40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 137 40. The Banquet of Silence

"What's that word? Ancient Terran - ah, I remember."

Siani of the first company let out a laugh from his throat: "Pengpi Shenghui, is that what they say, Richter?"

".You actually pretended to be illiterate in order to show off your Terran accent. It's really hard on you, Siani."

Richtnar of the 8th Company sighed deeply and began to think about why he was on duty with him tonight.

"Compared with you guys, I really don't know enough about literature and the like." Siani grinned. "At least, I can't open my mouth and spout a literary analysis of ancient Terran playwrights."

"Are you mocking my company commander?" Richter turned his head and frowned.

Siani smiled clearly, but still shook his head: "Just a small reply to you. Who said last time that our company commander always had a straight face and looked like a sculpture?"

"It's not me anyway."

"Yeah, it wasn't you—it was your company commander who said that!"

"Quiet, Siani." Richter shook his head helplessly. "We are standing guard."

What he said was true, they were standing guard outside the banquet hall. Normally, no one is needed to guard the security here, but today it is a little different.

Just like Siani from Terra said, Nightfall is indeed in full bloom now. After all, there is now a banquet involving three Primarchs taking place on the Night Vessel.

However, this is just the thinking of the Sianis. As for the real situation, of course it will not be normal.

——

If possible, Roboute Guilliman wished that he could temporarily lose his sight now so that he no longer had to passively use his terrible powers of observation to discover the thoughts of his brothers.

The Lord of Macragge had a sullen face, stretched out a fork that fit the size of the original body, and forked a large piece of tender and juicy steak.

Slowly and steadily he put it on his plate and began cutting it with his knife. While doing this, he had been involuntarily observing Angron's expression out of the corner of his eye.

Then, he discovered that his brother's face was in a daze at this moment. Angron ate very slowly, even chewing for dozens of times before swallowing the food. There is no doubt that he has no interest in good food now.

Guilliman lowered his head and put a steak into his mouth. This is Nostramo's serrated beast meat, which is tougher than the meat of Grox beast. Although the taste is almost the same, this toughness brings an untamed wildness.

To be honest, it was delicious, but Roboute Guilliman couldn't bring himself to focus on it.

He raised his head without leaving any trace while chewing, and glanced at Conrad Coates with the corner of his right eye. The leader of the Eighth Legion chewed the sawtooth meat steak with a calm expression, staring at the tablecloth, and seemed to have no intention of trying to speak.

"."

Roboute Guilliman picked up his cup and drank the contents in one gulp. A familiar taste came to his tongue. This was Macragge's wine, his favorite. He put down the cup, his throat rolled a few times, and then he spoke with great courage.

"Isn't Khalil coming to this party?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Roboute Guilliman began to regret—what had I said?

He lowered his head in regret, not understanding how his eloquent tongue suddenly turned into a stiff tongue. Between the collision of lips and teeth, the words he spoke were simply unbearable to him.

But Konrad Coates didn't embarrass him.

"He will not attend this party," Curze replied softly. "This is a gathering of the Primarchs after all. You know what kind of person he is, right Robert?"

Guilliman breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yes, I understand." He replied quickly. "He will follow his principles in everything he does."

"Sometimes not." Conrad Coates smiled slightly. The brief emotional outburst before seemed to have completely disappeared. He now behaved very calmly, very appropriately, and very gentle.

He almost looked like a different person.

After a brief silence, Guilliman decided to follow his brother's words: "Sometimes?"

"Yes." Conrad Coates smiled and nodded. "He loses his mind sometimes and so do I."

"."

Guilliman once again made a decision, and he decided to face the implications of his brother's words directly: "If you are talking about the misunderstanding on the tarmac, Konrad, I want to tell you that I did not Don't care."

"But I care."

Conrad Coates said the smile had disappeared from his face.

"I want to apologize to you. I'm sorry for my loss of control. I should have better control of my emotions. I will keep this in mind. It will become a lesson for me and be placed deep in my mind. Motivate yourself to be a better person and be like you.”

"."

This time, Robert Guilliman remained silent longer than anyone else. He found that he couldn't tell what Conrad Coates' words meant. He didn't know whether Coates was telling the truth or was sarcastic, or both.

Then, he heard someone slowly put down the knife and fork on his left hand side.

"I don't think you need to do this, Konrad." Angron said in a low voice, his tortured voice very recognizable, echoing in the dark banquet hall of the Eighth Legion.

Everywhere on the Night Veil seems so dim and will never be truly bright, but these lights will never fade away. Their weak existence faintly illuminates the darkness and people in the darkness.

They're not real, bright lights, but they do exactly the same thing as that light.

"What to do?" Conrad Coates asked.

"Given your age, you are taking on things that you should not have to take on." Angron said slowly, stretching his facial muscles to make sure his features were not too tense.

He didn't want his expression to be an influence that might lead to misunderstanding. The Butcher's Nail gave him pain as always, but it didn't matter, he just needed to release his precious kindness now.

"So? What do you want to say, brother?" Conrad Coates raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to say that given my age, my mistakes are understandable and forgivable?"

"No," Angron replied. "Everyone should be responsible for their actions, let alone you as a Primarch. If you have done something wrong, you should apologize or pay the price. What I want to say is that for your age, you have done It’s good enough.”

He lowered his head, his light blue eyes filled with an emotion that neither Guilliman nor Konrad Curze knew how to deal with.

"So you don't have to force yourself to communicate with us with this responsible attitude." Angron looked at Guilliman, then looked back at Konrad Curze, who was finally no longer calm, and nodded towards them. "We're brothers, aren't we?"

"."

Conrad Coates leaned back in his chair in silence and sighed slowly. His expression did not change, but seemed a little relaxed, and from the smallest details, Robert Guilliman could see a rare kind of relaxation.

"Yes, we are indeed brothers."

After a short silence, he spoke.

"However, my age does not mean anything. I did not force myself to shoulder the responsibilities, I should bear them myself. I am the Legion Commander of the Eighth Legion and their Primarch. According to the laws of the Empire, Nostra Mo will also become my home planet in the future. I need to be responsible for many people, so I can’t forgive myself for losing control.”

He finally looked at Robert Guilliman - met his gaze, and this time, the Lord of Macragge did not escape.

"At that moment, I threw away my responsibility, because I couldn't bear the stimulation. I didn't care whether you would really attack Khalil or not. I just couldn't watch this scene happen in front of me. In my eyes In my memory, he has been seriously injured and on the verge of death three times, and twice he actually lost his vital signs."

Conrad Coates lowered his head again in silence. His long black hair fell down on his forehead, covering his eyes and half of his face. His pale skin was hidden under the dim light, looming like a ghost.

"I don't think I can handle another one," he said lowly.

——

+When can you arrive? +

+ Three days, if you need a more precise description, then, fifty-nine hours. +

Khalil shook his head.

+ Three different military forces are now stationed in Nostramo's orbit, the Ultramarines, the War Hounds, and the Eighth Legion. Are you sure this matter wouldn't be given greater political significance if the Emperor's Dream was also docked? +

+Politics itself is just a false and meaningless thing. It has only one meaning of existence, and this meaning is given by me personally. +

The Emperor of Mankind speaks coldly with his psychic powers, + so you need not worry about possible gossip. +

+ He is really a cold emperor. Hearing your tone really makes me a little uncomfortable. +

+You should get used to it, Neos is in the minority, and most of the time, I am a tyrant with terrible ambitions. I have been cursed by many people, who said that I would bring disaster to all mankind because of my ambition. +

Khalil smiled.

Ambition? It was not a word he would use to describe the Emperor's vision for the future of humanity. It was too small a word to even compare.

+However,+ the Emperor of Mankind spoke again, +I am indeed very worried about this aspect, and the Great Crusade must end as soon as possible. +

+You'd better get there first and talk about this later. We'll have an interview. +

+I will do it as soon as possible. +

Khalil hung up the communication and began to wait in the office of the Lord of the Eighth Legion. Sooner or later the party would end, and he had a conversation that required the Midnight Ghost's participation.

The pale giant tapped his fingers on the table. His expression was calm, but there was hidden bitterness boiling in his dark eyes.

Ok, this month’s update is over. See you next month for an update of more than 270,000 words.

By the way, I will only update 4k words tomorrow to keep my attendance, because I have to go to the dentist tomorrow ()