[Come here, Aniah.] 】

[Come and get to know him, this one is with me, the Lord Perturabo that you created: every inch of skin on your body, every gear in your body, and every weapon in your palm were all ground by him from scratch, little by little. 】

"Respect him, Aniah, as you honor your elders: you should call him an Lord, an Excellency, or an uncle: just as you call Conrad. 】

"Uncle?"

The sound of steel echoes under the peacock-blue dome, and heavy boots step on a burgundy Achaemenid carpet: when Perturabo turns his head, the corners of the original eyes do not want to take in the last glimpse of the view of this Morgan's private dining room, and silently compare it to the most outstanding work of art he has ever created.

The only thing he overlooked was the plates of delicate meals in front of Morgan: Perturabo couldn't quite understand why his blood relatives were so obsessed with eating that they even acted like mortals in this regard.

And the result of the comparison also satisfied the Lord of Olympia: Morgan's taste and layout can be called the top level even if you look at the entire galaxy, but compared to Perturabo's artistic attainments, the Spider Queen is still a little less spiritual after all, which is enough to distinguish the small interval between success and failure.

The Iron Lord laughed: he didn't see the flicker in Morgan's pupils.

For Pertulabo, whether Morgan was far superior to him or far inferior to him, was not a satisfactory outcome, the former would have led him to a contemptuous attitude towards his blood relatives, and the latter would have been even worse: only such a clear distinction between victory and defeat that did not open a huge gap could make the Iron Lord's cunning heart feel a little real satisfaction.

Although Morgan's taste is very good, it is still worse than him, and this insignificant gap is precisely the talent that cannot be made up no matter how hard you try: it is also the difference between him and ordinary people.

The joy and satisfaction of victory rose in the heart of the genetic prototype, and a smile appeared on Perturabo's face with rough lines for the first time in a long time, and with this smiling face, the Iron Lord strode over to Morgan and Virgo, and began to carefully examine the eldest daughter of Morgan in full costume.

"You asked her to call me: uncle?"

The voice of the Lord of Olympia was surprisingly gentle, and he made a gesture of friendliness towards the silent Virgo, and the smile and affirmation on his face were a luxury that the Iron Warriors could not consume.

Morgan leaned forward in her seat, crossed her legs, and rested her arms on the table, her fingers together to support her face, and the smile in her blue pupils was unreservedly unreservedly unfolded in front of Perturabo, accompanied by a slightly teasing rhetorical question.

[If you don't like it, I can also ask her to call you ......]

[Godfather? 】

“……”

"Ahem! Ahem......"

As soon as these words were uttered, before the wide-eyed Virgo could react, the Iron Lord's resolute voice came to an abrupt end: Perturabo turned his head a little awkwardly, a hint of unusual camel red flashing across his rugged countenance, but it was quickly swallowed up by the iron-gray composure.

For a moment, the Spider Empress in the Iron Lord's pupils had a subtle fusion with the figure of his sister Kellyphany: but compared to Kellyphone, Morgan was obviously more stubborn, and her courage was definitely greater than that of mortals.

The Lord of Avalon only blinked innocently when she met Perturabo's somewhat displeased gaze, and Morgan curled the corners of her lips and gave an irresistible smile when she saw Perturabo's gaze, which she had learned from her genetic father.

In this way, that old bastard is not useless.

In front of Morgan's smile, the Iron Lord could only bow his head, clear his throat, and continue the topic as if serious, acquiescing to this petty fight between blood relatives: as if he had always been so generous.

"In other words, will she see her as a mother or something?"

Once again, Perturabo's gaze returned to Virgo: the Lord of Steel could easily figure out the layers of gears and bearings beneath Virgo's skin, because he had made it all by his own hands: he certainly hadn't forgotten Virgo, the marvelous creation he had created with Morgan, one of the works of which the Lord of Steel was most proud.

Although, Perturabo himself has no plans to create more Virgos: because such a [semi-civilian] little creature is not very much in line with the values of the Iron Lord, Perturabo is accustomed to distinguishing between weapons of war and delicate creations, and he is resistant to anything that can be associated with killing, war, and artistic creation.

So, while both he and Morgan kept all the records of that experiment, while the Lord of Avalon created the Stellar Maidens one after another and treated them as true heirs, the Lord of Steel chose to build more Hoop Robots and threw them into the increasingly brutal battlefield of meat grinding.

[Yes, it took me a long time, under the premise of ensuring safety, to construct this infinitely close to human emotion in Aniah's mind: but this emotion itself is still unsound, it must be based on a huge database, and a large number of emotional codes. 】

Morgan's voice was a little helpless, but more than that, it was full of pride, which was even praised by Perturabo: when he and Morgan drew the first blueprint of the handmaidens of the stars, they never imagined that such a creature could be innovated to the level it is today, and even produce noble emotions similar to that of humans.

"I'm actually curious, how the hell did you do that?"

The Iron Lord was silent for a moment, until he watched Virgo push the dining cart and disappear through the door, then he turned his head and began to discuss these [private] technical issues with his blood relative, Morgan.

Perturabo stood at Morgan's table, and he didn't sit down, because even in this relaxed atmosphere of sibling conversation, the Iron Lord was still heavily armed, and its heavy special Terminator armor reverberated across the floor with every step.

[A little improvement, a little creativity, and continuous upgrading.] 】

Morgan said as he split the honey-grilled cheese on his plate with a knife and fork: the best Camembert cheese will exude the aroma of rhizomes, and a little baking will reveal a hint of warmth, and then pour solid honey on its surface, use the knife and fork to open a gap, tear off three or two pieces of soft bread, stained with the cheese flowing in the center of the cheese, and shake the red wine in the glass between the strong aromas, which is a side dish that can make the genogen smile.

As the Spider Queen forked the cheese-coated slices of bread until they were golden brown and drew circles in mid-air, her words duly unraveled the confusion in the Iron Lord's mind.

[You must have also noticed, brother: in the more than 40 years since we jointly developed Virgo, I have not given up on small-scale updates and upgrades to Virgo, many of her spare parts and built-in software have undergone several generations of changes, and the psionic technology invested in her has changed dramatically compared to forty years ago. 】

"But the whole thing hasn't changed."

The Lord of Steel was able to determine this.

"The main structure of this creation is still the same as what I designed it from 40 years ago, and even many of the main configurations have not been replaced: it is not different from our original final draft, except for countless minor changes."

[Because I can't do it.] 】

Stuffing the cheese into his mouth and squeezing his cheeks into his mouth, Morgan's words flowed into the ears of the Iron Lord, sounding so calm and pleasant.

This is your creation, brother. 】

The Lord of Avalon shrugged his shoulders a little helplessly.

Although with your help, I am able to understand the principle of the creation of the Handmaiden of the Stars, but this does not mean that I can build on your foundation: although I have been working in this direction all these years, I have always been greeted with the result of failure. 】

Morgan pursed his lips, looking a little funny when combined with her bulging cheeks.

At this point, the Lord of Avalon is not lying: Perturabo's talent for engineering and data is unquestionable, and the Stellar Handmaidens who have condensed his efforts have indeed made Morgan unable to find a place for large-scale improvement, nor can he think of a way to do it.

[I have analyzed the blueprints you left behind countless times, brother, but no matter how many times, I can only make minor repairs in those insignificant places, just like fiddling with a few tiles on a city wall. 】

"It's an exaggeration, Morgan."

The Iron Lord's face was cold and hard, but there was a slight loosening in his sideburns.

[No, I'm telling you seriously. 】

Morgan shook her head, a long sigh coming out of her throat, her long eyelashes and loose hair making it impossible for Perturabo to see the brilliance in her turquoise pupils or the pursed corners of her lips as she lowered her eyebrows.

But the voice, he could hear clearly.

[Can you imagine the powerlessness I felt when I finally unfolded every inch of Virgo's blueprint, and knew all the mysteries you had woven into it: it was like the sorrow of the ancient Saracen army, which had gone through great perils across Syria and Anatolia and arrived under the walls of Constantinople, looking up at a great wonder that could not have fallen in classical times.] 】

[At that moment, the city wall was not only a city wall, but also a technological advantage and rich experience that could not be reached, and it meant that the contribution of the two people inside and outside the city wall to civilization and their understanding of the world were far from being at the same level, and it meant a chasm that could hardly be crossed: I understood this much later. 】

[Peturabo, my brother.] 】

What a wonderful person you are. 】

“……”

It's a very simple sentence.

But it silenced the Iron Lord for a long time.

It wasn't until Morgan raised her glass to salute her Olympia brother that Perturabo reacted: he politely responded to Morgan's salute with a different kind of coldness and resistance, but the constant twitching of the few inches of skin at the corners of his mouth interpreted that the Iron Lord's heart was not so calm.

He spoke with some hesitation.

"Don't say that, Morgan."

"You're also a very good person."

[Yes, I'm excellent. 】

Morgan pursed her lips, and she drank the wine from her glass, not looking at Perturabo's face at all, but filling her cheeks with food on her own as she almost complained about the pressure in her heart.

[But here's the problem: I'm a very good person, Perturabo.] 】

[If I were just a mediocre person, just like those mortals, who could only see the surface of things, then I would not be as melancholy as I am now: when facing your works, I will only praise you a few words, thinking that you are also a very good person. 】

[But I'm not mediocre, I'm also an equally good person, and I'm also a genius that mortals need to look up to. 】

[Because of this, when I saw your drawings and wisdom, I realized how profound your attainments are: just like standing on the highest mountain, I can deeply appreciate how far away the sky is, some things can never be seen clearly by confused mortals, only by standing close enough to you, can I feel that you are completely different from this world, brother. 】

[I am excellent, brother. 】

[But you're not.] 】

Morgan's smile was a little slanky.

[But you're not good, you're not just good: you're powerful, Peturabo, you're a powerful person, a strong enough person to make people like me look good. 】

[Being side by side with you is really a misfortune in luck and a pain in happiness. 】

“……”

Perturabo smiled: a fleeting smile.

A sharp light refracted from his pupils swept across Morgan's face until he found that the Lord of Avalon was immersed in the mellow aroma of cheese, completely oblivious to what he had just said: whether it was a compliment or a complaint, it was Morgan's heartfelt emotion.

At this point, Perturabo couldn't help but think of a secret, a secret that perhaps only he knew, a secret that had been grasped by the Iron Lord sixty years earlier: his Avalon blood relative, though a meticulous and quick-thinking man, was not perfect.

When Morgan's attention is briefly focused on one thing, it is highly likely that she will unconsciously reveal a lot of her true thoughts in her words: I am afraid that even she will not realize it.

It was a secret that Perturabo firmly believed, and Morgan's current performance confirmed his belief even more: the Iron Lord did not believe that his blood relatives could cross sixty years of dimensions, wearing a consistent and clever mask in front of him, and he did not believe that he could see through anyone's disguise.

The Iron Lord was convinced of this: from the day he could remember, he could see through all lies and hypocrisy, the scheming politicians of Olympia seemed to him to be incomparably children, and even in the hearts of his blood brothers, the flashes of ridicule and slander were always accurately captured by Perturabo, but he never cared.

He's a generous person, but not a stupid person.

Morgan at this moment is no exception: the Lord of Avalon has no malice towards Perturabo in his heart, and her words are only pure emotion, inadvertent words from the bottom of her heart, the most credible praise and boast, and the most acceptable affirmation of Perturabo.

This unintentional outpouring of instinctive emotion, rather than carefully planned boasting, was a gift worthy of the joy and satisfaction of his Iron Lord

As for the little jealousy in the tone......

And what genius doesn't attract envy?

Thinking of this, the strong ice face finally collapsed, and the real smile spread to the corners of the Iron Lord's mouth, and pride rose in the bottom of his heart, making the originally humble words in Perturabo's mouth sound a strange feeling of triumph.

Although from beginning to end, he didn't really look into Morgan's pupils.

"It's just a different specialty, sister."

The Iron Lord laughed, his breath like the groans of a giant beast in its slumber.

"Just as I can't help these creatures with any more psionic powers, but you can, we just excel in different areas, which doesn't mean much, and you don't have to force yourself to be on your own in every matter: if you need it, I can help."

The Lord of Steel patted him on the chest, his voice muffled.

"After all, she is also my creation, one of my most boastful achievements, and I would love to make her a little more perfect: you know, my sister, in this world, not all creatures cannot have the qualifications and abilities to become more perfect, and having room for improvement is a great advantage in itself."

As he said this, a trace of anger flashed in the Iron Lord's pupils, and he may have thought of something bad, but he was quickly overshadowed by a smile.

"So, don't worry: if it's just data and structure improvements, I can still help, and we can do another collaborative experiment for a few weeks or even months, just like we did forty years ago."

There was a hint of anticipation on Peturabo's countenance.

"But that will be until after this expedition is over: the mission of the War Council awaits us, and everything should be compromised for the sake of the great conquest of the Empire."

[Ah, indeed.] 】

Morgan nodded, her tone dragging very lazily.

[Conquest, victory, march, and the declaration of the mission of the War Council, isn't this the meaning of our existence, with the Western watchtower on the Far Eastern Frontier as a springboard, this expedition against the northern part of the galaxy will be going on for a long time. 】

"Maybe a year."

Perturabo nodded, his ears catching some sounds: it was Virgo pushing a food cart bigger than her, and Shi Shiran walked in.

Seeing this, Morgan smiled flatteringly at her blood relatives.

[So, before embarking on a year of great conquest, I think that both Holy Terra and Lord Perturabo, as the commander of the expedition, will allow me to enjoy a short morning tea for fifteen minutes? 】

The Iron Lord was amused, and he nodded casually: Morgan's [slackness] made Perturabo feel that his Avalon blood relatives were more three-dimensional characters than a perfect template in front of him.

Of course, this kind of [slackness] is based on the fact that the Lord of Avalon had sent the plan of the expedition to Perturabo in advance long before the rendezvous: Morgan would only start to favor her own little hobby after all the business had been done, and she had always been very clear about this, and even Johnson and Perturabo could not find fault with it.

So, as the Iron Warrior's genetic agent watched as plates of food were brought to the table in front of Morgan, he raised his eyebrows and politely declined the invitation to have morning tea together, and then he was intrigued by another sentence from Morgan's mouth.

"You want to discuss something with me?"

"Seeking my support?"

The Iron Lord's voice was strange.

Growing up, he had heard many sophistries beginning with such words, eager to extract benefits from him, until he was instinctively bored with anything that seemed to come from him: but, at the sight of the food-intoxicating face of the Lord of Avalon, Perturabos pondered for a moment, and decided to be patient for a moment, and to hear what Morgan had to say.

Although Perturabo did not feel that his Avalon blood relatives would be as bent on extracting profit from him as vulgar mortal politicians. But his innate sensitivity still made the Iron Lord vigilant: as long as he experienced the slightest bit of exploitation from the Spider Queen, the Iron Lord didn't mind a verbal counterattack.

"What do you want to talk about?"

So, after being fully mentally prepared, the Lord of Steel asked.

[Well, it's not a big deal. 】

Unlike Perturabo's stern waiting, the Lord of Avalon just waved his knife and fork unhurriedly and divided the fried cheese tuna sandwich in front of him into several portions, wiping the grease and milk foam from his mouth, and thinking nonchalantly for a moment.

Watching Morgan hold up his fork and gnaw the fried sandwich like a hamster, the Iron Lord couldn't help but fall silent: Was he a little worried just now?

Not to mention this rather Riemann Ruth-style way of eating......

In the silence of the Iron Lord, Morgan finally remembered that she had promised some hapless Caliban cat to help him in something.

So......

[I just wanted to ask you, my brother Perturabo. 】

Morgan blinked, stuck out the tip of his tongue and licked the cheese off the corner of his mouth.

[What do you think about the selection of the Imperial War Commander in the near future......]

[What do you think?] 】

(End of chapter)