Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 427 Interrex

The three main battleships that appeared in front of the Iron Warriors fleet were all silver-white, slender and long, with smooth lines like an oboe, and a slightly opened tail as the end of each ship.

The melody composed of chords rises and falls melodiously in the communication channel, just like different battleships each playing a part in a piece of music, interweaving a leisurely major tune played by Interrex in the starry sea.

The Iron Warriors' expeditionary fleet faced off against the Interrex battleships. The incomparable Iron Fortress seemed to be lifted up by thousands of smaller ships, surrounded by even more transport and escort ships, as if the fleet itself was a naturally formed celestial system, glittering in the depths of the Tianchuan Milky Way.

"It's a pity that you ignored our warnings, visitors from the human empire. Some of the losses could have been avoided." The Interrex people said, and when they spoke, it was not just one person who spoke, but a harmonious song woven by everyone. This should have made every word they said so magnificent - if they didn't also send out their joy in their words.

Perturabo and Morse looked at each other, and Morse took the communication device without bothering the warsmith who was standing on duty at the door today.

"We cannot trust all the unknown races in the galaxy, otherwise humans will never be able to take control of the galaxy, strangers...friends." His tone was relaxed, maintaining a high level of politeness within his personal habits. "Besides, we solved the giant spider of the murder star, didn't we?"

The Interrex diplomatic envoys talked quietly, whispering in their own songs.

Perturabo noticed that their own language seemed to originate from the same root as the language currently used in the empire. Whether it was grammatical structure or pronunciation rules, the two were quite similar, which caught his attention.

+It’s even more retro than Gothic,+Morse commented with interest in the psychic channel,+The Germanic language adjusted by the twelve equal temperament is also equivalent to a mathematical language. If you are interested, you can try to crack it.+
+It can be used to update the Iron Warriors' translators. + Perturabo replied, while secretly calculating the similarity coefficient between Interrex and humans in his mind.

During the Great Crusade, he had encountered a civilization that also originated from Old Earth, but became significantly different from the Imperials in its subsequent development.

A fight doesn't have to happen if the other side doesn't intend to be their enemy.

Then, Interlex gave an unexpectedly friendly answer in Gothic.

"The giant spiders of Urezak were exiled by us because of their dangerousness, but if the Iron Warriors are worthy of their name, you can undoubtedly defeat this race that is born with a tendency towards evil." The Interrex man spoke in a soothing voice, and the corresponding music also turned into an improvisation in F major. "Interrex welcomes the messengers of peace, the human friends from the Empire."

"How do you know our troop numbers?" Perturabo asked, and considering the past record of a certain warsmith in the Iron City, a name popped up in his mind subconsciously.

The amount of information transmitted by Interrex's signal suddenly increased. Perturabo immediately understood the other party's intention and turned on the holographic imaging.

After a few dozen seconds of docking and decoding attempts, three Interrex people appeared in the office of the Primarch of the Iron Won. They were wearing different clothes, but in general, they were soft bright-colored robes woven with reflective fabrics, interspersed with elegant gold lines like patterns - undoubtedly some kind of technological equipment that prioritizes beauty.

The messenger in the middle fanned his wide ears, which had expanded to resemble the ears of a bat, and looked politely at the office in the Iron Won that had been decorated for data confidentiality, then bowed gracefully to Perturabo with human etiquette.

At the same time, the musicians on both sides of the messenger began to use the small instruments hanging on their chests to accompany the messenger's opening. Music is an integral part of the Interrex language. Perturabo patiently collected the rules of the music score. He has already found some deciphering methods from cryptography.

The messenger smiled and said, "Hello, Iron Warriors, we were fortunate to learn of your existence. Two of your messengers once arrived in our territory. That was the darkest period since we left our home planet and re-established our roots among the stars. In the tens of millions of years since we left Earth, no one knew whether there were still people like us in the vast galaxy, or whether we were destined to be alone forever."

A signal was silently transferred through the internal channel of the Cheorwon to the current Odyssey - the former small ship was completely stuffed into the ship museum, and Interrex's answer made Perturabo laugh and cry, not knowing whether he should be happy that he had made the right guess again.

"Barabas Dantioch, and Zoran Anderson?" Perturabo asked.

A flash of surprise flashed across the messenger's face, which was made thin by his ears. "Yes, it was their visit fifteen hundred years ago that confirmed for us that outside this dark world, there is still the light of reason."

Perturabo nodded slightly: "This is the significance of the Great Crusade of the Human Empire. If Interrex is interested in establishing connections with the vast human society, we will give a friendly response.

"The two emissaries you met are among the best among us and the most representative of the Iron Warriors. Likewise, the Iron Warriors will personally thank Interlex for his selfless help."

"Of course, respected Iron Lord," the Interrex bowed again, using the common title circulated in the empire. If they had not communicated with the empire recently, then they had kept the news brought by Dantioch in some form for thousands of years.

"If we are willing to give each other a precious trust, Interlex will not be a betrayer." The messenger said. "If you are willing, please follow us to the sentinel planet to rest. More professional social communication messengers will complete the negotiations with the human empire. In any case, on behalf of Interlex, I extend a peaceful welcome to you."

-

The power system of the heavy armor hummed softly, and Barabas Dantioch refused his adjutant's help and walked down the gangway alone, stepping into the area he had not seen for a long time.

Three hours ago, in the reception hall of Interlex in Zenobia, the Warsmith awkwardly completed the ritual of thanks and greetings. He returned to his short stopover on his long journey with a certain expectation, and met with the envoys and negotiating team of Interlex together with the Father of Genes.

The people of Interrex received him warmly, and one might even wonder if they used the highest level of local etiquette to entertain this former human messenger and thank him for the bright hope he brought to Interrex.

Dantioch was grateful for their remembrance, and could feel the sincerity and even awe of the Interrex people in their hospitality. But he quickly realized that this was not what he needed.

As time passed, "Dantioch" of Interrex had long since become a simple noun recorded in books rather than an actual individual.

He was no longer the white-haired old man who sat side by side with the Interrex people under the shade of the trees, looking forward to the distant future of the soaring sky eagle, but a strange guest wrapped in steel, with an innate noble status and a symbol of peace between the two sides in a political sense.

The Warsmith does not mind the change in his identity. Rather, he is proud to be able to use his past experiences to gain tangible potential benefits for the empire.

Under the control of the Iron Lord, another younger war blacksmith, his twelve outstanding officers who were relatively good at clerical work, more than a hundred mortal clerks, and several memoirists were responsible for this complicated initial negotiation task - the list of memoirists included Morse, although due to the low-key nature of the Imperial craftsmen, the Interrex people did not see anything unusual about the man in black robes.

Dantioch coughed and refused the requests of these wide-eared humans to stay. With Perturabo's permission, he slowly left the audience hall and arrived at the outskirts of the city on a thunder eagle.

The scenery of Zenobia's capital is very good. The city has rich natural and cultural resources. The lush plants in the temperate zone shade the neat houses with light-colored gold and silver spires in the city. The buildings follow the curve of the hillside, connected by blue-gray pebbles and winding streams, secretly matching a unique rhythm of mood. To welcome the arrival of the Iron Warriors, colorful but not so bright that they interfere with the vision, small flags and thin banners were pulled up by silk ropes and hung on the adjacent towers just right, like blooming artificial wild flowers, embellishing the harmonious city.

It was dusk in the local area, and soft light emanated from the stars that were still in their prime, shrouding Zenobia in a faint orange-yellow glow, and together with the gentle breeze, it caressed the leaves, houses, sculptures, and fountains in the city, accompanying the soft music and gentle harmonies that were everywhere.

Perhaps this is the most elegant moment of light and shadow in Zenobia in a day, or perhaps this is just the most insignificant of the countless beautiful scenery in Interrex.

"You do have the right to remain in the audience chamber, Sinderman," Dantioch said slowly, without having to slow down his pace too much so that the Mortal Preacher Kyril Sinderman could follow him.

At Malcador's suggestion, a special additional department was added to Morse's Memoirs Chamber, whose preachers were responsible for traveling to various parts of the Imperium of Man to spread the Imperial Truth.

In a sense, mortals who can serve as preachers are even rarer than young people who are qualified to become Astartes - there are quite a few who are qualified in terms of physical fitness, especially for Iron Warriors.

However, being able to speak eloquently in front of any alien or same race, to sensitively preach in a simple and easy-to-understand way based on different cultural backgrounds, to subtly instill the truth of the empire into the hearts of mortals and subhumans who are full of doubts about the human empire, so as not to be torn into a thousand pieces by the people who are full of doubts or even on the verge of riots, and to further control the heartbeats and thoughts of tens of thousands of people, is a greater test of a person's innate talent.

Kyril Hindman's age is unknown, even if it is not important for Imperial technology. He is tall and thin, with gray hair but vigorous, and his voice is deep and inspiring. When he speaks, it naturally carries a steady resonance and the echo of holy words.

"The first thing a preacher needs to understand is a civilized social consciousness." The preacher said, "If I stay in the reception hall, my lord, I may need to discern the true form of existence of Interlex hidden behind the political conditions from 72 hours of continuous talks. But if I can go to the streets with you, maybe all we need is a street roaming."

He paused for two seconds, "This is also the reason why I left the 63rd Expeditionary Fleet."

"Because the Luna Wolves have to fight orcs, and orcs don't need preaching?" Dantioch said. "It's a long way to go, Sindman."

"For the Empire," Hindman smiled.

"Perhaps the Luna Wolves may require the aid of the World Eaters," Dantioch smiled back, even though no one could see through his helmet.

Just as Hindman was about to ask why, he heard the sound of a celebratory parade in the distance.

Dantioch retreated with him into the woods and watched the riders dressed as centaurs, wrapped in smooth metal armor that reflected the light, walking down the center of the road with their heads held high, carrying fluttering ribbons and the fragrant local seasonal flowers.

"Their bows can penetrate the armor of Space Marines," Dantioch shared his knowledge. It was like this 1,500 years ago, and I'm afraid that today, the seemingly retro and backward bows of Interrex have become sharper. "If there really is a place where the city layout has not changed for 1,500 years... then the front may be their armory."

Hindman nodded and followed Dantioch along the parade path.

Dantioch was half right. The direction of the parade was still the place where the Interrex people kept their weapons, but now it had been turned into a pure memorial site to commemorate the hardships and wars that this group of displaced human compatriots had experienced during the dark era.

Dantioch merely stated that he was a warsmith of the Iron Warriors, rather than revealing his full identity.

The hosts in the memorial hall welcomed him cheerfully—indeed, Dantioch believed him to be a military sergeant of Interrex, not a mere clerk.

He could vaguely recognize those familiar qualities in the non-commissioned officer's upright posture, dignified demeanor and restrained attitude.

"We put the weapons in museums, preserved in stasis technology," the sergeant said, as music drifted leisurely from hidden speakers around them, "to commemorate wars we no longer need, and the sacrifices and deaths that came with them. This is the curator, Ashlot."

The appearance of the curator surprised Hindman a little. It was undoubtedly a genuine alien, and it was not born from the same origin as humans. But its humble expression was particularly similar to that of the Interrex people. Although it was not as clear as humans due to its physiological conditions, the distorted music made up for this shortcoming perfectly.

Sindman raised his head and looked at Dantioch's iron face. Perhaps this was the indifference unique to the Iron Warrior, he thought, the appearance of the alien was not enough to shake the war blacksmith for a moment.

The curator, the sergeant, and some interpreters and musicians led the two to view their collection. Even though there were few visitors, Interlex did not neglect them at all. Their good temper was impressive. It is said that Fulgrim sometimes said that music was enough to cultivate the sentiments of a nation, and Interlex confirmed Phoenix's praise for art.

They passed by ancient and rare weapons, various ancient cold weapons, as well as more technological laser guns, energy whips, or elegant musical instrument-like weapons with the characteristics of Interrex, all of which were suspended in the cold luster, as if frozen by glaciers.

The last time he visited Interrex, Dantioch did not have permission to enter the armory, so this was the first time he saw these sealed weapons. He stopped beside a group of slender and strange daggers and was attracted by the small words carved on the edge of the display case.

Most of these exhibits used concise words to describe the functions and principles of weapons, such as "laser carbine", "composite plasma-charged shortbow", "finely crafted light armor parts", etc. But there was only this set of blades, and after reading their names, Dantioch was still confused.

"These blades," the warsmith asked thoughtfully, "why are they called 'Enemy Blades'?"

The sergeant wanted to use Gothic, but after searching for words for a while without success, he chose Interrex's own language and asked a translator musician to assist in communication.

"They can be targeted," the sergeant said. "Once the target is confirmed, it will cause unparalleled damage to its enemy, hence the name. The method of forging them has long been lost. This may be the only batch of enemy blades that remain."

Dantioch looked at Sinderman in surprise, guessing that this might be some kind of ancient psychic creation.

"Thank you for the introduction," Hindman said. "In a sense, this may be the most dangerous weapon here, and it is a testament to the wisdom of Interrex to have sealed it away."

"Thank you for your compliments, guest from the Human Empire." The sergeant nodded.

(End of this chapter)