40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 618 4. Lion and Wolf (1)

Khalil must admit one thing - Banjo-1 is definitely the most harmonious hive he has seen in the past four years. In other words, quasi-hive.

Its resources have not yet been exhausted. According to Imperial law, turning such a world into a hive is a waste of resources, but foresight is essential.

Sooner or later, Banjo-1's natural environment will be completely destroyed. The land will become desertified, the sea water will dry up, and the air will become poisonous enough to kill people. At that time, it will have to find another way out and transform into a hive city. the best choice.

First, it's a mining world with a fair degree of collaboration with the Adeptus Mechanicus. Secondly, as a world that produces minerals, its rulers must have used their political skills and minerals to gain a lot of friendship.

If he wants to maintain these hard-won and precious friendships, he must continue to maintain the value of Banjo-1. When the mineral resources are exhausted, turning it into a hive city and serving as a transfer station and resting place on the route is a completely cost-effective business.

Yes, nothing but profit.

Khalil is familiar with those nobles, whether they are lords or ladies. They don't care about the life or death of other people. In other words, they never think that other residents in the nest are their "ben".

A system that desperately needs reform, but cannot.

he mused.

Of course, in the eyes of others, this is just him looking at his own appearance in the mirror: a thick black coat, a high collar, made of exquisite materials, and priced at fifty general coins. Synthetic fleece sweater, fifteen common coins. A pair of warm and comfortable deerskin gloves, five universal coins.

The price of a complete set of clothing, excluding scarves and boots, actually reached 70 general coins, which was already worth a full day's salary of veteran sailor Hayd as a tour guide.

Because of this, while the part-time tailor shop owner stood aside with an expectant smile, Hayid's face was full of embarrassment and uneasiness.

He hadn't bought himself new clothes for a long time, and he completely forgot about the soaring prices, but Khalil still didn't say anything, he just paid the bill.

The moment a hundred-denomination note fell into the shopkeeper's hand, Hayid sighed deeply, and the shopkeeper's smile became brighter.

"Thank you for your business, handsome gentleman!" he said as he quickly made change and sent them out of the store.

In the cold wind, the two began to take steps silently. Khalil was just thinking, but Hayid was different. His face began to turn redder and redder, and his gray beard and rough skin could not even cover it up.

Until finally, he spoke unbearably: "Sir!"

"Um?"

"It is really"

"Don't apologize," Khalil said before he could. "Believe me, Hayid, this price is very reasonable - the current overall price level in the Hazy Star Territory has probably exceeded your knowledge."

"but--"

Khalil sighed. He looked down at the old sailor who was only slightly shorter than him. While he felt a sense of déjà vu, he also had a strange thought in his heart: Was this how they felt when they were together?

He laughed, patted Hayid on the shoulder, and led him to continue walking forward.

There were hover cars speeding past in the middle of the road. The height limit of six meters caused all of these vehicles to fly at low altitudes, one after another, running at a rapid speed. Either carrying people or carrying things. They didn't just stir up the smoke, the hum they emitted also made the conversation between the two very private.

"I don't think you have anything to apologize for, Hayid. But I have to point out one thing. How did someone like you survive on Banjo-1?"

The old sailor paused.

At first, he was a little confused about the problem. However, the moment he saw Khalil's eyes, all his doubts disappeared.

From those dark eyes that he didn't know if they were caused by mutation, Hayid saw his own face, an old and battered face.

He couldn't help but feel a little dazed, and the memories that surged in his mind only aggravated the impact of this trance on his mind. Somehow, in front of his employer, whom he had only known for a day, Hayid suddenly felt the urge to talk.

He couldn't stop it.

"I'll just live like this, sir." The old man replied with a wrinkled smile. "But it's a hard life, that's true, I won't lie."

Khalil looked at him with concern, saying nothing, just encouraging with his gaze.

Hayid lowered his head in confusion and murmured.

"I guess I just don't understand. They said I was too traumatized and mentally damaged to serve any longer, so they sent me here. This is not my home, sir, and I'm not from Banjo Galaxy." People, not even people from the Hazy Galaxy"

"I understand," Khalil said.

He raised his head and continued walking, this time he actually walked in front of Hayid.

He did not focus on the hovering vehicles or the miners who had just gotten off work. Instead, he drifted towards the huge chimneys rising one after another in the distance. These terrifying hill-like structures release thick smoke that pollutes Banjo-1's skies year-round.

Over the centuries, these factories will be expanded, and the priests of the Mechanicum will use their reason to merge the factories with the entire city to form the Lower Nest.

The workers will live here for generations, unless they are lucky enough to go to the upper nest. The underground mines will not be spared and will become the bottom nest, where scum and unfortunate people will fend for themselves.

But this future will probably never come.

Khalil retracted his gaze and smiled at the old sailor whose mental state had improved: "By the way, Haid, do you know where the government building or something like that is?"

——

With quick steps, Azriel walked into a secret room. The medal of the Knights was pinned on his collar, shining with a dull light.

This was the only ornament on his body. He was still in the period of penance, so he had to keep his body and mind pure and flawless in order to welcome the next upcoming battle-in fact, if he hadn't come here to see someone, he wouldn't even wear the medal.

Azriel stopped.

There was a stone door in front of him, and its surface was covered with cracks and moss. It looked fragile, but the brilliance of pure gold was revealed under the stone.

Azrael raised his right hand solemnly and pressed it against the stone door. With a low humming sound, the ancient gears buried in the wall began to turn and creak.

The stone door slowly opened, and the cold air rushed out from it like a sword, piercing Azrael's face and pressing against his neck, making him unable to speak. The prepared words were swallowed back into the depths of his throat silently.

Inside the secret room, a giant slowly opened his eyes.

He was surrounded by ancient stones from Caliban, and the knight's robe he wore was already worn out. A faint white light cast from the crack above his head, sprinkled on the stone and his body, illuminating the thick golden hair that seemed to fade.

The giant stood up and walked towards him.

"Azrael." He spoke in a low voice. "What do you want to see me for?"

"Lion, I don't mean to disturb your meditation."

"Of course you don't mean to." The giant called the lion replied lightly. "But, tell me, what is it?"

Azrael's throat rolled up and down, obviously not knowing where to start. Ten minutes later, they walked into a conference room.

The ornately decorated ceiling was full of paintings left by carving techniques, one after another black-armored knights holding swords to face the monsters. And under this painting, there was also a group of black-armored knights standing silently.

Even the arrival of the lion did not break the silence, and it can even be said that his arrival aggravated the silence.

The lion ignored them, just reached out and picked up a data tablet from the round conference table, slid up and down a few times, and then completely understood what happened.

But he did not speak at the first time, but threw the data tablet back on the round table, and then pulled out a chair and sat down directly.

His expression was hidden between his beard, and his long hair, which had not been carefully groomed, was scattered on the back of his neck like a lion's mane.

At this moment, the only window for everyone present to observe his emotions was his deep green eyes, but only a few of them dared to look him in the eye and explore his true emotions at the moment.

The lion snorted indifferently.

"Here we go again." He suddenly spoke. "Every time it comes to these old secrets, you have to keep your mouth shut and act weak and incompetent. Azrael, come here."

The young sergeant walked out of the crowd stiffly and came to him.

"Read the information and inferences on this data board." The lion said expressionlessly. "Read it louder."

"Yes, my lord." Azrael spoke hoarsely, then picked up the data board and spoke loudly.

This message is actually very simple, just a string of secret keys, sent directly by Banjo-1's legal department, but it actually came from 10,000 years ago, from the legion period of the Dark Angels.

In that complex era when various organizations were layered one after another, this key and tens of thousands of its kind were widely used within the Dark Angels, each with its own unique role and reference, and this one. After asking for help from the Fearless Elder Antros, the current Dark Angels got the answer before the Lion arrived.

As time passed, they no longer used these keys, and even the codewords and organizations were updated. Today, perhaps only the Fearless Elders and the Lions still remember them and the glory of the past within the Chapter.

But shame is different.

". In summary, this key is likely to come from a fallen angel who knows about our arrival."

Azrael said, and put down the data board. He had read the above inference, and now he stayed beside the Lion with his eyes and nose, and said nothing.

The Lion couldn't help but chuckle. Then, he slowly stood up and calmly denied the inference on the data board.

"No, this key was not sent to us by the Fallen Angel."

As soon as this was said, the members of the Knights looked at each other, one of them frowned and asked a crucial question: "But, sir, if not, who else can know these secrets of the past?"

"Fallen Angel." The lion said so. "But after sending this string of secret keys, he is no longer a Fallen Angel."

"Now go full speed, I want to arrive at Banjo-1 in four Terra hours. Let's meet this surrendered sinner-and let Asmodai calm down for me."

He dropped these words and turned around to leave. Ten minutes later, in his private arsenal, he reached out and grasped a spear.

The next second, the world changed, and unparalleled coldness replaced the calmness in the arsenal. The cold wind like a knife rushed towards his face, blowing the lion's blond hair into chaos, but he ignored it and just walked silently in the cold wind.

"I said, it's not the time yet, right? Leon? Or are you not satisfied with the result last time?"

"Shut up." Leon El'Jonson scolded helplessly.

He looked annoyed, but there was a smile in his eyes. The wind and snow in Fenris were still raging, and this year's winter seemed to be more difficult than in previous years. He was keenly aware of this, so he quickened his pace and rushed towards his destination.

"Oh, now I know what you are going to do." The voice sounded again, with a slow tone and a smile.

"I told you to shut up." Leon scolded again. "Stop disturbing me. Do you know how difficult it is to find traces in this damn snow?"

"It's not difficult for me, Leon. So, do you need help? Come on, just say the last word, and you can get help from Leman Russ. I am an experienced hunter, like this I’ve done this at least tens of thousands of times.”

"Am I not a hunter?" Leon retorted coldly.

With an angry look on his face, he began to dig deep into the snowfield that had been neglected for a long time.

This is an absolutely forbidden area, and no beast living on Fenris will set foot there. As for the sons of Russ, the same is true for them. For thousands of years, only the male lion comes here on time every year.

Ruth laughed in his ear.

Leon El'Jonson took a deep breath.

"Yes, yes, of course you are a hunter, but the environment you hunt in is very different from here. You are a lion in the forest, and I am a wolf in the snow, so speak up, brother, let me help you."

"You don't have a few hours left. You still have things to deal with on Banjo-1. Am I right?"

"Shut up!" Leon growled. "It's just a small thing! Bastard! If you look down on me again, I'll beat you until you can't stand up!"

"Then you have to dig me out of the grave first, brother."

Russ chuckled, and suddenly, the spear in Leon's right hand was raised freely, pierced through the wind and snow, and accurately pierced into the thick hair of a giant wolf.

A huge bloody mouth bit into the biting wind and snow, and attacked Leon El'Jonson, then bit his shoulder and gently threw him to the ground. Another giant wolf also rushed out of the wind and snow, pressing the lion's chest as Ruth couldn't stop laughing.

"Let me go!" the lion roared. "Damn it, I'm not Leman Russ!"

The wolves didn't listen and just dragged him to the den. In the wind and snow, their figures gradually disappeared.