Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 451 Conversation
"We haven't had this chat for a long time, Father..."

"I once had no time to pay attention to you," the Emperor said calmly, "To my relief, each of you has performed very well."

His dark skin was even darker under the moonlight, but in turn, it was made brighter by the gold threads on his grey robe. A simple crown of gold leaves held his dark, flowing hair, preventing it from blowing in front of him. This attire was incredibly simple for the Lord of Humanity.

Magnus followed uncomfortably behind the Emperor, around the spiral staircase of the observatory tower, following the light that filtered in from the night sky above.

There were some solidified wax on both sides of the steps, where candles had burned down to the point of exhaustion. The hem of the Emperor's robe swept over these peeled twigs of white wax, swaying in plain sight before Magnus' eyes, with a little dust on the corners and no shine.

This reminded Magnus of something from long, long ago, when he was still young and loved to explore the unknown, to get to the bottom of things that others took for granted, why they lived in the walls of Tizca, why the Great Library was a pyramid instead of a square, why light bent in a bottle...

Soon he realized that there was too much he wanted to know, and the place they lived in was too small.

Tizca was big, beautiful inside, and the people were friendly, but the world outside was even wider. Even though it looked desolate, why couldn't we cultivate it, build houses, and let people live outside? Every day Magnus had 10,000 new questions, 9,000 of which were blocked by the gray cloud of danger from the Soul-Eating Bees. He could see far, but still felt that the world was cramped.

So he could only look inward. Without leaving his house, he lit some meditative incense, applied some ointment, and then hesitantly threw a few pebbles into the waves of his inner world to test the ripples.

Then he saw the Emperor there, bathed in a rainbow of light, but with only the blazing white to open up a dust-free land, the ashes of light dancing in the Emperor's white world. A sun illuminated Magnus.

Magnus followed behind the Emperor, and like the Emperor, he strolled through the world of the Warp as if it were flat ground. Even though he now knew the true appearance of the Warp, the sight of the Emperor walking in front of him was still unforgettable.

His scarlet cape fluttered like a blood-stained ocean, with a gorgeous bronze pistol fastened to his waist with a strap, and he sometimes held a long sword that shone with light in his hand - to Magnus, who grew up among scholars, he thought it was a lantern.

The winds of Chaos fled in panic around the lantern, and the roars of the creatures of the Warp waned into faint mosquito sounds before the Emperor. They melted away fragilely, leaving unwillingly.

Magnus followed behind the Emperor, where all the waves were as steady as ice, and the vast and colorful world ahead was illuminated by lanterns.

"This is the world you will face," the Emperor had told him, and he leaned his head from behind the Emperor and looked into the distance.

As time passed, the situation changed, they hurriedly communicated, issued or accepted tasks, and kept the entire galaxy running smoothly at the Emperor's fingertips. Magnus was really as the Emperor said, immersed in a wider world, and all the tasks that needed to be completed by him made him both troubled and fascinated.

But when he paused from the storm of trivialities, when the Emperor once again walked before him, leading him, and showing him the way with his back, Magnus suddenly realized that nearly two hundred years had passed.

001.M31, a new era begins here. Many things happened this year: the surrender of Interlex, the assassination of Perturabo, the victory of Ullanor, the assassination of Horus, and the coronation of the Warmaster... and at this moment, the Emperor frowned, knocked on the heavily dusty lock, and the iron door of the observatory slammed open.

"Did I perform well?" Magnus asked uncertainly.

"Beyond my expectations, take a seat," the Emperor said, first leaning against the dark stone wall of the observatory, the golden laurel wreath on his head echoing the hazy stars in the sky. Magnus sat on the soft cushions that were laid out very casually, feeling an inexplicable awkwardness in his heart. When the Emperor nodded to him, the awkwardness melted away.

"Recently..." He racked his brains to start, "Well, we have basically repaired the webway, and I think it will meet your requirements. Perturabo is looking for our lost brothers, Horus - how is Horus?"

"He is still asleep, but he will be fine," the Emperor said, looking out of the tower. "I heard you were looking at architectural blueprints?"

Not far away stood a tall white marble tower, the Astartes where they had taken their oaths upon their return. There, the Emperor was the Emperor of the Galaxy, speaking his heart out to his future subjects. But here, in this corner where children's galaxy atlases and picture books were piled up, things seemed different.

"Oh, yes," Magnus said, "From the hands of the silversmith, they are either mediocre or fantastic. I have arranged tens of thousands of combinations and have not found any secret words or anything meaningful... Do you know the silversmith, father? He died before you returned to Terra."

"I think I know him," the Emperor replied, his eyes lowered softly, with just a hint of sadness in them.

"Then he betrayed you!" Magnus said angrily, crossing his arms in front of him in dissatisfaction.

"Who knows," the Emperor said, "what do you think of the blueprint itself?"

"Half of it is very stereotyped, more templated than the standard generic theaters designed by Perturabo—except for his love of crystal, which deviates from the template. The other half is obviously not in line with his style, and is more like his imitation of other styles.

"It can be seen that a certain huge tower is designed with only a narrow bottom surface to support the sky-high platform above, which is unreasonable in structural mechanics. Such a design has obvious flaws in balance, and any disturbance in the local balance may lead to the collapse of the entire structure. Therefore, it can be inferred that the silversmith may have excessively borrowed from other styles in this design and ignored the actual stability of the structure..."

"Have I said too much?" He suddenly stopped talking because the king, who was supposed to be serious, kept looking at him. There was neither relief nor sadness in his expression, but just a kind of distant realization, like the light of stars falling from the sky.

"No, you put it well," the Emperor replied honestly, glancing at the spot beside Magnus.

Magnus had long since realized that this was where Horus had been, after all, the cushions were piled up in a mess, like a small nest, with books and quills and even a ceramic plate buried inside. He smiled at this. "But," he said, "Father, why did you suddenly bring me here today?"

"Because you are the only one who happens to be on Terra," said the Emperor.

His gaze made Magnus feel so strange. He looked at him as if he was seeing him again all over again, completely abandoning the past, just like the way he looked at and examined him when he first met him in the spiritual world.

"I cannot bring Horus here; he is still recuperating."

He paused, "Time is running out until the final moment, Magnus."

"Then..." Magnus muttered, if other sociable Primarchs were here, what would they say? This was too difficult for him, just like if Perturabo was here, he would definitely be able to analyze the Emperor's psychology clearly.

"So after we lock Tyrant Star on the Golden Throne, should we invite everyone to a party?"

"I think..." The Emperor pretended to be thoughtful, then shook his head, "Why not before that?"

"But we can't celebrate before we succeed, what if... Oh, we will succeed." Magnus immediately changed his tone. "Your suggestion is good," the Emperor's eyes still stayed on Magnus, "Before that, I want to talk to each of you. Our expedition began at the Tower of Astarte, so why not end it here."

"Like you and I talk?"

"Talk like we do."

For some reason, Magnus felt excited. "Including all of us?"

"I hope so."

"That--"

"Yes, if possible, I would also like to include Eleven." The Emperor said, answering the question without Magnus having to hesitate. "Some things have changed, some plans have been replaced by new ones, but they left too early to understand."

"whats the matter?"

"There is no need to repeat this," the Emperor said. "Like you, I also initially thought that a tower of Babel was too slender to withstand the collapse of the entire sky."

-

“You must have heard wrongly,” Lorgar Aurelion said, addressing Rivka sternly. “Or perhaps you were deceived and should have been rid of it, or you listened to fragments of enlightenment and did not understand the full picture. How many mistakes were made out of blind arrogance?”

“No, Aurelion,” Rivka raised his head sadly. “I did hear it, and I’m still listening. I can hear a few words from time to time. The sound of their discussion is right next to my ear…”

"Praise the Emperor," Lorgar snarled, his purple eyes fixed on the mortal.

The mortal was a little frightened, and then he quickly and sincerely clasped his hands together and said, "Praise the Emperor, my only true God."

Lorgar's attitude softened quietly. Now that he knew Rivka was still loyal, everything would be easy to talk about.

"What else did you hear, sister?"

"I heard that they went to a small town..." Rivka said. Lorgar took off the wreath on his head and handed it to her, so that she could feel calm.

From the other end of the street came the sound of melodious music, like petals falling from the eaves.

The female follower's voice gradually became ethereal. "I heard them arrive at their destination and walk into the house. 'This place is empty. She took everything away.' 'No, she destroyed all traces of their lives when she left. I can no longer detect any residual psychic energy...' The rest of the sentence was unclear. Aurelion, they continued to walk around the house, looking for what they needed..."

Aurelion's expression was serene, and judging from his appearance alone, one could not even be sure if he was listening. Through his eyes, a mortal would see the shape of his own soul, which was slightly distorted and incompletely reflected by the light and the curvature of his eyeballs.

He whispered to the clerk who had come with him to ensure that his whispers would not disturb Rivka's listening and relaying. Today was supposed to be an annual celebration day in Yasimeh. The Word Bearers had just arrived, and he wanted his priest to take a look at the customs of offering gifts to the Emperor before making the next decision.

"...Based on the layout, I think it is...locked - you know I have no morals...Is this the room where No. 11 lives?" Rivka recounted the story in a halting manner, her eyes closed peacefully, her expression calmer, as if a hand had brushed across her face, filling the ravines of suffering in her life with a faint soft light.

Lorgar's attention was immediately drawn.

He remembered Eleven, the madman who had deceived him, hurt Horus, and betrayed the Emperor.

Perturabo promised him that he would find him and make him pay for his crimes. So, what does this revelation mean?
The music from the outside world was closer. Lorgar heard the sound of a float convoy. The strings were plucked, the music was like flying flowers, and bursts of laughter came in through the cracks in the wall along the golden leaves wrapped around the outside of the chapel.

"No. 11 left a clue... This shouldn't be the case. Why would he take the initiative to leave traces? No... Because Erda is not here? He... Maybe Tyrant Star cannot be free from the control of the Emperor..."

Luo Jia was stunned for a moment, and after receiving this message, he blurted it out almost subconsciously.

"Rivka, stop," he said, even though he still maintained a soft, soothing tone, "Do not speak it out loud. If He wants you to remember it, you will still remember the voice you heard after today. Don't say it in front of me again..."

He suddenly became speechless, realizing that his fear had made him say something inappropriate. This information made him panic, and when he heard the names of Tyrant and Emperor listed side by side, a chill rolled through his cerebral cortex. It was not because they were unrelated, but because Lorgar Aurelion could not help but think that they were related.

He just lacks a piece of evidence...

On the other hand, Lorgar thought randomly and hurriedly, why did No. 11 leave a clue for Perturabo alone - why - this means that No. 11 is about to be found, which is a very good news, worthy of his joy and happiness, but what is the connection between No. 11 and Perturabo?
"I will catch him," Perturabo had promised, the new Warmaster taking his hand. "He stole the blade from me and wounded my kin."

But Lorgar still remembered how Perturabo had stopped him from exterminating Interlex, and a sting of pain had gently passed through his two hearts.

He always had a vague guess, but he treated it with caution, hoping that the missing evidence would never be completed. Father, forgive his cowardice in not wanting to open his eyes.

Rivka suddenly recovered from his distracted state, lowered his head, and blushed with shame. "Aurelian, I'm sorry, may peace be between you and me who belong to Him..."

"That's all right," Lorgar said. "We'll sort out your revelations tomorrow and listen to its voice, or find the devil in it. Then, come with us to the festival, Rivka. We heard that you are seeking rebirth at the ceremony."

"Yes," Rivka smiled, "You must come and see. We dedicate the Winter Ritual to the Emperor and the Summer Ritual to Black Star. It is summer now."

(End of this chapter)