"You worry too much, Haco." Defes spoke calmly, holding his helmet in his arms and wiping it, "The new transfer order has been sent, and hundreds of battle brothers have been integrated into your camp. The Primarch doesn't blame us. "

"You can have a clear conscience without blaming?" Haco's nervous voice muffled in the helmet, filtered by steel and came into the air, "And the war blacksmith and trident added by the father of genes to the chain of command are both vacant seats. , does this not mean that we have not satisfied the original body at all? Or maybe in his eyes, we are not as good as the local warriors who fought with him on this planet. Also, your yellow paint is not sprayed well. The vertical stripes have the wrong curvature at the bottom, Defes!”

A power armor with yellow and black stripes on the chest appeared with the noise of the collision of iron blocks and rhythmic footsteps. "Brothers, maybe we just haven't received enough military honors yet."

"Shut up," Haco said angrily, "You are the first person to talk to the father of genes."

"He was also the first person on the ship to hit the target thrown by the father of genes." Defes stopped wiping his helmet and glanced at his shoulder armor. Because his field of vision was blocked, he couldn't see the lower edge, so he had to quietly retreat. Half a step, hoping that the shadows cast by other Astartes armor would cover up possible paint problems on the pauldrons - or the fault of Haco's nitpicking.

Nardole raised his hand to show that he understood, and silently re-entered the depths of the steel ocean where the battle brothers were standing in a row.

Harco continued: "In any case, we have confessed our sins to the Primarch. We expect him to punish us."

"Punishment? Are you looking forward to it?" A harsh voice came from above Haco, like a hammer hitting the hot, solid air, hitting Haco's heart hard. He felt hot all over and tried his best to control his desire to kneel down and repent.

Then a heavy, warm weight fell on Haco's head. The palm of the original body touched his helmet, which seemed to melt his whole body instantly, making him want to cry. He could not speak, fearing that his trembling voice might betray his primarch's touch.

The original body let go of Hako, and patted Defes's shoulder armor gently with his other hand. Another fourth legion soldier, who was stiff and had tears in his eyes, was immediately born.

This tall giant passed through the squares formed by the Fourth Legion, like molten iron pouring into a mold. Wherever he went, everyone immediately stood still and could not move.

The Primarch wore no armor, instead wearing iron-colored robes. When he stood step by step on the main stage of the grand theater he built with his own hands and turned towards his soldiers, the Fourth Legion saw a surprisingly young and majestic face.

His appearance is like a sharp rock that has not been born for a long time. His cold blue eyes have not been eroded by wind and rain. His robes and muscles together form a solid and indestructible line like a mountain. The armor in the audience and even the breeze and floating dust are frightened by its harshness. But don't act rashly. Anyone who meets Perturabo can doubt that he is the epitome of steel and strength.

If any Astartes dared to muster the courage to look directly at their genetic father, they would be aware of it in the platinum laurels that adorned his black hair, the appropriate golden patterns on his robes, and the smooth and beautiful shadows of the cloth. Obvious beauty. Even the most humble clothing became a true testament to the union of art and practicality on Perturabo.

Some ancient characters were engraved on the gold band on his hand, and after urgent collective study, the Fourth Legion knew that they were a recurring variant of one of the earliest human languages ​​that had reached Olympia.

"My legion." Perturabo looked down at his legion, "My warriors made of steel. Today is my first official meeting with you. Starting from this moment, we will fight for humanity together. Gather under the banner of the Empire and re-incorporate the entire galaxy into the territory of the Human Empire."

"Before coming here, I did not prepare any speech. This is because I believe that you do not need unnecessary encouragement. I believe that your will has been tempered for a long time and is as strong as steel. I also do not intend to make our first meeting lengthy. And inefficiency forces you to stand under the scorching sun and listen to the commander's rhetoric, so I will keep my speech as brief as possible."

"I never question your loyalty to humanity. As for your abilities, whether it is past glory or shame, I don't care. What I want to see is the present and the future that I have seen with my own eyes. I will name you Steel Warriors, this is what I expect from you and myself.”

"Do you accept it?"

"yes!"

As soon as the words fell, countless firm responses came out from tens of thousands of armors, passing through the sound transmission structure designed by Perturabo himself, echoing in the open-air theater, vibrating deep in the steel and tens of thousands of hearts present.

"Very good." Perturabo's tone remained unchanged, "I have sent the legion organization change document to you in advance through astrology, and I will reiterate it here today. The Iron Warriors will be reorganized into large battalions from largest to smallest. , battalion, heavy company, front company, centurion, independent squad and other levels, with regular armor, artillery, engineers, communication teams, and logistics support detachments proportioned to each other. There is also a core unit of the Tirantikos Commander as a separate unit. Heavy troops. Acceptable?"

"yes!"

"In the Iron Warriors, honor and shame will belong to this united whole. Your honor is my honor, and your mistakes are my mistakes. The assessment method for the Warsmith and Trident, which is temporarily suspended, will be ability rather than personal qualifications, strength rather than personal honor. When I see any of you who has the ability to completely design and shape the regional battle situation, and decide the battlefield like a blacksmith forging his work, he will be my Warsmith. Do you accept it?"

"Yes!"

"Very good. My children." The young Primarch said, "From now on, Olympia will also be our common home planet, just as I accept Terra as my second home. I will introduce my family to you, and I hope you will respect mortals as you respect each other."

A mortal woman who is much shorter than the Primarch came from the backstage of the theater, and her elegance and majesty did not differ because of her body size.

Kaliphon took the loudspeaker microphone and greeted the Space Marines, with neither arrogance nor timidity in her words. She looked at these warriors as if they were the people of Perturabo: "I am the current tyrant of Lokos, Kaliphon. From today on, we will be responsible for the technology recovered from orbit and the related local construction factories. The construction project of the orbital shipyard has been launched, and the flagship of the Primarch is in the design stage. Warriors, go fight your battles. We will be your arsenal and eternal backup."

"Yes!" The Iron Warriors responded in unison.

"And I am a craftsman." A clear voice came from the black-robed man who appeared at some point. Without any amplification equipment, his voice blew into everyone's ears like a breeze. "Just get to know me. You can pretend I don't exist at other times."

"Yes!" Although they didn't fully understand, the warriors answered without hesitation in accordance with the will of the Primarch.

This was not only to obey orders, but also because the appearance of the black-robed man was too abrupt: he did not hide his abnormality, and the Iron Warriors were not stupid people with weak observation.

This unknown black shadow disappeared directly after introducing himself, without even revealing his appearance, but everyone remembered this strange person firmly. He must be the most discussed mysterious existence under the Primarch in recent days.

"Very good." Perturabo's tone became deeper, gradually gaining a formidable quality. "Next, let's talk about punishment."

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