Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 454 The Order of Nicaea

"Why did you say that, Dantioch?" Perturabo stood in front of the crystal wall and turned around. The circular rims that opened like the ribs of a sea fish opened the passage behind him until A parallel line vanishing point hundreds of meters away. "How do you direct my actions, my warsmith?"

Not long ago, Perturabo secretly returned to the Cheorwon and completed the handover with his other body. All he brought back was a crystal box, which was sealed directly in his own workshop and strictly prohibited anyone from exploring it.

Judging from his serious look, he had not achieved satisfactory results - to be more precise, after Nicaea, the Lord of Iron had decided to go to that unknown planet again.

Dantioch clenched his fingers nervously inside his armor.

He bowed his head to the Iron Lord: "This goes against what you have always taught, father. If you take over all the power of Colchis to the side of the Iron Warriors, fill the void above the ashes of Colchis with immigrants from the Olympia Star Cluster. Vacant, how will the world view us, father? This is your first major decision as Warmaster."

"Isn't this the result of Lorgar Aurelion's decision?" Perturabo replied expressionlessly, "The moment he burned Colchis, he lost all respect for the planet. Full control. The Emperor has given Colchis to me, and I am fulfilling my duty, Dantioch, to rebuild Colchis."

"But this is not the area bordering the Olympia star cluster after all, father. Colchis and Olympia are located on opposite sides of the Milky Way."

"Do you want me to stand by and watch, Dantioch?"

Dantioch took a deep breath, "Your accusation hurts my heart, father."

Perturabo was silent for a moment. "Speak your advice, Warsmith. It is your right, and I will listen."

"No offense, father, but I just want to tell you that we can allow people from the planets around Colchis to migrate nearby, so that the entire process will be easier to complete, the cost of migration and adaptation will be greatly reduced, and your reputation will be greatly reduced. It will also go to the next level.”

"It's not feasible." Perturabo said, the cables he integrated into his black hair merged with the darkness in the dim light of the tunnel. "First of all, the planets around Colchis are deeply affected by Lorgar's religious and cultural radiation. I I don’t want the second vicious incident to happen after we leave. Secondly, if Luojia has no psychological burden for slaughtering his followers, I don’t believe he would dare to wipe out all my people.”

"But - why, father?" Dantioch couldn't help but say, "With all due respect, the primarch Aurelion is not rational enough at all. Please forgive my judgment."

"His reason only exists in the world he sees. And I believe he will not offend me because I am his eldest son, his morning star."

Perturabo said coldly, and when Dantioch showed a surprised expression in his armored mask, a smile gently passed over the corner of his resolute mouth, and the frozen atmosphere was instantly relieved.

"Lorgar Aurelion will not continue to possess Colchis, and that is his own request - made under my gaze. Rest assured, Dantioch, I know what I am doing."

The Lord of Iron stretched out his hand and put it on Dantioch's shoulder. He turned his gaze to the outside of the tunnel, as if he could see the embers still burning on the land of Colchis through this building structure.

Within a week, the Iron Warriors had taken down nearly ten thousand Word Bearers banners, and hundreds of thousands of other symbols. The Olympians will then rebuild everything on this planet, according to Olympia's own way.

No Word Bearers will be left, and as the Great Crusade draws to a close, "the Word Bearers will not rush to replenish their ranks," Warmaster Perturabo once said in the Embers of Colchis. "Live by the laws of your faith until the Emperor agrees to allocate a planet to you as your second home."

"Feel the air, Dantioch," he said, "see the bullets hammering into the tiles, and the shards of glass scattered on the floor. For those who believe what Lorgar says, what happens here They will all exist forever. The air here is scorched and dry. It has been filled with hatred and anger, as well as the glory of sacrifice floating in the air like dust, and the broken hatred of heresy. This smell is so strong and lingering in the air. It will last too long before it is forgotten.

"Kyle went to ask the three governors nearby for their opinions. Do you want to hear them?"

"Please tell me, father." Dantioch lowered his head, feeling Perturabo's fingers tighten powerfully on his shoulders, stopping restrainedly before hurting him.

"They say that those who immigrate to Colchis will be the descendants of sinners, and that only soldiers of the Holy War will emerge from it. After selection, one person in a hundred will survive, in order to save the money that the God-Emperor will give them in future wars. resource."

"As long as followers of the Word live here, hatred and fanaticism are bound to be passed down from generation to generation, from parents to their children, to their children's children, and to the generations that will follow in peace for thousands of years. Cole will be remembered by all. Keith was destroyed because of his imperfect faith, and they are all descendants of the bystanders.”

Dantioch took a breath: "I understand, Father."

Perturabo nodded slightly, removed his hand from Dantioch's shoulder, and said calmly: "After the things here are over, let's convene the Nikaea Congress. Be prepared for the Emperor to be unable to come. War blacksmith."

Does this mean that Perturabo will personally preside over the meeting? Dantioch is not sure.

The Iron Warriors personally built the Great Hall brick by brick, reserved seats for all the Legions, and inlaid the podium with gold and silver, and used the Eagle emblem to welcome the Emperor.

As for the process of the entire meeting, it was originally planned that the two Primarchs, Magnus of the Thousand Dust Suns and Mortarion of the Death Guard, would jointly preside over the standardization of the entire Imperial Space Marine think tank system, the merger of the Astronomican Court and the Astronomican Court, and the initial adjustment of the Black Ship system, and perhaps more specific arrangements for the Astartes Legion after the expedition, and even - the Webway.

Perhaps, if the time is right, perhaps some of the secrets will be gradually revealed.

But so many unexpected events have happened this year that the Warsmith can no longer feel any certainty about the planned future.

The Warsmith moved his old body. For many years, he often quietly satisfied in his heart that although he was old, his body and will were still strong.

But here, on the gray world of Colchis, behind Perturabo as he strode forward, he smelled a scent of blood and earth, the ashes from the windless furnaces settling in the airless, enclosed atmosphere, slowly and silently brushing against the armored steel body of the Iron Lord.

And a silent, unidentifiable sigh was rising from the Iron Lord in the opposite direction of the falling dust, rising towards the infinitely distant pale dome, until it passed the limit that the Astartes could reach with his ears, and then melted into the silence of the gray smoke.

——

Nikea was not an ancient world. When the Emperor detected it from the Milky Way, it was still rolling in unformed lava and storms.

Ahriman knew that it was Perturabo, the Primarch who was familiar with Magnus, who had shaped it, reshaped it, carved it, and polished it, filling the cracks of the rolling magma with stubborn stones, and standing steel under the broken sky, so that Nikaea was reborn into a brand new and glorious palace, a thorough art world.

The Chief Librarian could easily imagine all this, because he had witnessed the construction miracles created by countless Iron Warriors, even if it was more than a hundred years ago, and his regrets had never been made up.

Ahriman retracted his gaze toward the window, knowing that in the next few hours of sailing in the real universe, the scenery outside the window would remain unchanged, as if time had frozen here.

But what was really frozen was psychic power, a special area where psychic power was almost forbidden. Only navigators and astropaths had the necessary limited psychic power permissions, and only those who were strong enough could pull aside this suffocating artificial curtain, but Magnus would not do so.

Because the Crimson King personally created everything related to psychic power in Nikaea.

Right beside Azak Ahriman, separated from Mahavas by an old memoirist, Magnus leaned in his seat, his long purple-red hair tied into a braid like a twisted copper wire, covering the golden red robe and the golden armor hung with lapis lazuli and amber, and a few peacock green gradient eagle feathers were woven into the end of the braid.

A monocle covered his single eye, which was damaged by a disaster not long ago. Otherwise, Ahriman could hardly imagine how precious it would be if Magnus could scan the people at the Nicaea Conference with two bright golden eyes at the same time.

On his knees lay a heavy book, fastened with a dark brown leather belt made of animal leather, and the corners of the book were wrapped with pure gold corners, which were the packaging materials specially given to him by Conrad.

Ahriman knew it was the Book of Magnus, which his Primarch had spent countless years working on for this great meeting, and during the final revision period, he had blocked almost all external interference, except for necessary communication with Mortarion.

This would be a comprehensive holy book, enough to provide guidance on the use of psychic powers for generations of Astartes in the future.

"We are almost there," Magnus said, blinking gently, and his pearly red fingers resting on the Book of Magnus in his arms. He stared into the void, and the scenery that was farther away than anyone else existed in his eyes, and then his brows frowned.

"What is it, my lord?" Ahriman asked.

Around the Nikaea system, he could not see the surging waves in the etheric environment. There was only the void before him, and the holographic projection of the Nikaea Theater on the star map: white marble columns, with golden curls painted on the finely carved capitals. The dome was high, and the sky was filled with countless glorious conquests during the Great Crusade. It was extremely solemn and magnificent. Even in the Terran Palace, there was no such magnificent large venue.

"No," Magnus said, "he didn't come. I can't see his etheric light penetrating the sky, and I can't see the golden sunlight as blazing as a torch. We are very close to Nikaea. In a few hours, a storm eagle will fly out of our flagship, penetrate the atmosphere of Nikaea, and fall to the starting point of the next destiny of the empire. However, he has not appeared yet, and his light has not arrived yet."

The Crimson King stood up from his chair, his huge body towering in the center of the ship's command room, like a golden-red tower, emitting a light so bright that it almost passed through the cover of the psychic curtain, enough to show the surging waves in his heart.

"Perhaps the Emperor will come when the Council begins, my lord, and the Council of Nikaea cannot be driven by the Legions Astartes alone," Ahriman said, his mind beginning to tremble quietly. Hesitation grew in both his and Magnus' minds, varying in level of apprehension.

"We need a host, no doubt." Magnus said, "But none of us have witnessed the day when Perturabo was promoted to Warmaster, and naturally we have some doubts about the prestige he has among us. underestimated.”

He paused.

"My brother's majesty is enough for him to step onto the rostrum in the name of the Emperor and take charge of the glory of the Sky Eagle. But this majesty is still short-lived and has not been accumulated deeply enough for him to truly hold his position. Take the emperor's seat and gain the absolute confidence of everyone."

Ahriman lowered his eyes, Magnus' worry led to his worry, and he knew that Magnus was right.

The Warmaster's majesty grows with his achievements. For example, the Iron Warriors' recent treatment of the Word Bearers - the gray city of Colchis shocked all Astartes legions, and Ahriman knew that at least Magnus Both Mortarion and Perturabo agreed with Perturabo's decision.

But the Warmaster's majesty will also be used and weakened as the number of times he rises above his brothers and acts as a higher judge, until Perturabo's existence is accustomed to everyone, or the Warmaster's existence ceases. Enter termination.

"Mortarion, the Death Guard Primarch, is waiting in orbit, asking if you would like to fly with him on the Storm Eagle." A communication came.

Mortarion has never set foot within the territory of the Thousand Dust Sun, and every time he sees Magnus coming out of his flagship full of psychic instruments, there will be a silent and sincere sigh in his eyes—— The next step was mercy, and Mortarion knew Magnus would never accept it.

Magnus tucked his Book of Magnus into his waist, "We can meet again on the ground. Before the conference begins, we will have enough time to prepare the rational way we need next."

His attention was suddenly attracted by another group of souls not far away. The ashes seemed to float slowly on the surface of pain, setting off some kind of wave that brought sad omens in the etheric ocean.

Magnus listened warily to the sound of the tide.

Then he heard the tired rings of ashes praying face to face in the hermitage; then he heard the lightless sanctuary barely lit by burning candles; then he heard the wordless silence, no prayer, no begging, just A strange absolute coldness without thought, as if he were not the one searching for answers but some empty spiritual agent, or an empty husk that had fallen into ashes.

Then he heard a soul kneeling in pain, the charred black armor that had not been removed locked his once beautiful golden skin and became his cage and shell.

"No," Magnus breathed out a breath of surprise. An astonishing pity passed through his soft heart, but it was quickly replaced by anger and chilling at what Lorgar Aurelion had done.

"No." The second denial became stronger and its meaning changed. The Crimson King took a deep breath and ran his fingers over the gold edges of the Book of Magnus. "Lorgar has disobeyed the Emperor, and he cannot cross the line again."