40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 218 43. A Deserter (1)

Khalil raised his hand and showed a shining mark to the Lord of the Eighth Legion.

Its main body is silver, with blood-like red trim and golden rivets as embellishments. Its main body is a capital letter I, with three horizontal lines of different lengths passing through it, connecting a gloomy skull together.

However, the skull's eye sockets were not empty. Two full malachites strangely became its eyes.

Conrad Coates reached out and took it, feeling a scalding heat the first second he touched it. He frowned and began to examine the mark carefully.

"What is this?" he asked.

"The mark of the Markbearer," Khalil replied. "In the empire, Malcador is called the Sealbearer, but this is not actually his unique title. The Sealbearer was once the name of a secret society, and they focused on protecting the history of mankind."

"Although it is now dead in name only, Malcador intends to revive the symbol and give it to a brand new, yet to be established organization."

"What organization?"

"I don't know." Khalil shrugged. "It hasn't been built yet, and it doesn't even have a name - this symbol may not actually play any role in our mission. The reason why he gave it to me in advance was probably just to show an attitude. "

Conrad Coze put the mark back on the table without comment, the skull's malachite eyes sparkling in their sockets. He stared at it and shook his head slowly.

"It's not important." The Lord of Midnight said seriously. "At least it doesn't matter now, Khalil. I want to tell you that the First Legion is committing brutal murders, and the targets of the killings are not enemies."

There was a dark anger surging in his eyes, and Khalil smiled silently, feeling familiar.

In the past, perhaps Konrad Coates would have grinded his teeth to soothe his current mood. In those countless nights, there were many times when the Midnight Ghost squatted on the gargoyle and looked down coldly at the entire nest city.

Now, although he is completely different, some things still remain stubbornly.

They are difficult to change; in fact, they remain unchanged forever.

After the words fell, Conrad Coates stood up and took three stacks of documents over from another table specially used for placing papers.

They were terrifyingly hard and incredibly thick, and, thanks to their dark tones, they looked like unpolished steel plates when stacked together. Curze took out one of the treasures and handed it to Khalil without looking at it.

"Look at it," he said.

Khalil did as he was told.

Next, his brows began to frown more and more tightly. He saw the photos and information of one hundred and thirty-seven mid-level officers who once belonged to the imperial army, and saw their resumes, life experiences, and wars they fought.

Some of them are Terrans, and some were even members of the barbarian tribes in the frontier world in the past. Just looking at the information, it seems that their lives have little intersection, and the only thing they have in common is one thing.

They all once cooperated with the Dark Angels, and then they either died in battle or were 'missing in the war and their whereabouts are unknown'. In addition, there were more low-level officers, such as non-commissioned officers or a certain gunner.

Everything was meticulous, their names and information were all written down in neat notes. Khalil flipped through their lives through the words and the rough texture of the paper in his hand, without saying a word.

After a few minutes, he looked up and another piece of paper had been handed to him.

"And this one." Conrad Coates spat out a few words through the gaps between his teeth. "Look at this, Khalil."

Khalil reached out his hand and took it silently, and the contents on the paper were even more shocking. It contains about a few thousand words, written by an array of meditators. The unique characters make it easy to recognize the handwriting of a machine.

This eloquent few thousand words record a conversation between an Imperial Armored Division soldier and an officer whose name has been erased. There is not much useful information, but what is revealed in these words is completely enough.

"Private Mapala, what is your commander, Sergeant Trinfer's personality like on weekdays?"

"He is a very tough man, sir. He has high demands on us, but he always leads by example."

"What else? I heard that he was born in a military family. Did he talk about it?"

"Yes, sir. The sergeant often talks about his father. His father was a corporal, attached to the 799th Imperial Infantry Regiment, and died in the battle to recover the Per-1 satellite. He respects his father very much. The pistol he always carries is a relic of his father."

"Very well. So, Private, do you agree with the Dark Angels' statement that Sergeant Trinver was killed by them for running away from battle?"

"I absolutely disagree." (The private's emotional excitement is noted in large boldface fonts here)

"In other words, you think there is no way your commander, Sergeant Trinfer, is a deserter?"

"Fuck Terra! There is no way he is a deserter. Sergeant Trinfer once led two hundred of us to kill thousands of barbarians in the ice and snow, and dragged him until reinforcements arrived. He is our backbone. , is our hero, how could he escape?"

"Is it possible that he has a mental problem?"

"——Save a few emotional curses here——"

"Calm down, Private. I'm just doing business."

(The officer was silent for half a minute)

"Okay, now that my colleague has turned off the monitor, let's get down to business. Mapala, do you smoke?"

"I don't smoke, I prefer drinking, sir."

"Stop calling me sir. Listen, I doubt the Dark Angels' claims as much as you do. Sergeant Trinver is a man with a strong sense of honor. I respect such a person. Judging from his past resume, he also There's no way he could suddenly escape in front of the battle, and his mental health is obviously fine, right?"

"Yes, sir."

(The officer in charge of recording recorded Private Mapala’s very sad expression in two lines)

"So, you and I are talking about something right now, Mapala. Do you know what this means?"

"I know."

"Really?"

"I know, sir, we were talking about those monsters. The Emperor blessed them to die, we fought alongside them, and I thought they were comrades, but they fucking killed my commander?! Why?!"

"Watch your words, Mapala, the walls may have ears."

"I do not care!"

"But the truth lies in listening. Judging from your confession, Sergeant Trinver was called away by the Dark Angels around the third hour after the second day's battle. What reason did they use?"

"I don't know, sir. The sergeant just walked into the barracks and told us he was going to talk to the Angels and then left."

"What was his tone like when he said that?"

"It's normal, and he's still smiling."

"Very good. At 11:22 Terran Standard Time that night, his body was returned to your position by the Dark Angels. Is this true?"

"Yes."

"What was he beaten to death?"

"Gun, sir, damn (the officer described Private Mapala's choked and weeping expression in a few words) bolt gun."

"Is it an Astartes-sized bolter?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well, my inquiry is over. The monitoring will restart in three minutes and return to normal, Private Mapala. You have to keep your mouth shut about what happened today, okay? If the news leaks out, we will all die. Are you afraid? Die?"

"I'm not afraid."

"Yes, I can see it, and I'm not afraid either. But I'm afraid that the truth won't come to light, and I'm afraid that Sergeant Trinver will be called a deserter and be cast aside. So, for Sergeant Trinver, Regroup, Private."

(The conversation ended here, and Private Mapala left and died in a battle a year later. The officer whose name was erased noted this incident emphatically, and specifically marked the words written in this note. The time was one year after the conversation. He also wrote that Private Mapala also died in a battle alongside the Dark Angels.)

Khalil slowly put down the paper in his hand, turned his head and looked at the three piles of documents, with neither sadness nor joy on his face. Conrad Coates stood by the window with his hands folded, staring at Terra getting farther and farther away, without saying a word.

"How many people are there in total?" Khalil asked after a long time.

"It cannot be carefully confirmed. The data are vague and sometimes contradictory. The name of the recorder cannot be traced. His name has been completely erased. The Ministry of Military Affairs cannot provide any information about him."

"A dead end, huh?" Khalil laughed. He grinned, his teeth completely exposed in the cold air.

"The First Legion seems to be quite talented in this area." He said with a slight sigh. "But this shouldn't be their highest level. There are more dead people who may not even have names and are simply marked as killed in battle. But, having said that, Conrad, you know what the First Legion is mainly responsible for. ?"

Conrad Coates turned his head and nodded slowly but firmly.

"I know." he said. "Fulgrim mentioned it a few times. He talked about their mystery and why they were so mysterious."

"In other words, our actions and tasks are essentially 'ignorant of the general situation.'" Khalil said with a smile, without any smile in his eyes.

He stood up and said the next sentence in a brisk tone: "Of course the First Legion has their reasons for doing this, what do you think?"

"I don't care," hissed Conrad Curze. "Innocent doesn't mean innocent. Sacrifice is necessary, but that doesn't mean no one will go looking for them."

Khalil smiled lowly and walked out of the Midnight Lord's office door. In the icy Milky Way, the Night Veil is heading to another star sector at extremely high speed.

Finally got out. . . Let me tell you in advance that I will not insult DA or Lion King.