40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 614 131. Interlude: Wine and Future

"You won't drink?" Roboute Guilliman asked.

The candlelight flickered, casting three long shadows, one much smaller than the other.

This was the private chambers of the Lord of Macragge.

For the first time in ten thousand years, the lights were turned off, replaced by the "holy candles" handmade by devout believers and certified by the State Church.

They were burning steadily away from the piles of books, slates and data tablets, emitting an aroma that floated in the air with Guilliman's dislike.

When he refused to hold this banquet in the banquet hall of Macragge's Glory, some officials began to fight with him. In the end, they each backed down.

The officials agreed with his contempt for etiquette, and he reluctantly lit the candles to give this "holy banquet" a bit of the sacredness it deserved.

However, if you remove the candles and only look at the piles of books, slates and data tablets scattered around, someone might think this is a study.

But it is not a study, nor a living room. It is just a private room, belonging to Roboute Guilliman alone, and no one except him can enter here.

In other words, this is his private reserve, where he writes and vents his emotions every painful night. And now, this private reserve has two new visitors.

One is tall and glorious, wearing a white robe, with white wings neatly folded behind his back, his back straight, sitting upright on the edge of a back chair that does not fit his special body structure.

Compared to him, the other one is much more comfortable. This person is lying leisurely in another chair. This chair, which is much larger than him, is like a soft bed, swallowing him gently.

"No." Sanguinius said. "I'm quitting drinking."

As he said this, he pushed a glass of wine on the stone coffee table in front of him into the distance. The scarlet wine was shaking inside, and the seductive light shone on the transparent wall of the glass along the candlelight, and bursts of sweet aroma slowly emerged from it.

This is a glass of blood wine, from Baal. It has been in Guilliman's vault for about six centuries, and was taken out today and presented to Sanguinius, but the archangel had no desire to drink it.

This precious wine from his hometown was his favorite in the past. Every time there was a banquet, the angel who usually didn't drink would ask for a glass or several glasses. Although he had never been drunk, he really liked blood wine, but the situation today seemed different.

Robert Guilliman noticed this instinctively, and his instinct for data analysis and his keen sense of smell as a politician subconsciously began to help each other.

Then, he personally threw these two untimely and annoying helpers out of his mind, and took the glass of wine, put it on a pile of stone slabs behind him, and covered it with his broad back.

"Don't you like blood wine anymore?" Guilliman asked, trying to change the subject - of course, this was a failed attempt, Sanguinius had said that he had quit drinking, but his question was still about wine.

The Lord of Macragge was annoyed by his slow reaction and couldn't help but feel annoyed: What? You can't talk to people if you are not a politician? Can't you just put down your duties for a while, be a normal person, and sit with your brothers to pass the time?

But Sanguinius didn't mind.

The archangel laughed, from the heart, sincerely laughed, and personally demonstrated to his brother how to change the subject.

"I might like Rus's personal collection more now. As far as I know, he has several barrels of mead buried in the snowy mountains of Fenris. I don't know if his sons have tried to find them. After so many years, if those barrels of wine are still there, they must taste very mellow."

"Mellow?" Guilliman spit out this word, his facial features wrinkled. "I prefer to use the word toxic to describe it."

"The wine itself is a poison."

"It is absolutely rare in the world to be as toxic as mead-" Guilliman said, shaking his head. "-Most of Fenris mead can be used as low-quality engine fuel, and Rus's own wine."

"I dare not imagine the raw materials of that thing and its brewing process. Of course, I also know that this is my own prejudice. If Rus was here, he would probably start to laugh at Macragge's wine. Unfortunately, he is no longer here, and so is Macragge."

The air fell into silence for a while.

What am I talking about? Guilliman shut up belatedly.

"What a good joke." The third person in the room suddenly spoke. This was the first sentence he said after entering the room. Although his voice was hoarse, his tone was very natural.

Sanguinius turned his head to look at him, and his expression became a little indescribable. Robert Guilliman covered his face with both hands, and his shoulders trembled. After a few seconds, he changed the subject in a dull voice, imitating Sanguinius's way.

"So, kumis?"

He put his hands down and returned to his expressionless face. Sanguinius glanced at him again, and finally couldn't help sighing. He propped up his elbows, supported his cheek with his left hand, and spoke a little melancholy.

"Robert"

"How about kumis?" Guilliman emphasized again.

"Very good." Sanguinius couldn't help laughing. "In fact, it's very good."

"Although Chagatai doesn't like to talk to us about his hometown, that's a thing of the past. In recent years, the various specialties of Chogoris are becoming popular among wandering merchants."

"Mare's milk is even called 'drinkable gold', as well as their weapons and modified horses. But if I really have to choose a wine to drink at the banquet, I'm afraid I will still choose Amashaic."

Khalil stood up from the softness of the chair and said seriously: "Which one?"

"It depends." Sanguinius answered quickly. For some reason, he seemed to be very interested in this topic and started to talk at length.

"If it's a private communication, such as this banquet, then I would choose Colin's A-type craft beer, which has a unique flavor and sweetness. But if it's an official occasion, then it must be Kamalaq's Goddess of Victory."

"It took them a hundred years to find the right formula to brew this wine. It has a unique entrance, but it is also mellow. When it flows through the throat, it will not make people feel cut or spicy, only a sense of comfort."

"Moreover, their bottles are specially designed. Take a standard wine glass as an example. As long as the wine in the glass reaches half, the chip at the bottom of the bottle will close the bottle cap, which ensures that people at the banquet will not get drunk and lose their composure."

Listening to his words, Guilliman couldn't help but feel a little confused. In his impression, Sanguinius was not a polymath. What he didn't know was that during his years as regent, Sanguinius had to learn a lot of new knowledge.

Although this knowledge often made him feel alienated and no longer the original appearance, he still managed to find fun in it. For example, he once wrote a book called Imperial Wine under a fabricated identity, which was very popular once it was published.

From sailors in starports to farmers in the fields, almost everyone who can still read has bought this book and made their own wine according to the chapters in it. Some succeeded, some failed, and some started a new life.

As the author and regent, Sanguinius has a report in his hand, which mentions a data: since the release of "Imperial Wine", there have been 28 new officially certified wines in the galaxy.

They brought a new list of export products to those worlds, and the profits were very lucrative, allowing many people to have jobs and not end up on the streets, becoming hive gangs or corpses on the roadside.

And Sanguinius thought, since he could find a way to help others from it, then what about Caryl Rohals? What would he do? Or, what did he do?

When thinking about this, Sanguinius even had some expectations, and he really wanted to know the answer to this question.

Yes, he really believed that someone like Caryl Rohals would have his own opinions on wine.

As for the reason? This can be traced back to Konrad Curze, who appeared briefly not long ago, and a joke that sounded less like a joke from his mouth.

Facing his expectant gaze, Khalil nodded seriously.

"I see. Thank you, Sanguinius, these insights are very helpful to me. Robert, do you have a pen and paper that I can use? I want to write it down."

Robert Guilliman stood up, burst into laughter from his chest, and then began to look for paper and pen.

Sanguinius looked at him in astonishment, then looked at Khalil, and finally couldn't help asking a question: "You Konrad said you have been back for a long time, and he also said-"

Sanguinius stopped talking and began to take a deep breath.

Khalil looked at him helplessly, and spoke slowly: "To be honest, Sanguinius. Even if I count all the time, I have not been "back" for more than two natural months."

The angel took a deep breath for a while, and finally asked: "But. Why did he do this?"

Khalil lowered his head, seemingly thinking. After a few seconds, he looked up and answered, "He said there were two reasons for this."

"I'm all ears."

"That's not necessary. He said that first, he was a Nostramo and didn't like those glittering things. Every time he looked directly at them, he felt like he was going blind."

"Of course, I have to say that this is complete nonsense. There is probably no light in this world that can make him blind. And he is not a real Nostramo, and he doesn't have any so-called genetic defects."

"Second, he said that this was a small revenge."

"Revenge?" Sanguinius was full of doubts.

Khalil sighed, a ray of moonlight quietly disappeared from his shadow, and a voice sounded in Sanguinius' ears accompanied by the quiet night breeze.

"Yes, revenge, brother." The Night King whispered quietly to his brother. "I really, really, really dislike what you are going to do next, and the attitude you have already tried to turn into that appearance."

"You will hurt yourself and bleed, and in the end you may even be like me, no longer a human being. But I can't blame you, and I can't blame you. But I am Konrad Curze after all, and I must find a way to embarrass you and remind you of something."

What is it? Sanguinius pursed his lips and asked silently.

He didn't get an answer.

Robert Guilliman walked towards them as if he knew nothing, and handed the paper and pen to Khalil. His expression was not very serious, but his hands were clenched behind his back.

The pen scratched the soft paper, making a rustling sound. Khalil leaned on the armrest of the chair carefully and recorded the key points of Sanguinius' words one by one.

For a moment, no one spoke here, only pure silence remained.

This silence should not have appeared at this banquet. Its guests had not seen each other for a long time. This was a good time to talk to each other. However, there is not much left in them that allows them to speak freely.

Everyone is trapped in the prison of the past, unable to extricate themselves, a politician, a glorious symbol, and a prisoner hiding in the darkness chewing his own fingers and laughing maniacally.

The party will eventually end.

"So, where are you going?" Guilliman suddenly asked.

"Wandering around," Khalil said, lowering his head, still writing. "I can't go to Terra, let alone go back to Nostramo. Besides, I don't want to take the ship of Yago Severtarion and have him complain about it every day."

"Although I am indeed an old antique, no one stipulates that antiques should not grow legs and walk on their own. What's more, our Majesty has given me a new mission. He wants me to take a tour of today's empire - —Collect hope.”

Sanguinius raised his eyebrows: "He is willing to let you reveal this matter to us?"

Khalil raised his head with a smile, capped the pen, handed it back to Robert Guilliman, and then began to fold the paper.

"Even if he doesn't want to, there's nothing he can do. The legs and mouth are all on me. The sky is high here and the emperor is far away. How can he control it?"

The angel smiled and nodded slightly: "It won't happen soon, Khalil."

"Yes." Guilliman suddenly snorted coldly. "What a glorious embodiment you will be."

Sanguinius looked at him helplessly: "Don't be like this, Robert, now is a great opportunity. I can bring the five hundred worlds back to the light of the Star Torch. Shouldn't you be happy about this?"

"If that means paying with your blood"

"I have paid," Sanguinius said. "So no matter what, I will deliver, and you will come with me, Robert Guilliman."

"I refuse," Guilliman said with a smile. "How dare I walk with the incarnation of glory?"

"I refuse your refusal!" cried the angel, standing up and rushing towards him.

Outside the porthole, the stars were still dark. Countless light years away, in the broken Terra surrounded by countless fortresses, the light of the Star Torch began to shine brightly.

Darkness remains, but day will come.