40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 146 7. War Prelude (1)

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 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 feel like you don't 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 the Nightshade 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 Nightshade's 'office' also responded quickly.

Two replies 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 are 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 upright.

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 pencil on his canvas.

". And, it seems, we have to become part of the painting." The gladiator retracted his gaze and began to adjust his facial muscles, trying to make himself look gentler.

His behavior was 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. The influence of the nails always existed.

He didn't mind this, but.

The war dogs always looked at the back of his head with hatred behind him, and he knew this.

"What?" Conrad Curze's eyes widened. "No-no, I can't stay here for too long. I still have two hundred and twenty-one documents from Nostramo that I haven't signed!"

"Actually, please allow me to interrupt for a moment, my lords"

A voice sounded not far from them, and the first captain of the Eighth Legion, Van Cleef, stood in the crowd in his armor and fully armed and nodded to them.

"You don't have to worry about the documents." Conrad Curze heard his first captain say so, expressionless, as always. "The instructor has informed us of this through the communication channel three minutes ago. He also specifically reminded us to bring a simple communication device with you next time you leave the office."

".Ah?" Konrad Curze looked at Van Cleef blankly. Angron and Guilliman smiled 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 receive 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 the document was put into the pile of documents in the order of first come first served. And it was not marked as 'important' or 'urgent'.

".I should have received it." Curze sighed.

Guilliman nodded sympathetically: "One of the inevitable problems with paper documents is that when they are all piled up together, it is difficult to find the one you need. This is why I now prefer to use data tablets."

"I will ask the Mechanicus about this. Data tablet later. So, Van Cleef, you said meeting? What meeting?"

"A meeting about reclaiming the human colony Halcosus." The captain said so, without paying attention to 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 the two adults can attend together."

Robert Guilliman's expression immediately became serious.

There is one more chapter.

I am coding slowly today. I have double debuffs of toothache and hand pain. It's hard to say.