"Be careful of Perturabo; do not be misled by his momentary actions and thoughts."
"Perturabo is a monster with a split mind; you can never imagine what new things he is considering in his mind. Rudeness might be seen by him as straightforwardness, while advice might be viewed as an offense. It's also possible he might completely reverse the two views. In short, his thoughts are constantly changing and cannot be fully grasped."
"He is a genius, a non-human genius."
"Do not limit your impression to the scene just now. I once heard with my own ears how he executed a tenth of his warriors on the first day of his return, and then on the second day, turned to caring about the welfare of every soldier. Therefore, if he suddenly becomes indifferent and heartless towards the evacuating people later, do not be surprised, and certainly do not try to resist."
"Remember, he is a calm monster, but his calmness is never unleashed at the right time. Just quietly complete the work he assigns. Do not express excessive opinions or comments. He might listen, or he might consider it an offense and contempt, thus falling into a rage he cannot even control himself. That would be fatal."
"Finally, good luck to you."
--------
What Ahriman left behind was an intangible stream of words, quietly infiltrating where no one could detect, speaking clearly within Morgan's deepest heart.
Morgan narrowed her eyes. She stood rooted to the spot, carefully pondering every piece of information left by the Thousand Sons. First, she listened slowly once, then recalled it once more. Afterward, she took a step and came before the massive instrument beside Perturabo. On its light-blue electronic screen remained some unimportant messages and data that Perturabo had not yet finished processing.
Morgan glanced at Perturabo's screen, then began her work. Her slender fingers moved back and forth between the keyboard, buttons, and data pad, making crisp sounds that quickly merged into the digital symphony played by the Lord of Iron and the Trident.
Perturabo did not specifically allocate energy to pay attention to this new mortal. After Magnus left, he immediately plunged into a sea of work. The electronic screen and data pad, exclusive to the Gene-Seed Primarch, updated ceaselessly, bringing data from the entire world and the Expedition Fleet before him. The Lord of Iron was handling these matters almost single-handedly. His two Trident at this time were more like apprentice laborers, sent by him to organize the things he had already processed.
Perturabo stared intently at his screen. He had to read and process at least a double-digit number of pieces of information every second, but despite this, the superhuman perception belonging to a Gene-Seed Primarch still faithfully told him that his brother's mortal advisor would peek at his screen every five minutes.
However, he did not care about such trivial matters.
It was not until about twenty-five minutes later that the Lord of Iron spoke for the first time, his harsh tone abruptly cutting off the harmonious symphony that had filled the chamber.
"I need the data on the number of non-local personnel in the Kalena City East Resettlement Area from midnight until noon today, categorized by gender and age. Send the data to me."
The Primarch's unquestionable voice echoed in the chamber. Perturabo's command did not specify an executor; this was his consistent habit: the Lord of Iron never cared how his subordinates divided and collaborated on tasks; he only wanted the answer.
And even after Perturabo's voice had completely dissipated in the chamber, he still received no answer. As this dead silence continued, with each passing second, the Gene-Seed Primarch's expression grew a shade darker.
Morgan could clearly feel the two Trident's keyboard strokes becoming increasingly urgent, as if drowning men desperately searching for a piece of driftwood. This panic lasted for about a minute, until she could distinctly hear the Gene-Seed Primarch's increasingly heavy breathing, at which point the two Trident finally trembled to a halt, then turned around.
"Father... we only have information from ten o'clock this morning..."
Morgan could hear Perturabo's laughter, laughter filled with suppressed fury. That laughter made the iron-willed Trident begin to tremble uncontrollably.
She calculated carefully, until Perturabo's dangerous gaze began to wander over his offspring, then Morgan pressed the button beside her.
"Ding—"
The notification of a new message interrupted Perturabo's low-pitched anger. He turned his head, opened the file, and found exactly what he wanted inside.
The Gene-Seed Primarch glanced at the sender of the message, then cast his gaze to his side. He looked at this mortal from the Thousand Sons Legion—she was calmly typing on the keyboard, as if what had just happened was nothing more than a routine task.
"...Continue working."
The sudden reprieve caused the two Trident to look at each other in confusion, while their father was already once again immersed in the sea of data.
The symphony resumed.
But this harmony did not last long, for soon after, the Gene-Seed Primarch spoke again.
"Latest data for orbital transporter D-447! I want it from at least half an hour ago. Why hasn't it completed today's transport quota?"
Morgan could feel the iron giant beside her turn around again. Everything in the chamber, living and non-living, trembled with his presence. She could sense that the rhythm of the two Trident had become chaotic once more.
This time, she deliberately waited a moment before selecting and sending the specific file from the many already organized documents.
She could feel Perturabo's gaze linger on her for an instant.
Over the next hour, this situation occurred repeatedly. Perturabo's interrogations were like the unending thunder of a midsummer rain night; his demands were chaotic and peculiar. The Trident occasionally managed to respond, but more often than not, their work rhythm was mercilessly interrupted and disrupted.
Purple light swirled in Morgan's green pupils, expressing disdain for this method of urging.
Perturabo's questions seemed illogical, or rather, they only followed some internal logic known solely to him. He disdained explaining why he needed them, merely cracking the whip of language, making his offspring work diligently, as if this could cultivate the best assistants.
But this did not hinder Morgan from continuing her work. Her calculations and results easily surpassed those of the two unfortunate Trident. By observing Perturabo's work every few minutes, she could even pre-categorize what the Lord of Iron would need.
As the intermittent questions continued, the Gene-Seed Primarch's inquiries no longer seemed to be directed at his offspring. Instead, he became more expectant and curious about the answers from the mortal beside him.
It wasn't until Morgan extracted a piece of data regarding the fleet's fuel supply from the vast archives that the Gene-Seed Primarch clapped his hands. He called his two offspring and Morgan to his side, his gaze carefully lingering on the three of them.
After a long pause, he spoke to Morgan.
"Tell me, why are you able to quickly find every piece of information I need?"
"【Because of prior preparation and categorization, Your Excellency.】"
"How did you know what to prepare in advance?"
"【Based on the actual situation, Your Excellency.】"
"【Today, I encountered an incident of order breakdown in the settlement area outside Kalena City. This incident will undoubtedly disrupt the process of evacuating and transporting civilians, thereby affecting the efficiency of the orbital transporters. Then there are the issues you just mentioned regarding loading space, travel time, shift schedules, and finally, because the transport ships stayed in low orbit longer, they needed more fuel supply.】"
"【And all of this naturally needs to be categorized and archived separately, so I prepared it in advance.】"
Perturabo remained silent, then nodded.
When his head turned back to face his offspring, his voice had become a roar capable of tearing apart giant beasts.
"Now! Do you hear me?!"
"Actual situations! Prior preparation! And a mind capable of linking events and logic!"
"As my offspring, are you two truly inferior to a mere mortal in these aspects?!"
"Look at what you're doing—summarizing and organizing all of yesterday's data. Is this what we need now?!"
The enraged Gene-Seed Primarch at this moment had completely forgotten who had assigned this task to the two Trident; he never bothered to think about such things.
The two powerful figures, second only to one in the Legion, bowed their heads, allowing their father to vent his anger. They knew the cause of their father's fury was not the slow or missing data.
It was that—they were not even as good as a mortal.
"Now, go out and get me first-hand intelligence and data. I don't want to see those texts that should document this afternoon's transport volume and unforeseen circumstances still be a mystery when the time comes."
"Also, tell Felix, if he cannot properly fulfill the duties of a Trident, becoming my eyes and ears, then he should abandon his position and become a private for me!"
The Gene-Seed Primarch's abrupt and unreasonable anger eased slightly with the hurried departure of the two warriors. He returned to his workstation, and this time, his fingertips produced the heaviest notes on the keyboard.
Morgan, as usual, first observed his progress, then began her own work. She awaited the Gene-Seed Primarch's sudden test, and she did not have to wait long.
"Food supply storage in Kalena City South warehouse."
Soon, Perturabo's request came.
Morgan didn't even pause. While typing on her own task, she casually grabbed the file and sent it over.
A shadow flickered in Perturabo's eyes.
Subsequently, the questions from the Gene-Seed Primarch became increasingly complex and numerous, from the most urgent itineraries and reserves, population influx and aerial drop arrangements, to the demolition of real estate and buildings. Then, the focus of the questions gradually shifted away from the most important urban areas and settlement zones, extending to places that could be considered irrelevant.
"Population evacuation status in the Scarlet Gold Mountains."
"Ding—"
"Real estate transport status in Zarukin City."
"Ding—"
"Storm movements in the Orchis Mountains and their impact on Kalena City."
【...】
Morgan narrowed her eyes. She carefully glanced at the Dawn Star's map: the Orchis Mountains and Kalena City were separated by half a world.
She realized something.
From the corner of her eye, Morgan caught a glimpse of Perturabo's expression, which was a dull, steady calm. So, she slowly let her hands leave the keyboard.
"【Apologies, Your Excellency, I did not realize the importance of this information and ranked it as third priority. I have only completed 75% now. If you need it, I can prioritize processing it.】"
No sooner had Morgan finished speaking than a smile returned to Perturabo's face.
"No, there's no need to blame yourself."
"This is the stormy season on Dawn Star. According to past records, there is a 3.5% chance that storms in the Orchis region will affect the weather conditions in Kalena City. From a mortal's perspective, it's naturally impossible to notice such data."
"You've done very well, Morgan. Now, continue working."
Successfully stumping the mortal before him seemed to instantly improve the Gene-Seed Primarch's mood. He plunged back into his work, and the sounds of his fingers hitting the keyboard and data pad became lighter and brighter.
Morgan lowered her head, obscuring her pupils, and adopted a humble, receptive demeanor.
"【...Yes, Your Excellency.】"