40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 640 23. Pardon (I)

Facing the mirror, Khalil buttoned up the last button of his military dress and felt a strange sense of urgency.

The uniform he was wearing only had two colors, one was black, and the other was the midnight blue unique to the Eighth Legion. The shoulders should have been matched with golden ranks, but, strictly speaking, he had no rank, so the gold became black metal.

There were many other details like this on the whole dress, such as the triumphal mark at the collar or the private honor mark at the hem. Coupled with his usual expressionless face, he looked only gloomy and solemn.

Staring at the mirror, Khalil shook his head - it was still inappropriate.

He didn't wear formal dresses much in the past, and the same was true for ceremonial armor. Moreover, neither of these two things was based on comfort as the first premise. And if he really needed to attend an occasion that required etiquette, no formal dress or ceremonial armor could compare to his original armor.

But he had to wear it now. After all, it was the order of the lion, who dared not to obey?

The man in the mirror smiled at this strange joke, then reached out to pick up the medals on his chest and looked at them carefully.

They were certainly not the real ones he had, but they were almost the same. Their shape was very rigorous and the materials were very sophisticated. If you really care about it, there is probably only one problem: they were no longer distributed after the end of the Great Expedition.

It was the lion who ordered people to make them based on his own memory. I don’t know what the craftsman in charge of this matter thought, following the order of the original body to make fake medals.

No matter how you look at it, this is not a good job.

"He is really attentive," a voice sounded from his shadow, with a little mockery. "He only saw you in a dress once, and he remembered the shape of all these medals. It's really interesting."

Khalil put down his hands and let the medals collide with each other. He took a step back, picked up the military cap beside him and put it on, put on the ceremonial white gloves, and began to look at himself, wondering if there was anything wrong.

At this time, the voice in the shadow sounded again.

"Are you going to pretend that I don't exist?"

"No, Conrad, I'm just thinking about something."

"Don't think about it, your memory is fine." The shadow sneered mercilessly. "You have indeed never worn a medal or a dress."

"So-?"

The shadow laughed uncontrollably: "Do I need to remind you? Eighteen years, father! It's really strange that you can still review documents in that state. Do you like work so much?"

Khalil sighed as expected, ignored his sarcasm, and just silently changed the subject.

"So, when do you plan to let them know your existence?"

"Don't be impatient, father. The longer this matter is delayed, the more fun it will be, don't you think so?"

"It is a very bad behavior to have fun with your brothers, Conrad."

"It's the brothers-and I will be very careful." The shadow answered meekly, but the smile could not be hidden anyway.

Khalil shook his head helplessly and turned to walk out of his room. The boots hit the ground, bringing a soft rebound. Everything was normal and comfortable, but he couldn't help feeling a sense of weirdness.

The metallic sound of the medals colliding, the tightness of the waist design of the outer garment, the collision of the boots and the shin bones

And he happened to have a very sensitive perception, so all these feelings mixed together at an indescribable speed, making his gait unusually stiff.

No matter how good this dress is, he feels as if he is restrained. Even if he really puts a few tons of steel on his body, it can't compare to the feeling at this moment.

+Relax, you will get used to it sooner or later. +The shadow whispered quietly. +No matter how much you resist, it's useless, father, get used to it as soon as possible. +

Khalil frowned and stopped to make way for two oncoming legion servants. They carried a huge machine and walked past with heavy steps. Even thanking them can only be signaled with their eyes.

+What do you mean? +

+It means that I think you will wear this dress many times in the future, Khalil. So, your days of wearing a bone mask to avoid speeches and eye contact are over! +

"."

Khalil ignored him and walked towards an elevator without saying a word.

A few minutes later, he arrived at the 20th deck of the Rational Edge in a normal way, and successfully arrived at the door of a hall through guidance. Two seemingly unmodified servitors pushed open the heavy stone door that was 20 meters high with their hands, allowing him to enter.

However, after entering, what first attracted Khalil's attention was not the black-armored giants who were talking to each other, but the emptiness of the hall.

There was no decoration here, not to mention gold and silver, even the paintings were not visible. The surface of the stone pillars supporting the ceiling was extremely rough, completely unpolished raw stones.

The only thing worth describing here was a stone chair, wide, rough, and directly connected to the ground and steps. It was located inside the hall, blurred by the stone pillars and burning torches, like a huge beast hiding in the forest.

And it was indeed a beast.

+Ah. Did you see that, Khalil? You see, Lion El'Jonson is my brother for a reason. +

Khalil did not answer, but just looked at the stone chair calmly, then retracted his gaze, pretending that he did not know that there was actually a person standing behind the chair with his eyes closed in meditation.

A giant in black armor walked towards him, the armor was still worn, but there was an unremarkable long sword on his waist.

He was not wearing a helmet, so Khalil recognized him very easily - Zabril, a Terran Dark Angel, a member of the Death Wing.

This is very interesting, because the Death Wing still exists now, Khalil really wants to know how they will view this "old predecessor" who suddenly appeared, will they protest fiercely, or will they accept it reluctantly?

Zabril stopped one meter away from him, and then performed a Sky Eagle Salute. He did not look very familiar when doing this, but the gesture made when his hands crossed over was indeed a Sky Eagle.

Kalil raised his head to return the greeting, but found that not far behind Zabril stood an Astarte with a sullen face and who looked out of place with the others.

Zabriel noticed his gaze and immediately began to explain, but his tone was very strange: "That's my, uh, squire, his name is Asmodai. Anyway, it's nice to see you again, sir, my name is Zabril."

Kalil suppressed his smile and nodded calmly: "Me too, Knight Zabril. But, squire? I don't think he volunteered."

The old Dark Angel's expression collapsed instantly, he made a gesture in response to Kalil's words, and then he was silent. He had probably prepared for the conversation and had some mental notes, but now his plan was disrupted.

Kalil could see from his tangled expression that he had many questions to ask, so he directly solved this problem for Zabril.

"Are you all here?" he asked, taking the initiative to bring up the topic.

Zabril looked back quickly, then gave an answer: "I think so, sir."

Silence fell again.

Khalil sighed and spoke again: "Are there any people you know?"

Zabriel smiled bitterly, which was obvious.

"I know them all, but there are probably only a few people I know. I'm not sure if they are as excited about this as I am. We have all been through too much, and being hunted persistently is not a particularly good experience."

"Are you ready?"

Zabriel thought for a few seconds, and his expression became a little empty. He shook his head and said, "No, I don't think we can be prepared. We don't even know why the Lion summoned us here."

"He built this place with stones from Caliban, but, to be honest with you, sir, we don't have a good impression of Caliban now."

+Ha. Bad move, Leon. +

Khalil lowered his head as if thinking to cover up his helplessness at the moment - although Conrad's sarcastic ridicule still echoed in his ears, he was right, the lion did something that was difficult to evaluate.

He summoned those who had survived his sword, but did not give any reason. Although it only takes a little thought to know that there will be no more bloodshed, why not be honest?

+He can't do it, Khalil. Leon and his legion are different from us. Creating and keeping secrets has become their nature. And they love this nature. +

+You seem to be a little too active today, Conrad. +

Khalil gave a comment indifferently and looked at Zabril again, who was still waiting for his answer.

This made him a little distressed, and even had the urge to say something casually to deal with it - fortunately he didn't need to do so, because a figure had slowly walked out from behind the stone chair.

He was only wearing a robe, and the dark winged swords of the Dark Angels were faintly visible at the cuffs. He tied up his long hair, and his thick beard was obviously groomed.

At this moment, he looked non-threatening, as if a country lord who had made up his mind to withdraw from the political struggle was admiring art paintings in his mansion.

Of course, this was just an illusion. As long as you stare into those eyes, you will know who he is.

The conversation in the hall suddenly stagnated.

+Father. +

+I beg you, Conrad, if you are really looking forward to this event, please come out and participate by yourself. +

+No, I just want to ask you, if you think my behavior of making fun of Leon and Ruth is bad, then, is what Leon is doing now also bad? Don't you plan to educate him, great educator? Don't be partial to one over the other+

Khalil's eyes twitched and looked away.