Warhammer 40: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 453: Perfect City, City of Dust

The drizzle was dull in luster, solidified in the cold air before falling to the ground, and then broke on the dirt road in the country town. The smell of beech was locked in a smaller space by the rain, and when passers-by got close enough, the smell of grass and trees suddenly burst out from the cold and penetrated into the passers-by's noses.

Morse suddenly looked up at the sky, even though there was only a patch of cold rain clouds over the planet Ishtar in the eternal winter.

He stood there in a daze, still holding a crystal box that he had brought from Elda and No. 11's manor.

Before leaving, Elda destroyed almost everything that could prove her private existence, but when Perturabo passed by, this crystal box suddenly fell out from the gap of the cabinet that was never closed and fell into the hands of the Lord of Iron. The only way to open it was to destroy it.

They were sure Eleven was going to tell them something, or at least this was just a beacon. Either way, the mystery was still unsolved.

"What's wrong?" Perturabo asked cautiously. "What did you find?"

"A message from your flagship, from Terra, from the Emperor," Morse said, turning his head briefly to look at Perturabo, seemingly dazed.

He blinked again and immediately returned to normal.

"There is an event afoot," he said, "and not everyone can be trusted to handle it. The Emperor considered several people, including you, the Lion, and Angron."

"I am the Warmaster," Perturabo said. "If what is happening is so cruel that the Emperor would not consider sending Sanguinius, then it is my duty to do so."

"Lorgar Aurelion burned Colchis."

"why no?"

“Lorgar Aurelion burned the world where he was born,” Morse repeated patiently.

"The few dissenters within the Word Bearers burned in the scorching sun along with Colchis. After he finished all this, he wrote a letter to Terra Central, describing the rebellious tendencies caused by his so-called mismanagement, apologizing for accidentally burning the memoirs, and listing his methods for dealing with the rebellious tendencies, as well as future recruitment and base adjustments, etc...."

"No, Morse, what did he do?" Perturabo could hardly hide his surprise.

He had never been to Colchis, but the planet had always been highly evaluated in all aspects, whether it was the stability of the planet's natural and cultural environment, or its surprisingly high submission index; this even earned it the reputation of the Golden City, the Perfect City, and so on.

And how could Lorgar Aurelion's fire burn so fiercely in the empire?
"He burned Colchis," Morse said. "The first thing he did when he got there was issue a decree - he said that the rebels would be punished, and the loyalists would be saved in death and gain eternal life. Then, seventeen great cities were destroyed by torpedoes, lances and other weapons, with a total of about 850 million registered people killed. I think Aurelion was happy to report the number of people he slaughtered."

"But that's his homeworld—" The Warmaster looked like he wasn't entirely present in reality, his shoulders hunched inward.

"Don't assume that anyone should treat their homeworld the same way you treat Olympia, Perturabo."

"But..." Perturabo was stunned. "This is for..."

"No," Morse said, staring at Perturabo.

"You already know where the Tyrant will be born. The Emperor is willing to go to Colchis and teach Aurelion himself - but only willing. Even if his condition is too bad, you will preside over the Nicaea Congress on his behalf, Perturabo."

After a few seconds, the Iron Lord replied in a deep voice, looking up into the distance: "I am the Warmaster."

The drizzle flowed down his unconnected neck into his robe, like drops of water sticking to the wall of a tomb and hitting the moss and lily of the valley on the ground.

-

As the Iron Warriors' fleet came within range of Colchis' air defenses, not a single weapon was pointed at them.

Even though the Word Bearers' entire fleet of thousands of ships and a hundred thousand Astartes were stationed here, even though they had just set their home planet on fire and destroyed everything they had created with their own hands, in the face of the coming of Warmaster Perturabo, this mad legion showed amazing obedience and even welcome.

As Perturabo sat in Ishtar's manor, looking down from his Thunderhawk through his own eyes, witnessing Colchis burning in the ashes, he thought of the memories of the Iron City all those years ago, and the promise the Truth Bearer had made to him in the tiny flashes of light. "If it had not been for you," Aurelion smiled modestly, "I would not have been as determined to follow my path as I am today."

The air was silent as the Thunder Eagle flew across the sky. Its black wings, corresponding to those of the Imperial Sky Eagle, were stained by the ashes and smoke that filled the sky. The sand was like obsidian lava, making crisp sounds around the still-burning flames.

Perturabo stopped outside a city that was in a state of disrecognition. The massive bronze gate that had once been sturdy almost fell outward at the touch.

The pile of charred corpses against the door gushed out like a river of ash bursting through a dam, the stench of burnt corpses exploded like invisible gunpowder, and the river of dried blood from the corpses flooded the knees of the steel armor. Some of the skeletal hands slid down along the armored legs, driven by gravity, leaving behind a trail of fingerprints mixed with ash and blood.

Thousands of Colchis civilians banged on the bronze door with carved icons and reliefs with all their might before they died. After they were burned to death, the heavy door covered with bloody handprints was finally pushed open, giving them useless freedom too late.

Some Word Bearers were waiting just inside the gate, and when the orbital bombardment was over, they dropped from the sky to destroy those who had managed to escape, ensuring that nothing was left on Colchis.

The gray armor and parchment of these warriors were covered with falling ashes, like some kind of puppet statues sculpted out of gray clay.

Some warriors turned their heads wrapped in masks towards the wreckage of the house, and some warriors were talking to themselves quietly, their voices so low that no one could hear them. When they saw the Iron Lord rarely appear in a full set of Terminator heavy armor, a communication request icon sounded on the Iron Warriors' communication channel.

"Where is Lorgar Aurelion?" Perturabo asked the first thing he asked the moment the call was connected.

"At the Colchis Temple," one of the Word Bearers replied. "Aurelian awaits you, Master Perturabo."

Perturabo looked up at the half-collapsed spire and the golden dome that was shattered like an eggshell. Ashes covered everything here, tarnishing the temple, and the tall buildings collapsed, and the lingering smell of sulfur came out from every crack and crater.

His combat boots lightly scraped the dust on the ground, where there were many pieces of colored glass, stuck in several entangled, small-framed bodies, unable to be distinguished.

"Take me there," he said.

They walked straight through the pile of rubble that had once been the plaza's outer wall, his Iron Warrior guard beside Perturabo, tense at what they saw.

After they destroyed the surface of Colchis, the flags of the Word Bearers were planted in cracks in the walls and piles of bones large enough to stand up flagpoles, and some of the flags were burning quietly.

The Imperial Truth and the Book of the Holy Word, fixed to the Sky Eagle ceremonial pillars with iron chains, faced each other on both sides of the road. Just as the Sky Eagle pillars on which they were placed, in order for the heavy books placed on the backs of the eagle's wings to face each other, the eagles' heads had to face away from each other.

When they got close enough, Lorgar Aurelion's back became clear. The Truth Bearer was also wearing his full set of armor. His armor had obviously also been severely burned, the outer armor was charred and dented, blood, charred flesh and iron armor mixed together, along with all the scripture tattoos hidden under the armor that were damaged by the high temperature, casting them into a molten gray-black cage.

He knelt quietly on one knee before a half-collapsed stone statue of the emperor, next to him lay a charred skeleton, which was kneeling on the ground.

Even with his back to the Warmaster, Lorgar could easily make out Perturabo's footsteps. Ash and gravel crunched under his feet as he rose and tore off his helmet.

When he turned around, Perturabo saw Aurelion smiling at him, tears streaming down his face.

"I'm sorry," Lorgar whispered, pain trembling in his voice. "I can't stop crying for this desecrated land, my brother."

"You have an explanation to give, Aurelion," Perturabo said, pausing at the edge of the plaza. His voice was like iron in icy water. "I come to you by command of the Emperor, and as Warmaster of the Imperium of Mankind, to question you about this massacre."

"I have explained, brother, there is rebellion here, heresy here," Lorgar said, his eyes blazing with sorrow. "Like any world I have ever put to death. Even though this is my homeworld—it has become a breeding ground for heresy. If I had not been able to take my own head, the governor of this world would have been buried with Colchis."

He paused. "So I landed here, and burned with my planet, as my punishment. I know this is a light pardon for my dereliction of duty..."

“The Great Crusade does not encourage slaughter, Aurelion,” Perturabo said, looking Lorgar Aurelion in the eye. “How many of these men are proven traitors?”

"Thousands," Lorgar replied.

"How many people have you killed?"

"Eight billion and fifty million."

“Are there any standards for slaughter?”

"Everyone is equal in Colchis."

"How will you explain the deaths of the rest of the people who died?"

"The Emperor will judge them in death—"

"But they died." "By my hands."

"Indeed!" Perturabo shouted, tightening his grip on his hammer. "Aurellion. This is not what the Emperor would have wished."

"They will die one day, brother, and all of Colchis will fall into darkness, and then judgment will come for all sins committed before the Day of Judgment.

"And Colchis is willing to sacrifice himself today, so that the Doomsday bell will be closer, and they will not have additional opportunities to commit potential evil deeds in the future - they die from pure and meaningful dedication, not betrayal, disease, crime, blasphemy..."

"This is not what the Emperor would wish to see!" Perturabo said expressionlessly, the anger and disappointment hidden beneath his face was rare in this iron-clad Primarch.

Lorgar shook himself. He was in a very weak state. It was not hard to doubt that he had indeed accompanied the entire Colchis and survived several days of burning and destruction.

Now, the Truth Bearer's stiff body was only suspended by the painful will burning in his eyes. He stood with some kind of despair flowing in his veins. His eyes were wide open, looking directly at Perturabo, stumbling towards the Lord of Iron and grabbing one of Perturabo's gauntlets.

"Father, do you really not want to?" Lorgar said softly, his breathing was heavier than his words. "Really?"

"No doubt about it, Aurelion!" Perturabo said, letting Lorgar grab his arm and looking down at him. "You should not do this, torturing others and torturing yourself. How will you pay for the lives of 850 million loyalists, Aurelion? How will you pay for it?"

"Yes, I will tell you that the Emperor will not completely abandon you because of this. I will tell you the truth, because you and I both know the importance of the Primarch. But this does not mean that the massacre can be recognized by the Emperor or me!"

"Do you think I'm torturing myself?" Lorgar asked, seeming to hold his breath.

"Yes," Perturabo said without hesitation. "You shouldn't have done that, Aurelion. Look at the blood on your hands!"

"It was indeed my own blood," Lorgar said, tilting his head and letting the breath out. "But I thought you understood, Perturabo, that this was not torture."

His fingers tightened their grip and his body slid downward.

"I feel - relieved, brother. I feel like I have done something for the Emperor again, I feel like my suffering is being dedicated to Him, and it makes me - it makes me feel good. I thought... you understood, I thought you knew that our father's spirit thrives on pain and destruction, brother."

"How could he—"

"Don't lie to me, I beg you," Lorgar said, his tears rolling over his cracked lips, almost draining all the water from his body.

"You know Tyrant Star, you know our father will become it, and then all people will pass through destruction from the mortal world to the sky. Do not deceive me, brother, the Emperor must have told you this, you are His Warmaster, His most trusted Son. You know the nourishment He needs-"

"What are you talking about!" Perturabo's voice sounded in shock under the iron helmet.

"I speak the truth, and you know I have not lied - if you have heard it from Him, I have heard it from the Inspiration. I have seen His city, and you know it, and you know it too, don't you? You know where the Second Primarch went when he died, and you know where all the souls of the Randan have gone, and you know they are eternal in heaven, Perturabo!"

"I--"

"Do not lie to me, Perturabo. I will listen to and believe everything you say."

A piece of stained glass fell from a distant church spire, hit the tower wall, made a crisp sound, and after a burst of shattering sounds like a prayer bell, it suddenly drowned in the ashes on the ground.

Perturabo stared at Lorgar, "You are wrong about one thing, Lorgar. People do not go from the mortal world to the heaven. Death is death, sacrifice is sacrifice, and massacre is massacre. You must realize this from now on. The Emperor is not a god, and the Tyrant Star you mentioned cannot be truly born—"

"If He is not God, shouldn't I burn this city?"

Lorgar laughed, and iron filings fell from his body like tinder from a tattered, twisted, charred husk.

"If He is not a god, then I am wrong to worship Him, and Colchis, for whom I exist, will sooner or later be destroyed by the Emperor's order, just as the Iconoclasts destroyed all the churches on Terra."

"If He is a god, then my Colchis is a burnt offering to Him, and therefore the Colchis of the world must also be destroyed. Is that not right, brother?"

"Whatever the Emperor is, the last thing He needs right now is unnecessary death, Aurelion. He never ordered the destruction of your city, and you acted on your own initiative—"

Lorgar fell to the ground, his body blending into the tragic background of blood and smoke. Perturabo bent his fingers.

"The Emperor sent me here, not primarily to punish you. He wants you to stop killing," said the Warmaster Perturabo, his iron face reflecting the blood on the ground. "You must realize this today. In your language, this is His infinite goodness. In my language, this is an inevitable requirement for the future maintenance of the Imperium of Man."

"Then why can't I hear the Emperor tell me in person, brother?" Lorgar asked stubbornly, with an incredible glow on his face.

"The Emperor has no time to manage every single thing in the vast empire."

"Want to hear my thoughts, brother? Want to hear everything I've seen these days? I'm waiting for you to correct me. I'm willing to listen to whatever you say."

Perturabo looked at him, at his unblinking eyes, at the blood on his breath, at his ash-stained face, and for a moment he could not tell what he saw.

This was Lorgar Aurelion, the leader of the Word Bearers. He had killed perhaps eighty times as many people as eight billion, and yet he was still able to shed tears, as if he had never realized that he was killing, as if he lived in an overly light and strange space, where the tears of the dead were the holy oil in the candles, the smoldering tomes were the frankincense in the furnace, and the flying sparks were the fireflies that lit up the world. He seemed to see him clearly, and yet he seemed to have never known him, not now, not before, and not in the future.

"Go ahead," he said.

"Well," Lorgar smiled, with neither hatred nor the need for pity. He said, "I want to tell you everything I saw, or was forced to see, my brother."

"A year ago, you went to Interlex, Horus went to Ullanor, and I went to the Holy Grail Expanse. Not long after, I heard that Horus had won many victories in Ullanor, and you had conquered Interlex, and I also found clues to Tyrant Star. How happy I was, Perturabo, everything was so good at that time!"

"And then, after that, I saw you being rescued by Eleven's Illuminati. I saw you briefly, and then you disappeared. I didn't hear from you for a month. I was like, did you know Eleven? Because your craftsman knew his silversmith, because they said he rescued you. I didn't know. I never knew."

"Then, I sent Eleven back to Terra. I made a mistake. I always make mistakes. I sent Eleven back to Terra, but your craftsman happened to send Nemesis Blade to Terra. Eleven went to the Shadow Prison, and Nemesis Blade also went to the Shadow Prison.

"I prayed, and then I discovered that Magnus was on Terra when the Nemesis was stolen, because he came to tell me not to pray. But where was Magnus when the blade was stolen? Why did he come so late?

"I know he is arresting the silversmith, but didn't the silversmith save you?"

"Then Horus was assassinated, and my men betrayed me. Then you were crowned, and we never saw the Emperor again, we never saw Him again.

"Then you went looking for Eleven—and you found him directly, didn't you? You talked to him, didn't you? You were in his homeland before you came to Colchis, didn't you?
"Even now you are here, because I can't feel you, I can't feel your breath from this armor - can you take off your helmet, brother? Let me see you?"

Perturabo felt strangely cold around him. "You doubt me?"

Lorgar shook his head. "I just want to hear your answer, Perturabo. I know there are many evils in the world that are eyeing the human empire, and I know the devil can always take advantage of the opportunity to lure us into differences through lies and deception. I know that everything I see is limited, and perhaps everything I say is false. Only you know the full truth.

"So I only need your answer, and then I will find a thousand reasons to prove your loyalty and greatness. You are the brightest morning star among us, the child of the Emperor's morning. Let all the haze between us dissipate like ashes, I beg you, Perturabo."

After a moment's silence, Perturabo replied, "What is your question?"

"Are you going to stop Tyrant Star from taking us to Heaven?"

"It won't," Perturabo said solemnly, a sense of powerlessness rising in his heart. "Wake up, Aurelion. That is the power of destruction, not a ladder to heaven. You must trust that the Emperor has his own plan for it. He just can't tell everyone the secret. I can't reveal everything until it's over. Perhaps you can wait until the Nicaea Council, and then you can personally-"

He suddenly choked up, because the Emperor might not be able to attend the Congress of Nicaea.

"So the Emperor is Tyrant Star?"

Lorgar said, but his expression said that he knew he wouldn't get an answer.

"You must trust the Emperor, Lorgar," Perturabo said. "I have not lied to you a word today. I don't know what else I am going to say to you, Lorgar..."

Lorgar shook his head, gasping for breath in the scorched air, nearly suffocating in his tears.

"That is enough. Thank you, Perturabo, thank you, thank you, thank you, my brother, thank you. No. Thank you ..."

(End of this chapter)