Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

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The captain came quickly.

Arianto sat with him in his room, and the other party didn't seem restrained, and he was even quite comfortable. He lights a cigarette for himself, and Arianto glances at the cigarette case, which bears a brand he's never heard of.

'revival'

Noticing his gaze, the captain smiled, took out one and handed it to him: "Do you want it too? I really didn't know you adults smoked too."

"I don't smoke." Arianto said coldly.

"That's a pity." The captain put the cigarette back, not showing any regret. He took a good sip, and the smell of tobacco began to spread in Arianto's room: "Do you have anything to do with me?"

"I'll ask you about your next mission."

"My lord..." The captain looked at him strangely. "Don't you think, uh."

He pondered for a while, as if looking for words. There was no respect for Astartes in the entire conversation, which may have something to do with his identity. Arianto had long known that he was not just an ordinary captain.

Finally, after two minutes, the captain, who had taken several puffs of cigarettes, found the right words: "Don't you think that the tasks assigned to you are too harsh?"

"A mission is a mission, we accept it, we complete it."

"But your brother—with all due respect, plus you are only seven people left." The captain took a deep breath. "Seven Astartes, and we don't have any mortal auxiliaries either. This ship can't give you any help from the air outside of orbit."

"If you have something to say, say it."

Arianto stared at him sternly: "Don't be secretive, it will make me think you have other thoughts."

The captain put out the cigarette and used two fingers instead of nails. The fiery temperature did not leave a trace on his fingers, and he sighed: "That's it, my lord."

"I was supposed to be able to retire with seventy years of service, but the Inquisition suddenly came to my door and asked to put some Astartes on my ship. Originally, I wanted to refuse." The captain scratched in distress. own head. "But they gave too much and too many people came. There was no way. That's why I let you on my boat."

"I've watched your number drop from eighty-three to seven now, without even getting any supplements. My lord, I'm not a fool or a short-sighted fool. I'm a business ronin. I have seen many things."

"But," said the captain, confused and frank, "why don't you get any reinforcements? Not even your own ship? I don't understand that, my lord, I really don't understand. Besides, I'm terrified of it. ."

Where should I start? From ten thousand years ago? Since that rebellion? Or earlier, when our manic father returned to the Legion and began tormenting us? This is not a story you should know, Captain. These stories shouldn't even be known to me - just let them go to the wind.

The name of the deceased should not be mentioned again.

Arianto looked at him without saying a word, but there were enough warnings in his eyes. So the captain nodded and sighed: "I see, my lord. Thank you."

"It's best if you understand. Now tell me, what's our next mission?"

"Please wait."

The captain clicked on the watch on his right hand, and a machine servant walked in. It opened its chest cavity and took out a parchment. The captain took it and gave it to Arianto.

"This is the last mission, my lord. The lords of the Inquisition should have told you about this, right?"

"Yes - you can leave now, just continue sailing according to the scheduled route." Arianto nodded to him, and after the captain left, he opened the parchment and looked at it seriously.

'Final mission. ’

'Letter to face, Brother Arianto,

I wish you and your brother all the best, although that's unlikely. But I still sincerely wish you all the best to overcome all obstacles and complete the task. The Emperor bless you and all of us. ’

'This short letter, which is more like a letter than a mission introduction, was written before you left. With all due respect, the interior of the Inquisition is not monolithic. While this may be a well-known fact, if I were to tell you, the nature would be different. ’

'Please be careful with it. ’

‘Back to the point, I have no intention of exposing your wounds, but there are still many different opinions within the Tribunal on whether to restore your name, and many discussions have been held. But this opportunity to complete the task is related to whether you can get back the title of war dog - this matter, I believe you also know, Brother Arianto. ’

'Please go to the Prodars galaxy near the Great Rift and investigate, the task is not difficult. The Emperor bless you, Brother Arianto. ’

'An Inquisitor friend. ’

Arianto put down the parchment, using this method of publishing the task as a last resort. Star language communication is completely impossible near the Great Rift, so they have to use this form of releasing the mission in advance, but this also saves them the step of briefing. Just complete the task and leave.

For example, the planet just now - they spent three hours killing the traitors on it, and the Inquisition only needs to send people behind them to recover a planet. He didn't know what they were going to do with the barren planet, but Arianto didn't particularly care.

He stood up, intending to clean the power armor himself and spend the night meditating.

He hopes the mission will begin soon.

-------------------------------------

"When will remote sensing mapping be completed?"

"It's expected to take five minutes."

"Five minutes?!" The captain's mouth opened wide. "The Emperor is above, this is really... God, when did remote sensing mapping only take five minutes?"

The low-ranking priest of the Mechanic Order raised his head and tapped his eyes - the sound of metal collision made the captain's teeth sour. "Thanks to this ship we don't understand at all. She's amazing. Please forgive me, Captain. The telemetry data will be handed over to you in five minutes, but I'm leaving first."

"Where are you going?"

"Half an hour is the scheduled research time... I have a task at hand, and I need to study the compound magic cannon. The order given by your Excellency in person, he hopes that we can reduce and quantify the compound magic cannon. Production, this is a very difficult task." The priest rarely said a lot.

He nodded to the captain: "Goodbye, Captain, I hope you will be alive next time we meet."

...is really a unique blessing.

The captain shook his head speechlessly, then simply stood there and began to wait. The priest was not lying, and five minutes later the data from the telemetry mapping was in his hands. The portable personal tablet that replaced the servo skull began to vibrate, and the captain carefully took the baby out of his arms and clicked awkwardly on it.

He never used it, but he had to get used to it.

Open the letterbox, and there is a map with the Prodars galaxy marked on it.

"Prodals...why haven't I heard of this place?" The captain frowned, then forgot about it. It's not something he should care about. Fifteen minutes later, he came to the Cadian station and reported the surveying and mapping data to the current commander, a bald middle-aged man.

He was shaving himself with a saber when the captain found him.

"With all due respect, Commander, but we have allot razors."

"I like to shave myself with my baby - sit down, wait a minute, you got the mapping data?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Huh!" The head of the regiment exclaimed exaggeratedly and put down the knife with his backhand. The beard shavings on the ground disappeared in a burst of blue light. He sat in a chair, picked up the captain's personal tablet on the table, and just glanced at it and became enthusiastic.

"Fifteen enemy ships expected?! These bastards..."

The old Cadian scolded angrily, then put down the tablet with a sneer, and nodded to the captain: "Looks like we've finally caught some people's tails, and the lord must not be able to wait. You Have you heard? His speech in the lower cemetery."

The regimental commander leaned back in his chair and imitated leisurely: "We don't accept any surrender, we don't accept any form of weakness or roundabout tactics! Tsk tsk tsk, listen, captain, listen! We should have done this long ago!"

He slapped the arm of the chair and shook his fist at the wall: "The hunt is on! Bastards! Clean your ass and wait! Because the Cadians are coming to fuck it soon! I'll take it myself Put the bayonets in! Don't even try to run any of these sons of a bitch! I'm going to grab their heads and drown them in the toilet!"

"...Head of the regiment, although our current political commissar is not very strict in the management of swear words, you still have to pay attention to the impact."

The captain flexed his legs without a trace, letting the chair lead him away from the regimental commander, then whispered, "Traitors' asses aren't meant for that kind of thing."

The head of the regiment twitched: "Damn, that's just a metaphor! A metaphor, do you understand?!"

"Please order, commander, the soldiers are still waiting for orders. I believe their mood is the same as ours."

The captain smiled and said, "I've heard about that Your Excellency's speech fifty times this week. The boys are all in high spirits."

"Don't worry, the Vengeance hasn't arrived yet. The Deep Destruction is now stationed on another planet, and we need to get used to other vehicles."

When it comes to business, the head of the regiment is very serious: "Bring your company, and then call me the second company, you go to the third warehouse, where there are prepared vehicles. The training method is still the same, the magic circle. The center will guide you. Let me know when you get used to it."

He looked down at the data map of remote sensing mapping again: "...within five days at the latest, we will arrive at this Prodars galaxy, and then blow up the gang of offal into the sky."

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