40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 528 46. Records of the Battle Group Era (Seven, Wolf’s Banquet)

The wine table was noisy, people were coming and going in an endless stream, and the pungent smell of mead continued to spread in the hot air. It ruthlessly crushed the smell of food and became the only overlord here - just like countless previous banquets.

Mead is always the theme at the wolf pack’s wine table.

It is true that all kinds of delicacies are also an integral part, but it takes time for chefs to bring them out of the kitchen, but there is never a shortage of mead.

Every son of Russ learned to brew wine, and sooner or later they had to inherit the craft.

They would use thick wooden barrels to brew this mellow puree that could be used as poison, then throw it into a corner and drink it secretly, or forget about it until a certain banquet began.

Khalil put down his wine glass heavily, and Wolf Lord Bran Bloodmaw laughed and began to pour wine for him. The dark and pungent wine gurgled out from the astonishingly large wine jug, and soon the wine glass was completely filled. Fill it up.

Khalil nodded to him and thanked him amid growls, barks, and a steady stream of guffaws.

"Thank you, Lord Wolf."

He didn't shout, his voice was even as soft as usual, but it was very clear in Xue Throat's ears.

The wolf master grinned, hammered his chest, and roared loudly: "You like mead, that's enough, instructor!"

In fact, I'm afraid it's not just like it.

Khalil smiled slightly, raised his head, and drank the mead again. This was already his seventy-ninth glass of mead. Even for the wolf masters, this amount of alcohol was incomprehensible.

Of course, for the Wolfpack, his performance will become a legend that will live on forever. For at least ten centuries to come there would be wolves talking about it around the fire and mentioning the name of Khalil Lohars.

It doesn't seem so bad to be remembered this way. Khalil thought slightly happily.

However, there was one thing he had to admit, he had never drank so much in his life as he did today. However, even though he had drunk so much, he still did not feel the feeling of being 'drunk'.

The reason why the wolves regard mead as a precious brew is because it is one of the few drinks that can make Astartes feel drunk. And it seemed to have no effect on him. No matter how much he drank, he could only taste the poison, liquor, and promethium.

They may look terrible apart, but together they are surprisingly good.

At least that's how it works for him.

Khalil exhaled a breath of hot air and placed the wine glass heavily on the long table again.

The twelve wolf lords began to cheer loudly for him, but Bjorn was even better. While cheering, he walked up to him with a wooden barrel that had been chopped open by a sword, and handed him a huge, thick wooden spoon.

At this moment, the lone wolf's beard and hair were spread out, his eyes were very wide, but his expression was very happy.

Khalil couldn't help laughing. He shook his head, threw the spoon on the table, picked up the barrel with one hand, raised his head, and started drinking.

The wooden barrel almost completely covered his upper body, and drops of mead slowly dripped along the edge of the barrel, but the barrel rose higher and higher.

The wolf masters raised their right hands high, began to tap on the table, and cheered for him in unison. Ahriman, who was sitting at the bottom of the table, lowered his head and wrote rapidly without drinking a drop of wine.

It took a full five minutes for the barrel to hit the ground.

Khalil let go and patted his chest. The front of the black robe was completely soaked with wine, but his face was still pale, and there was no hint of drunkenness.

Bran Bloodmaw excitedly stretched out his hands, grabbed his shoulders, and shouted loudly in Fenrisian: "Can you still drink?!"

“Yes, yes”

"Then keep drinking, instructor! Your name will be known among the wolves!"

"With this method?"

"Isn't it good?" Bloodthroat laughed and pointed at Ahriman at the end of the long table. "Our greatest poet has already started writing! Just watch, instructor!"

Khalil burst into laughter.

Staying with this group of people made him feel relaxed. The wolf owners more or less knew who he was or what 'thing' he was, but they obviously didn't care about these things.

All the sons of Russ have a very simple philosophy, which allows them to ignore people's identity, status, power and other things, allowing them to focus on the 'person' itself.

In other words, they don't care at all about the truth hidden under the skin of Khalil Lohars. In this matter, their logic is probably extremely simple.

The party continued to heat up.

Khalil held his wine glass, stood up politely, and toasted to the wolf masters to say goodbye - he had something to say and needed to talk to Yago Severtarion alone for the time being.

The wolf masters also toasted him farewell, and Xue Throat, who was sitting next to him, was the most reluctant among them. He knocked on the table and shouted: "Then you have to come back quickly, instructor! Don't fight with the wolf." Sit together, kids, otherwise they will definitely pester you! "

"Do you think everyone is as fearless as those idiots under you?" Another wolf master, Crom Dragon Gaze from the Sun Wolf Company, immediately retorted.

He was a bad-tempered man - even among wolves, he was the best at that. Bloodthroat sneered at his words and threw a bone from the dinner plate in front of his table with disdain.

It swirled and hit Crom's forehead accurately, so the Sun Wolf Lord immediately stood up with a roar and rushed towards the Bloodthroat in front of everyone.

His strength and steel boots cracked the long table, and the other wolf masters immediately cursed, angry at the loss of food and this disrespect in front of guests.

Wolves are indeed rough, but that's just the appearance. They are savages in disguise, but not really savages.

But the angry Crom obviously wouldn't listen to anyone's opinions, and he just focused on punching now. Bloodthroat originally planned to give in, but was completely angered. He bared his fangs and began to wrestle with Crom.

Bjorn watched their fight with cold eyes and shrugged at Khalil nonchalantly.

"Ancient Fenrisian tradition, instructor, the situation will continue to escalate in the next few minutes, and all the wolf masters on this table will participate in the brawl. For God's sake, I really hope they can control themselves."

"I don't think it's necessary," Khalil said. He had already heard that Bjorn was speaking sarcastically. If this wolf really wanted to control the situation, he would not stand here carelessly.

His words made Bjorn's eyes widen slightly. The lone wolf turned his head, looked at him quite unexpectedly, and asked: "Don't you think it's rude for them to do this?"

Khalil shook his head, smiled and took another sip of mead. At the same time, he took two steps back, dodging the flying splinters of wood as if he had no idea.

"I will not use my own standards to ask others, and, to be honest, that is not a standard, it is just a kind of paranoia. I know very well what I have been doing, than Jon. So I'm happy to walk with the wolf, because you know it too."

Bjorn bowed solemnly, but with a smile on his face: "I thank you for your compliment, my lord."

Khalil glanced at him, took the wine glass and left the long table.

Just as Bjorn said, the twelve wolf lords will start a melee next, and he does not intend to wait in the eye of the storm.

Now is the most rational and human moment since his recovery. He must seize this opportunity to deal with something that he has not had the opportunity to deal with in the past. Otherwise, who knows if there will be such a good opportunity?

Khalil silently held the wine glass and passed through many long tables like a ghost.

During this period, the blood and broken teeth brought out by the punches and kicks flew behind him, and the cold broth, together with the wooden bowl, was pressed on someone's face by a hand, and it was empty. The wine glasses continued to roll on the carpet, the remaining bones were thrown everywhere, the howls were endless, and the same was true for the singing.

In this chaotic yet unexpectedly harmonious scene, Khalil found his purpose. What he didn't expect was that Yago Savitarion was surrounded by wolves without any sense of disobedience.

"Who will be next?!"

Sevita asked with a roar, while reaching out and pulling up a wild wolf from the ground. This man's nose was bruised and his face was swollen, and his left hand was hanging crookedly on his chest. He was obviously seriously injured, but his face was full of joy.

"I remember this trick!" he shouted. "I know my mistakes and will correct them, Savita! You won't knock me down like this next time!"

"Go to hell."

Sevatar glared at him, and then actually laughed gently. He patted him on the shoulder and pushed him back into the pack, then raised his arms and started calling for the next challenger.

"Who else wants to learn something new from your Uncle Savita?" he asked, the smile on his face turning into a mean and mocking sneer.

The wolves booed loudly, and a brave man walked out. Khalil was quite surprised to find that he was an acquaintance.

Ragnar Thunderfist raised his right hand and struck it on his chest, silently but seriously expressing his desire to challenge. Many hands immediately began to push him, and someone shouted loudly.

"You're not qualified yet, Bloodclaw! Go back and drink milk with your Bloodclaw companions. This is the palace of warriors!"

"I am already a warrior!"

Ragnar roared and glared at the man, his whole body wild and showing no signs of being tamed. The harder the pushing, the harder his struggle, and the wolves fell silent.

A tall wild wolf covered in fur grunted and scratched his cheek, then turned to gesture to Sevatar.

"How do you say...? Do you think he is qualified?"

"You are all unqualified, and neither is he, but he is indeed a warrior." Saiveta said.

He smiled and waved to Ragnar: "Come on, Ragnar Thunderfist."

The young Bloodclaw was slightly startled, and then the wolves pushed him in front of Sevatar. He quickly calmed down and asked, "Do you remember me?"

"My memory is not bad enough to forget someone I just met a short time ago."

"But you remembered my name."

"How difficult is this for the Astartes?"

"This is different." Ragnar growled and repeated, already raising his fists, looking stubborn and serious.

"You remember me," he repeated. "And I'll keep that in mind."

Hearing his words, Sevatar instantly turned his smile into an arrogant nod. He raised his chin and cast a disdainful look at the young Blood Claw.

"If that's what you think, you're not even qualified," he said coldly. "Come here now, Bloodclaw."

In the next half minute, Sevatar completely dismembered the fledgling Ragnar's fighting skills with a cruel attitude. He dodged all Ragnar's attacks and did not even raise his hands once during the whole process. .

The wolves began to laugh loudly, and Ragnar gritted his teeth, feeling heartfelt shame as his blood surged. The wild nature in Ruth's bloodline began to revive, fully controlling the Blood Claw, which was still unable to fully control this 'gift'.

He roared and rushed towards Savita with a desperate attitude, but was punched in the face in the air and stopped accurately.

Ragnar fell heavily to the ground, blood spattered. He lay on the ground for a while before getting up again. His face was full of frustration but he did not get any ridicule. The wolves fell silent at this moment.

Sevatar reached out and pulled him up.

"First of all, treat the enemy cruelly and with all your strength."

He calmly reached out and tapped the wolf head emblem on Ragnar's shoulder armor with his sharp claws.

"Secondly, your foundation is very solid, but you cannot completely control yourself. In other words, you are still too young, Ragnar Thunder Fist. You need the baptism of war and the tempering of blood. "

He sneered and kicked Ragnar back into the pack, and they began to howl again. But this time, the pushing and pushing was gone. They rubbed Ragnar's head affectionately, took him to a long table, and began to make him drink.

The acceptance was completed quietly, but it would take some time for Bloodclaw to truly get rid of this name.

Sevatar saw this matter very clearly. He had dealt with wolves many times in the past ten thousand years, and this was not the first time he had had 'close contact' with them like this.

He raised his hands in enjoyment, intending to teach him something more and then stop, but at this moment he caught a glimpse of a ghostly shadow out of the corner of his eye.

He immediately put his hands down.

"Go on." Khalil said while holding the wine glass.

The sound suddenly became quiet, and no one spoke anymore.

The wolves looked at the black-robed man who 'suddenly' appeared next to them in amazement, and were greatly confused by their malfunctioning senses of perception and smell.

They only knew that Khalil was drinking with the wolf masters, but they didn't know who he was. Their faces were full of doubts at this moment - until Sevatar took the initiative to speak.

"The sparring ends here," he said. "I have something to do and I have to leave the table temporarily."

"What about your share of wine?" one of the wolves asked.

"Keep it for me." Saivita bared his teeth and said. "I will chop off the hands of anyone who dares to touch me, do you understand?"

He walked over to Khalil and strolled with him to the edge of the hall.