40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 89 87. Between the Stars (3, 3k)

Roboute Guilliman smelled a burnt smell so terrible that his sense of smell was nearly destroyed two seconds before it appeared.

The smell came and went just as quickly, and his pain disappeared in an instant, so fast that he almost doubted whether he had really smelled that smell just now.

It wasn't until he saw the green smoke emanating from the Astartes' body and his armor that seemed to be molten that he realized that the smell might not be an illusion.

He heard the sound of footsteps and turned his head. He saw the First Chapter Commander escorting his housekeeper over.

Marius Gage supported her with great care. In response, Robert Guilliman pursed his lips. He actually didn't want them to come, at least not to Joden. The scene in front of her was not suitable for her to see.

——In fact, he thought that Yudun would show a little bit of shock when she saw the broken shoulder armor and the horrific scene, but she didn't.

She clutched her cane tightly, her expression serious and serious, and she was calm and composed among the giants who were much taller and stronger than her.

"What's going on, Robert?"

".I cannot answer your question at the moment, ma'am."

Robert Guilliman murmured and bent down. The First Chapter Captain who replaced him helped Jotun, but the latter shook his hand away and shook his head with his cane. Under the short gray hair, his whole face was Extremely serious.

"It doesn't matter if you don't answer me, but you have to figure out what this whole thing is about and I'm going to exercise the power you gave me to receive them, Robert."

She raised her right hand and pointed at the 499 Astartes who were receiving garlands of flowers and cheering at the end of the red carpet.

Their gloomy-colored armor even seemed a little warmer under the enthusiasm of the people, but Robert Guilliman could roughly guess their mood at the moment through their walking posture, and the lines of his cheeks became tighter.

"I understand, ma'am," he whispered.

Jotun nodded to him, her eyes became much gentler. She leaned on her cane and said nothing, but her expression told Robert Guilliman everything she wanted to say.

The Lord of Macragge smiled at his foster mother, then hardened his heart and allowed his First Chapter Master to escort her away.

He turned around and saw a pair of open eyes.

"Instructor Khalil?" Guilliman asked seriously. "This is how the same thing?"

"I'm going to ask you for a quiet room so I can explain," Khalil said slowly. "And at least half an hour to talk - alone. Just the two of us."

Robert Guilliman did not refuse, and began to feel grateful that he had gotten Marius Gage and Lady Euton out of here.

If they heard this, they would never accept it. In fact, let alone accepting it, Guilliman even suspected that his housekeeper would

No, now is not the time to think about that.

He cut off his thoughts and calmed himself down: "A quiet room is not a problem, and half an hour of conversation time is not a problem. I can strive for solitude. But, where is this person?"

"He is Captain Van Cleef of the Eighth Legion." Khalil said slowly. "He is alive and in need of medical assistance. That's all, I can't say anything more right now."

silence.

For five full minutes, Robert Guilliman said nothing. To the Macraggeans, his silence was almost deafening. But Khalil Lohars just looked at him calmly, always maintaining the same silence.

Staring into those eyes, Guilliman finally nodded slowly.

"I believe you," he said. "I'm sure the man behind those eyes won't lie to me - but what kind of medical assistance does Captain Van Cleef need?"

"Please wait."

Khalil came to Van Cleef, raised his right hand, and gently but firmly took off Van Cleef's helmet. Accompanied by the unbearable sound of tearing flesh and blood, the helmet that seemed to have been melted was slowly taken off.

The face underneath was extremely mutilated, and the surface of the skin was terrifying as if someone had ignited it with a promethium flamethrower. The tendon texture dripped to the ground like melting, sliding down the face that had exposed the bones.

Moreover, his eyes were open - or in other words, he could no longer close his eyes. He was lucky enough to retain his eyesight and vision, leaving his misfortune to those who observed him.

Guilliman noticed that he was even breathing.

The corner of the Lord Macragge's eye twitched suddenly.

Immediately afterwards, he noticed an icy coldness - he couldn't tell where this feeling came from, but he saw Khalil, who had his back turned to him at the moment, firmly pressing his right hand against the melted flesh and blood face.

"This is a remiss of my duty, Van Cleef."

He spoke in a low voice, as if declaring. "But you don't have to die, at least you don't have to die here. That thing retreated at the critical moment. It didn't want to be traced back to it through the traces I left in your heart. It ran away, but you will endure long-term pain."

Van Cleef opened his mouth, and the blackened teeth protruded between the flesh and blood - Guilliman suddenly had a terrible suspicion in his heart, and he realized that the captain's self-healing ability was still working.

However, his flesh and blood instinctively refused to be reborn.

Why?

Robert Guilliman's eyes widened at the realization, and he felt almost dizzy.

Van Cleef opened his mouth and made a few hoarse sounds, as if he wanted to speak. And his voice was obviously not as lucky as his eyes. He had lost the ability to speak, but Khalil listened very seriously and even nodded repeatedly.

After a moment, he nodded.

"I see."

Guilliman couldn't see the expression on Khalil Roharus, but he could hear the suppressed anger in his tone - he himself often spoke in this tone to others, and he was an expert at it.

"But this is not your responsibility, Van Cleef. You don't know what that thing is. But I promise you, that thing will get its comeuppance."

Guilliman saw the captain of the Eighth Legion nodded slowly. So he turned his head and made complex and continuous gestures to the Ultramarines behind him.

He didn't need to use words to express the four words "medical assistance". In the internal tactical manual of the Ultramarines, he compiled the gestures used in emergency situations for every possible situation.

Khalil Lohars turned around and looked at him, his expression suppressed and calm. Guilliman felt as if he was looking in a mirror.

It was an expression he knew all too well.

"A room," Khalil said softly. "And thirty minutes of alone time while I answer every question you have."

"These things are not a problem." Guilliman said, and at the same time he heard the footsteps behind him. He knew that they were his -

He stopped his thoughts, sighed deeply, and raised his right hand to make a stop gesture. His medical officers stopped behind him, the hum of power armor still evident but the footsteps no longer ringing.

Then, he saw the company commander of the Eighth Legion asking for his helmet that was melted and intertwined with flesh and blood from their instructor, and slowly brought it up.

His fingers were shaking, but he didn't stop for even half a second.

"Captain Van Cleef." Robert Guilliman spoke seriously. "We'll fix you."

He turned sideways and let the medical officer pass. I saw the grateful eyes of Khalil Lohars, but for the first time I didn’t know how to respond.

——

It's a study, obviously. The marble table was extremely thick and heavy, obviously not the size for mortals. It was piled high with paper—everything from parchment rolls to plain white paper, and even a few local Macragge newspapers.

At the other end of these papers, there are piles of data pads. At this moment, the sunlight just penetrated through the narrow floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a comfortable temperature on the brown-red wooden floor.

The Lord of Macragge let out a deep breath and took off his uniform. God knows how much effort he had just spent trying to convince his steward to give him this precious half hour.

He turned around and hung his clothes on the coat rack at the door. He was looking for a suitable opening, but he didn't expect that his guest would beat him to it.

"Just like I said." Khalil lowered his posture calmly. "I will answer every question you have, Lord Roboute Guilliman."

"."

Guilliman was silent for a moment, and the little finger of his right hand rubbed the braided thread of his trousers for a few seconds. Then he chose a cheerier tone from hundreds of alternatives.

"My brothers say you don't like to use honorifics," he said. "Roger warned me in hundreds of words about your persistence in this regard. It seems he was wrong?"

"There is nothing wrong with Rogge Dorn, it's just that I'm not talking to you in a personal capacity right now."

Khalil Lohars, the instructor of the Eighth Legion, slowly shook his head. "So etiquette is a must."

Guilliman nodded calmly, already realizing that his opponent was obviously more difficult to deal with than he thought - yes, he did not take Khalil's words seriously.

Just listen to the answer to every question, the real person is either a child with an innocent heart or a terrible politician.

Unknowingly, he seemed to have regarded Khalil Lohars as a political opponent.

"So, can I start asking questions?"

"Of course." Khalil nodded slowly. "It's just that before that, I hope you can give me a map of Macragge's city."

Guilliman frowned.

That’s it for today, 13,000. I’m tired and can’t write anymore.

Asking for votes.