40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 96 94. Drama (6k)

The temporary base of the Eighth Legion is located in an independent building with thirteen floors and a vast area.

The Ultramarines did not neglect them because of their number. Everything was of the highest standard, even the flag of the Eighth Legion was raised on the top of the building. The citizens of Macragge who passed by could see it fluttering in the wind at a glance. This was very unusual. After all, no other legion had visited Macragge before.

Many newspapers spent a lot of time describing these warriors from another legion. The descriptions were different, but the photos all chose the gloomy appearance of the Eighth Legion on the tarmac that day.

This is quite interesting. The curiosity of the Macragge people is undoubtedly revealed. These days, many interview applications have even been called to the temporary base - as for who is responsible for answering them, you may already have the answer.

In addition to Siani of Terra, who else can still maintain this vitality in the current situation?

"No, we don't accept interviews." Siani said. "Yes, we are soldiers of the First Company of the Eighth Legion, but we do not accept interviews." He hung up the phone and sighed inevitably - to this day, Siani still couldn't understand why Macragge could establish such a relationship between the Astartes and the civilians. The latter did not regard the former as some kind of high god, but regarded them as an integral part of society. They always talked about the "Ultramarines" with pride, but they did not seem alienated, but very close. "How many times?" Someone asked in the dark. - If you ask. Yes. They don't turn on the lights. Siani said without turning his head: "The tenth time today." "Primarch, this makes me feel a little toothache." "Come on, your teeth were replaced with alloys twenty-one years ago." "I mean the phantom neuralgia." The person in the dark said so. "Every time I'm in a bad mood, it breaks out."

"Then you've been in pain for twenty-one years, Moritz?" Siani grinned and began to instinctively mock the adjutant of the first company. He had been punished many times for this, but he never learned his lesson.

The latter just snorted in response to his words, and then ignored him. For a moment, the atmosphere in the resident office was almost as silent as a cemetery.

Whenever this happened, it meant that whoever spoke next would resurrect the dead - or, in other words, they would say something that would scare the dead out of their coffins.

"Is the company commander dead?" Siani asked suddenly.

"."

The adjutant didn't speak, and there was a sound of inhalation in the darkness.

"Do you know something, Moritz?"

"No, I don't know." The adjutant replied stiffly. "But I know another thing, Van Cleef will be very angry about your words."

"I would like to see him angry." Siani muttered. "We haven't seen him for six days."

"Maybe he's on official business."

"But something was wrong when we were still on the transport ship - or rather, something was wrong with him since we set out. Besides, what official business could keep him so busy that he didn't return to the base for six days? He's not an instructor, and he never rests."

"Instructors rest."

"How do you know? Have you seen it?"

"I have seen it."

Moletz nodded in the dark - to be precise, he nodded behind Siani - to be more precise, he nodded to another giant who appeared at some point.

"Really?"

"Of course it's true." A third voice sounded, soft and gentle. "How could I not need to rest, Siani?"

Siani from Terra turned his head sharply.

"Uh--!"

"No need to explain, Siani, we all heard it clearly." Moletz said seriously. "We are not bombed to the point of hearing loss now."

"I"

"I just rest less." Khalil chuckled. "But it doesn't mean I don't need to rest. A person's energy is always limited, such as your captain."

"What happened to him, instructor?" asked the adjutant.

"He went through a hard and arduous war." Khalil replied softly in the dark. "A life-and-death battle, he won."

"So he is in the hospital now?" Siani asked tentatively.

"Yes."

"Can we go see him?"

"No, Siani, unless you want to disturb his recovery."

"But I have a lot of things to ask him."

"Me too." Khalil said. "But I choose to wait until he recovers."

".Is this an order?" The young man from Terra asked unwillingly.

"Yes."

Then he heard his instructor answer like this, in a serious tone.

"This is the order of the instructor of the Eighth Legion, Siani, do you obey?"

".I obey."

--

"How do you feel about talking face to face with such a giant, lady?" Robert Guilliman asked with his head down, a torrent of data was running across the data board, but no number slipped away, they were all caught by him.

"Are you asking for punishment, my lord? For my unauthorized actions?"

"."

Guilliman did not answer, but just looked up at her.

Tarasha Yuton sat on a human-sized chair and waited for his answer. She sat across from the marble table with a very interesting expression. For a moment it seemed to Guilliman that she was still angry. But judging by her raised right eyebrow, she was probably just joking.

For a moment, he was not sure what his housekeeper was thinking.

So he decided to be honest.

"Of course not," said Guilliman. "I'm just worried about you."

"What are you worried about me for? Do you think he will be angry with me?"

"That's not true."

"Then what are you worried about, my lord?"

"Today is Saturday, ma'am, and you don't go to work today, so can you stop calling me sir?"

"No, housekeepers don't have holidays - I've told you a long time ago that I don't like holidays, but you insist on giving me two days of holidays a week. Do you want me to lie in bed and waste time doing nothing? ?”

Robert Guilliman suddenly felt a headache.

He put down the dataslate and inevitably glanced up at the two portraits. His adoptive mother watched the action unfold.

"I'm asking you a question, my lord." She frowned. "Even if you don't plan to answer, you shouldn't complain to your adoptive father."

Guilliman almost laughed - in his impression, Jotun rarely joked, let alone such a childish joke.

He wanted to cover up this emotion with his most common serious expression, but failed. The lady sitting opposite him just wrinkled her face deliberately, and his efforts were in vain.

Robert Guilliman finally laughed.

"I'm sorry." He smiled and apologized sincerely. "But I really can't help it, ma'am."

Tarasha Youton didn't answer, but just smiled. Between the stretched wrinkles, a sense of relief began to spread.

"I hope you're okay, my dear sir." She said softly. "You silly kid, you really think I'm here to challenge you today, don't you?"

"You have done this before, my lady," Guilliman said. "I remember every sarcasm you said to me. For example, last time, you said that the clothes I wore when I went to meet Rogge and the others were far less serious and formal than the ceremonial armor."

"Is not it?"

"Yes." Guilliman nodded. "You put me to shame, ma'am."

"I don't dare to make such a comment"

Guilliman did not answer this sentence, but instead picked up the data tablet and handed it to Joden on the other side of the marble table. The latter stretched out his hands to take it, and then placed it on the marble table. on the table.

Her reading lasted for about five minutes, during which time her brows were furrowed. Robert Guilliman did not interrupt him, he just waited patiently.

Patience is always a virtue. thought Guilliman, gazing at the portraits of his fathers.

".Do you plan to donate a batch of supplies?" After a short silence, the housekeeper asked.

"Yes."

"Ninety tons of fine gold may not sound like much, but it is still extremely valuable. Sir, a batch of supplies may not be enough to show your sincerity. What's more, the Eighth Legion intends to open up a trading route. Come.”

"And this will do no harm to Macragge." Guilliman took up his steward's words.

"My brother Konrad Curze said in his handwritten letter that Nostramo was a planet with sufficient adamantine production. I don't know how he defined sufficient, but... we would obviously need it. It. So of course it’s not just a batch of supplies, in fact, my sincerity is still behind.”

Of course Macragge needs it. Who doesn't need adamantium?

"He wrote you a letter?" the steward asked in surprise.

She didn't care about the fine gold and trading at first, which was quite incomprehensible considering her position and past performance. But Guilliman knew in what capacity she was asking the question, so he was not surprised. He had even known that this would happen.

"Yes, his letter is unbelievable for his age." Guilliman smiled and shook his head. "When I was two years old, I was still busy flipping through newspapers looking for science stories."

Youdun pursed her lips, and after a while, she sighed.

“The universe is so cruel to us,” the woman said with a hint of sadness. "A two-year-old child is being forced to learn politics."

"This is just the beginning."

Guilliman said calmly - his tone even sober to the point of being ruthless.

"He's also going to have to learn to accept every bit of the nastiness behind politics, and his intelligence will help him learn that very quickly. He's going to be miserable, that's obvious, but he has to accept it because that's what we were born for."

"so?"

"Sacrifice," Guilliman said. "Believe me, ma'am, I don't want to be trapped in this chair. No one wants that. But I have to do it. Ability and responsibility are linked to each other at some point. Even Ruth has to be in this chair before fighting. He must restrain his wolves from causing trouble, let alone me and my young brother who I have never met.”

"You are young." Yudun corrected. "Instead of young."

Guilliman sighed and did not continue on this topic. "I plan to launch a ten-year aid to Nostramo, everything from supplies to personnel - frankly speaking, ma'am, my plan is to give them whatever they want."

Yudun frowned.

"What about the adamantine trade?" she asked curtly.

"We will pay the money. If they want us to pay with supplies, it doesn't matter. Both are fine."

Guilliman saw that his chamberlain's brow began to frown more and more.

"What does this mean?" she asked confused. "Is there something happening to you that I don't understand, Robert? I know you mean well when you do this, but are your brothers really going to accept it? I don't see them that much, and I don't How many, but they are all proud.”

"I'm very proud too."

"But that's not why you did this?" the housekeeper said doubtfully. "By doing this, you are almost putting Macragge's stamp on your brother's homeworld politically, Robert. Is this really a good idea?"

She had something left unsaid, but Guilliman could hear it and see it in her eyes.

Is this allowed?

Of course that's not good, ma'am. But it has been allowed.

Guilliman fell into brief thought. He didn't speak, the lines on his cheeks became tight, and his blue eyes were as calm as the ocean in the evening. Only after a long time for the Primarch had passed did he speak again.

"So I needed permission, a formal permission," he said.

Euton began to wait for his next words.

"So I made an appointment with Khalil Lohars, the instructor of the Eighth Legion, in the afternoon. I wanted to ask him to come and talk to me about this matter - if all goes well, the Eighth Legion will wait until their company commander recovers from injury. Then set out to return to Nostramo, bringing with me my greetings, my wishes, and my sincerity.”

Youdun sat up straight and quickly entered the state. Her cane rested flat on her knees, quivering quietly. She asked, "Do I want to be there?"

"Of course." Guilliman smiled and nodded. "Ma'am, where else do you think you could go?"

"It's work time now," Ms. Euton said seriously. "So stop talking to me like that. What time do you want to meet?"

"Thirty-three minutes later."

"I'm going to change clothes." She stood up quickly.

Robert Guilliman shook his head in amazement and asked a question quickly before she opened the door: "Does he make you so nervous, madam?"

"You'd better be nervous too!" said his lady.

I've been nervous since last night, but not for this meeting. Guilliman thought. Then watched her leave.

——

Generally speaking, a person's emotions are easy to observe.

The simplest way is to observe the other person's expression. People who have some experience in this will keep staring at their eyes. If you are a more experienced person, you will choose to analyze body language together.

However, when Khalil Lohars sat on the full-size chair opposite the marble table, Tarasha Yuton found that she could not see any expression on the giant's face.

The emotional reaction he revealed during the conversation that day seemed to be just an illusion. Now, the person sitting here, sitting opposite her master, was an impenetrable piece of ice.

Is this normal? Yudun questioned himself. She looked at her master again and found that Robert Guilliman had also become a piece of ice.

"Good day," Robert Guilliman said. "Or good afternoon, I'm a little unsure of the time right now, Instructor Khalil - anyway, I hope you're doing well."

The visitor smiled.

"You too," he replied softly.

"Is everything okay with Captain VanCleef?" Guilliman asked again.

"He will be on the mend soon. I'm sorry, but none of us expected his armor to have such a terrible malfunction."

The visitor raised his hand and made a gesture with a depressed expression.

"Cable duct explosion, several component errors. Sorry for the inconvenience caused to Macragge these days."

"I'm just providing a little help as much as I can. There is no such thing as inconvenience, and you don't have to be sorry, Instructor Khalil." Robert Guilliman said seriously but softly. "Macragge never treats our friends badly."

The visitor smiled and nodded, with gratitude flashing across his face.

Perfect gratitude.

Guilliman also smiled slightly. He lowered his head, picked up a data pad from the table and handed it over: "Please take a look at this, Instructor Khalil."

The visitor reached out and took it, asking at the same time: "What is this?"

"A covenant," Guilliman replied, his manners impeccable, his syllables enunciated to a suspiciously perfect degree, no longer in his usual habit of speaking.

Youdun, who was sitting on the side of the long table, frowned.

"Covenant?" the visitor asked while looking at it. "what type is it?"

"About Macragge's alliance with Nostramo," Guilliman said simply. "Nostramo provides the gold, and Macragge provides anything else you need."

Something is even more wrong. Yodon thought. He didn't even say what was needed - could Roboute Guilliman really be that rough?

She looked at her child, stared, and then found that he was forcing himself not to turn around to answer her unasked question.

That gesture of rejection was too obvious to Talasa Udon, and it could even be said that it seemed a bit difficult to deal with.

The next second, Guilliman heard his housekeeper sigh.

"Enough, enough." She said. "Logically, I shouldn't interrupt such a conversation, but your acting is really too poor-you have discussed it in advance, right?"

"No." Guilliman said.

He still didn't look at Udon.

"Yes, ma'am." The visitor-or rather, Caril Rohals smiled, and the ice was completely melted.

The evidence was conclusive, and Talasa Udon looked at her son, who was silent for a moment, coughed, turned his head, and said sincerely: "Sometimes, it is necessary to hide some truths, ma'am."

"I taught you this." His lady said expressionlessly. "When you were twenty-one, you didn't want to tell the public the truth about the flood because officials cut corners on building materials and enriched themselves, but you didn't know whether to lie or not. You came to ask me, and I said this to you."

".I apologize." Robert Guilliman said honestly.

"I don't want your apology, my lord, I want an explanation." The housekeeper said. "If you don't want me to attend this meeting, you can just say it at the beginning, instead of colluding with our guest and persuading him to let him and you act together for me, an old woman."

She said, even laughing: "This matter is really strange, even enough for me to brag to my old friends after I retire."

"You are only sixty years old." Guilliman tried to answer in a calm tone. "No one will say you are old, and there is life extension surgery."

"I have already lived more than half of my life. Even if I want to use that thing, I will not let it change my appearance!" Euden said sternly.

"I really doubt whether I can really find a doctor willing to perform surgery on you." Guilliman turned his eyes away and muttered. "You might chase them down the corridor with surgical forceps."

Khalil said nothing, smiling as he watched the interaction between the mother and son. The reason he didn't speak was simple and normal - how could an outsider interrupt this obvious mother-son conversation?

However, one thing is very interesting. The lady has been observing his reaction in the gaps between her words to her adopted son.

I'm not important, just look at him more. Khalil thought. Strictly speaking, this meeting was specially held by your son to reassure you. He wants you to see that he is "back to normal" otherwise why would he go to so much trouble?

"I'm not old enough to be crazy and chase doctors!"

"Who knows?"

"Robert Guilliman!"

".I'm sorry." Guilliman covered his face. "I apologize, ma'am. I just held this meeting because I wanted to reassure you."

"I was already reassured more than forty minutes ago." Euden said angrily. "Can't I tell the difference between you looking worried and relieved?"

She stood up angrily, took her cane and left without hesitation or even saying another word, leaving the office to Khalil and Robert Guilliman.

The latter met the former's gaze and sighed.

".I can't deal with her." Guilliman said with a wry smile. "I can't do it all the time, she always finds my loopholes."

"No one knows a child better than his mother."

"Is this also the ancient language of Terra?"

"Terra has many ancient sayings, Robert." Khalil smiled slightly. "For example, good intentions lead to bad results."

".I remember it." Guilliman said with a sigh. "So, let's talk business?"

"Of course."

Khalil nodded, pushed the data pad back, and said, "But I'm actually surprised that you want me to join you in the exploration of the Extreme Star Region."

There is another chapter of 2k, but I feel that only 2k is a bit too little. I will try harder to see if I can write 3k.

By the way, do you want to guess what will happen next?