Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 446: Warmaster Crowned
Rogal Dorn stood on the hill tower surrounding the Triumphal Square, overlooking the square plain in front of him.

If the nested central square is regarded as the lush canopy of trees, then the broad Parade Avenue is the backbone of this artificial plain, connecting the Golden Square and the landing transfer station from the far end. Along the way, there are statues of guards holding golden knives standing opposite each other, separated by columns and false porches, watching the parade march of the legion.

Outside the avenue, tens of thousands of armored vehicles and hundreds of Titans overlooked everyone. This was the iron evidence left by the great victory of the war.

The plaza itself was constructed from smooth white granite at no expense, providing a base for the Primarchs and their troops to occupy.

Rogal Dorn adopted a design in which all the roofs were covered in gold. A large number of straight roads and circular roads did not hesitate to emphasize the grandeur of the large scale, dividing the entire plain area into orderly and regular geometric patterns. The polygonal towering towers and round domes were arranged between the shorter golden-roofed barracks after precise calculations, and were decorated with fountains, Astartes statues and legion flags that were appropriately arranged to enhance the visual design.

Now, the morning light had just passed over the hills, and the natural light illuminated the high edges of all the buildings, like golden strokes deliberately added by the sun. The long bells played by the musicians sang melodiously, and tens of thousands of flags were unfurled in the wind, and countless coats of arms danced on the flags.

On the central square platform, eleven military emblems were arranged in order on the ground, carved in a long-radius arc, facing the central golden throne, waiting for the demigods to take their positions one by one. Under the platform, the Sister of Silence silently guarded the final gathering place.

"Dark Angels, Emperor's Children, Iron Warriors, Space Wolves, Your Majesty's Imperial Fists, Blood Angels, Iron Hands, World Eaters, Ultramarines, Death Guard, Word Bearers," the clerk said, "all the Primarchs who wished to come to Ullanor have arrived at the Triumphal Square."

Rogal Dorn nodded slightly, knowing that the parade was about to begin, and he left the tower and returned to the Imperial Fists.

When the sun completely illuminated the entire square, the various legions followed the direction of the sun like waves of different colors, and entered the square from the Parade Avenue under the gaze of the golden-armored guards with spears upright and the decorative statues. Millions of mortals, wearing new clothes that best represented their identities, welcomed the Astartes Legion participating in the parade.

The Memoirists whispered and excitedly recounted the legends of each legion, and after the parade of their legions, some Astartes chose to remain standing in their respective squares, while others went to find their old friends among their cousins ​​and talk about everything they cared about.

Rogal Dorn gave his Primarch's captain a slight nod, and then continued forward, blending in with his brothers.

He saw the Lion and Russ reluctantly shaking hands with the might of their primarchs, while Fulgrim smiled briefly at him, his eyes focused mainly on the marching troops. Rogal Dorn nodded to the Imperial Phoenix, found Perturabo standing alone facing the dais, and stood beside him.

"We told them that Horus was accidentally poisoned during the final battle at Ullanor," Rogal Dorn said softly. "Lion El'Jonson did not believe it."

"No one will believe it. The only thing that can be confirmed is that Horus will return one day and return to our midst." Perturabo said calmly. They could not announce the theft of the Shadow Prison and the assassination of the Dark Gods.

Then Perturabo saw Sanguinius walking towards them with glorious wings on his back. On his fair and noble cheeks were a pair of teardrops dotted with ash, and the ornaments on his wings were replaced with black and red pendants and thin silver chains.

Sanguinius embraced him and Dorn heartily, wrapping his wings around them briefly before releasing them.

"I have heard of Horus's wound," Sanguinius said softly and sadly, with a worry in his clear eyes that was greater than what they could have aroused by making the facts public. "Please tell me, is it true that he will not wake up? Has his offspring done anything... panic-stricken?"

"The Emperor himself attended to him, my brother," Perturabo said forcefully, "and he now slumbers aboard the Emperor's flagship, under great protection. He will awaken on Terra, and there is hope for that day."

Sanguinius closed his eyes, hiding his worry. "I trust your word, Perturabo."

"And you too, Rogal Dorn," the Archangel said, turning his head towards Dorn, before gently pulling away and moving to join Fulgrim. The two most beautiful angels in the Imperium of Man stood side by side, sharing their thoughts.

Soon after, Ferrus Manus strode over and shook Perturabo's hand crisply, the Iron Lord reflected in his silver eyes. He said nothing more than a greeting, but his meaning was clear in the silent handshake. Afterwards, he also joined Fulgrim.

When Angron arrived, he said simply, "Is this part of the ceremony?"

"What do you mean?" Rogal Dorn, the chief architect of the ceremony, asked in confusion.

"Greetings to Perturabo first." Angron smiled a warrior's smile and embraced them. He simply stood beside them and said in a low voice: "Will we have a chance to see Horus later?"

"He has fallen into a coma," Dorn replied. "For safety reasons, his door is guarded by the Custodians."

"You can't convince Waldo?"

"Constantine isn't here," Dorn said.

Angron shrugged, his sensitive spirits heightened by the sea of ​​cheers. He nodded and grinned at Khârn in the crowd, who shook his head gravely. Dorn wondered if Angron wanted the legion master to come as well.

Robert Guilliman was dressed neatly as always, wearing a laurel wreath and a Macragge-style ruling robe. Perhaps influenced by the previous people, he came to greet Perturabo and wished the Olympia Cluster prosperity.

"Your governance of your hometown is also worth learning," Robert said seriously.

"We all have our own ways," Perturabo replied.

Then, Robert Guilliman looked around, pondered, and finally chose to go to Sanguinius' side and stand with Ferrus.

When Lion El'Jonson finished his fight with Russ and came to Sanguinius' side - because it was far from Russ, Guilliman's feet moved on the mirror-like granite, with his toes pointing outwards inconspicuously. When Fulgrim and Ferrus strolled to Perturabo's side, talking and laughing, Guilliman's smile became a little reluctant.

Mortarion took off his respirator, which was very rare, and let it hang on his chest like an ornament, revealing his pale and dry face. The respirator and some hanging bottles and jars collided with each other, making crisp sounds.

"Perturabo," his expression was a little tense, perhaps it was the disadvantage of suddenly exposing the face that had been hidden under the half-mask for many years. "I did not see Magnus and Horus."

"Magnus is on Terra, he will not be able to arrive in time; Horus - you know he was poisoned, Mortarion."

"But I believe he can find shortcuts in the warp very quickly..." Mortarion murmured softly, and after a few seconds of silence, he continued, "If he is injured by the poison, will Horus need my help?"

"He has been treated and all he needs is rest. You can trust the Emperor's decision, my brother." Perturabo said calmly, looking directly into Mortarion's amber yellow eyes.

Mortarion left with a heavy heart, and turned aside when the lonely Russ tried to approach him, his eyes fixed on the steel-covered dais, waiting for the Emperor to appear.

Lorgar Aurelion came to greet Perturabo first, even though they had just met in the early morning. Perturabo noticed that the True Word Bearer had just washed his hands carefully. Perhaps the believers always had many unique habits.

After he arrived, a trumpet suddenly sounded from the platform, and the sound swept across the entire Triumphal Square, and the whole audience fell into solemn silence.

The primarchs walked onto the stage one after another and stood where their respective military emblems were engraved.

On the platform, two guards and two sisters of silence appeared and stood beside the golden throne. Then, the Imperial Chancellor Malcador personally walked onto the platform holding a large gilded acacia wood box, which was decorated with the Empire's eagle emblem and a pair of angels with intertwined wings.

When the Lord of Mankind appeared, the entire Triumphal Square was plunged into a wave of celebratory cheers. The powerful radiance of strength took away everyone's spirit and perception. The penetrating might washed away all the distracting thoughts of all beings in the shock of the rumbling bell. Thousands of hearts were subdued by the only Lord of Lords, and they looked up at this eternal and immortal brilliant light.

The Emperor was shrouded in a majestic golden glow, sitting on a huge golden throne on a high platform, overlooking his people.

Then, he raised his hand slightly, and the square instantly became silent.

"My sons, today you see the end of a long expedition of two hundred years. We have weathered the storms and thorns and defeated the enemy to achieve today's victory. You are all the pillars of the empire. Your wisdom and courage have enabled us to overcome many dangers and obstacles. The war will end and the country will be at peace. I am very comforted.

"Since the founding of our empire, we have never had such a glorious record, nor such a solid foundation. The prosperity of our country depends on your loyalty. Your name will be engraved in the long scroll of history, and your achievements will be praised by future generations.

"And so, I will return to Terra, and I must entrust the fate of the Empire's armies to the best of you, hoping that you will uphold justice, implement benevolent policies, and lead the way to light. I know that you are all loyal and brave, but this burden is not for ordinary people to bear: you need wisdom as your lamp, courage as your shield, and be as strong as steel and as immovable as a rock.

"Now I ask you: Who is willing to step forward and take the lead? Who can stand here, show extraordinary wisdom and courage, take my orders, and control the fate of the army?
"Enemy forces are not far away, waiting for an opportunity to disturb our peace and destroy our prosperity. We still need to be vigilant. Do not slack off, and be vigilant.

"May God bless mankind and allow all of us to enjoy eternal peace. May light last forever and the sky be peaceful." The venue was still silent. Then, Lorgar Aurelion stepped forward, his white robe shining like light, his golden skin shining, and his voice loud and clear.

"I have come here not to ask for this honor, but to recommend the Primarch of the Iron Warriors, Perturabo of Olympia. He is the leader of a victorious army, the king of an ideal nation, he has never failed to win a battle, and no one has failed to obey him wherever he has gone. His military exploits are always accompanied by his great military achievements, and the people's well-being is also due to his wisdom.

"He enforces the law with a fair hand and treats the people with a benevolent heart, which wins the hearts of the people. He has a sense of justice and always thinks of the welfare of the empire. He makes decisive decisions and has a broad vision. He can make plans and resolve crises in complex situations. His army is disciplined and has high morale. He is invincible and can be regarded as the backbone of the empire.

"If we have this man to lead us, we will continue to shine and protect the Holy Land. I hope you will learn from me, recognize Perturabo's outstanding talents, and nominate him as our leader."

The emperor glanced at everyone one by one: "Does anyone else have an opinion?"

Unexpectedly, Lion El'Jonson was the second to come forward, leaning over the Emperor, his voice as deep as thunder.

"Among all the people present, only Perturabo's prestige can convince everyone and make us all obey his orders. At this critical moment, only the one who is popular can stabilize the situation and unite the troops. I hope you will join us in this great cause and elect him as our leader."

Dorn noticed that Perturabo was staring at the two brothers who were approaching him. The Iron Lord's expression became increasingly calm and difficult to discern. Only those who were most familiar with him could sense that there seemed to be an unspeakable worry in his expression.

The third person to speak was Archangel Sanguinius, whose voice made millions of people feel like they were bathed in a gentle breeze, intoxicated by its elegance and holiness.

"Although I am not that familiar with Perturabo, I can be sure of one thing - no matter where I am, I always hear good things about him. Whether it is soldiers or civilians, when they mention Perturabo, they all praise him. His political achievements are obvious to all, and his leadership is well-known.

"As you can see, I am not here to recommend my closest friend. I am here to recommend a man of real ability. I have seen his achievements and heard the praises of others, which is enough for me to trust him. He is a good doer, and now, among the brothers here, I am very confident that Perturabo is the most suitable candidate."

After saying this, Sanguinius smiled and bowed to the Emperor, his bright eyes looking sincerely at the Lord of Mankind on the Golden Throne.

The Emperor's eyes were fixed on Perturabo.

The Lord of Iron stepped forward, putting away any superfluous emotions, leaving only iron-like solemnity on his face.

He bowed to the Emperor and said, "I am deeply honored by your kindness. I will remember your recommendation. This is a heavy responsibility, but if I receive this honor, I will take on this responsibility with all my strength. I will never betray your trust."

The Emperor stood up from his throne and spoke slowly: "Perturabo, I am well aware of your loyalty and ability. I have recognized you as the right person for this important task, given the many recommendations. However, important matters of state require the consensus of all before they can be implemented."

He paused, looking around at everyone, and said in a sonorous and powerful voice: "Now I ask you, is there anyone who still has objections? If there are any objections, please speak up quickly. If not, I will appoint Perturabo as the commander of all the armies, and you will lead the troops and take orders to conquer this world."

The Emperor's voice echoed throughout the square. Everyone was silent for a moment, looking at each other, as if waiting for someone to speak first.

Rogal Dorn was the first to kneel on one knee and said solemnly: "I am willing to follow his leadership and jointly protect the empire."

Afterwards, more people knelt or bowed according to the size of the open space around them, performed the Sky Eagle Salute, and supported in unison: "We have no objection!"

The Emperor nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. "Since all of you have no objection, I formally appoint Perturabo as Warmaster. Perturabo, I hope you will live up to everyone's expectations."

Malcador walked up to the Emperor, who opened the wooden box and pulled out a golden laurel wreath.

It is simple in shape, and shines with solemn brilliance under the brilliant golden light. In the ancient times when human civilization was still young, people used wreaths or branches to pay tribute to leaders. Over time, the laurel wreath has witnessed the development and glory of human history, and has carried countless legends and glories.

Now, the Emperor has gifted it to the next commander of an army the greatest the galaxy has ever seen.

Perturabo knelt on one knee before the Emperor. The great Emperor gently placed the laurel wreath on Perturabo's head, then reached out and helped Perturabo up.

"I trust you," said the Emperor, "my son, my Warmaster."

Perturabo stood up, and millions of soldiers seemed to have just recognized the true appearance of the Iron Lord: a faint light surrounded him, strengthening every solid contour line on his body. He was like stone and iron, indestructible. The existence of the Iron Lord itself was an insurmountable barrier, inspiring awe and trust.

"I swear by this crown that I will fulfill my mission," Perturabo vowed.

A loud shout suddenly rang out from somewhere in the crowd.

"Warmaster!"

In an instant, cheers rose up to the sky.

"Warmaster! Warmaster! Warmaster!"

A smile graced the Emperor's features, and Perturabo responded with a resolute solemnity.

Countless pens were drawn on datapads and parchment, and the banners of the Iron Warriors were hoisted atop the towers, fluttering in the wind. From this moment on, countless legends and songs would spread across the galaxy, accompanied by the glory of the Astronomican, shining brightly in future history.

-

Lorgar Aurelion waved away the new chief priest of Halhabait, Layak, and walked alone into the empty Wanderer's Sanctuary in the middle of the night.

The glorious scene of today was still surging in his heart, and he walked slowly on the long red carpet, his mood gradually returning to peace, which was conducive to the meditation and self-reflection that followed.

He lit the candles in the sanctuary, washed his hands with water, and took up the whip. Then he took off his robe, knelt before the image of the Emperor, bowed his head, and swung the whip.

A whip consisting of several leather straps with small metal balls attached to the end was whipped on his back. He trembled, feeling the pain of the whipping with all his might.

"I repent of my mistakes, my blindness and stupidity, my indulgence in flattery, and my trust in others," he whispered.

"Horus Lupercal, I desire healing and recovery. Have mercy on me, Emperor, according to Your lovingkindness, and blot out my sins according to the greatness of Your mercy."

He first scourged himself thirteen times, as he did every day, and because Perturabo was being crowned Warmaster today, he scourged himself three more times, for Father, Son, and Spirit.

Then he leaned forward in prayer and meditation.

After a long time, he slowly stood up, put on his robe again, washed his bloody hands with water again, put down his whip, and picked up a simple straight dagger.

He walked to the back of the altar, pushed open a wooden door, lit a small lamp, and stepped into the dark space behind.

In the punishment room, the former chief priest Erebas was fixed to a wooden frame. He was awakened by Lorgar's footsteps, and panic appeared in his cloudy eyes.

Lorgar hung the lantern on the stand, and the light illuminated the figure of Erebus. His arms were cut off, and his legs were nailed together like a snake's tail. In his mouth, which had lost his lips and most of his teeth, his tongue, which had been cut into a snake's tongue, was faintly visible.

"'The serpent is the most cunning of all the beasts he has created.' It is with this cunning that you deceived your fellow man and seduced an innocent man into a path of sin. You also deceived me with this deceptive words, thinking that I was not yet aware of your ambition and intended to lead me into further sin. 'Because you have done this, you are under a curse.'"

The man with the truth brushed the blade with his freshly washed fingers, looked at the prisoner in front of him, and sighed: "How much more pain will it take for you to pay for your sins?"

(End of this chapter)