Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Leman Russ was almost one of the first demigods among the Emperor's descendants to return to Terra. ׺°”˜˜`”°º×

However, compared to Perturabo of Olympia, Leman Russ's closeness to the other brothers is in stark contrast. While the Primarch Perturabo was taking back his brothers one after another, Leman Russ led his wolf pack alone to bring the oath of the Sky Eagle to the Emperor of Mankind in the distant galaxy. , with a winter-like ending.

This is not an isolated case. In fact, Imperial scholars often speculate that the Emperor's demigod descendants may not all know each other as well as their mortal brothers and sisters. ——"Leman Russ: Hunting for Winter and Death"

"It's time for you to return to Terra, Omegon." Morse casually opened the heavy oak door and stood leaning against the wall. "The Emperor has called for someone to pick you up."

"I know." Omegon said coldly.

At the moment he spoke, his image suddenly emerged clearly and clearly from the background inside the prison, even though he had been sitting here from beginning to end without moving at all. This was undoubtedly a gift that belonged to the Primarch and his twin brother: almost no one could detect his presence unless he wanted to.

"Why don't you act happy?" Morse asked, "You are about to see the Creator you have missed for decades. Don't tell me that you predicted that the food in the Palace of Terra would not be as good as Macragge's prison meals."

Omegon said nothing, staring at Morse's pale face with his blue-green eyes.

Even though Guilliman was extremely angry at Omegon's influence in the chaos of Macragge, the tolerant Lord of Macragge still chose to give Omegon certain preferential treatment.

His prison cell was chosen to be a remote noble manor that had been abandoned after the political changes. He was provided with a regular diet equivalent to that of the average Macragge citizen, and other than being prohibited from leaving the manor, Omegon was not subject to strict actions. limit.

Roboute Guilliman only manifested his vengeance in two rather loose forms.

First, this manor was strictly sealed off by Morse using his psychic powers. No one could enter or leave except Morse himself - and for Omegon, it was more important than treating Morse as a human being during this month. The only person to communicate with was worse than no one having any contact with this Primarch No. 20 who attached great importance to intelligence and communications.

Second, Robert Guilliman carefully considered each word and wrote a long letter. At the beginning of the letter, he expressed his infinite confidence and yearning for the empire with long continuous sentences and emotional words, and then mentioned him in humble and polite terms. Thoughts about Macragge and the father-son relationship that he couldn't bear to express to the Emperor were like a dragonfly touching the water or a hummingbird passing over the flowers and leaves. In a light tone, he mentioned twice without leaving any trace what Omega had brought him for no reason. Troubled, and the damage caused to the harmonious life of the people of Macragge, the words finally turned around and returned to his heartfelt longing for the Empire.

After Guilliman finished writing the long letter, he went to several brothers to read it.

Perturabo kindly reminded Robert Guilliman that he should give Malcador an extra revision book; Rogal Dorn asked Guilliman why he didn't criticize Omegon directly so as to save the astropaths' workload; An Gronn stared at the complex hidden lines behind the words and the unique language codes of the upper-class dignitaries, euphemistically indicating that he was just a Nucerian warrior and could do nothing about such important matters.

"Okay, Primarch. Compared to Macragge, the food in the palace is still significantly better in variety. I hope you are not really worried about this." Morse said.

"Who are you?" Omegon suddenly said. "Who do you serve? The Lord of Mankind, the Chancellor of the Empire, or some other power?"

"I serve one of the most absurd dreams in human history, the Primarch." Morse replied leisurely, with the emphasis clearly falling on the ruthless adjective in the sentence.

"I do not like confusing phrases," said the Primarch.

"Then you'd better hate yourself first, Omegon. To be honest, I'm starting to think that your twin brother is more lovable than you. His understanding of the world is a little clearer than you."

"He killed one of the Custodes. I did not kill anyone of importance, I ensured the survival of Tarasha Yuton." Omegon said, "He received praise, and I received a humiliating insult from my brother. Imprisonment.”

"Even if you try to provoke me, I won't tell you anything more." Morse smiled and gently broke through Omegon's thoughts, "After all, I can't even tell what you want to ask. Are you here?" Chasing a path that no one knows, you are proud of your secret mission. You have seen the depth of the galaxy that no one else has seen, and you believe in your own nobility that no one can understand. But now you still have to be carried back to Terra. Scolded by Malcador and the Emperor."

Omegon looked away, his emotions well hidden behind that cautious and cold face.

"I have the ability to return to Terra on my own," he said.

"You are saying something that everyone knows, Primarch."

Morse made a gesture of holding his palm, and the golden and blue light that had been looming around the manor in recent days lit up from all directions and returned to his palm wrapped in black cloth.

"And I want to tell you something you don't know, that is, the person who picked you up is here. Unfortunately, that is one of your brothers, who has quick thinking, sharp intuition, and strong fighting ability. In front of him, you are both You cannot glorify your failure in words, cover up the mistakes you made due to blindness and incompetence, and you cannot defeat him with force or escape from him. "

Omegon stood up immediately, but his reaction was not fast enough.

The sound of flying footsteps has already sounded in the corridor, the scabbard hits the buckle of the belt, the steel ring painted with runes and the boulder collide with each other, followed by heavy breathing, the rubbing of large and thick fur and the plural The heavy muffled sound of the canine creature hitting the fragile wooden boards on the ground when it ran was like a giant beast rushing through the winter night, releasing the heat and urgency accumulated in its fur in the snowy field.

A few seconds later, the ajar door was slammed open, and two giant wolves, wrapped in the cold wind brought from the outside world, rushed toward Omegan. These two extraordinary creatures almost made Omegan unable to dodge.

A man much taller than Omegon appeared in the corridor. Because of his height, he had to bend down. His huge palms wrapped in dark brown leather armor supported the door frame that was too finely carved for him, and silently peered inside. , like wild beasts waiting for the opportunity to hunt in the lush background of snowfields and rocks.

"Let them leave me, Leman Russ." Omegon stopped getting rid of the two giant wolves of the Wolf King and let them bite his collar, forming a restraint that was more symbolic than actual.

Leman Russ smiled. This is a subtle expression, different from the false intimacy revealed when a mortal smiles. The Wolf King's smile is more like a gesture combined with a fierce threat, a silent declaration and a grand indication that he has reached everyone's sight.

"Come here, Freki, Gerry." The Wolf King said, staring at Omegon. The two wolves let go of Omegon and returned to their master, getting close to the wolf skin wrapped around Ruth's shoulders, just like dark clouds surrounding the snowy peaks, or the wilderness surrounding the glacial lake. Ruth laughed loudly at this.

"All Father sent me here to retrieve Alpharius." He stopped laughing, suppressed the sharp teeth he showed when laughing, and nodded briefly to Morse, "What do you think, Morse? ?”

"I think your Gothic accent is still so terrible." Morse said, "This short brother who looks like he wants to assassinate you is Alpharius. Watch him."

The Wolf King laughed, the sound like a short roar. "Of course, the Sons of Fenris will look after him. Robert Guilliman, the brother whose name is too difficult to pronounce for the Fenrisians, invited me to stay here for two days. Before I could ask him, How's the drink here, Craftsman?"

"I don't know, Wolf King. But there's not nearly enough wine in Macragge to get you drunk."

——

"Those dense forests... Hiccup, the plateau woodland of Asaheim! It's much colder than your pile of stones in Macragge! In the spring, the snow will disperse a little, so don't pile it up so much that it can bury ten heads and feet. When we were in Astarte, we went to the forest to catch some wild deer... bur... those mountains! Like wolf's teeth, they were piercing the sky with white teeth, and the storm was surrounding the top of the mountain, so scary that people felt like they were in the sky. There is a hole... our poet from Fenris! Hiccup..."

The Wolf King turned over from his chair, covered his mouth and held it in for a long time, then leaned back to regain his strength. Robert Guilliman handed him a glass of water, wondering whether he should thank Leman Russ for not vomiting in Macragge's quiet and elegant garden.

He began to regret being so stimulated by Russ's rhetoric that he decided to challenge the wolf's drinking capacity with Macragge's strongest wine.

"There are poets in Fenris?" Angron asked, unexpectedly feeling close to Russ at first sight.

"Yes!" Russ suddenly pulled himself back to the table, "Have you seen the Eldar? Never seen it? Oh my god! Hiccup... my wolf cub writes poetry... better than the Eldar stuff! That sail The horn was blown, and the snow in the ice field was redder than the rusty iron anchor..."

"The blood stains left behind after death are not the same color as rust..."

"Stop!" Roos yelled, "I know, I know... Dorne!"

"I'm here," Rogal Dorn said.

What's interesting is that the Seventh Primarch drank no less wine than Russ, but he was able to give others the illusion that he had not drunk a drop of alcohol, or even drank a drop of alcohol. This may be attributed to his upright sitting posture, neat navy blue dress and the fearsome deep eye sockets of the golden skull placed in front of the table.

"Where's Perturabo?" Russ slowly lay down on the table, his misty eyes filled with drunkenness, holding the golden cup and shaking it in his hand. He didn't smash any wine glasses to the ground today.

"He received a contact request." Robert Guilliman found an excuse to join the conversation, and his spirits were lifted. "I think Perturabo has official duties and has no time to participate in this event that is independent of the meaning of communication. Banquet..."

"I heard someone mention me." Perturabo walked steadily to the table holding a data tablet and sat down in the empty seat Robert left for him.

His area was the cleanest small area on the huge marble tabletop covered with a large snow-white tablecloth. The rest of the area was miraculously evenly smeared with wine stains and grilled meat oil by Ruth alone.

"I heard Russ's voice again." A voice came from the communication channel maintained by the data tablet, brisk and cheerful, "And Rogal Dorn, Angron. The remaining one, Are you Robert Guilliman?"

"I am." Guilliman was stunned for a moment, "Excuse me, are you..."

"Magnus, the Primarch of the Fifteenth Legion." Magnus said cheerfully, "I finally came around your Ultramar, although this was mine when I sailed into the subspace channel. The psychic robot caused unexpected interference to the navigator's observation... I haven't seen Perturabo for ten years!"

"Morse helped me get in touch with Magnus." Perturabo said calmly, placing the data pad in the center of the round table so that Magnus's voice could be transmitted evenly to everyone's ears.

"I haven't seen you for ten years." Russ muttered inarticulately. "Counting you, Angron, Rogal Dorn, and Robert Guilliman, I guess we haven't seen each other for decades. ...Where did we come from? The last time we met was in the nursery! How come no one missed me, right?"

"Perturabo told us about you, Leman Russ." Rogal Dorn cleared his brother's name.

"Oh?" Ruth raised his head and grinned, "Why did you mention it?"

"It must be mentioning your two consecutive victories over the Emperor of Mankind in competitions that point directly to the origin of desires necessary for human survival," Magnus announced triumphantly, "Am I correct, Perturabo?"

Ruth smacked her lips.

"That's true." Perturabo said, glancing around the table where Leman Russ had swept away Macragge's classic food, without picking up the knife and fork. "Robert, this person speaking is Magnus the Red, one of the most powerful psykers in the galaxy whom I have told you about, and one of your brothers."

"Hello, Magnus," Robert said, unsure of his tone.

Unfortunately, he found that the image he could imagine of Magnus was based on the thick mane of Leman Russ's thick braided hair and the huge broadsword thrown to the ground. Until he met Leman Russ in person, he had never imagined that he would have a brother who looked... just like the mountain men of Illyrium.

"Oh, hello, Robert Guilliman," said Magnus. "It's incredible, Perturabo. I haven't met anyone in all this time, and you found three brothers all at once. Oh, and four brothers!"

"Hey, Magnus, do you expect Perturabo to be alone in the galaxy like you?" Russ's voice was mixed with a heavy smile.

"How did you slander me!" Magnus shouted angrily, "I'm happy for Perturabo!"

"I believe you are a trustworthy and broad-minded brother, Magnus." Rogal Dorn placed his hand on the golden skull, and the skull spoke for Rogal Dorn in a mechanically synthesized voice. Discourse. "Azhak Ahriman's psychic assistance to our expedition reflects part of your selfless character."

"Who is that talking?" Magnus asked hastily. "Have you found a fifth brother and not told me, Perturabo?"

"No," said Dorn, loosening his hand from his skull and speaking in his own voice, "This is Perturabo's gift to me. To perfect my words."

"Oh, Perturabo gave you a gift." Magnus said, "I see..."

Russ burst out laughing: "Oh my God, Magnus! Do you have any wine there? Come drink with us, brother!"

"No, I will continue to do experiments in an hour to test the comparison of the enchanting effect of the natural attributes of psychic simulation on large weapons..." Magnus said, paused, "But there should be still some in the storage room. Wait for me a minute!”

"Okay," Perturabo said, picking up his empty wine glass. "Is there any wine here that hasn't been consumed by Leman Russ, Robert?"