Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

"It's been too long since I last wrote a new story. [6] [9] [s] [h] [u] [x] [.] [c] [o] [m] I didn't know How to start writing, even the line of inscription I am writing now makes me extremely hesitant, like holding a powerful iron pen, hesitating about the shape and structure of each letter. "

"I will spend my time to complete this new fable, not seeking to spread its name widely across the land, but just a rough record of worldly events."

"A child, a heaven-born, man-made, unique child, with all his arrogance, timidity, hatred, and attachment, comes to this distant world that has long been lost in the night and wilderness, and collides with everything. He Destined to be far away from the unknown."

"He is the sharp blade of silver, the bullet of the gun, and the armor of iron. His power will shake the mountains and the deep lakes. But will his sharp edges cut through the long-lasting bloodshed, or pierce the throats of mortals? His heart will melt. In the golden soup of molten iron, or in the blazing fire of a new furnace?"

"I saw the towers crumble, the arches collapse, I saw the rivers dry up, the deep seas surge, I saw..."

Suddenly, someone violently slammed their fist on Morse's door. A drop of ink accumulated on the tip of the pen immediately fell to the smooth paper roll, and followed the capillary structure to form a puddle of ink.

Mors took a deep breath. The next moment Perturabo pushed the door open, the edge of the thick soft blanket on the ground curled up strangely, and the soles of the boy's sandals and toes got stuck in the upper and lower parts of the carpet respectively.

A moment later, there was only a loud noise, and Perturabo and the carpet he overturned rolled up in vivid patterns on the floor.

The paper held by the boy flew outwards due to the conflict of air currents, then mysteriously turned and flew into the palm of a hand stretched out from the shelter of the wicker chair.

As Perturabo struggled to free himself from the carpet's trap, Morse read the new document.

His brows furrowed and then dropped, gradually fading into an expressionless expression: "You'd better explain why you added gears, hinges and sharp saws to this sink used for washing fingers before meals."

"There is something missing in the drawings..." Perturabo finally stood up. He was more concerned about his design than asking what evil spells were attached to this rug that concealed murderous intentions. "I think this item The design is intended as an automatic home meat grinder for processing meat that cannot be processed with a machete in family life.”

Morse turned over this drawing. The drawing on the next one was extremely complicated. Even he needed some time to identify what the finished product would look like. Perturabo leaned into his hand expectantly until Morse rolled up the drawing and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Humanity needs toy birds, not miniature storm craft disguised as toy birds.”

"Really?" Perturabo asked suspiciously, "That's not what the list of requirements the army gave me said."

"I'm just thinking about your army." Morse changed the next drawing, "What about this one?" Military helicopter landing platform? "

"It was just an open-air theatre," Perturabo said. "I will build it between the marketplace and the palace."

Morse folded the drawings in his hands and slapped them into Perturabo's hands. "Okay, bye, I'm busy."

"What are you busy with?" Perturabo stuck his head out.

"Private business, please do not disturb."

After sending the boy away, Morse continued to deal with his unfamiliar pen.

He raised his face with one hand and looked away, taking in the myriad of emotions in the city.

People work under the sun, and the sun rises and sets, coming and going from the place where it came from, and shining on the land.

The night goes, the night comes again, the day passes, and the day comes again.

He saw that the river flowed wherever it went, but the place where it went was not filled. The rain clouds rise into the sky, the wind blows upwards and downwards, the shadows of the clouds cover the dry land, and the water falls from the sky to the origin of the rivers.

He saw people repairing houses, making gardens, digging pools, and planting flowers and fruit trees outside and inside the city. These laid-out layouts came from both the future and the past, and were finalized after discussion by Perturabo.

He saw that there were cattle and sheep in the village, and there were growing trees and creatures and all things. When the builder went to the village, he saw that houses had been built, water conservancy projects had been repaired, roads were open, and people had made feasible roads in the mountains.

"The boy holds hammer and axe, and opens up new places. His joy pleases those whom he pleases. His labor gives wisdom, joy, and conscience. His work makes things happen. What he gathers and gathers , gradually it will pass into the hands of those who work with him.”

“He cuts off the sharp edge in the furnace, and he takes the plow out of the furnace.”

"He brought more farming and cattle and sheep to this land, and placed joy in the hearts of the citizens. People should remember his name, just like the rising of the sun and the setting of the rain, and he also remembered his own. He It is his duty to rejoice in his business.”

"Lokos is close to his plan, and his business is coming to fruition. The people he governs are his countless citizens."

"His stature increased, and from eating and drinking he left his low body. I saw him grow, as I see the rising of the sun and the setting of the rain."

Morse put the pen on the wooden stand for the time being and held the new paper up to the light to dry.

The sun and moon rotate endlessly in the river, and the shadow of the sundial moves over and over again on the disk. The tabletop where he was writing was cracked, the result of the sun and wind.

On some rare years, the Olympian snow and ice rolled down from the highest mountains and blew into the house from the diamond of the window in front of him. At such a time, Perturabo, if he were in the capital, might come to him.

Morse didn't care about the cold. He just lit some firewood for Perturabo. The fire flickered bright red, and Perturabo told him about his new job recently.

He especially likes to show off his newly built theater. From the sound transmission effect, the arrangement of the seats, to the structure of the backstage and the overall shape, Perturabo will explain it to him one by one, and he will explain it one by one. He refuted it and tried his best to be critical, which made the tall young man's cheeks heat up as he competed with him.

Perturabo's hair was cut short and then long, and later settled on a shape of neither long nor short. His black hair swelled like algae, setting off his increasingly darkening ice-blue irises.

"Morse?" Perturabo opened the door and came in, followed by Andros. This was not common, but it happened occasionally. "Andos and I are going to do a new test and demonstrate it with the craftsmen. Do you want to ask your question?"

The prince smiled simply and said hello to Morse.

Time has made him grow older, and since he is not deeply worried, he does not look too old.

It is Harkon who is getting old. As the eldest prince fails to accept the iron crown of the tyrant, his wrinkles will increase day by day.

"What contest?" Morse asked.

"You should know more about the outside world." Perturabo said, "The Royal Palace of Lokos is about to be renovated. The craftsmen of Lokos are here at the invitation. Andos and I are going to give a demonstration for them. So we will compare again. ”

"Are you still thinking about defeating the prince?" Morse arranged the papers on the desk. Some scrolls were new and some were old. Perturabo had said that he wanted to remake the electronic data pad once used by humans, and Moers Charles expressed sincere doubts about his ability to solder wafers with his bare hands.

Perturabo said candidly: "Of course it is. The speed of Andos' progress is amazing."

Morse's hand froze for a brief moment in surprise. He looked at Andos, his attitude softening: "Have you agreed to compete with my apprentice again?"

Andos nodded, "My sister has already started preparing for our competition... I never thought that my progress could be so fast."

Morse waved his hand and let the two men out of his room. "I will give you the questions later. Anyone can pick them up."

He felt a little headache because of this. The endless competition between the two people had almost exhausted the proposition that he felt was suitable.

Morse exhaled softly and took the pen into his hand again.

Even if Perturabo really made the data tablet with his bare hands, he wouldn't use it: he didn't trust the tools Perturabo made, and the information would not be transmitted to the young man's terminal.

As time goes by, the simplest pen and his hand have become familiar with each other.

In the old days, he used carbon black to make ink, or applied wax to a wooden board, used the hard tip of the engraving stylus to carve words on the wax board, and used the flat side to smooth the wax surface at the mistakes, and then wrote again.

Later he used parchment paper, wooden paper, quill pens, and roller ball pens. Now he records the story and goes back to the time when the old method was first practiced.

His pen crossed the paper, and the sun and the moon rolled forward again.

"He will let the righteous be righteous and the upright be upright. He will not allow the righteous to perish for their righteousness, nor the wicked to live long in their evil deeds."

“He makes new laws, and his words are words for the citizens to hear.”

"He sometimes curses people, and often he snares the sinners; I am the only one who hears his curses, and those words ringing in my ears make my heart rejoice."

"I told him that I don't see anyone who always does good and never sins, and I don't see anyone who is always upright and never foolish. Don't do anything according to his own whim, or he will be buried with himself."

"Their temple was built, but the citizens passed by without hesitation. They let their footsteps ring and spoke freely in the grand downstairs. I saw that the goods in the city increased, the gold and silver increased, the men and women who worked in the city increased, and there were more people. The Gentiles will increase, and the wealthy foreigners will increase.”

"When they heard of the gift of the young man, they came one after another to see what his power was. So wise men came from foreign lands, princes from foreign lands, and priests from foreign lands."

“Wisdom is better than strength, but strength is indispensable.”

“He wanted the foreign nations to be able to eat and enjoy themselves in the same toil. He wanted to go to foreign countries and lands in good faith and to arrange everything properly. Therefore, he built strongholds, chariots, and weapons. . He brings strength to the earth."

Morse pinched his fingers. He was not satisfied with the current manuscript and might have to rewrite it in the future. Fortunately, he did not lack such a little time.

The water in the water clock is falling drop by drop, and the sand in the hourglass is moving endlessly. The hands of the sundial had long been broken, and the dial was chipped and blackened. He had long told Perturabo not to test the musket in his room.

The rhombus windows have been replaced with grid windows, and the blinds can be closed to block light by pulling the string. In recent days, pulling louvers has been popular in Locos, and countless citizens have repeatedly played with the structure until it broke.

Perturabo was about to promote a new type of glass, and the double-layer structure was unnecessary but novel.

More people came knocking on his door, and Morse couldn't figure out why they kept communicating with him while he was writing scrolls.

The first to enter was Callifon, followed by Perturabo, who was taller. The young man was half a forehead taller than his sister. The food of Lokos made him grow quickly, like wheat in the ground and seedlings in the field.

His hair is long and paired with a suit of light armor and a crown on his forehead, which makes him more similar to the descendants of the gods in many Olympian myths. Morse would not speak directly to him, otherwise the big young man would be secretly annoyed for several days and nights.

"My army is training." Perturabo got straight to the point, "Although it is based on ancient books and my deductions, are you willing to come and watch?"

Morse dropped the pen, and the slender cylinder rolled quietly on the table, and finally got stuck in a corner not far away.

He leaned back in his wicker chair: "Want me to give you some advice?"

"Exactly," said Perturabo.

"I am a craftsman, child. I am not almighty. How often have you seen me holding a weapon stained with blood? I don't remember the principles of war."

Perturabo did not insist: "Then come and see my theater, Morse. I have built it beautifully."

"Your theater is renovated every year, and Lokos doesn't think you are too nosy." Morse smiled, picked up the pen from the table, and rolled it between his fingers. "What am I going to do in your theater? You want to see me singing a song in a high voice on the stage?"

Califon joined the conversation at the right time, her eyes still peaceful and clean: "The naming ceremony of Perturabo will be held next year, Morse. This is the traditional coming-of-age ceremony of Lokos. Since he is the master of our legion, he will Belong with us in Lokos."

"Naming ceremony?" Morse chewed on this word. Since Perturabo came to him, the young man must have agreed to participate in it. As for the venue, of course it will be the Perturabo Grand Theater next year.

He turned his pen with interest, "Do you want to rename yourself?"

"No, I will formally name myself. It is Perturabo." said the young man.

Morse looked at him intently. Many years ago, the young man declared in the main hall that he wanted his name to have meaning. Will he do it?

He moved his head slightly, a blur between shaking his head and nodding. "I will go see the ceremony named after the goddess Herphony next year. For now, let me keep it fresh. I have seen your grand theater a thousand times."

Then he suddenly thought of something, "Who will carve the statue of the goddess? Or Andos?"

Kali Feng nodded, "Brother is very willing to re-gift his wishes."

Perturabo then said: "I will also send my troops at that time." He announced.

"A naming, a military parade?" Morse murmured, "By the way, isn't Harkon going to succeed the throne yet?"

"Damex said Harkon wanted to perform military exploits under my banner." Perturabo raised his head, the iron ornament on his forehead shining brightly. He then showed a little disdain and said, "I won't let him die."

"That's okay, it's a good thing."

Morse looked out the window, knowing that the sound of cannons would echo in the mountains. His pen landed on the scroll, and the dark ink left an imprint.

“Those who are wise may not necessarily reap the fruits, those who are sensible may not necessarily be victorious, and those who command troops may not necessarily enjoy the joy.”

"However, nations will arise, just as the wind will carry wheat seeds, and the clouds will carry raindrops. Light is good, night is good, wishes are good, so he will forget his sorrow, overcome evil, and do good things."

"I saw time again, and everything was turning. I saw birds, swords, and the earth again."

Morse stopped writing. Outside the window, the ritual music celebrating Perturabo's coming of age and naming ceremony were ringing from all directions.

He listened to the flute, harp, and reed, and waited for Perturabo to knock at his door. His long hair and black clothes were automatically clean.

Flipping through the book, he saw that time was passing by.