40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 135 38. Mourning and Funeral (3)

"I don't understand," Marius Gage said rapidly. "Why don't you need anyone to accompany you? Even if you don't need a victorious army, you at least need an honor guard?"

"And then have them torture my ears and their own lungs by playing something I've heard hundreds of thousands of times? No, forget it, thank you, Marius, but I really don't need any Accompanied by someone.”

Robert Guilliman shook his head, buttoned the third button of his collar, and then sighed.

"I know what you want to say, Marius," the Lord of Macragge said lowly. "But I also want to ask you to trust my brother."

"I believe your brother, but considering that you plan to tell your brother directly about the death of his adoptive father, I think it is best for you to bring some people with you." Marius Gage replied stiffly. "Otherwise I will report this matter to Ms. Euton."

Guilliman looked at him dumbfounded. After a few seconds of staring, Marius Gage finally lowered his head.

"Sometimes, people's actions can reveal more than words." Guilliman's First Chapter Master said, his voice low. "You don't plan to take anyone down, what do you plan to do?"

"I believe you already know the answer, Marius," Robert Guilliman replied calmly. "I will take whatever anger I need to take - I deserve it. Khalil Lohars wouldn't have had to die if I hadn't invited him along."

Marius Gage finally had nothing to say.

Their Primarch was very reasonable in most situations, and listened carefully to the suggestions of anyone who had a different opinion. Except for times like this.

At times like this, Robert Guilliman would become very stubborn - his principles and a certain bottom line would prevent him from giving in to anyone unless he achieved his goal.

Ten minutes later, he and his brother met inside a transport plane.

Angron still wore that garment; he had nothing else suitable for serious occasions. At this moment, he was standing side by side with Robert Guilliman. The Lord of Macragge could see some subtle clues on his brother's face.

"You also spent a lot of time convincing them, right?" Guilliman asked.

"It's not just a lot of time." Angron replied angrily. "I've never spoken as much in my life as I did today, and every company commander I have, every adjutant, every person I know — they're trying to talk me out of it."

Roboute Guilliman imagined the absurd scene and should have laughed, but he didn't. He just lowered his head heavily.

".They are only worried about you," Guilliman whispered.

"Worried that I will be killed by one of my brothers?" Angron shook his head. "I believe he is not that kind of person."

"You haven't even seen him, Angron."

"Aren't you the same?"

"I have exchanged letters with him. In the letters, he behaved very maturely, which is not commensurate with his age. According to the time, he is already two years old. And now, we are going to tell a two-year-old child, The man he regarded as his father is dead, and there is no trace of his body.”

He stopped talking and began to gaze through the porthole into the eternal night of Nostramo. He knew some basic conditions of the planet and how harsh its environment was. He had heard specific descriptions from his brothers.

Not so with Angron.

The gladiator from Nuceria frowned unconsciously and began to stare at this weird city.

He could see the built areas that had been changed later, but he could also see the gloomy clusters of buildings and the still filthy sky. From these things alone, it was not difficult for him to imagine what Nostramo was like in the past. Moreover, he had actually heard some fragments of words shared by Robert Guilliman.

The upper-class nobles who led the cannibals and the extremely harsh living environment sounded terrible, let alone witnessing it with his own eyes. As he stared at it, Angron almost regarded this gloomy world as some kind of human life. Feeding monsters.

".You know what, Robert?" he said suddenly after a brief silence.

"What?"

"There are two types of slaves in the world, two types that are fundamentally different. I have thought about this question for a long time, and now I finally have the answer."

The gladiator turned to look at his brother and spoke seriously.

"One type is a born slave. They are always eager to be controlled by another person or something. In essence, they are just simple admirers, but they are not just as simple as admirers."

"The second type is slaves who were oppressed. This kind of slaves can be Nucerians who were violently forced to become gladiators, or they can be slaves who were forced to become gladiators by this kind of environment on Nostramo. The one who was forced to kneel down."

Angron shook his head seriously: "No one should live like this."

"And Konrad Curze lived like this before, brother." Robert Guilliman smiled slightly, his smile pale.

silence.

The cabin was landing, and the metal that made up the ground they were standing on vibrated endlessly, making an unpleasant noise, which could almost be regarded as a kind of torture, reflecting the inner depression of the Primarchs. But, no matter what, they landed smoothly and touched the ground ten minutes later.

The five-month wait is coming to an end today.

Angron took a heavy breath of air and walked out of the hatch side by side with Robert Guilliman. The cold temperature and bad smell hit their faces, and a figure in black robes stood waiting for them not far from the tarmac, which was obviously built recently.

With the Primarch's eyesight, they could easily see the pale face.

The completely dark eyes rested quietly on the towering cheekbones, the bridge of the nose was high, and the lips were shallow, now pressed into a curved line. Conrad Coates smiled like a perfect pale sculpture.

His face is perfect enough, and his long black hair and tall and thin figure add a more mysterious temperament to him under the reflection of the night, as if the night itself is smiling. Send regards.

"Good evening, my brothers, first meeting." Konrad Coze approached with a smile. "I hope my presumptuous request did not confuse you, but it is true that I will not be able to return to the Nightfall to meet with you today. Nostramo needs me."

Robert Guilliman did not immediately answer Konrad Curze's words. He looked past the Lord of the Eighth Legion and scanned the darkness behind him.

"Good evening, Konrad," Guilliman finally said. "Are you waiting here alone?"

"Ah, my legion doesn't have many people." Konrad Curze spread his hands apologetically. "Therefore there is no way to set up a military formation for you to review - they need to be on duty, and I can't let them miss work."

"I'm sure it's not a big problem," Angron replied quickly. "After all, we didn't bring anyone with us."

"Um"

Conrad Coates frowned in confusion: "Why is this?"

"Nothing, Konrad." Guilliman covered up the matter without leaving any trace. "Nostramo is very different from what I heard from Fulgrim and the others. I hope the supplies I sent will help you."

"certainly!"

Konrad Coates laughed happily: "And the five hundred ultramarines you sent - they also helped a lot!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Angron saw Robert Guilliman's eye twitching slightly.

"."

"Robert? Why don't you speak?"

".No, no, it's okay, I just-"

"--only?"

Conrad Coates raised his eyebrows and continued to ask in a soft tone.

"If you have something to say, just say it. You too, Angron. Although it is indeed our first time to meet, I think you should feel the same as me, right?"

He turned his head and looked at Angron. The Nucerian accepted the gentle gaze in silence, feeling his cheeks sting as if he were being cut into pieces by a thousand knives.

After a moment, he nodded and acknowledged Konrad Coates' statement. He knew with just one glance that this man must be his brother, there was no doubt about it, the call of instinct was unmistakable.

But because of this, Angron began to feel more and more guilty. He suppressed his talent, not letting it work. He didn't want to let himself perceive Konrad Curze's thoughts. Because Robert Guilliman was about to tell the truth.

The Lord of Macragge took a deep breath.

"Angron and I have brought you bad news. I believe you have also discovered that your legion's instructor, Khalil Lohars, did not land with us. He was invited by me to participate in the attack on the horse. Exploring the star field around Kurag and died in a disaster. We were unable to find his body.”

Roboute Guilliman bowed his still-laurel-wrapped head deeply, and Angron took over after a brief silence.

".He died to save my legion," the Nucerian croaked. "I don't know how to express my apology to you and my respect for him, Konrad Coates. But I hope you can—"

Angron frowned suddenly because he found that his pale brother was still smiling. Not only that, the smile even seemed to be growing.

"—Forgive you?" Conrad Coates asked softly. "No, no, I don't think it's necessary."

Guilliman raised his head in surprise, and happened to see Konrad Curze's flipped wrist. A flash of silver light flashed away, and a short knife that stung the eyes was struck by the Eighth Legion at an extremely fast speed. The Lord was in his hands, and his expression finally became calm at this moment.

The air began to get colder and colder.

Amid his brothers' silence--even vague relief--Conrad Curze spoke slowly.

"Because he's not dead, I don't have to forgive you." He said calmly. "But you should be grateful for the knife."

After he finished speaking, he turned around and disappeared into the darkness without looking back. Guilliman and Angron stood there in astonishment, but they heard a sigh from behind, and then a familiar voice.

"I tried to persuade him, but he persisted." The voice belonging to Khalil Lohars sounded in the darkness. "I'm sorry that your long journey only resulted in this result. But I'm actually very lucky. If this funeral was really held, I'm afraid I would be quite embarrassed."

Roboute Guilliman turned around as if faced with danger.

The update is complete. Counting tomorrow’s 6K words, there are 270,000 updates this month. It’s so embarrassing. I originally wanted to destroy it, but hey ()