The Architectural Art of Three Primarchs

"I would love to receive your architectural drawings and bring them to life. I believe you are a great architect, and none of your designs should be overlooked, but..."

Perturabo's anger subsided instantly, and a dazzling light shone in his eyes.

"But the architectural style of my palace is also a form of art, and I think you should learn to appreciate it."

Upon hearing this, Perturabo looked around.

Everything around us is deconstructed and transformed into numbers:

The battle flag is 3.3 meters long and 1.1 meters wide.

The twelve battle flags, all identical, eased Perturabo's furrowed brow somewhat.

But soon after, the flags of the First Chapter, painted with scales, and the flags of the Second Legion, painted with the Sun, were 5.2 meters apart.

The flags of the Second Legion and the Third Legion, painted with a deep black Moon, were 6.1 meters apart.

Why are the distances between each flag different?

Perturabo's mind also flashed back to the irregularly painted wings, lines, and other shapes on the asymmetrically arranged black jade floor tiles, following the Fibonacci Sequence.

"Art appreciation?"

"In this palace, all I see is a loss of balance, a state of disorder, a lack of careful design and proper calculation."

"Art is usually unrelated to precise calculations; it is those things that are unrelated to logic that are the source of art," Nimrod said meaningfully, his eyes deep.

[Art has nothing to do with technology!] Nimrod's words struck Perturabo's heart, ruthlessly tearing open a corner of his long-buried memories.

He had failed before; his adoptive father Damekos, had once held a sculpture competition.

He created the perfect statue, yet he lost.

It lost to a work that was not perfect, but was deeply moving, expressive, and meticulously detailed.

He lost to his brother.

Is it Hrakon or Andos?

Perturabo tried to blur his memory, to make that failed experience seem like a dream.

But he is the Primarch, possessing a superhuman brain, and he can master the languages of the Olympia and any other civilization in a short time.

He could tell the structural properties of objects and materials just by observing them, and he had an instinctive grasp of mathematics and engineering, so how could he not remember that name?

It's Andos, not Hrakon.

I smashed my own statue, and Andos's too.

Perturabo fell silent; his anger subsided, and he once again surveyed the entire palace.

The Primarch, possessing exceptional engineering talent, didn't actually need to look again; the answers were already lurking in his anger the moment he stepped into the palace, but he simply didn't want to see them.

Now, the answer ruthlessly pierces the iceberg called reason.

[Although disordered, this palace is also a work of art, no less impressive than my own design.]

An unnamed rage flashed in Perturabo's eyes, and his left hand stiffly reached for the hammer at his waist, then stopped.

He did not smash the palace beneath his feet as he had smashed the statues that time.

Magnus sensed the turbulent emotions surging within Perturabo, creating a raging storm in the Warp.

"Perturabo, I saw a statue of a great bird when I was a boy; it stood atop the mountain and was perfect."

The word "statue" immediately captured Perturabo's attention, and he looked at the one-eyed red-haired brother who had walked up to him.

Magnus, like a lecturer, began to recount. "Just as I approached it, it fell to the ground."

"Among the scattered stones, I found triangles, quadrilaterals..."

"I have discovered the ancient truths of the universe, the origins of the Five Cults."

Perturabo seemed thoughtful, then said, "True art lies within disorder?"

"Art, it should be said, is not defined by order or calculation, nor is it bound by rules," Nimrod said with a smile.

Perturabo gazed at the two Primarch, their figures overlapping with Andos, radiating an artistic glow.

He sealed the palace, along with the statues he remembered, deep in his mind.

Perturabo made the entire palace fade rapidly, yet being inside it felt like being in a shadow.

"We must return to the crucial matter at hand. Father sent us here to bring these short men under the Imperium's control."

"This is our mission. Art is of no help in the war, and Father wouldn't want us to become obsessed with it."

"I don't think so," Magnus said, his eyes gleaming. "More important than bringing them into the Imperium are their knowledge and their culture."

"As long as it doesn't affect the progress, the Emperor won't care about our actions. His Sigillite loves culture and art and hasn't offended him," Nimrod said with a smile.

"Among his collections, the Mona Lisa and Van Gogh's Sunflowers are definitely worth seeing, and he would certainly allow you to tour his prized collection."

Perturabo's eyes lit up for a moment, but he decided not to continue the topic.

This was partly because he felt it wasn't the right time, and partly because he didn't want to continue discussing art with his children present.

He did not believe that his understanding in this area was inferior to that of Nimrod and Magnus, but his understanding of irrational art had not yet reached a level that satisfied him.

There's nothing that can't be Analysis; I just need a little time...

Yes, just a little bit of time.

"Good." Nimrod's eyes were deep, and the Primarch had already keenly sensed that his artistic "taste" had earned Perturabo's respect.

Perturabo clearly wanted to change the subject first; bringing up his design topic again now would make him think I was exploiting his artistic weaknesses.

Given his personality, he would do everything in his power to prove himself, even designing a palace model, but he would harbor resentment towards me.

I should know when to stop. Wait until he has passed a series of tests and accepts me as his friend, then I can capitalize on his desire for recognition and praise, offer appropriate compliments, and obtain all his architectural works of art.

Nimrod thought of this and continued:

"The War Council begins."

After taking his seat, Perturabo remained silent, like a statue. Magnus then asked Nimrod:

"Nimrod, you've been fighting the Squats for some time now, and I think you already have a plan for the upcoming war."

"That's right," Nimrod met Perturabo's scrutinizing gaze and calmly asked, "I've reviewed the report submitted by your diplomatic envoy, Apophis."

Nimrod knew that Apophis was the strongest Psyker among the "Thousand Sons" and that he would become the future head of the "Pavoni Cult" Temple Master.

He, along with Azek Ahriman and Hathor, were among Magnus's key protégés and candidates for company commander.

Sending Apophis demonstrates Magnus's high regard for the matter; unfortunately, the Squats were resolute.

Furthermore, the negotiation process suggests that there is a being engaging in a spiritual confrontation with Apophis.