Ongoing
“You should have told me earlier that he was the craftsman who created you, Perturabo. ”
“Then I can be harsher on you. ”
…
A craftsman, a wrapping cloth, a side of glass, a rein;
The forger who smelt iron and stone, the minstrel of Olympia.
Morse.
This is my new name, given by your creation – Perturabo, your failed instrument, your unsuccessful man.
O Emperor, the yoke of our sins is bound by your hands, and like a yoke is tied around your neck.