he had fallen.

He fired a belated fire immediately, his weight on his elbows, blood thumping through the pipes.

"Someone tampered with the water." Perturabo gritted his teeth angrily.

His anger was more directed at himself, because he was so gullible that he fell into the trap easily, and fell into Morse's arms in front of others.

This made him a thousand times more uncomfortable than the pain of his body.

"Prince Callifon has come to explain this matter to me." Morse turned over one side of the wood and did some research on the other surface. "The poisoner committed suicide before he could be questioned, as did the man I captured."

"I allowed their death to be quick."

Morse let the air of disdain roll out from the gap between his teeth, "That man actually wanted to poison me with deception, who do they think they can deceive?"

Perturabo felt that Morse was oblique insinuations.The pain in the nerves was still attacking his thinking part, like someone hitting his head with a blunt instrument.

"Lie down a little longer, child." Morse advised him flatly.

Perturaboy lay back on his bed as he was told, with many questions lingering in his mind, rising and falling one after another.

He thought about this sudden attack, about Harkon, Andos and Callifon, and when Morse arrived at the scene and disguised himself as an ordinary citizen, and went up to the stage to personally celebrate his performance. The ending.

He remembered yesterday - if he hadn't been comatose for more than a day, it was yesterday. Morse finally praised him frankly, and then the gorgeous honey-like flowers grew seductively in his heart, almost reflecting reality. In his dream, the radiance of wakefulness reflected from the dreamlike beauty.

He thought that Morse had been watching him, and his heart softened.

"Do you know who was going to drop the poison, Morse?" Perturabo asked, turning his head sideways.

"In theory, I don't know. It's just that the jealousy of other countries has finally drifted to Locus. This kind of assassination tyrant can be encountered 52 times a year."

Morse made some difficulties in engraving the wooden block. According to reason, he should draw an extremely retro eagle on the front of the coat of arms, but he has always hated Rome; if he carved a cross with two lines, it would be a bit ironic is too big.

"Actually?"

Morse placed the block of wood on the table next to the chair and threw it over with the knife. He felt calm if he didn't see it.He turned his wicker chair around to face Perturabo.

"The one who came to me was the brother of a Locus soldier, and the one who came to you on stage was a spy from another country."

"Are the Locus people involved?"

"His brother died on the way to pick you and me up. Remember those three soldiers?"

Of course Perturabo remembered.The boy and him looked at each other for a few seconds, and the two skipped the topic tacitly.

They each had their own reasons for not being able to express their condolences, nor did they want to pretend to be in front of each other, to make a false impression of how high their morals were and how sentimental their hearts were.

What boys care more about is actually another thing.

"The other half of your story came from Callifon." He said, "When did you message her! Why can't you tell me directly?"

"Because I want you to listen to others, I want you to hear not only my voice, but other people's voices."

In addition, he also hoped that the princess would take care of Perturabo for him in the future, and he was beginning to feel tired; it was really hard to imagine how parents in this world would raise one or more children to maturity.

Perturabo turned his head in disapproval.

Morse touched the table, hooked his fingers on the fruit plate inlaid with gold thread, and let the plate containing a plate of juicy grapes slide to the armrest of the chair within reach.

He ate one himself and threw the other towards Perturabo; Perturabo caught it, sat up straighter, and leaned against the head of the bed to eat the sugary fruit.

"Talk to me about your thoughts, kid." Morse said casually and vaguely as the grapes rolled and burst in his mouth.

Perturabo chewed the fruit into pieces, "The same story is narrated by two people. Will the content be biased? It's not that I don't want to hear what you have to say."

He let the slightly pointed teeth in his mouth collide, making a movement that only he could hear through the bones.

He knew Morse was right, if he wanted to lead the Lokos forward, he would have to listen to the voices of the Lokos.What he saw and received gave him examples.

But Perturabo was still a little confused.

"But I don't want to talk to you so much all the time." Morse closed his eyes, leaning the back of his head lightly on the upper edge of the chair back.

"Is that so?" Perturabo looked at him suspiciously.

"Quickly tell the truth." Morse closed his eyes and threw out an order.He didn't want to put up with Perturabo's old habits.

Perturabo sat up straighter again.He has recovered a lot from the poisoned stupor, so he can also regain his rationality in a flexible existence.

He swallowed the fruit, then hugged the quilt, turned his head, and said in a low voice as calmly as possible: "I thought you were leaving again, Morse. I thought you were preparing for this."

"I haven't let you see it for half a day, so you are suspicious?" Morse opened his eyes, pupils rolled, looking at Perturabo's appearance through the scattered and bulging hair.

He pondered for a moment and said simply: "That's not bad."

"Huh?" Perturabo raised his eyebrows.

"Are you jealous for no reason that I only exchange letters with Princess Callifon, or are you speculating on more thoughts that I can't guess, that's a good thing. You don't want me to leave, but I'm in no hurry to leave, so this is not become a problem."

Morse laughed breathily.

He straightened his head again, melting into the rattan chair like cheese melting under the sun, showing an inseparable intimacy with the chair.

"You think I'm fine?" Perturabo felt a warm current rushing over his body, making his mind run smoothly.

"Oh, I don't expect you to become so perfect." Morse whispered, enjoying the silent service of the perfect chair that fits the human body structure, "As long as your problems don't hinder the big things, you can have them."

He moved his shoulders to find a more comfortable angle.

"I won't repeat the grand truth. After all, you are a smart child, and I am the embodiment of laziness. I have nothing to say for now. If you are sleepy, then lie down. Don't disturb me."

The warmth retreated from the top of Perturabo's head to the soles of his feet.

"The reason is that I can never be moved by your performance." Perturabo lay back on the pillow forcefully.

Morse muttered a few words: "That's right, that's fine."

(End of this chapter)