40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 203 28. Working meeting

Orcs.

And a family with the ability to place someone into the Legion of Astartes as an auxiliary.

Khalil tapped his fingers on his desk, his expression flat. The lightning patterns are still flickering, flickering like breathing. From a certain perspective, it helped.

At least we don’t have to turn on the lights in the office.

He silently tapped on the table, turning this monotonous and annoying thing into a persistent job. He didn't add rhythm or more fingers between the strokes, just the index finger.

Lift, drop. Lift, drop. Repeatedly, like clockwork. Eight flags fluttered around the room, and a brilliant light flashed past the porthole window.

A huge nebula rotates in the distance, with countless other scattered stars next to it, like a huge canvas. The room was silent except for the monotonous knocking sound.

Until a certain point, until an ancient smell from the books filled the whole room.

The chair was dragged, and an old man in dark green robes, holding his scepter, dragged a mortal-sized chair and sat opposite Khalil. His expression was serious, but there was something strange in his eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Lord Machado?" Khalil asked without looking up.

"Nothing, Master Khalil." The old man leaned his scepter against the wall, still shaking his head seriously. "I'm just very puzzled by the fact that you can encounter a wandering group of orcs on a mission."

"Don't forget who issued this mission." Khalil finally raised his head and looked at Malcador. "Given your psychic abilities, it's hard for me not to view this as a glimpse into your future."

"I can't see the future." Malcador replied with a straight face. "Like him, we are all blind, and we are blind without even a guide stick. We can only grope our way forward in the darkness."

Khalil did not answer, but looked at the scepter leaning against the wall. Malcador sighed, stretched out his hand, grabbed it, and threw it away as if throwing something. The scepter disappeared, as if it didn't exist.

The instructor of the Night Blades smiled.

"How?" he asked with a smile. "Does this matter need to be taken seriously? Those orcs are obviously trained. They can even go against their own instinct to yell in battle. This is not something that can be explained in a few words."

"Someone else will take over this," Macado said. "I suggest you focus on the things at hand. In five years at most, you will officially join the Great Crusade. I spent a lot of time to buy this time for you, so be sure to make good use of it."

"Unless you send me Robert Guilliman, I don't think our numbers will be much larger in five years." Khalil shook his head. "Five years. Time is always too little, but there are too many enemies."

"That's what makes it interesting." Malcador replied flatly. "The biggest careerist in the galaxy should build the greatest achievement in human history in this environment. This is good, this is right."

"He will probably hold the opposite opinion to you."

"I won't care what he thinks anymore." Makado said with a gloomy face and a voice that was not quite like his usual tone.

"His laissez-faire attitude has turned his sons, like Perturabo, into monsters that give me headaches and sleepless nights for months on end. You know how many comments I receive about him and his Legion’s complaint?”

Khalil couldn't help but laugh: "No, I don't know."

"Yes, that's why you can laugh." Malcador replied expressionlessly. "In short, my job is not easy. The same goes for you. Although the problem of the orcs has been solved, the problem of the Dark Angel Legion's auxiliary army still exists."

Khalil raised his right hand and made a gesture. He didn't ask questions, and he didn't need to.

Every word a sign bearer says when talking about work must mean something. This is an inevitable problem for people like them. Since Machado talked about this matter, it means that he will definitely not let the matter remain at the level of 'talking'.

"The Dark Angels are a huge legion. Due to the special nature of their work, they also have a great say in the empire. I will not mention the weapons and technology they have collected for the time being. After all, I am not worried about the Dark Angels. Members will have problems.”

"But I'm worried about those who work with them. The more special the job, the greater the power. Not everyone can resist the temptation of money, not to mention, our supermen may not be very good at matters within the auxiliary army. care."

As Machado spoke, a colder smile suddenly appeared on his face: "After all, their genetic father Leon El'Jonson himself is not a person who cares much about these things."

"I still have reservations about what you said about them." Khalil sighed. "I still believe that seeing is believing."

"Even after you've seen Perturabo with your own eyes?"

"You are very sharp, like a debater." Khalil shook his head, still looking calm.

"I know your evaluations are mostly accurate, but I won't let them affect my judgment of them. Each of these supermen possesses terrifying powers, but, so far, I haven't seen any of them who don't. Psychological problems.”

"Even Rogal Dorn?"

"Even Rogal Dorn - always honest, always upright. In a way, don't you think that's a self-sacrifice plot in itself?"

"I don't judge. I like Roger very much. He is different from most of his brothers, especially the red-skinned boy."

Malcador had a serious face again. His old but majestic appearance would not appear to be loose even when his face was expressionless, but would instead make people feel a sense of physical discomfort. Khalil raised his eyebrows: "Is that Magnus?"

"Yes." The palm-printer replied in a tone that said he hates iron but cannot become steel. "I have never seen a Primarch so naive about the world."

".Naive?" Khalil asked in disbelief. "I thought about many comments, but I didn't expect you to describe him like that."

"You will understand if you meet him." Malcador lowered his head slightly, letting his hood cover most of his expression, but his voice was still clear. There was an obvious disgust in his voice, but this disgust was not directed at Magnus.

"And what I can't understand is why he would be so tolerant of Magnus. A legion whose members are all psykers, and an innocent boy who is obsessed with studying the warp and ancient mysterious tomes."

Malcador looked at Khalil and asked seriously: "Can he really not see the possible consequences of this? But he just wants to let them go."

Khalil didn't answer, just listened.

Macado was silent for a while, and when he raised his head again, his expression returned to normal.

"No, maybe I am wrong - he is not tolerant to Magnus alone, he is tolerant to them all. Tolerant to the point that even if he sees problems, he does not want to seriously correct them, he just wants his sons to be on their own Discover. What a doting father."

The person holding the seal snorted coldly: ".Then make our work more difficult."

Khalil looked at him sympathetically and sighed: "Does he know that you have a lot of complaints?"

"Of course he knows, but I am the one who works with him." Makado suddenly sneered. "So we basically never talk about these very human things."

"Maybe you should talk to him," Khalil said diplomatically.

"No, that's not necessary. This is best."

"But have you ever thought about something, Malcador?"

"What?"

"Your attitude is the root of his decision not to talk to you about this."

Khalil spoke slowly, his voice calm.

"You and I both know that the Emperor of all mankind is essentially a person with thousands of faces, who can put on a different face for everyone. In other words, he will face you with a look that suits you. And if He only talks about business with you, could it be because..."

The face of the person holding the seal trembled visibly. He stood up suddenly and left without saying a word. The smell of books immediately dissipated, and silence returned to the room. After a while, a burst of laughter sounded.

"Work." After laughing, Khalil sighed and rubbed his cheek. "Work."

He stood up, walked to the porthole, and began to look out expressionlessly.