The Steelblood's bridge style was unlike anything Carlile had seen before, with a peculiar roughness, like unpolished steel.

Thick cables were all over the ground, and the deck, with exposed bolts and sanded holes, had only the Iron Warrior's emblem carved into the edges. Dozens of arrays of contemplatives with different divisions were placed in an orderly manner in various corners, and the ceiling looked like some kind of factory, with mechanical arms hanging from them humming.

Hundreds of officers and crew members walked here in a steady stream, busily talking to each other. They talk like they're debating with each other, or the red-faced vendors and customers in the market fighting over price.

Perturabo's disdainful pragmatism is on full display here—from the point of view of the placement and bolting of the contemplative arrays, he clearly has the ability to make this place orderly, even aesthetically pleasing, but he is too lazy to do so.

And, lest some people think he can't do it, he also arranges some subtleties to the point of being weird. That way, if someone brought something like that, he could sneer and point out the details that had been deliberately hidden.

Of course, the main point is that . There are no viewing windows here, not half of them.

All windows into the outside world come from the bulky, large, display of datapads or contemplative arrays. What should have been a porthole was sealed, and the cold black and gray spread across the bridge, making it a place full of intimidation.

"I have to say, I'm impressed here, Peturabo." Carlil said.

He said it with half sincerity, and the other half was because he wanted to stabilize Perturabo's emotions.

He wasn't sure what the gloomy Iron Lord was thinking.

"I won't thank you for your compliment." Perturabo said, his tone softened. "But you do deserve to make that assessment, after all, you have a room on the Imperial Dream."

Carlil was silent for a moment, feeling the urge to sigh.

Yes, from a certain point of view, he is indeed very qualified to make this kind of evaluation, even if it is not for other reasons, it is completely enough to talk about the Emperor Dream.

She is a ship in the Empire that cannot and cannot be compared, and anyone who has boarded her has the confidence to despise other ships.

The problem was that Carlil wasn't proud of it, and in fact, he didn't even want to go up again.

It's too golden.

He was pondering, but Perturabo seemed accustomed to the silence—not to Carlil's silence, but to the silence that others shared when they talked to him.

He turned, gestured to the officials behind a row of contemplatives, and naturally went about his business.

"Project the situation of Fricks." He commanded. "Then establish a communication connection with him and call on the resources of five satellites to do this. I want to make sure that the call is free of any interruptions. ”

As soon as his voice fell, the officials immediately got busy. Their efficiency is astonishing, and the combination of professionalism and fear of Peturabo himself makes everyone look very motivated and weird.

Karil watched all this silently, waiting for the next development. His wait was not in vain, and Peturabo lowered his head and clicked a few times on the huge data tablet in front of him, and the deep blue light that belonged to the holographic projection immediately bloomed.

"My lord." Frix the City Breaker immediately greeted him, his face looking very stiff under the effects of the hologram. Of course, it was also possible that he saw Carlil standing behind the original body.

Perturabo ignored his greetings, he had always ignored them, he just asked, his voice extremely cold: "Tell me their answer, Frix." ”

Frix hesitated for a few seconds before speaking.

"They refused, but for strange reasons, my lord. Both sides of the war are declaring that they are fighting for you, for justice, for justice, for justice, and for the tyrants of Damex. They both think that the other cannot stop, or you will definitely condemn you. ”

"What are they lying about?!"

Enraged, Perturabo clenched his fists and slammed them against the iron railings of the podium. There was a loud bang, and the solid mixed metal railing was split in two.

He wanted to say something immediately, but he couldn't help it. Carlil could see his masseter muscles tense and relaxed, and it was a moment before Perturabo spoke in a different, less strenuous tone.

"Damex has been dead for thirty-four years! Even if they want to find a reason to go to war, they should find a credible reason, what is that? Are they fooling each other like idiots? Or are these new tyrants in my hometown really idiots? ”

Frix didn't answer his primordial words, and his image turned around and stepped out of the hologram's reach, and a whisper came from there. Half a minute later, he returned, and his expression had become a little serious.

"What's new, Protoplasm. Your. My dear, the tyrant of Rokos, Califon, wants to talk to you face to face. ”

"That's my sister." Peturabo corrected coldly.

He glanced back at Carlil, a warning in his eyes. Carlil raised his hands and smiled to give a harmless signal, though he didn't know why Perturabo cared about such a thing.

"Where is she?" The Lord of Steel asked again.

"The council of the city-state." Frix gave the name of a place, looking a little puzzled. "I haven't heard of this building, the original. At least I didn't hear about it when I left Olympia. ”

"I haven't heard of it either." Perturabo said slowly, his eyebrows twitching. "You move that way, I'll be there soon."

At the end of the call, Peturabo turned around, and Carlil immediately opened his mouth before he could speak: "You want me to go with you?" ”

"Yes." The Lord of Steel bowed coldly.

He looked thoughtful, his expression at the moment making him look more like a machine than a human with flesh and blood, the lone light of the steel bridge splitting his face, casting a terrifying shadow.

After a few seconds, he repeated it again.

"Yes, I want you to go with me."

——

Frix looked through his eyepiece at the so-called council of the city-state, his steps still threatening. The appearance of him wearing Terminator armor was terrifying enough, and his current posture added to his even more terrifying atmosphere.

The nobleman who had led him was stiff, his back already soaked. Frix didn't laugh at him, just felt a pang of disdain - no one here would be afraid of Astarte when he left Olympia.

Aristocrats, grand dukes, tyrants, commoners. They don't fear the Iron Warriors, but how can anyone fear their own sons or brothers? Now it was different, the faces he knew well had disappeared with the passage of time, and these people

They are simply incompetent parasites.

They don't have any character or ability, but they are enjoying everything they shouldn't be enjoying with the afterglow of their ancestors. These things should be rewarded to those who have made outstanding contributions, not to be squandered by them.

Frix couldn't help but feel a pang of pity.

"My lord, the hall of the council of the city-state is in front of me, and I am not a tyrant, so I have no right to enter it." The nobleman stopped, turned around, and bowed deeply to Fryx. "I'm afraid you'll have to take the rest of the road yourself."

Frix didn't answer, just made a gesture. He stood where he was, and when the nobles had left, he began to look around more closely. He left the rest of the council at the front of the council, which made it easy for him to do so now.

The council of the city-state is a typical Olympian building, but more primitive than the improved style of the city that has been built by Perturabo. Eight large and delicate marble columns support its entrance door, and gold and silver relief panels form the staircase leading to it.

Frix could easily see the origin of the materials, and he was able to do so without even using the eyepiece's analysis capabilities.

The stone and relief panels came from two city-states far apart, and the red carpet under his feet was from Lokos, among other details. Like glass, decoration and other things, they come from various city-states.

Frix soon came to the conclusion that it was built by a coalition of the major city-states. And neither he nor his original body knew about it.

A small drop of anger began to swell through Fryx's mind, but the City Breaker didn't let it really affect him. He looked up and surveyed the sky.

The intense sunlight turned into a useless thing under the action of the eyepieces, and the sky was blue, and the clouds were pale white and soft, exactly what he knew about the Olympia landscape. Its skies are always gentle and inclusive.

Frix took off his helmet and used his naked eyes to experience the true colors of the sun and the sky, and in a matter of seconds he saw a silver trail across the sky.

He put on his helmet again, hooked the runes, and switched communication channels.

"Primordial." Frix began to call. "Have you arrived?"

"Soon." Perturabo said his voice was slightly distorted. "What about the tyrant of Lokos?"

It's strange, he had just said that this was his sister, and now he was using such an official and estranged title, Frix thought to himself.

"She's waiting for you in the council."

"Good." Peturabo said. He hung up the communication, and Frix stood where he was, not moving on. He is well aware of Perturabo's character, and even though he has changed, he is still surprisingly stubborn in some places.

Frix would not have taken the place of his original body to meet with the tyrant of Rokos without receiving a definite order. The Breaker continued to observe the building in silence, and soon discovered something he had missed that was now worth reporting.

There are no guards from Rokos here.

A tyrant may be able to travel without envoys, but how can he travel without guards?

Frix immediately spoke up again, but was unable to do so. His voice was ended in a loud explosion that thundered and devastated the sky, and the sky crossed a second trajectory, the clouds darkened, and the gray of the explosion obscured the original blue.

The breaker stood there and saw a shuttle plume fall in smoke.

He immediately drew his blaster.

And also.

(End of chapter)