"What do you think they are doing?" Conrad Coates asked in disbelief.
Felzalost was silent for a while, lowered his head and told his Primarch: "They are dueling, uh, with Lord Khalil Lohars."
"."
Konrad Coates was also silent for a moment, but the first sentence he spoke was not to ask for details, but to correct him.
"Don't call him my lord, or any other honorific after that name, Fell. Just call him as I do, Khalil, Lohars—but don't call him my lord."
".As you command, Primarch." Fel nodded doubtfully.
Cozz took a deep breath and stood up from behind his seat.
Forty minutes ago, he completed his vow. He successfully memorized the names of every Eighth Legion soldier. It was a feat, but nothing to him.
After that, no one in the Eighth Legion pushed open that door again.
Therefore, you can say that the moment Konrad Kurtz saw Fer Zalost walking in, he was actually a little surprised.
However, he never expected that this surprise would develop into a shock so quickly.
"duel?"
As he walked towards the door, he turned around and asked Feier. He had just taken the time to read the detailed map of the Night Veil and remembered every detail firmly in his mind. So he doesn't need to lead the way.
"What's going on?" he asked.
The former third captain of the Eighth Legion hurriedly followed his original body and began to explain in a low voice: "It is said that it was Mr. Khalil who first made the suggestion."
"In the beginning, it was just hand-to-hand fighting, but it soon developed into free fighting with ground techniques. Now it has even turned into fighting with weapons, the original body."
"So, it's not actually a duel?" Cozz asked, ignoring the 'sir' for the time being.
"There seems to me little difference, Primarch."
Fell replied with a pale face - he now had a skin color scarier than some of the world's cave-dwelling mutants.
"We all felt that it was no different from a duel. Mr. Khalil was holding a blunt training sword, but everyone else's weapons were edged."
".That's okay."
Walking in the dark corridor, when Conrad Coates heard the news, his shoulders sank as if he was relieved.
"Khalil must have acquiesced in this and maybe he asked for it."
"Yes, the original body, this is what Mr. Khalil himself asked for - in addition, I also want to apologize to you."
Fer Zalost said uneasily: "To be precise, we want to apologize to you. Eight of our former company commanders were at the scene, but we failed to stop the development of the situation in time."
"It's human nature to want to see the truth, and I don't blame you. As for the former company commander, I will re-investigate the matter tomorrow and initiate a vote. It is simply nonsense for you to remove yourself from office."
Cozz frowned sternly, and used the tone closest to reprimanding to Feier during the trot while barely able to maintain his composure: "That is proof of your past military exploits and honors, how can you give up just because you say you want to? "
".I'm sorry, Primarch."
"Don't apologize to me. You, you, have nothing to do with me - now, let's get over it quickly."
Conrad Coates let out a long sigh. He was not worried about Khalil at all. He was more worried about other people.
He worries about everyone else.
——
I'm really not good with a sword, Khalil thought.
His opponent took a step forward and stabbed him in the heart. The blow was fast, accurate and hard.
But his opponent was obviously keeping his hand consciously - for no other reason than that his sword was edged. And what Khalil had in his hand was just a blunt sword.
Faced with his kindness, Khalil turned slightly sideways and passed by, perfectly avoiding this move. His opponent immediately changed his moves, and the blade came to life like a dexterous snake, stabbing his shoulder viciously.
This time, he still kept his hand.
Khalil couldn't help but smile.
His response was simple - the blunt sword rotated. He held the sword backwards in the way he was most familiar with, reversed his center of gravity and balance, and used it as a short sword to accurately knock away the opponent's sword.
"You don't have to hold back, Richter," he said softly. "I've said that if we're going to try to make the fight fair, we should give you more of an advantage."
".Is this some kind of insult?"
The young man named Richter replied, his expression was serious, his lips were bent downward and pressed together tightly. He seemed to make this expression often, and it was natural and serious.
"of course not."
"Then why do you say that? You are holding a blunt sword, and I am holding an edged, murderous weapon - I must keep my hand! This is an unfair fight!"
"This fight was never fair."
"Maybe, Khalil! You may indeed be able to defeat us in hand-to-hand combat, but sword fighting is different! The sword has nothing to do with height, strength, or anything else!"
Richter's words caused a crowd of shouts below the ring, which came like a mountain roar and a tsunami. The soldiers of the Eighth Legion applauded his speech and did not forget to cheer him up.
Khalil sighed softly.
Richter solemnly turned sideways, placing his right foot straight in front and his right foot diagonally behind him. He raised the sword with one hand in his right hand, and then rushed towards Khalil.
As always, he held back.
The sword blade flew up and down in the air, Richter was dazzlingly fast, swiping, slashing, and stabbing.
He used simple and direct moves again and again, and his one hand turned into two hands at some point. If the air had any entity, it would probably be chopped into fine pieces.
Khalil frowned and began to dodge these continuous attacks.
Of course he could use his sword to block these attacks, but he knew something else better. If you resist rashly, you will easily be led into their moves by a swordsman like Richter.
He could not let this fight, which had lasted for five hours, see blood, whether it was his blood or their blood. Otherwise the results may be quite unacceptable.
Although, the development of this matter is now beyond his control.
"It's useless to just avoid it!" Richter shouted loudly. "Come on, defeat me openly or be defeated by me!"
He once again used the big stride at the beginning of the move, and the blade stabbed Khalil's throat at an exaggerated speed - the more terrifying thing was that even though it was so fast, he still held back.
Khalil's powers of observation allowed him to discover this. In addition to the desire for victory, there is also an obvious caution in the eyes of the Eighth Legion soldier named Richtnar.
This kind of caution will not appear in a heart that is extremely eager to win.
interesting
At that moment, Khalil grasped the sword with both hands.
Yes, it's true that he's not good with a sword, but that doesn't mean he can't learn.
The most basic and important thing in weapon fighting is pace. Only with pace can these weapons exert their greatest power. And Richter's pace just now was not difficult to remember for him.
He took a step to the left, raised his hands flat, and locked his wrists together. The sound of blunt swords and sharp swords colliding with each other came in the next second, echoing throughout the large arena.
The sound began to pass back and forth in the dark metal cage of the arena, until it became a huge echo, even overwhelming the roaring cheers from the mountains below the stage.
Richter froze on the spot in astonishment, forgetting to attack for a moment.
The young swordsman was silent for a long time before asking: "That's my pace."
"Yes."
"You know how to use a sword?"
"Won't."
"But, that's my pace."
"indeed so."
Silence, silence again - after a moment, Richter lowered the sword in his hand.
What this gesture means is self-evident.
"You win."
He said calmly, as if he was not ashamed of the incident.
"If you can do such a thing, then if you continue to fight, I will only be humiliating myself."
"No, Richtnar."
Khalil shook his head and spoke sincerely. At the same time, he also lowered the blunt sword in his hand - or rather, dropped it.
"From a sword fighting point of view, I have lost. I don't know any sword moves. You can tell this from my previous actions."
"And you, you didn't use your full strength every time you attacked. Therefore, if someone really has to admit defeat, then I should be the one to admit defeat."
Richter frowned, looking a little anxious for the first time: "How can you say that? If we continue to fight, I will definitely lose!"
“Does winning or losing matter?”
Khalil smiled slightly and shook his head.
"I never stood in this ring with the intention of defeating you from the beginning. I just wanted to get to know you. In the same way, the first person who stepped onto the ring and the person I fought, Aleister, also I didn’t come here with a desire to win.”
".You remember his name?"
"I remember all the people who have told me their names." Khalil nodded calmly. "It's not that hard, is it?"
Yeah, it's not difficult. Richter nodded silently, agreeing with what he said.
"Maybe it's not that hard to do."
he whispered. "But what's really valuable is this attitude. Who are you, Khalil Lohars?"
He looked at him confused.
"Why are you so peaceful?"
Khalil did not answer this question. He just turned around and looked at a door on the second floor - this training room is sunken, with only one exit and entrance.
And there, now stood a pale giant.
The discussion under the ring stopped instantly.
——
"Are you angry, Conrad?"
".No."
"You were silent for a while before you answered me, and that silence was rather suspicious."
"I'm not angry about it."
Conrad Coates said calmly. "At least it turned out well. The minute you said you remembered all of their names, their eyes changed."
"But that doesn't hide the fact that my origins remain a mystery."
Khalil smiled, leaned against the wall, folded his hands and shook his head. "How are you going to explain my origins to them?"
".I have no idea."
After another moment of silence, Konrad Coates spoke with a troubled expression. At this time, he finally looked a bit like a child whose biological age was one and a half years old.
"Tomorrow, I have a military parade to watch, Khalil. I can understand the meaning of the word, but I don't understand why. I already know everyone, why do I have to watch a military parade? There are formal speeches today. Do you think the speech is up to par, Khalil?"
The giant who was questioned laughed dumbly. He shook his head and answered softly. "How do I know? You are the leader of the Eighth Legion."
"But I know nothing about speeches."
"Why do you think I will understand it? I didn't have the environment to hone this skill when I was on Nostramo, Konrad. Is it possible that I have to chant to the corpses of gangs and nobles? Long cadenced sentences in Gothic?”
"So, can you at least give me some advice?"
".You are the leader of the Eighth Legion, Konrad Curze."
Khalil shook his head gently: "Haven't you discovered how important you are to them? On the first day we met, they completely obeyed you. Moreover, your speech today was very good."
"Really?"
"Of course. Although there is no battle cry that can be extracted from it, when you ask them if they are willing to accept you, many people almost cry."
".I didn't see that."
"Because you were about to cry."
"."
Khalil turned his head so that Curze wouldn't have to see his expression. After a while, he continued to ask: "So, let's get back to the topic, how about it?"
"good."
"How are you going to explain my origins to them?"
Facing his question, the leader of the Eighth Legion remained silent for a long time before speaking. He obviously thought carefully before answering, so this statement surprised Khalil.
"I'm not going to tell them who you are directly, that would be meaningless. No matter what I say, they will accept it. So, even if I do lie to them, they will regard the lie as the truth."
"But I can't lie to them, Khalil, I can't do this. You said it, didn't you? We should return double the kindness to those who are good to us."
"So, I want them to participate in the cleansing and transformation of Nostramo. Anyway, they will definitely participate. In the process, they will also be aware of the image you have created, and they will realize who you are. of."
Yes, they will. They'll discover a legend about a vengeful spirit. But that doesn't matter to me, kid.
Khalil looked at him gently. The Lord of the Eighth Legion was lowering his head at the moment, writing and drawing on the many documents in front of him.
They were delivered by servitors, so Konrad Curze is quite busy now. He didn't even realize what kind of complicated mood Khalil was feeling at this moment.
Fourteen days.
The giant who was once a ghost smiled slowly - fourteen days and he has grown so much?
You make me so proud.
"Caryl?" Conrad Coates raised his head. When he got no response, he had to raise his head to observe Khalil's reaction directly. But the latter just smiled calmly.
"I have nothing more to say, Conrad." Khalil replied with a chuckle. "Just say it as you say. This is a perfect explanation. However, I have one last question."
"What?"
"How are you going to explain to them that you didn't unite Nostramo? I mean...your age."
".I don't have to talk about it."
"You just said you didn't want to lie to them."
"Not telling is just concealing, not lying."
"Is concealing something better than lying?"
"You, you - you have hidden many things from me too!" Midnight Ghost hissed. "Don't you have a lot of things you haven't told me?!"
Khalil chuckled and raised his hands in surrender.
His eyes were very gentle, and they were not eyes that should belong to a ghost.
——
The next day, Khalil did not participate in the military parade.
Of course he won't participate - why should he?
Was he going to stand below, or stand with Konrad Curze to review the Eighth Legion?
Either decision seemed unwise to him.
Konrad Curze is mature enough to take on the title of 'Lord of the Eighth Legion' by himself.
Khalil also felt that it was best not to interfere too much in the internal affairs of the legion.
Therefore, he would not give any substantive advice - in short, he intended to go to great lengths to avoid any situation that might involve him in the internal affairs of the Legion.
Of course, it is up to him to decide whether this matter will go as he wishes.
As for now, he's reading some books.
There are 20,000 soldiers in the Eighth Legion. Naturally, they cannot all be people like Siani or Richter who are obsessed with improving their martial arts.
Therefore, although it seems a bit paradoxical to say it, the Night Veil does have a medium-sized library.
At this moment, Khalil was standing next to a window seat reading a book.
The seats were obviously designed to fit the Astartes' size. He couldn't sit in them, but he could stand in them just fine.
He was reading a book of poetry, and someone had added a line of notes in Gothic to the beginning of the ancient book.
The general idea is that this is a collection of poems from Terra with a very long history. Although the author is unknown, he hopes that anyone should read this book with a 'pilgrimage' mentality.
After fifteen minutes of reading, Khalil chuckled and agreed with the editor.
"A pilgrimage indeed."
He began to talk to himself. "Her eager face, like the night rain, disturbs my dream soul to read it again. It is indeed a pilgrimage."
Putting down the book, his chuckle gradually turned into a wry smile.
At this time, two servitors came from the aisle one after another. One was responsible for sweeping the floor and the other was responsible for mopping the floor. The division of labor was orderly.
They quickly cleared out the entire library. It didn't even take more than ten minutes. Khalil watched the whole process silently, and he realized that the servitors also had jobs.
And he didn't.
It's better to find an opportunity to return to Nostramo in advance, although the fear brewing now is not enough.
He narrowed his eyes - yes, for the next nine days, the gang searched for him like crazy, but they never found any clues. There are only corpses, ruins and words written in blood.
Khalil almost watched their descent into madness for nine days, but that wasn't enough. He had to wait for the moment when this emotion spread to the most terrifying moment, only then
He raised his head, his thoughts interrupted by the sound of footsteps.
The steel stepped on the wooden floor, and the thick ground made an unbearable sound.
Khalil turned his head slightly and saw an Astartes wearing cold blue power armor from the corner of his eye. The latter did not wear a helmet. This allowed him to immediately recognize who the person was and what attitude he should adopt.
"Siani from Terra."
Khalil smiled and turned around: "What kind of wind brought you here?"
"Of course it won't be these books." Siani also laughed. "I just wanted to ask why you didn't show up at the military parade."
Khalil raised his eyebrows slowly. "Why should I show up?"
"You are the adoptive father of our Primarch," Siani said solemnly. "Why didn't you show up?"
The conversation changed the atmosphere quickly, so suddenly that Khalil even felt a little stunned.
However, when he saw the cunning look in Siani's eyes, he realized that he had been fooled. Of course, it's not just that.
He also realized that Siani's question was somewhat sincere.
"Because he is the leader of the Eighth Legion." Khalil replied with a chuckle. Although he was smiling, he did not appear frivolous.
He is obviously much taller than Siani, but his attitude in the conversation at this moment seems very humble. If there was a painter here, he would probably paint them to be the same height.
"What you said is good, but it's not enough to convince me."
"Then you don't believe it." Khalil said lightly. "It doesn't do me any harm, does it?"
"But it's bad for me."
Siani of Terra laughed again, his teeth sharp--a distinguishing feature of all Terran people.
However, Khalil actually captured more details. For example, he has a pale complexion, eyes that are darker than ordinary people, he rarely blinks, and he has no hair.
The characteristics of adapting to the environment are so obvious in everyone, even the Astartes are not immune. They are still human beings - or at least they can still be seen as belonging to the category of human beings.
But what about me?
"So, the parade is over?" Khalil asked. Pressed everything down in my heart.
He didn't mind chatting with Siani for a while, there was no harm in it anyway. As long as it didn't involve the internal affairs of the Eighth Army, he was happy to accept it.
For example, yesterday's alternating group competition. If you look at everything else, Khalil will admit that he actually had a lot of fun.
"Yes, happy ending."
Siani puffed out her chest proudly.
Although he uses Terra as the prefix of his name, he is still the warrior who has held the unarmed combat championship within the Eighth Legion for five years, but yesterday he spoke of these two things without pride.
Only now, when talking about a military parade that ended perfectly, did he look extremely proud and satisfied.
"How complete is it?"
"Very well, Khalil Lohars. We even showed the Primarch every detail we have learned in the past, such as stealth and stealth operations. Ah, but speaking of this, how did you do yesterday? Can you tell?"
"What do you see?" Khalil asked calmly.
"Stop pretending!" Xiani grinned, pulled out a chair and sat down.
The chair made of conformal materials let out an overwhelmed whine when it bore his weight, but Siani seemed indifferent.
He smiled, raised his right hand and made a gesture: "They were so crowded by us yesterday."
"Are you referring to the five soldiers led by Captain Ariel?"
"There is no company commander now, but yes, there are six of them."
"Just a little luck," Khalil said softly. "I've always been very lucky."
Siani pouted: "If you don't want to say it, forget it, Master Khalil."
".Why did you suddenly add the honorific?"
"Our Primarch delivered a brand new speech at the military parade today. At the end of this speech, he specifically mentioned you. His adoptive father, Khalil Lohars, also hoped that we would not be with you. Adding the honorific after the name. Considering that our original body also dislikes this matter, I made a little guess."
With a sullen face, Siani said a lot of words in one breath using a formal grammar. And finally, he said the last sentence of this paragraph with an almost unbearable expression and a suddenly high tone.
".I think you hate this, don't you, Lord Khalil?"
"."
Khalil narrowed his eyes calmly and did not answer immediately. After a while, he suddenly chuckled.
"You can scream if you want, Siani from Terra, the Eighth Legion has been the unarmed combat champion for five consecutive years. The big deal is that we will compare the length of the title. What do you think?"
Siani's face twitched at a speed visible to the naked eye.
".Consider me losing."
"So, who won? You don't sound like you want to admit that I am the winner here." Khalil asked deliberately.
He had noticed something.
Of course he would notice.
"Tsk, I really don't have much talent in using languages."
Annoyed, Siani stood up. After a few seconds, he changed his expression, looking serious and dignified, no longer as relaxed and natural as before.
"Lord Khalil Lohars." He spoke in a low voice. "In the name of Konrad Curze, and with the honor of the Eighth Legion, we are here to invite you to tonight's dinner."
Khalil narrowed his eyes and turned around.
Behind him, a dark shadow slowly appeared.
The soldiers of the Eighth Legion were completely surrounded here. They did not wear helmets, their armor was shiny, and military medals and ribbons of honor were flying on them. The expressions of each of them were extremely solemn and sincere.
They looked at him as if expecting something.
'We should return double kindness to those who have been kind to us. '
Taking a slow, deep breath, Khalil nodded expressionlessly.
"It's an honor to be invited by you, soldiers of the Eighth Legion." He said loudly. "I'll be on time for the dinner."
——
The Eighth Legion rarely held banquets - that was a fact, a fact that didn't even need to be argued.
Among the legion, there are many people who are gloomy and taciturn. People like Siani are aliens after all. However, everything has its cause and effect. The Eighth Legion was unfamiliar with the banquet, which led to their current predicament.
Fel Zalost lowered his head anxiously and looked at the few mortals on the Night Veil: "What do you mean there are no raw materials?"
"It just means there are no raw materials, Mr. Fell."
The man had a beard and his expression looked a little listless. He was wearing a crisp white robe, with a chef's hat hanging crookedly on his head.
“We can’t make food without raw materials.”
"How not?!"
"My lord"
The head chef sighed: "The menu given by you and your Lordships clearly includes Glocks steak, apples and peaches, herbal tea, buttered bread, all kinds of dangerous seafood, fresh fruits, and red wine."
"Isn't this wrong?"
"Yes, of course, in fact, this is even a little less for a banquet."
"Then why don't you do it?"
"Because our food supply warehouse only has six flavors of Astartes nutritious porridge, portable rations for individual soldiers, and ordinary beer, my lord. Also, I would like to ask, which lord made the note on the menu that you want sand?" Dried eel?”
".It should be Keger."
"That Kege from the Sixth Company? Well, alas. Please tell him that he ate all the dried sand eels a month and a half ago!"
Fel Zalost didn't know how he returned to the huge and bustling banquet hall - he really didn't know, he only knew that he seemed to be sleepwalking.
This strong warrior's anxious look was so obvious at this moment that almost anyone could tell that he was in a bad mood at the first sight of him.
The wise will avoid it, but the few who are not so wise, or the few who are brave, will rise to the challenge.
Such as Adebeman Basili.
He walked towards Feir, who woke up the first moment he saw him and subconsciously wanted to turn around and discuss countermeasures with the former company commanders.
After all, it was still some time before the banquet officially started. They should still be able to think of ways to remedy the situation. However, Adebeman Basili did not give him this opportunity.
"grown ups."
He stood expressionlessly in the middle of the road, blocking Feir's way.
"The banquet starts in thirty-five minutes, but why hasn't there been any movement from the kitchen? I didn't see any of the dishes on the menu being sent out from the kitchen in our banquet hall."
".Don't mention this for now."
"Why?"
"Just don't mention it for now, Adebeman, go back to your seat. We will naturally find a way."
Adebiman let out a long sigh.
"Ten hours ago I told you that having a banquet was a bad idea, but at that time you assured me that tonight's banquet would be a complete success. The Eighth Legion would definitely let the Primarch and Khalil... Lord Lohars feels at home.”
"Now, I can make a bold guess. Are there no raw materials for the exquisite dishes on the menu in our supply warehouse? Moreover, even if there are, I am afraid that the quantity is not enough to support the consumption of such a banquet. wrong?"
".Your intuition is really accurate."
Felzalost said expressionlessly. "So, my wise former lieutenant, what can you do?"
"No."
Adebiman sneered and spread his hands.
"Not at all, my lord."
"I can't conjure raw materials out of thin air, and the supply fleet responsible for providing logistics and bringing officials will have two months to go through the Ultimate Star Territory and reach the Ghoul Star Territory."
"So, unless you tell the Primarch now and persuade him to postpone this banquet until two months later, in my opinion, our banquet will definitely fail."
"You talk a lot, Adebeman."
Feier narrowed his eyes, his expression becoming a little dangerous. "Since you are so capable, why not tell the original body the news yourself?"
Fehr saw with satisfaction that his former lieutenant's expression turned horrified in the next few seconds, and he made a casual excuse and left quickly.
Feir stood there alone, thought about it in annoyance, and went to find the other seven former company commanders. After a brief meeting, they unanimously decided to tell the Primarch honestly about the incident.
By Fair, of course.
"why me?!"
Felzalost shouted angrily. "Why is it me again?! You have already asked me to bring bad news to the original body. This must not happen a second time!"
"Because it was you who came up with the idea of the banquet, Fell." One of the company commanders said.
He has a rather gloomy face that fits the standard stereotype of the Eighth Legion.
Aquiline nose, high cheekbones, pointed chin. The whole person looked extremely fierce. And the stern look on his face at this moment added to his strong persuasiveness.
"But you also agreed!" Feier tried to argue and waved his arms. "Didn't we make this decision together?"
"The team captains outside the company did not agree." The man replied lightly. "So, why don't you go talk to them about this?"
"What does this have to do with them?!"
"That's right, it has nothing to do with them, it has something to do with us, and it has the most to do with you. So, Fair"
He patted Feier on the shoulder sympathetically and pushed him away: "Go ahead."
Ten minutes later, the stiff Felzalost stood in front of their original body, Konrad Curze, with his head lowered, looking very nervous.
What he didn't know was that Conrad Coates was actually very nervous ten minutes ago.
He had trouble choosing clothes suitable for attending the banquet, and he didn't know how to choose. Therefore, Feier's arrival ended his difficulties to a certain extent.
At this moment, he was wearing a black, blue and silver evening gown - this dress was cut by Fulgrim himself, and every detail was made by the Chemos.
In those fourteen days, he didn't just teach Conrad Coates. He made eight sets of clothes for his brother in one go, which happened to fit the number of the Eighth Legion.
"So, what is it, Fell?" he asked softly, Gothic echoing around the room.
".That's it, Primarch. The party may have to be cancelled."
Fel Zalost finished these words calmly with the most fearless courage in his life, and then buried his head deeply, as if waiting for the judge to judge the guilty criminal.
"Cancel?"
"Yes, we made a mistake and our logistics reserves were seriously insufficient. Almost all the dishes on the menu were not available"
Fehr lowered his head and added his explanation, expecting to receive a stern rebuke—in fact, he was also prepared for this.
After all, this was a banquet attended by the original body and his adoptive father. It was also the first banquet held by the Eighth Legion to welcome the return of the original body, so it naturally had great commemorative significance.
Therefore, even if his genetic father wants to punish him, he is willing to accept it.
But he didn't expect that he would hear a soft chuckle.
"Is that all?"
Feier looked up blankly and saw a smiling face.
"It's just that the food on the menu couldn't be served in its entirety?"
"Actually, none of the original bodies can be served." Feier said with difficulty.
"Well it's not that big of a problem."
Conrad Coates nodded thoughtfully. "So, what else do we have in the warehouse?"
"Uh, six flavors of Astartes nutritional porridge, portable rations for individual soldiers, and ordinary beer."
"Then, wouldn't it be enough to just use these?" Konrad Coates said as he tilted his head.
Feier looked at him in astonishment. After a while, he remembered that he should argue.
"But, but - but how does this deserve your status?!"
"My identity? What am I, Fell?"
"You are our Primarch."
Felzalost answered very quickly. "You are the Primarch of the Eighth Legion, you are the Emperor's son, you are a noble demigod."
"Demi god?"
Conrad Curze frowned. "The first three are all facts, but where did the statement about demigods come from? The Imperial Truth clearly states that there are no gods in the world."
"But your brother Lorgar Aurelion"
Fell simply said a name and nothing more. But this was enough for Konrad Coze to understand. He sighed, said nothing more, and just shook his head.
"I don't pick the food," he said quietly. "Appetite is indeed good, but in the end it's just temporary enjoyment, Feier. And these things don't mean much to me at all."
"We are far more powerful than normal, Fell."
"In my opinion, the meaning of our existence is to be their shield and their sharp blade. We are the flame that sweeps away all darkness, and the lightning that cleanses away ghosts."
"Our fight is not to allow ourselves to live a luxurious life where we can enjoy delicacies from the mountains and seas. Our fight is to allow all humans in the entire galaxy to have normal food, normal clothing, and normal life like normal people. of sleep.”
He raised his hand and placed it on Feier's shoulder. Looking at him seriously - in fact, he could almost call it staring at the moment.
"Can you understand, Phil?" Conrad Curze asked cautiously.
His attitude was not 'forcing you to understand', or 'you should understand', he was really asking worriedly, fearing that Fer Zalost would not understand his words and the meaning behind them.
The former third company commander of the Eighth Legion and director of the think tank had a sore nose and almost shed tears.
He nodded, then nodded again, like a machine.
Conrad Coates smiled.
"It doesn't have to be like this, Phil. It doesn't matter if you don't understand. There is still a lot of time. I will try my best to let you all understand my thoughts. However, since there is no food on the Night Vessel, we might as well change the dinner party a little bit. Location."
The dinner will be held as usual.
When the bell that signaled the start of the banquet rang, the Astartes of the Eighth Legion were surprised to find that the food delivered to their long table by the servitors was not the exquisite dishes that were notified in advance on the menu, but nutritious porridge. Individual soldier rations and ordinary beer.
The last one isn't even wine to them, it's just water.
but
"I'm very sorry."
Conrad Koz made his voice with a temporarily tuned microphone in a huge banquet hall that can accommodate 20,000 people and even had free space. Gently and solemnly, so that people who hear can never forget.
"However, there are only them in the warehouse on the night number, the soldiers of the Eighth Corps. Oh, and which is the first sixth consecutive Kigg?"
Astart, wearing a dynamic armor stood up stiffly.
Conrad Koz smiled gently: "The chef Dorsto I told you that the dried meat dried meat has been eaten."
"Understand, the original!" Kig replied loudly. "Sandy eel dries have been eaten!"
His response caused a while of laughter. This is the atmosphere within the Eighth Army. No many people will show respect for this kind of thing. Mobilization is the most frequent greeting they use between them.
Conrad Cos also laughed, but it was by no means ridicule.
He made a gesture gesture and motioned to Kigs down, and then he said slowly.
"I see Groques meat on the menu? Can anyone explain to me what it tastes?"
"It's delicious, primary." A young Astart replied. There was a respectful light in his eyes. This is a very interesting picture in Karil, who stands in the dark edge of the hall.
Your original bodies may be younger than you, Agatt.
He laughed silently.
"Delicious? Ah, I can't imagine its taste." Conrad Cos sincerely answered.
"My impression of food is a delicate dish on nutritional paste, mouse and emperor fantasy dream. Frankly speaking, when I found that the latter is not much different from the previous two, I suspect that my taste .”
"But they are obviously no problem, so I have nothing to say. And my imagination is also very scarce. Everyone, I can't imagine what the Grock's meat is scent, but I know what Grocks is .”
He smiled, but the Eighth Corps did not. Their attention was placed on the description of food by the preliminaries. An invariability of silence and anger began to spread.
"I know it originated from the Solomon galaxy is a good animal, but it can be eaten throughout the body. It is delicious, nutritious, easy to raise, and can survive in a very harsh environment."
"I read this description from my brother Fergorim's notes. I have to say that this passage reminds me of a beast that survives on the Wilderness of Nostramo."
"They can also survive in harsh environments, their meat is also delicious, they are equally good to see the beasts, which is their name."
"Unlike Grocks, their meat is a precious dish exclusively for the nobles on Nostramo. It is not sent to thousands of households like Grocks meat, even if it is a herdsmen on the planet far behind the planets You can also eat this deliciousness through grazing. "
"On Nostramo, those people who are like herdsmen can not eat the flesh of the sawtooth beast, and they can't eat Groax's meat."
"Do you know the reason?" Conrad Koz asked gently.
No one answered.
20,000 eyes stared at him silently, waiting for his next words. In these two days, this scene has happened many times. For Conrad Koz, he will never get used to such a thing.
However, every time he is used to it.
"Do you want to know the reason?"
The owners of 20,000 pairs of eyes were silent.
Conrad Koz laughed again, laughed, and was extremely introverted.
Among the people present, only one person could see his true emotions at the moment. The man stood in the darkness and shook his head calmly. He was relieved, but felt a slight and detailed complex.
"I want to send the answer to you to find it yourself," Conrad Koz said gently. "Moreover, we can just change to a banquet place and taste Nostramo's special food. How about?"
The metal collision wearing a helmet replaced the words and gave him an answer.
——
Ferr Zalot felt a slight trembling from the end of his fingers, which was unusual.
He is a stable Astert and a stable person. And if you plan to mention another position of his position, he can also be regarded as a quite stable one.
Therefore, his trembling at this moment is not for physiological reasons.
"You beast!"
His former deputy Ademan roared and threw a noble on the ground, his movements were rude, but he obviously left his hands. Otherwise, the abominable thing will be shattered in the first time.
Fell turned his head so that he would not look at him anymore. He was afraid he would not help but turn the Nosteramo nobleman into a headless body with a power sword.
Emperor is on.
How can they be so fallen?
Fell closed his eyes so that he didn't have to look at the details that were shaking slightly in the darkness.
The Eighth Army faced terrible darkness.
They execute punishment and do not care about the classification of crimes and innocence. Before the return of the primary, they only accepted the order of the emperor. Therefore, every time they act, they can see those sins hidden in the darkness.
Ferr can swear to his surname, the darkness of Nostramo, even the horror in the Slagana underground genetic laboratory.
The latter can be traced back at least back. The Slagans tried to breed the spiritual capacity to cross the boundary of a certain emperor.
But what about here?
For no reason to peel the other hundreds of people after the reason for no reason, and hang them in the darkness?
Adbyman's gloomy roar came from the other side: "You dirty monster, so wanton! How dare do you dare to treat your compatriots like this? What do you see them?!"
The nobles answered in a whisper, and the fear spread in it. Fell opened his eyes, looked at him indifferently, raised his hand, preventing Adbyman's next movement.
"Remember what the primary body said to us before departure?" He whispered.
Adbyman turned his head. His gloomy iron surface shone in the darkness. Some blood stained due to killing was slowly landing on it. They experienced a winding rugged adventure, but it was far from the end. .
"Judgment." Adbyman whispered. "Judge them all."
"The right to give us the right to the rule of the judge and the sister -in -law with the right to the emperor by the emperor, but we cannot simply drow these abominable beasts in the pool of blood created by them."
Fell stared at the nobles who were panicked in blood, and he was the last one left in this mansion.
"They should be tried, and they are subject to trial under the gaze of all the victims."
He repeated his primary words, his voice was calm, but his breathing grille turned his voice into a terrible noise.
The nobles began to scream again. He did not understand the language used by the giants that appeared from the darkness. In his opinion, every pause was inserted on his body like a blade.
fear.
"Take him away, Adbyman." Fern said. "Go to the center of this nest."
"What about you, adult?"
"Don't call me, I'm not a company commander or the think tank. Didn't you find that this banquet is scattered to fight?"
Adbyman stretched out his hand and fell into a coma with a skillful manner, and then resisted it. At the same time, he didn't even forget to refute his former company commander.
"The original body said at the parade ceremony that he did not plan to cancel your position. My adult, do you have to care about it at this time?"
"Yes, I have to care about it at this time."
Adbyman snorted, turned around, and left from a large floor -to -ceiling window. His figure disappeared in the gloomy spire. Through the night vision, Feir stared at him away.
Now, he stands alone in many corpses and slowly removes his helmet.
If you want to be tried, then a crime is necessary.
The strong blood smell and the scent of the fantasy agent in the mansion of the mansion came. His physical fitness was exempted from the latter's impact, but the former could not be avoided.
Fell Zalol looked up and looked at the hundreds of the hanging bodies.
The victim's eyes looked at him with empty eyes in the eyes that lost his eyelids, and the breeze blew up, making them shake. Eyes also rotated slightly because of this slowly movement.
At this moment, the Eighth Army's Fern Zallest felt a sting for a while.
He was able to understand the Classean, he knew their ambitions, and they knew the consequences of the ambition. As a result, the Eighth Corps quickly destroyed them.
But what about Nostramo? What is the situation here?
He has no answer.
The breeze blew across, from Priem to Kuntus, from the nest to the lower nest, from the blue lighting strips in the luxury house of the nobles to the dark yellow light source in the lower part of the gang
It does not stop, it blows by.
Under its blow, under the gaze of Yongye, 20,000 black shadows brought something that had never really appeared on Nostramo tonight.
"justice."
Conrad Koz murmured.
He turned his head and looked at another giant. "Am I right, Karilel?"
"You are the Lord of the Eighth Army." The giant replied with a smile. "Isn't it?"
"But I want to know that I do this right or wrong."
Conrad Koz asked persistently.
"I asked them to all have a full 20,000 people, Karille, 20,000 Astart is now acting on Nostramo. They used to be the punishment of the emperor. Now, they are also intending to do it My punishment. But "
"But what?"
"But I think it's wrong."
The pale giant said.
"Emperor's punishment is ruthless and huge. I have read the past war reports of the Legion. Each of their attacks have brought destruction to those sinner.
"So, do you think this is wrong?"
". I don't know." Conrad Koz said. "So I ask you."
"So why do I know?"
Carril shook his head with a smile. "My understanding of the empire will not be much more than you, Conrad."
"But I ask your question, you don't need to know too much empire."
Conrad Koz insisted on asking -he used to be the case in the past, and now he has turned the planed roots into a common dialogue mode.
Karille was not disgusted with this, he knew the huge courage behind this behavior.
There are too many people in the world, such as some people in the Eighth Army.
Some people follow the waves and let the environment shape them, such as others in the Eighth Army.
But only a few people dare to resist the environment.
He stared up at the ghost that he created with one hand, and suddenly raised his head, his expression looked a little loose.
"I can't tell you it is right or wrong, Conrad." Karil Lowhars said softly. "This is a question that cannot be concluded for the time being. It is not meaningful to discuss right or wrong itself."
"It doesn't make sense?" Conrad Koz's eyes widened. "How could it make sense?"
"Because of what kind of justice do you want to pursue, Conrad? Justice, justice of punishment, or justice in the general justification? The word is equally virtual, Conrad. "
Khalil chuckled.
"In my opinion, justice itself does not exist."
Conrad Corz frowned slowly, and the first time I made a refutation to Karir's words.
"Isn't my legion doing justice now?" He asked angrily.
"Of course."
"Then why do you say it does not exist?"
"Because it is late," Karille said. "The late justice is not justice at all."
"It is too late for too long, and the reason for late is not related to you and the Eighth Corps. It is the Nostramo people who gave up this justice themselves, and they did not let it give birth to the soil."
"But can you blame them? You can't blame them with numb eyes, Conrad. Just like you can't blame yourself."
Karille took a step forward, patted the midnight ghost's shoulder, and said softly.
"Don't blindly pursue justice, look at the things in front of you, ghosts. For example, this trial you want to conduct tonight, you need to pay more attention to those onlookers, those numb onlookers."
He sighed and put down his hand. The ghost answered his words after a while, his voice was slight, as if complaining.
"Didn't you ignite the flame?" He asked frustrated. "I thought I could at least. Let it burn it."
"The fire I lit is not the fire of justice." Carille answered softly. "The image I shape does not mean justice. Do what you should do, do what you want to do, don't learn me, ghost."
He was silent for a moment, jumped off the spare tower with a smile, and disappeared into the dark end of the dark. The ghost stared at him away, and did not follow for the first time.
No motivation. Two consecutive overnight changes. Want to take into account both quality and quantity.
The remaining twenty chapters wait for me to sleep first, and get up and change.
Slide and apologize (.)
(End of chapter)
