Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"I don't expect you to stay on my ship, Sanguinius. This insignificant battleship of mine is immersed in the poisonous blood of darkness and submerged in the eternal night of the netherworld. How can I retain the big ship?" The glorious wings of angels——"

After stopping Conrad Curze's endless words, Sanguinius released his wings, leaving the stiff Conrad where he was.

He retracted his wings, took the night ghost fleet's specialty blood wine, and took an elegant sip.

Today's material is different. The added blood component seems to be taken from some dark wrestling memories, full of the lightning wind on the skateboard, the poisonous crystal fragments that scratched the open wound on the cheek, and the moment of falling to death. of extreme pain and pleasure.

The memories that Curze inadvertently gifted him mapped out for Sanguinius the moment-to-moment outlines of every part of the universe, especially the dark places.

Of course, since the process of brewing wine caused immeasurable damage to the blood cell raw materials, these sensory fragments in the memory could only satisfy Sanguinius' thirst for the darkness in blood, but were not enough to provide more actual knowledge.

"You like our wine very much." Cozz adjusted the fur cushion on his chair, returned to his bone throne, picked up a notebook on the table next to him, and started flipping through it for the third time. He kept the notebook close to him throughout the day, making Sanguinius wonder what it was.

"Before I came to Baal, our blood wine consumption rate was never so high." Curze continued.

"Well," Sanguinius admitted, "it's like real blood has been added to it. It's very unique."

"Blood Angel," Curze said gently.

"You see, I am leaving your fleet to find Horus and my own children." Sanguinius leaned forward and flapped his wings slightly, "We are about to say goodbye. "

"Yes, remember to ask your astrologer to continue sending messages about prophecies." Conrad Coze was indifferent.

"What I'm trying to say is, is it possible for me to receive a farewell gift from you?"

Cozzi suddenly raised his head in surprise, and his hidden emotions could be seen through the pale and cold mask.

"What kind of a good man do you think I am, Sanguinius, to engage in this mundane game of parting gifts? Go find your Horus Luperkar and play your family brother game, don't worry about it I."

"But you received a gift from Perturabo." Sanguinius glanced at the notebook on Curze's lap.

Curze immediately closed the notebook, without saying a word, and stared at Sanguinius fiercely. However, his usual terrifying eyes that announced the coming of night lost all their threatening power in front of the archangel of Baal.

"What is that?" Sanguinius asked curiously, dragging a chair over and sitting down next to Curze.

Curze leaned back, and after a while, he reluctantly hissed: "My Nightshade has been docked in the dock at the Olympia Orbital Shipyard. This is the design specification."

"Olympia?" Here, the Queen of Glory of the Night Ghost Court was actually created by Olympia, which was unexpected by Sanguinius.

"Perturabo took the time to complete the design during the Olympia Games." Coze regained his composure. "When the Iron Lord went to war, the shipyard complied with the requirements of the Primarch and completed its construction. It was put into the next step. Before the war, I will activate my flagship."

"So, it seems that you think this is not a family gift, but just a normal transaction between legions." Sanguinius teased.

"If you also want to take a Glory Queen from my hand, please forgive the Eighth Legion for being unable to do so."

"No, I don't want such a big ship. My heirs will come with their glorious queen. I don't plan to change it." Sanguinius said with a smile, "Other than changing its name and slightly changing the decorations. One change.”

"What gift do you want?" Cozz snorted.

"Blood wine recipe."

"Oh, this is not a dream."

"I know."

"This is a specialty of my city-state, what do you want it for?"

"It tastes good."

"Sanguinius, I would like to give you a little treasure to taste, but you will not accept its manufacturing process. You will be a glorious symbol of the empire. How can you allow such cruel things to be passed down in your holy bloodline?" Among them?”

Sanguinius swung the wine in the cup, and the bright red liquid rose up the transparent curved cup wall, then slid down against the wall, leaving behind a transparent blood-colored residue.

"Your craft is so unique that it almost obscures its essence, but I can taste its roots," Sanguinius said. "It is the blood that flows within the body of sentient beings. The bloodline that the Emperor has given me , has the most sensitive genetic detection ability, which allows us to obtain the memory and emotions of the deceased by simply tasting the flesh and blood without eating the brain tissue of the deceased.”

"Because of this, our instability ranks at the forefront among many legions. And this glass of wine is enough to soothe the thirst in our blood."

After many experiments, Sanguinius determined that, unintentionally, the Eighth Legion's creation did have this surprising effect.

Curze stared at him. "It's too early." He murmured, "The person is wrong."

"Will I tell Horus about this later?" Sanguinius guessed what Conrad had said.

"That was the only time you were prepared to tell the Legion's genetic flaws." Coze slid down a little among the bones, slightly lost in thought. "Sanguinius. Blood Angels."

"This cup of wine is just a luxury for the Eighth Legion after the battle. But the Ninth Legion will need it." Sanguinius said solemnly. "Systems, precepts, and inspiration can help my warriors get rid of their brutal nature with their personal will, but things will be easier if there are more realistic auxiliary tools." "I ask for your assistance as the Lord of the Ninth Legion, Conrad Curze." Curze turned his head and let his mind wander quietly, his eyes falling into the air. He glimpsed the fury again. The angel's eyes solidified, and blood beads lingered on his eyelashes, like red tears piercing a crown of thorns. The sky burned in the eyes of the descendants of the blood angels, and the bright red desire turned into charred coal condensed from pure anger, for the desperate anger to melt in the blood, and the blade was waving wildly without reason, devouring everything around it before devouring itself, and there was no escape. "You haven't even met them yet," Curze said softly, "and you've come to ask me for a gift for them."

"They are your nephews." Sanguinius raised his lips playfully.

Curze tapped the seat with his knuckles, "Sol Sahar, take a pen and paper."

"Will you write the formula for me?" Sanguinius said in surprise.

"Wake up, Blood Angel," Curze lowered his head, "I only want to sign a trade contract with a sober person. Gomor will supply wine to the Ninth Legion regularly. Considering the state of Baal's resources, I will moderately relax the terms of the contract. If you have nothing else to do today, discuss the main terms with me."

"No... wait a minute, Gomor?"

"Are there any problems?" Curze stared at the angel and said meaningfully.

"No," Sanguinius forced his smile, "So, the language you usually speak to your subordinates is actually-"

"Eldar."

Curze's captain suddenly appeared from the darkness. The Primarch took the paper and pen and pulled the table next to the chair between the two of them, as if he was ready to negotiate the contract.

Sanguinius put his hands on the table, folded his wings, and tried to imitate the catchphrase that Curze often said.

The tip of the pen in Curze's hand poked in the center of the table.

A few seconds later, the thoughtful Sahar brought new paper and pen to his father.

Sanguinius repeated this sentence again, and appreciated the pale shock on the face of the Midnight Angel with satisfaction, and switched back to human language in a friendly manner: "What does this mean?"

Conrad Curze looked at Sanguinius strangely: "Do you think... this is a synonym for "go to hell"? "

"Isn't it?" Sanguinius frowned slightly and found that the truth was beyond his expectations.

Curze lowered his head and began to tremble all over. Then, a faint sound of laughter squeezed out from between his teeth, and then turned into an uncontrollable belly laugh.

"What does this mean?" Sanguinius poked Curze's shoulder with the tip of his wing nervously.

Curze stopped laughing instantly, and with a chilling and strange look, he traced the outline of Sanguinius with his eyes and whispered softly.

"False Emperor."