A servitor walked slowly through the hall, passing between the huge red cloth hanging from the beams. The pale and bloodless skin was made even more terrifying by the red. But that has nothing to do with it, the servitors themselves have no self-awareness.
They were born to be enslaved.
Angron glanced at it, then looked away.
"How many years has this transformation been going on?" he asked.
The person being questioned shook his head and did not give a definite answer, but he did answer his question: "A long time."
The Nucerian frowned, not hiding his disgust. Perhaps it was disdain, perhaps he thought it was not necessary - but no matter what, Robert Guilliman saw the expression on his brother's face completely.
"If you want to know an exact number, I'm afraid you'll need to find a Mechanicus-Priest," Guilliman said. "But I don't think they actually know the right answer. Knowledge is their currency and life to a certain extent, especially mechanical knowledge. And if knowledge wants to retain value, it needs to be kept secret."
"So they won't tell me the answer?"
"If you want to know, they will tell you." Guilliman shook his head, and the tone when he said this sounded strange, as if he had tried it before.
Angron smiled and said no more about the subject. Whether it was a reward or not, after he remained silent for five minutes, the person he and Robert Guilliman had been waiting for finally arrived.
Conrad Coates.
The Lord of the Eighth Legion hurriedly passed between the ordinary crew members and the artists who were decorating, and responded to their greetings one by one.
He entered through the main entrance of the hall, far away from where Angron and Guilliman were, which made his journey very difficult. Konrad Curze did not ignore anyone's greetings, so when he finally arrived among his brothers, it was already fifteen minutes later.
"It's very difficult." Angron smiled slightly and spoke in a friendly tone. "I don't think you even need to pay those artists anymore, you are their payment."
".It's still needed," said Conrad Coates. "But I didn't expect that the lobby of the Night Veil would actually need to be renovated, and I didn't expect that you would come here without notifying me in advance."
"The context in which you said this makes it sound a bit confusing." Robert Guilliman replied with his hands behind his back. He looked at the painters' records of this scene and raised his head from time to time. Those carving on top of Nightfall's hall.
They were protected by a raised iron platform. This huge machine was on board the ship with the painters. It looked to be many years old. Looking up from below, you can just see a huge sky eagle. It means some kind of certification, permission, and honor.
The servitors were busy below, handing them various tools through the servo engineering arms installed on their backs, and collecting debris spilled from the gaps in the iron platform.
I don’t know if the designer of the Nightshade thought that its owner might renovate it from the very beginning. The unknown designer designed the top of the hall to be a whole piece of marble without any decoration.
The sculptors were overjoyed when they discovered this and quickly reported it. The 'Office' of Nightfall also responded quickly.
Two responses, to be exact. One came from Khalil Lohars, who said succinctly, “May your inspiration never run out.”
The other came from Konrad Coates—actually, it was less of a reply and more like an inquiry, “My brothers in the hall on my ship? Wait, the hall. To be redecorated?”
Thinking of this, Robert Guilliman couldn't help but laugh out loud: "Don't you know this at all?"
"I know." Kurtz replied slightly depressed. "But that report was buried in the files I needed to deal with. When I received the notice that you were boarding the ship, it was still sitting in the file pile."
"It seems you encountered a careless messenger." Guilliman smiled and patted him on the back as comfort. "However, this is actually a good thing. These people are my father's royal artists."
Konrad Curze raised his head and observed the artists in the Emperor's royal court.
At this moment, there are only a few people working, and most of them are not carving the shape, but are just roughly carving out a huge oval. Most people stood together, talking, debating, arguing—even fighting.
Whenever things come to a head, the men on duty from the Eighth Legion will emerge from the darkness to separate them. The incident was novel, even for Konrad Coates.
He couldn't help but laugh: "I didn't expect that they would beat each other for this. And they didn't use their hands."
"After all, they rely on their hands to perform their skills." Angron said.
The Nucerians turned their heads thoughtfully and met the eyes of a painter who was observing them. The latter was surprised at first, and then made a gesture to Angron without hesitation, hoping that he would change. Stand for a moment.
The Primarch couldn't help but raise his eyebrows, but still complied with the man's request. The painter laughed with joy and began to carefully put pen to paper on his canvas.
"...And, it seems, we have to become part of the painting." The gladiator withdrew his gaze and began to adjust the muscles on his face, trying to make himself look gentler.
His actions were obvious and did not escape the eyes of his brothers. This attempt failed after more than ten seconds, and Angron sighed. He couldn't put on a gentler face in his daily life, and the impact of the nails was always there.
He didn't mind it, but...
The war dogs would always look at the back of his head with hatred behind him, and he knew this.
"What?" Conrad Coates' eyes widened. "No - no, I can't stay here for too long, I still have two hundred and twenty-one documents from the surface of Nostramo that I haven't signed yet!"
"Actually, please allow me to interrupt you for a moment, my lords."
A voice sounded not far away from them. Van Cleef, the first company commander of the Eighth Legion, stood in the crowd wearing his armor and nodded to them.
"You don't have to worry about the documents." Conrad Coates heard his company commander say this, his face expressionless, as always. "The instructor informed us of this matter through the communication channel three minutes ago. He also specifically reminded you to bring a simple communication device with you when you leave the office next time."
".Huh?" Conrad Coates looked at Van Cleef blankly. Angron and Guilliman couldn't help but smile at each other behind him.
"Is there anything else you don't understand?"
"-Why did he take my job?"
"Because you have a meeting to attend later," Van Cleef said. "Didn't you get the report?"
The Lord of the Eighth Legion frowned and began to search his own memory. He soon got a not-so-good answer - he should have received it, but he put the document into the pile in the order of first come, first served. And it's not marked as 'Important' or 'Expedited'.
".I should have received it." Coz sighed.
Guilliman nodded to him empathetically: "One of the inevitable problems with paper documents is that when they are all stacked together, it is difficult for you to find the one you need. This is why I now like to use Datapad.”
"I will ask the Adeptus Mechanicus about this data pad later. So, Van Cleef, you mean a meeting? What meeting?"
"A meeting about the recovery of the human colony of Harkossus." The first captain said, ignoring Robert Guilliman and Angron.
The Lord of Macragge quickly realized the meaning behind this matter with his politician's instinct. He looked at Van Cleef inquiringly, and the latter nodded to him: "Yes, the instructor hopes that you two adults We can participate together.”
Robert Guilliman's expression immediately turned serious.
One more chapter.
I'm coding very slowly today. I have toothache + hand pain and double debuffs, so it's hard to tell.
(End of chapter)
