Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Perturabo paced his private office until he heard an unusual movement in his closet.

"Morse, he compared my research level with that of the natives on this ancient planet," Perturabo said immediately, his chest rising and falling under the gold silk robe he would wear on formal occasions, "and he also said that I The job is free. How can someone like him exist? Do I look like a cheap engineer?"

Morse pushed open the cabinet door, getting used to the enclosure he hadn't used in several years. Although he didn't know the cause and effect, he still skillfully grasped the information revealed to him by Perturabo and began to move his lips and tongue.

"But isn't your job free?"

"I gained spiritual value from it!" Perturabo raised his head, "Is this measurable as a salary?"

"Then why didn't you talk to him then, Rogal Dorn, right?" Morse tried to sit down on Perturabo's chair, and stood up quickly because of the coldness of the iron chair. .

He looked at the office on the battle barge, which was much older and simpler than the Iron Blood, and already missed the chair Perturabo gave him.

The fact that this serious-looking Iron Lord was able to play with the chair was such an unexpected surprise that it eclipsed the small instructions he attached to the war hammer.

Regardless, he looked forward to the day when Perturabo would use the hammer.

"I didn't think about it at the time." Perturabo slapped his hand on the table, making a dull collision sound. He calmly moved away his palm, which was so painful from the shock, and pulled a document to cover the palm prints on the surface of the iron table.

"It turns out that on the way back to the office, you used your precious brain to think for ten minutes about how to refute Roger Dorn on the spot, right?" Morse raised a corner of his mouth, "How about I find a way to turn back time until you meet? In the early stage, would you like to go through the process again?”

"Can you?"

"No." Morse replied without hesitation.

Perturabo stroked his chest, trying to adjust his breathing that was going too fast again. "How do you deal with people like this?"

"I can't say," Morse said. "I can't paint a picture of Rogal Dorn from what you said. Besides, if he is a particularly upright kind of person, then this is quite unfamiliar to me. "Think of the Emperor."

"I'll tell you what I just said - wait, I have to go. Are you coming, Morse?" With that, Perturabo turned around and hurried toward the door.

Morse floated beside him, making no attempt to keep up with the striding anxious Primarch in the normal manner of mortal walking. "What makes you anxious?"

"Fifteen minutes!" Perturabo growled angrily, "After fifteen minutes he will go to some energy supply area, and I don't even know where it is!"

"You have to know," Morse said in a calm tone, "I'm starting to get curious about Rogal Dorn. Not even Magnus made you so angry."

"They're completely different," Perturabo said, speaking so fast that every word came out in succession. "Magnus just does stupid things, but he has a much better attitude!"

"So you like people who admit their mistakes while doing stupid things more than people who don't do stupid things and therefore don't have to admit their mistakes?" Morse asked cheerfully, his messy hair and black robe fluttering in the fast-moving airflow.

Perturabo clenched his upper and lower teeth tightly together. He began to wonder why he'd come back with a gatling thing in his mouth to deal with a guy with a heavy bolter in his mouth.

If Rogal Dorn is a person who does stupid things, then he has a hundred ways to ridicule him.

But not that white-haired bastard.

"Okay, Perturabo." Morse patted his shoulder, which was as tense as a piece of iron. "Relax. If you are too angry, just think of me."

He has already done this! Perturabo clenched his fists.

When the Iron Lord entered Rogal Dorn's territory this time, he did not bring any heirs with him.

He didn't want their conversation to be known at all, so that if he was speechless, he could pretend nothing happened.

When he returned to the room that had been temporarily requisitioned as a reception room, Dorn had already stood up and was about to leave. After hearing the sound of sandals stepping on the steel floor, the white-haired giant nodded slightly to him and sat down again calmly.

"Fourteen minutes and thirty seconds." Dorn said, "I was about to leave you a note telling you the location of the energy supply area. Who is this mortal? I didn't hear him walking."

"I'm good at keeping quiet unless someone wants me to talk," Morse said, his feet already on the ground like a normal person before he emerged into the room.

"Me too." Dawn thought for a moment and said calmly. His tone was plain enough, but the primarch's size and long-term leadership demeanor meant that his words always had enough force as a background.

"But you didn't answer how you managed to hide the sound of walking. In addition, you are not a human being. Analysis shows that your weight does not match your appearance."

"Awesome, Perturabo thought I was a human when we first met." Morse raised his eyebrows.

"He is my teacher." Perturabo took a step forward, "an ancient craftsman. Next, I hope to discuss with you the specific support projects that the Iron Warriors Legion will provide. In terms of engineering and technology, he can provide We help. You can call him Morse."

"Hello, Morse." Dorn nodded to Morse immediately, his eyes looked like some kind of ultraviolet disinfection device that needs to be passed before entering the laboratory. "You are not a human, are there any special considerations when treating you?"

"You are very polite." Morse said, "Just treat me as an ordinary human."

"Okay, I see." Dorn gestured to Perturabo to sit down in the chair he had sat in before. "We can start the discussion, Perturabo, Morse."

"In the past fifteen minutes, I have listed the information index list that the Phalanx has currently collected, as well as the ongoing maintenance projects. Please explain to me the assistance that the Iron Warriors can provide, based on which we can match and connect faster."

After speaking, Dorn raised his head and pushed a piece of manuscript paper with a neatly written catalog to the middle of the square table, waiting for Perturabo to take out or say the corresponding content.

After a moment of silence, Dorn looked at Morse and Perturabo respectively, realizing that he had misunderstood something: "Sorry, I thought you had returned to the ship to sort out the information we needed. You should understand the importance of efficiency as well as I do, brother."

"Then you are underestimating me, Dorn." Perturabo sat down with his robes gathered up, "All the materials are in my mind. Show me your catalog and I will give you a direct answer."

"Just treat me as a clerk, both of you." Morse pretended that the charcoal pencil and blank paper in his hand came out of his robes instead of the air, "Make two copies and keep them separately. You are better at communicating than I thought. "I know a lot, respected Primarch." "Few people say this about me." Dorn said, "I often see people trapped in confusing emotions and self-esteem, and therefore criticize me for reasons I cannot understand. You are a person with a broad vision and heart..." "People." Perturabo's tone was quite stiff, "You can think of him as a kind of human." "Okay. You are a person with a broad vision and heart, Mors." "Few people say this about me, and I should thank you, Rogal Dorn." Mors responded to Perturabo's hidden betrayed look with a happy nod.