Time does not stop because of anyone's wishes. It treats everyone equally, even those who have the ability to extend their life by replacing body parts, they also have to endure its ruthless and fair passage.
They may live longer than ordinary people, but their skin will also wrinkle and their replaced organs will also age. However, for Konrad Coates, he now wished that time could be extended for a moment.
He didn't ask for much, he just hoped that one minute could be turned into 180 seconds, so that he could have more time to choose the clothes he needed for the meeting.
"Isn't it a little too frivolous?" he asked his company commander slightly worriedly. "This dress, Fulgan said, was used at a banquet."
Van Cleef did not speak immediately. He looked at the black dress with a swallowtail and silver trim inlaid on the edge of the clothes, and coughed: "...It is indeed suitable for the banquet, the original body."
Conrad Coates naturally heard what he meant.
"So, what about this one?"
He turned to pick up another one. This coat had a typical archon temperament, with a high collar, clean lines and a sophistication that was so simple that it had its own style. If Van Cleef were asked to choose, he would naturally choose this one without hesitation.
However, he was not the protagonist of the meeting twenty minutes later.
And even if he is, there are some things that make him hold his nose and choose that luxurious dress.
So he just nodded: "It is not fit for a party, Primarch."
".What kind of banquet is there without a banquet?"
Cozz turned his head dumbfounded. "What is going to start in twenty minutes is a meeting, a meeting, Van Cleef. Haven't they already connected with us? This is what you told me."
"Um"
The First Captain let out a dry grunt from his throat, and after a brief silence, he said: "Maybe there is, the original body."
"Um?"
Curze turned his head with raised eyebrows and looked at Van Cleef inquiringly. The first company commander was finally defeated after a brief exchange of glances, and had to express some of his guesses and worries.
"Actually, the situation of the logistics fleet is a bit complicated. In addition to the basic escort fleet, there are also many extreme warriors carrying out security work on it. We don't know the specific situation yet. We only know that the leader is a famous person. An officer of Lucretius Corvo."
Cozz frowned, he was really confused now.
"Coming here from the Extreme Star Territory, it is not easy for anyone to work in security for such a long time. They have worked hard, but what people who have traveled a long distance need more is hot food and stability. Rest. What's going on at the party?"
"No, I mean, the Primarchs, they - I mean - anyway, uh"
"Just say what you want, Van Cleef, do you still want to be secretive about the conversation between you and me?" Cozz chuckled helplessly.
The first company commander took a deep breath.
"Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that the Ultramarines might think that banquets are a commonplace thing."
"Common?"
"Yes. Lord Roboute Guilliman has a famous saying. He believes that a banquet after a victory is as natural as bolters should be accompanied by bolters. In fact, during several of our meetings with the Ultramarines During the cooperation, they all showed this strong tendency - I mean, after every victory, they have to hold a banquet, and it is the kind of banquet that is very luxurious but does not allow you to drink to your heart's content."
The captain of the eighth legion fell silent with a long series of words that looked like death.
This was the first time that Van Cleef had spoken so many words in front of him. For him, this moment should be rare and worth remembering. But now he doesn't know whether to write it down.
".Primary body?" The first company commander looked at him carefully. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Conrad Coates said lightly. "I think I'd better decide quickly what I should wear to meet them next."
He inevitably sighed and began to worry about what he would do if he really needed to have a party.
Now, not even one bottle of beer is left in the Night Veil warehouse.
——
Lucretius Corvo straightened his clothes with a melancholy look on his face.
He wasn't wearing power armor, as it should be - who would meet a Primarch wearing armor and weapons outside of combat?
Although the noble Primarch had only returned to the Empire not long ago, this did not mean that he should not be respected.
If anyone dares to think so, Corvo will tell him what respect means in the name of Roboute Guilliman.
After all, the Lord of Macragge was overjoyed upon hearing of his new brother's existence. Although he didn't say it explicitly, all the Ultramarines could see the change in their genetic father's mood.
In fact, had it not been for Robert Guilliman's orders, Lucretius Corvo would not have gone here with the five hundred Ultramarines.
Looking into the mirror, he silently recited the name of the planet.
Nostramo.
Nostramo is a gloomy planet when viewed from a ship's porthole. Corvo had seen many planets, but this one made a deep impression on him - he rarely saw a completely gloomy planet.
How can people survive without light?
This question flashed through his mind, and then quickly slipped away.
He adjusted the collar of his clothes for the last time. Now, in the mirror, he looked very solemn.
He had shaved his beard and put on hair oil, and his blue turtleneck embroidered with gold threads was solemnly silent on him, with an Ultramarines emblem shining brightly on his right shoulder. Looking in the mirror, Corvo gave a stiff smile.
Then the chagrin began—the chagrin inevitably began.
What happened? Why are you so nervous? The Ultramarines and Guilliman are both going to be disgraced by you, Lucretius Corvo! How can you be so nervous? !
He was roaring to himself in his mind, but his face remained calm. But it doesn't matter - or rather, it's no longer a problem for him to worry about.
Because the door to his room has been pushed open. The automatic recognition system of this door broke during the voyage, and since then, anyone has to manually push it open to enter. Accompanied by the low sound of metal clashing, a tired-looking official stood in front of the door.
"Lord Lucretius Corvo." He numbly made an eagle salute, and then raised his right hand, with a stack of documents shaking gently on it. "As per your request, I have sorted the supply list again."
"Thank you, Barraclo."
"It's better not to thank me yet," the official muttered. "Please don't let me attend the dinner party later. Just say that I'm sick. I just want to sleep for twenty-four Terra hours."
Shaking his head, Lucretius Corvo walked to the door and took the stack of documents. He didn't even look at them, but carefully put them into the lining of his jacket.
He wasn't worried about them bending; the document paper produced by the Empire was very hard. In fact, over the years, the Ministry of Government has spent a considerable amount of money on treating hand cuts for newly appointed officials.
"I will inform Lord Conrad Curze." Corvo said in a positive tone.
After saying that, he regretted it and felt that he was being reckless, but Baleclo's bright eyes made it difficult for him to say no again. And, indeed, he could see that the official had reached his limit.
Otherwise, who wouldn't want to admire a Primarch with their own eyes?
"Then, goodbye." Barraclo happily made another aquila salute to him, and then left.
Corvo looked at his retreating back, shook his head, turned around, and walked in the opposite direction to him.
He held his head high and walked calmly in the corridor. His boots made of expensive animal skins shone, and his whole person looked sparkling, but his heart was beating fast.
Five minutes later, he passed through a huge dark arch and arrived at a deck.
His brothers were already there waiting for him. They lined up, each wearing different clothes, but maintaining an obvious regularity, order and harmony. The most crucial thing is that everyone is very consistent with the dress code.
Lucretius Corvo nodded with satisfaction. His adjutant came forward and whispered with an expressionless face and twitching eyes: "Sir, the cuff of your right sleeve is not buttoned."
Corvo was horrified.
He lowered his head, snapped it shut, and then took a deep breath: "Thank you for the reminder."
"You're welcome," the adjutant said expressionlessly. "It's just that I want to know in what formation should we go out and board the Nightfall?"
Corvo did not answer this question for the time being, but asked another question: "Where are the people from the Mechanicus?"
"They have completed the docking an hour ahead of us." Lucretius Corvo's adjutant said. "In fact, while we were still busy picking out clothes, they were already at work. They were cleaning the atmosphere of Nostramo."
"What?!" Corvo was shocked. "Why didn't the priest tell me?"
"Sir, the Empire and the Mechanicus are allies. In theory, he and you are officers of the same level. So why does he report to you?"
"These damn red-robed weirdos"
"Ahem." The adjutant raised his head and said expressionlessly. "Speak carefully, sir."
Lucretius Corvo said nothing more. He just took a deep breath and spoke loudly: "Use the ninth formation, my brothers! Remember, you must not bring shame to our father! Maintain your grace, Stay classy and keep everything you are supposed to keep!”
There is another chapter in 4k
(End of chapter)
