Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"You should have told me earlier that you were going to take me to see Corax, Morgan."

"I haven't prepared anything yet."

Until the moment he was dragged to the corridor by his silver-haired blood relative, the Lord of Macragge was still complaining in a low voice, and his voice echoed in the cold air, attracting the sidelong glances of several Primarch's guards nearby.

[Does this need any preparation? ]

Morgan turned around and looked at her blood relative with a smile on her face. There was a natural charm in her upturned voice. The Primarch casually smoothed his somewhat messy long hair, and a long-lost malice flashed between his blue eyes.

The Lord of Avalon certainly knew that his current behavior was somewhat inappropriate.

However: Robert would not get angry with her for these trivial matters anyway.

In this case, isn't it also interesting to watch this guy who is always well-organized, serious and even a little boring, suddenly being at a loss and sweating profusely?

A long-lost sense of joy lingered in the heart of the Spider Queen: To be honest, she had been a boring good person for too long, and had not come up with a pure entertainment purpose that was harmful to others but not beneficial to herself for a long time.

"That's what I said..."

Just as Morgan thought, listening to the smiling question of his blood relative, the Macragge people did not respond in the end, but just silently swallowed the Spider Queen's nonsense, and the complaints and mutters like talking to himself were so soft that even Morgan could hardly hear them clearly.

After a few seconds, he coughed, straightened his clothes, adjusted the angle of the medals on his ceremonial armor, gathered his hair, took the freshest laurel leaf crown from the hand of the attendant beside him, stuck it on his forehead, and then did not forget to glance at the urgent official business presented to him, blinked his eyes, and gave a reply.

Checking, cleaning, thinking and reviewing, all things were going on at the same time, and it only took one or two seconds: this moment of concentration could be called art. Anyway, Morgan was savoring the beauty exuded by her Macragge brother at this moment from the perspective of appreciating art.

Among all the brothers, only this Macragge man could make Morgan experience this kind of aesthetics derived from logic, rationality and calculation. It was a kind of beauty different from the majestic body, and it was also a unique charm that could make people deeply immersed in it: in Morgan's memory, the last person who could make her experience this kind of beauty was Jonson, who focused all his attention on the blade when he swung his sword to chop off the head of a powerful enemy.

It was a kind of beauty different from Guilliman's concentration at this time, a reason enough for Morgan to stand firmly beside the Caliban people: only at that time could Morgan understand Horus's feelings for Sanguinius a little.

Compared with Jonson at that time, or Guilliman at this time, even the archangel was just an ordinary-looking guy.

[…Squeak…]

The Lord of Avalon was amused by her own wonderful idea, and when she finally came to her senses, she found that Guilliman had solved all the problems and stood in front of her: the decadent atmosphere on his face instinctively added a bit of comfort to Morgan's words.

[Don't worry, brother: I believe you can handle this kind of situation. ]

"I really hope I can have the same confidence as you: in social aspects."

The Primarch just smiled bitterly, and this smile made Morgan raise his eyebrows.

It's really interesting. First it was the Emperor, then Jonson, then Perturabo, and now it's Guilliman. It turns out that this social phobia is actually inherited from the family? It seems that it is mostly a dominant trait: It should be said that as the top nobles who rule the galaxy, even the family genetic disease is so humanistic.

[Why don't you have confidence? 】

Morgan turned his head and winked at Lana on the side of the gate. Seeing the chief of the guards nodded in response, the Primarch turned around and led her Macragge blood relatives to the depths of the corridor: Morgan did not meet her blood relatives in front of the throne, so they still had to walk a distance before they could reach Corax's room.

This distance was enough for Guilliman to take care of his appearance and complain: Although the Emperor's daughter wanted to laugh at her blood relatives, she would not be stupid enough to embarrass Guilliman because of such a small matter.

"You can't say you have no confidence."

Following Morgan, the Lord of Five Hundred Worlds shook his head a little decadently.

"After all, this meeting was very sudden."

[So what? ]

"The last time you suddenly arranged for my brother to meet me was Conrad: Do you need me to recall the scene at that time?"

[……]

Morgan paused, and a blush flashed across his cheeks for a moment.

[Corax, not bad...]

"I hope so."

Guilliman nodded and didn't dwell on this question too much.

"But even so, I still have a lot of questions to think about in advance, so I can feel at ease: for example, how should I greet Corax, and what should I talk to him about? Oh, I didn't even bring a corresponding gift, it's always impolite to come empty-handed."

[Didn't you bring a gift?]

Morgan stopped walking, and she took the opportunity to turn around and face her brother, with her hands on her hips, her left knee bent forward, her neck slightly raised, and her posture seemed a little arrogant: her eyes wandered around Guilliman's neck, making the Macragge people shudder.

[Corax is an insurgent, my brother the King of Macragge.]

"...So?"

[So: The thing on your neck is not a gift to Corax, is it your head?]

"..."

——————

"No, this is a detachable permanent prop I carry with me."

"It is responsible for increasing intelligence."

"Remember, the interface is very fragile, remember to handle it with care, and don't touch it with sharp objects."

"Yes, that's it, be careful: you are as rough as an alien doing magic."

Midnight Ghost sat cross-legged next to Corax's arm, his two hands waving in the air, sweeping ugly scars under the light: It was under Conrad's pointing and gesturing that Corax, sitting upright in his seat, pinched those delicate parts, and sweat continued to leave stains on his forehead.

This state lasted for more than ten minutes, until Corax finally installed most of the parts in the correct position. The delicate decoration in front of him also revealed the basic outline. The original frowned, and he thought about the information about this outline in his mind.

"Are you sure this is a relic from ancient times, brother?"

"Yes."

The claws of the Midnight Ghost hooked his ankles, and his body swayed back and forth.

"This was excavated by my descendants in the Ghoul Star. At that time, there were several oiler teams that did not belong to the Far East Industrial Consortium who wanted to snatch this thing from them: I spent a lot of effort to impress those people."

"Those people? How many?"

"About forty crematoriums."

Conrad recalled.

"But later I experimented, this thing seems to be a very old radio or tape recorder, which stores some songs from ancient times: one of them may be what you need, Corax."

"Maybe."

Corax nodded.

"But I still don't think this will be a useful method: a song, a song chosen by me, let those Terran warriors and Redemption Star warriors sing together, can it bring them closer to each other? Effectively promote the unity of the entire legion?"

"In academic terms, this is called building collective cognition between teams."

Conrad moved his neck, making a creaking sound.

"Of course, it is definitely not as easy as simply singing a song. You also need some special stories behind the song and unforgettable common memories: but no matter what. It is always right to choose a legion song. I used a similar method to unite the old school of the Midnight Lords."

"How to do it specifically?"

"Uh..."

"Fully respect their hobbies and traditions in the field of clothing design: and then prove to them that I am the queen of Prada in the field of adult clothing, leading the fashion of the legion with my unique artistic style."

Midnight Ghost licked his lips.

"Speak human language."

"My human fur is cooler, more dazzling, more powerful, and more domineering than theirs, just like a million horses are destined to beat those weak chickens with 990,000 horses, mouthful of teeth!"

"..."

Conrad was saying something he couldn't understand again.

The Raven King turned around and continued to focus on the work at hand. He and Midnight Haunter had been roommates for several months and had long been accustomed to these unusual places: for example, waking up in the middle of the night, opening the refrigerator, wanting to drink some ice water, and then finding that the refrigerator was full of Midnight Haunter's treasured heart, liver, lungs, and spleen.

Well, all his own.

It was the first time that Corax had seen such a unique collection hobby.

Shaking his head, the Raven King focused his attention on the remaining parts, and just as he was conceiving the unfinished half in his mind, the Primarch's keen senses allowed him to hear some messy footsteps coming from the corridor outside the porch.

"... Is someone coming?"

"Ah, I heard it."

Conrad jumped off the table.

"It sounds like two people: they look like our blood relatives."

"Why are they here, visiting?"

Corax glanced at the clock.

"It's ten o'clock in the evening: when I was doing night operations on Redemption, I didn't assemble so late."

"You don't understand."

Conrad shook his head.

"Wait until tomorrow, I'll take you to the lower deck to take a look at the dormitory schools of those mortal crew members, and you'll understand: in those mortal schools, teachers will check the dormitories around ten o'clock in the evening, that is, before lights out, because only then will all the members be present, and they can also introduce new members to them."

"You mean... check the dormitories?"

This word made the Raven King's eyebrows jump, obviously thinking of some bad memories.

"Then do we need to clean it up: this room is a bit messy now."

"Why clean it up."

Conrad waved his hand, he turned around and leaned on Corax's chair.

"It's not our first year living together. I'm a senior after all."

"Wait, just stand here and watch how I deal with these dormitory inspectors."

The Crow King blinked and said nothing.

——————

Morgan walked in front, about half a body ahead of Guilliman. She stood still, knocked on the door politely, and then slightly pushed open half of the crack, adapting to the dim and warm light in the room in advance: But What swept over the original body's senses earlier than these colors was a quietness that was not disgusting.

"Enter."

When Morgan leaned her entire upper body in, Conrad's voice reached her ears belatedly, but no one present cared about it: the Lord of Avalon stood at the door, with one hand folded Waist, one hand holding the door handle that was dragged halfway, the figure and Guilliman behind him interspersed, allowing the Macragge to observe everything in the gap.

Like any living room that is often inhabited, this Primarch's residence also has some expected chaos, but it is always within acceptable limits, and when the two Primarchs stand in it, it becomes even more confusing. It makes everything look so harmonious and natural.

At a glance, I could see the shy light hidden behind the ice-blue chandeliers, like stars in the clouds, but the lantern on the table was a bit more tolerant than the moon, caressing the black hair of the two original bodies. Keep your hair from losing its luster.

In the harmony of the stars and the moon, other things in the room were like towns in a painting, gradually emerging from the fading darkness: stacks of books piled on the table looked shaky, but they were helping each other; The various decorations on the walls may be cold or strange, but they have all been wiped clean, without a trace of dust falling on them. The double bed in the corner is a little messier than expected, and there are obvious signs of lying on it. , the pillows and quilts piled at one end sank, and there was no time to smooth them out. There were scattered handwriting and notes beside them.

It's a little messy, but not that messy. Although the supplies and papers scattered everywhere don't look neatly gathered up, they still have some kind of wonderful coordination, as if the owner of the room deliberately placed them there. There: as long as you raise your hand, you will get what you want in the accustomed position, but if you move it casually, it will cause unnecessary trouble and a long search.

And when these chaos formed a certain track in the eyes of the two visitors, guiding them around the entire room and returning to the starting point, they would find that their two blood brothers were sitting at the starting point. center, smiling at them.

Corax was sitting on a chair, fiddling with something on the table, while Conrad was leaning on the back of his chair with his hands, leaning lazily, as if he was watching in boredom, or as if he was watching something indifferent. Guide patiently.

【What are they doing? 】

Morgan asked.

Conrad smiled, and then pointed to his Crow Brother.

"Corax and I are fixing up this old thing: and getting ready to practice singing with it."

[Practice singing? 】

Morgan and Guilliman looked at each other.

[Then, can we join? 】

"..."

This time, it was Conrad and Corax's turn to stare at each other.

——————

"Do you know what this is, Brother Corax?"

"An invitation?"

"That's right."

"And do you know how those mortals would respond to such an invitation, Brother Conrad?"

"..."

Midnight Ghost's face was in pain and entanglement, and he hesitated for a moment.

"Watch it, Corax."

"I'll only demonstrate once."

Then Conrad turned his head.

In that gentle light, in that comfortable leisure and warmth, in that pleasant moment when there is nothing to do, that moment when you quietly appear before your brothers.

Midnight Ghost looked at his sister.

Smile.

Then……

——————

"Call daddy."