[Help me find out, Aniah, what is that ship for?] 】

"That one? Wait a minute......"

"It's a troop carrier, Mother, and it's full of recruits from Olympia just recruited by the Iron Warriors: Perturabo demands that all men of all age in Olympia over fifteen and under forty be conscripted into the army to join his legion or auxiliaries to replenish the attrition of troops in this expedition."

[Well, what about the one next to it?] 】

"Ah, it's a corpse ship, or corpse grinding ship, which belongs to a special unit exclusive to the Fourth Legion, and will only be deployed on the most intense battlefields, equipped with special drones to collect corpses from the battlefield, and cremate and process them inside the battleship, so as not to block the advance of the ground front with too many corpses."

[Does the Iron Warrior Legion still care that there are too many corpses on the ground? 】

"What ...... this?"

Virgo scratched her head, she turned to see if there was anyone nearby, and then lowered her voice as much as she could, whispering what was going on.

"Actually, according to Lord Dantiok, this is actually a recovery ship, which only collects the corpses of those mortal auxiliaries under the command of the Iron Warriors, and the main purpose is to extract as much as possible the military uniforms, guns, accessories, and certain [recyclable factors] in the bodies of those auxiliaries, after all, these things are ...... in many places Useful. ”

[And then the body was thrown into the crematorium?] 】

"Hmmm......"

"There doesn't seem to be a crematorium on this ship, Mother, but there is one...... Redistribution centers? ”

"There are also three starch canning plants."

【Canned starch ......】

Morgan's eyebrows furrowed.

[In this case: What is the third ship next to the troop transport and the recovery ship, what is it for, don't tell me, it is the canteen of the Imperial auxiliaries?] 】

"That's not the cafeteria, Mother."

[That's okay......]

"That's a supply ship supporting the surface."

"It and the two ships next to it form a [circulation group]."

【……】

[Aniah, remember to remind me, no matter what, don't let me send Avalon's auxiliaries to the ground battlefield, and by the way, draw some people from the Daybreakers to keep an eye on the meal table of the Avalon auxiliaries for this time.] 】

"Understood, Mother."

Virgo nodded, picked up the pen and wrote and drew on the data board, and while recording, she sighed secretly in her heart: This Lord Peturabo who is about to meet again is really a troublesome person, and the thought that this guy can be regarded as her [biological father] really makes her feel a little ashamed.

Why can't he be as perfect as his mother?

Even if it's not perfect, it has to worry about the mother in turn.

Virgo glanced at the densely recorded data board and pouted.

Although the Lord of Avalon has always had the habit of dictating various taboos or precautions against different primordial bodies before formal communication or negotiation with his brother, and then having his eldest daughter record them on the data board, there are hardly any taboos or precautions of the primordial body, like Perturabo, that are almost impossible to remember.

In this Virgo's impression, only Morgan recorded such a long note when he first went to the Five Hundred Worlds and met her brother Gilliman, who did not know the details, but it was only the first meeting: after figuring out what kind of person the Lord of the Five Hundred Worlds was, Morgan never prepared any precautions for the meeting with Killiman, and she knew that what she needed to prepare was a political memo.

In addition to this, several other primitives have some taboos, even characters like Conrad, Magnus, or Riemannus, and their conversations must be precisely avoided certain minefields, and their names will appear on Virgo's databoard from time to time, as Morgan maintains a correspondence with her blood relatives, and Virgo needs to be reminded when writing letters.

Of course, there is one person who is naturally the most special with Morgan, and that is the famous master of Caliban: Johnson's name has never been recorded on the data board, because long before Virgo was created, Morgan knew how to communicate with Johnson thoroughly, she did not need any assistance and preparation, and this kind of thing can be done anytime and anywhere.

After all, if the other brothers are more or less Morgan's partners or comrades-in-arms, and there is a slight rustiness in their relationship with the Lord of Avalon, Johnson is Morgan's complete relative, the kind of relative who can communicate without brains: anyway, Johnson himself basically has no brains in his communication with Morgan, and he belongs to the extreme option that Morgan is most relaxed in this series of candidates.

As for Peturabo? Ha! He's the other extreme, of course.

Virgo was amused by the slander in her heart, and when she came to her senses, the three unknown warships had been left behind by the [Goddess of Dawn], and what appeared in front of them was the air port built by the Iron Warriors in this newly conquered ruined world: I have to admit that the Fourth Legion is very talented in architecture, and judging from the subtlety of these new buildings, it is hard to imagine that less than forty hours ago, this domain was still a cold grave of countless soldiers buried in the sky.

The sons of Perturabo who remained at the airport almost couldn't wait to welcome the arrival of the Spider Empress, and the almost reckless welcome in those green voices made the Praetorian Guard's head Lana and the original bodyguards standing behind Morgan frown, their fingers pounding on the hilt of their swords at their waists.

[Sounds like a newcomer.] 】

Morgan didn't care, she didn't even forget to tease her daughter next to her.

"Probably a new recruit."

The Daughter of the Primordial Body is very serious, and she is adding relevant content.

"According to the report of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, in the dozens of days that we have been fighting separately from you, the Iron Warrior Legion has lost at least 30,000 people on various battlefields in the Kraken Abyss, not counting the battle you witnessed before that reimbursed at least five large battalions."

The original nodded.

[I remember before leaving, Peturabo told me that he had 150,000 men?] 】

"Now it's only 100,000."

The Stellar Handmaiden blinked, and after a moment of silence, added.

"Up to 100,000 people: this is the most recent data from seven days ago, and it is also the most reliable data, because in the last seven days, the Iron Warriors have not conducted any large-scale military operations in the Kraken Abyss area."

【…… Then something is wrong. 】

The original body rubbed its fingertips.

[It stands to reason that Perturabo should have learned the news of the imminent arrival of the Imperial Fist seven days ago: the Fourth Legion would remain motionless after receiving this news? 】

[Is there anything hidden......]

Morgan frowned, slightly intrigued.

[What is the reason why the entire Iron Warrior can be brought to a standstill?] 】

——————

"Because the entire Iron Warrior Legion waited in vain for the Commander's orders, but he locked himself in this room, and had not spoken a word since seven days ago, Your Lord: there were no orders, no military meetings, and we were not even allowed to send men to serve meals, and we had no idea what was going on inside."

Frix, the leader of the Trident, the commander of a company of the Iron Warriors, stood in front of the cold, dark iron gate, his face as pale as a piece of tarnished broken bridge aluminum, just clubbed there like a statue, behind him lined up the war blacksmiths and high-ranking commanders of the Fourth Legion, each of them like a shoddy industrial product carved out of the same mold.

Stocky, numb, lifeless, and with a similar complexion, or pale, or a deep flesh color, all kinds of outdated Mark II power armor are also full of scratch marks and dust that has not had time to wipe off, and it looks gray from a distance, and there is an indescribable sense of dirtiness.

Looking at the appearance of these people alone, it is hard for Morgan to imagine that the semi-permanent fortress of aesthetics and practicality she is now in is the work of these [gray dwarves]: their spirits are so sluggish, they don't look like people who can unleash the beauty of art in their hearts.

Especially Frix.

The Spider Empress's gaze lingered for a moment on the company commander with whom she had a relationship, and she remembered very well that Frix was one of the first Astarte warriors she knew when she was on the Dawn Star, and at that time, he was the first company commander of the Fourth Legion.

But compared to the positive and energetic life of that time, Frix is still a good warrior, but his face has a little subtle numbness, or rather boredom: it is the mental damage caused by the long and brutal war to the city breakers.

Even Morgan could not have imagined how pathetic this once resolute and brave warrior would have befallen if this situation had continued for another hundred years, or even longer, because of his own spiritual disillusionment.

The Primordial pondered for a moment, believing that her theoretically best Iron Warrior saw the maelstrom that Perturabo and the entire Fourth Legion would fall into: a maeltrom that had now appeared, but it would take more oppressive and long war to consume the Lord of Olympia and his legions.

This discovery made the Spider Empress's heart twitch, and her gaze immediately shifted to the war blacksmiths and high-ranking officers behind Frix, and it was not surprising to see many green faces: some of them were not qualified to stand in this line dozens of days ago.

Obviously, there are quite a few people who have been promoted in the style of an Iron Warrior after a long and brutal meat grinding war.

Morgan could only be disappointed in the faces of these men: in Frix, she could at least see the tenacity that still remained under the numbness, and the absolute loyalty to the Iron Lord, but in the eyes of these new officers, she saw only the awe of the closed door and the silent genetic agent inside.

Or rather: fear.

These people may have loved their genetic father, but they were also afraid of Perturabo, and the reason why they stood here was not so much because they were worried that something was wrong with Perturabo, but because they did not dare not stand here: who knows if the Lord of Olympia, after coming out, will carry out a new round of eleven kills for those who are not standing here to show their loyalty?

Sadly, there are not a few people like this kind of cowardice, and among the dozens of iron warriors crowded at the door, Morgan saw at least half of them looking like this, and the older war blacksmiths obviously didn't bother to deal with the confusion in the hearts of these juniors, and there was a lack of brotherhood between them.

So, when the Lord of Avalon spoke, she was not surprised to see two diametrically opposed emotions on the faces of these Iron Warriors: one was instinctive resistance, and the other was impatient joy.

[Okay.] 】

Morgan nodded.

[Let's all disperse, go back to their respective posts first, the legion and fleet still need you to maintain: besides, I also have some more confidential matters, and I need a certain amount of privacy to discuss with your genetic father. 】

[Frix, you can stay here with the other tridents and my Praetorian Guard, and the others, go back to your respective posts: I will explain this to Perturabo myself.] 】

Morgan's words were short, and before they had fully landed, they caused a certain commotion within these Iron Warriors: many of the sons of Perturabo were obviously moved, and they tentatively moved their steps, and after seeing that Frix was standing at the front of the line without any indication, at last, several Iron Warriors mustered up their courage, and they were the first to leave, shoulder to shoulder, and then, like a crack in the embankment, the team of dozens of people scattered in an instant, and walked cleanly.

Even the [old men] who were not standing here out of cowardice left this fateful place without any regrets.

The trident, led by Frix, had no reaction to this: in fact, the most loyal sons of the Iron Lord quietly breathed a sigh of relief inwardly when they saw the others scatter one after another, and Morgan walked towards the damned iron gate.

Naturally, all this was in the eyes of the Lord of Avalon, and she only smiled helplessly, took the datapad from Virgo's hand, and looked at it as she went, and stood still at the doorway, and tucked the finished datapad into her chest: it was perfectly submerged, and there was not a trace of a star.

Morgan then pushed open the gates of hell that made the Fourth Legion tremble.

Behind her, the trident's pupils flashed with admiration and gratitude.

——————

Perturabo's makeshift command room was cleaner than Morgan had imagined, and she saw the bare walls around it, nothing but a few star charts, iron filing cabinets all around, a large table in the center with a few chairs at random, and a densely packed collection of data: the only place in the room that felt a little messy.

The Lord of Steel stood there, his back to his blood relatives, and judging from his back, he was still resolute, so resolute that he did not look at all like a man who could shut himself up for seven days: but Morgan carefully noticed that the corners of the table on either side of the giant palm of Perturabo had dozens of obvious dents, as if they had been held with great force until they were deformed.

Hearing the door and footsteps, the Genoplasm of the Fourth Legion did not look back, nor did he let out a rough interrogation, he had already recognized by the distinctive voice that the person who came was his blood relative, not a person he could blame at will: Perturabo's response was silence.

He was silent and continued his work, and Morgan took a closer look, only to find that it was all a follow-up attack plan for the core area of the Kraken Abyss: the Lord of Steel had drawn a plan for the capture of this pocket empire over and over again on countless star charts, until it covered most of the battle conference tables in front of him, at least seventy or eighty.

Morgan stood on the other side, and she took a closer look at the plans, some of which even made her nod her head quietly, and when she looked up at Perturabo, she found that her Olympian blood relative still had no intention of accosting her: the Lord of Steel had noticed, but he was still standing there, pulling out another from the stack of replica star charts that seemed to never run out, and began his busy work on the map again.

【……】

Morgan was silent for a moment, and it took her about three to five seconds to analyze what was going on: in the end, the Lord of Avalon didn't choose to speak, she walked up to Perturabo, chose the chair closest to the Lord of Steel, pulled it away, and sat down.

Then, the Spider Empress straightened her waist and took a deep breath: the moment she closed her eyes, Perturabo glanced at her, seemingly unintentionally, and quickly shifted her gaze to the star map in front of her before Morgan could open her eyes.

And when Morgan opened her eyes, her pupils had returned to a state she hadn't experienced in a long time: when she was a mortal, when she was still by Johnson's side, or when she was by her side, the ruthless mode of work that was undistracted, indifferent, and efficient.

Then, the Lord of Avalon picked up a battle plan from the table, and she carefully examined every detail of the plan, using the pen in her hand to circle every point she thought was lacking or needed improvement, over and over again, until she nodded in satisfaction and put it aside.

Then, it's time for the next one.

One copy, one copy, one copy......

As the minutes ticked by, Morgan's work began to improve, and she tried her best to sift through every proposal in front of her, selecting those that were worthy of recognition, or eliminating those with obvious loopholes, and building the mess on the table into a neat two, which she placed in Peturabo's hand.

Second, second, second......

When the Lord of Steel had once again finished the star map in front of him, he glanced in Morgan's direction, and handed the star map in his hand to the blood relative: before that, the Spider Empress had already reached out and caught the star map almost prophetically, and the smooth interaction brought a smile to the grim face of the Olympians.

In this way, they continued to cooperate, more and more tacitly, more and more fluently, more and more towards the wonderful moment that happened in Perturabo's mind, on the star of Li, until the two became perfect and turned into the reality in the eyes of the Lord of Steel.

Until, at last, Perturabo stopped his pen, until he finally exhaled, and no longer held on to the steel face that was so cold that even he could not stand it a little: until the final plan was corrected by Morgan, and placed on the stack of star charts symbolizing the passage.

The Lord of Olympia looked at the stack with pride, his ability to calculate the heavens and bounds, and he watched Morgan's work from beginning to end: he was pleased that among the hundreds of options, his Avalon blood relatives had always maintained a high degree of cognitive agreement with him, and the ones that Morgan felt were the best alternatives in the Iron Lord's mind.

This time, the smile lingered on Perturabo's face for a long time, and he even temporarily forgot about the humiliation that Terra had given him, and forgot about the Imperial Fist that was so close at hand.

"Behold, Morgan."

It was only when Perturabo spoke for the first time in seven days that he noticed that his voice had become a little hoarse, like a cog that had not been in action for too long: but it still could not hide his good mood.

"See, even without the help of those Imperial Fists, you and I, as well as our respective legions, could still complete this Kraken Abyss Expedition on our own: just carry out the plans I have made perfectly."

Unfortunately, Terra, like most people in this universe, lacks the patience and knowledge to listen carefully to these great plans in your heart. 】

Morgan's words were neither salty nor light, pulling the Iron Lord back to reality, and Perturabo snorted with some resentment, and he did not release any more anger: it was clear that after seven days of intense work, even a stubborn man as the Iron Lord was already well aware that he was not capable of changing the established facts of Terra.

Dorne and his fleet were already so close that he would have to spend the next few months fighting alongside that Seventh Legion, with a brother so much like him, in close quarters.

"It doesn't hurt either, does it?"

Thinking of this, the Lord of Olympia grinned, his smile became so reluctant in Morgan's eyes, but the light in his pupils was truly fierce.

"Right here, in this Kraken Deep, I will show our brother Dorne and his Imperial Fist what is the art of storming and fighting, and what is the truth and true meaning of war: with their blood, with the blood of the entire Kraken Deep."

"I'll make Dorne respect me: just like everyone in the galaxy should do."

(End of chapter)