Aboard the Iron Blood, Bridge.
Perturabo's ice-blue eyes stared at the hololith. The first things to draw his attention were two shining stars.
Forix, the Warsmith and blade of the Trident, followed his Primarch's gaze.
"The other shining star is a gift from the Squats to Lord Nareth."
"It's hard to imagine they dragged a star from the galactic center to this place."
What Forix didn't say was: why, after the three Legions' bloody war with the Squats, were the Iron Warriors and Thousand Sons still hated, while Shadows of Order had established good relations with them?
They had close trade ties. The Squats' excellent weapons and civilian goods circulated in Shadows of Order's territories.
A Squat fleet had long-term accompanied Lord Nareth in battle, a condition the Imperium itself hadn't secured.
Perturabo looked up at a viewscreen, watching the scrolling data torrent.
"This is not difficult."
"Calculation. Power. Energy."
As he spoke, his ice-blue gaze shifted to the space between the stars.
Two Ramillies-class Starforts and a war-moon orbited in adjacent orbits, at different quadrants.
His transhuman mind raced. He then raised his hand, circling an area.
"There are valuable assets here. They are guarding something."
Forix, pulled from his calculations about towing a star, checked the various readings.
"Stellar energy and interference from the bodies conceal what lies at the center."
"I believe Shadows of Order intentionally hides their valuable assets there."
As he spoke, he saw four streaks of light flash across the hololith.
Following their paths, he saw four frigates.
His helmet's internal comm buzzed. He listened, then reported to his father.
"Father, Lord Nareth has dispatched frigates to escort us."
"Prepare the gift I have for Nareth. He will be pleased this time."
Forix knew his father had spent much time on the stasis device.
Working with Chronomagos Zulin Four, he had observed and recorded the entropic field distortions of Hrud in groups: one, two... thirteen.
He had created an entropic calculation formula, performed trillions of calculations, conducted experiments, and iterated the stasis device three times.
He had never seen his father so invested in a creation.
"As you command."
As Forix prepared the stasis device for transport, the four frigates guided the Iron Warriors fleet towards Vostroya.
Perturabo boarded his prototype Aquila Lander, based on the standard template but modified for a Primarch's transhuman body.
The iron-grey Aquila Lander landed at Vostroya's busy starport.
Stepping off the ramp, he saw Nareth's Aide, Arsena Dunn, waiting on the landing pad.
As streamers flew and servo-skulls chanted, the silver-haired Arsena approached Perturabo.
"Lord Perturabo, on behalf of my Lord, I welcome Your arrival."
"Please, come to Paradigm City's Grand Theater to view Your masterpiece."
The corners of Perturabo's mouth twitched, then he suppressed it. His voice was calm.
"Lead the way."
He boarded the airship prepared for him, heading for Paradigm City.
His ice-blue eyes, like torches, looked out the window at the people lining the roads, waving and cheering.
"Lord Perturabo! Lord of Iron! Hammer of Olympia!"
"May the bond between Shadows of Order and 'Iron Warriors' be as strong as iron. Long may the friendship last!"
"..."
Three hours later, the airship reached Paradigm City.
Before it stopped, Perturabo was already walking out.
As he walked towards Nareth, his gaze took in the magnificent theater.
The imposing structure was elliptical, built into a deep pit.
He knew Paradigm City was a hive city designed and built by Nareth himself. It had no impact craters, as in his own designs.
Clearly, to realize his design, the area around and beneath the theater had been specifically modified.
His transhuman mind took in every edge and curve of every building. In his mind, the structures reverted to their initial state, like rewinding time.
Explosives, arranged in concentric rings, shook the ground. Flames, kilometers wide, shot skyward. Millions of tons of vaporized debris ejected.
Construction engines consumed millions of tons of rubble, grinding and reforming it, then turning it into bricks with minuscule tolerances.
'Typical Nareth style.'
He commented silently. His brother spared no expense, but also made good use of resources.
Images flashed through his eyes. He could see the towering construction cranes placing them correctly.
He could see on the stone the traces of levers, files, and chamfering tools, invisible to the most precise instruments.
He suddenly frowned slightly. He saw a difference from his own construction plans, in an area he knew well.
Not only the materials, but the workmanship was slightly different.
'Nareth's sons, not bad.'
He did not carefully examine the surprising details. He just wanted to immerse himself in the moment.
His mind accelerated, retracing the project's precise routes, down to the exact dimensions, forming an image.
His cold, hard face curved into an uncontrollable smile.
His ice-blue eyes focused on the black-armored, golden-winged figure.
"Nareth, thank you for realizing my design."
His eyes deepened. Memories returned.
"The theaters on Olympia were often too small. Even during the peak of the mountain kings' iron-fisted rule, entertainment was scarce."
"I envisioned a stage that could accommodate all forms of drama. It could showcase love, comedy, heroism, and many other art forms. A magnificent palace built of intrigue, murder, and bittersweet endings."
"Credit goes to your genius design," Nareth smiled, gesturing to a red-robed Tech-Priest to step forward. "And to Wojciech Blyek's coordination, organization, and logistics."
He had chosen his Chief Supply Officer for this role.
Perturabo looked at the red-robed Tech-Priest. Compared to other Mechanicum figures he had seen, Wojciech had far fewer mechanical augmentations.
He still had most of his flesh. Only the six pairs of servo-arms on his back indicated his computational ability matched his position.
"Lord Perturabo, it is my honor to turn Your great design into reality."
"Blyek..." Perturabo looked at him appraisingly. "The Blyek battle tank."
Wojciech bowed modestly. "All thanks to Lord Nareth's guidance."
"Good," Perturabo said approvingly. "In engineering, you are the equal of any Warsmith."
Wojciech immediately felt something within him, like holy oil, integrating his body.
'I have become a true "Artisan," mastering the power granted by the Monarch.'
Nareth's intuition stirred. He glanced at Wojciech, then said to Perturabo.
"Perturabo, the Grand Theater's premiere is ready. Let's go watch together."
"I have long awaited this." Perturabo followed Nareth up the steps, into the palace.
Inside the Grand Theater, Yelena Kournikova was the first to applaud. Other nobles, like Kozubal, followed.
They only sat after the two Primarchs had taken their seats.
As mist sprayed, the curtains parted, revealing the decorated stage.
The director of the Vostroya Opera Company took a deep breath, his steps slightly stiff as he walked to the front.
His hand, gripping the microphone, was white with tension. The audience today were nobles from Vostroya and surrounding sectors, esteemed Rogue Traders, Navigators, and Astropaths.
Also Shadows of Order, and visiting Iron Warriors.
And Lord Perturabo, and the Monarch himself.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
"Monarch. Lord Perturabo."
"Ladies and gentlemen, our opening performance is Hamlet."
"Its script was long lost on Terra. The Monarch personally restored it to celebrate the theater's opening and Lord Perturabo's visit."
Hasik Noyan-khan, sitting behind Nareth, his eyes lit up.
Though the White Scars were passionate about poetry, they also knew something of Terran culture.
He remembered the Great Khan mentioning that the Sigillite, Lord Malcador, regretted that the loss of Shakespeare's immortal works was one of the greatest casualties of the Age of Strife.
Perturabo glanced at Nareth in surprise, then smiled.
"I think Magnus and Fulgrim will regret missing this."
"They might have a chance." Nareth smiled back.
He watched Perturabo's ice-blue eyes turn to the stage as Act I, Scene II began.
In the castle hall, Hamlet, in purple robes, a red cloak, his hair gleaming, spoke in standard High Gothic.
"Not so, my lord. I am too much in the sun."
He noted Perturabo's intense focus. He knew his memory-based restoration of the script was a success.
'Hmm, even if there are errors, only the Emperor could point them out.'
The opening performance concluded as Hamlet killed the new king with a poisoned sword. The Vostroyan nobles fell silent.
Perturabo's ice-blue eyes were calm. Then he rose, applauding.
"Thank you. All the actors. You have given a great performance."
The nobles, as if waking from a dream, applauded with the Iron Warriors.
Amidst the thunderous applause, Perturabo turned to Nareth, who had risen, and said gratefully.
"Nareth, I must express my sincere thanks. You not only realized my design, but prepared a performance worthy of it."
Forix and the others, who often accompanied their father, saw his face, relaxed and smiling, so different from its usual tension.
"It was my promise." Nareth smiled.
"Now, I think you should name the Grand Theater."
"No," Perturabo shook his head. "That honor should be yours."
"It was your design. It should be named by you."
Perturabo could not refuse. After a few seconds of thought, he spoke. "Thaliakron."
Nareth paused, thoughtful.
"In Lojosi, 'Dwelling of Thalia.'"
Perturabo nodded. An image flashed through Nareth's mind.
He knew Thalia was an ancient Olympian deity. Legend said she gave endless inspiration to fools, poets, and writers with her poetic talent and love of drink.
Though Thalia's public worship on Olympia had long faded, in the days she was still revered, lavish banquets were still held in the ruins of her cliffside theater-temple.
What concerned him more was his memory: after the Heresy, when Perturabo's original design was completed, he had named it Thaliakron.
It was there that Fulgrim performed, recounting the Aeldari myth of the extinction angel, luring Perturabo to the Eye of Terror.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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