40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 376 105. The Burning of Five Hundred Worlds ([-])
  "I think you should come and see this," Perturabo said.

Vulkan did not answer his words, and the Fire Dragon Lord's expression looked like he was in a storm. Sunlight shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows, hitting him like a bullet.

In front of him stood a long stone table, carved from a single piece of stone, with twenty-one chairs placed around it, each one covered with a flag.

Their size makes it very obvious who they were made for - or for whom.

Perturabo walked to the head of the long table and held up the flag that was draped on the back of the chair. This chair is larger than other stone chairs, and its pattern does not belong to any Astartes Legion. The golden Sky Eagle and Terra shine on it.

"Eighteen in total." He held the flag tightly and spoke slowly. "He was so thoughtful. He took everyone into consideration, even the two who will never appear again."

Following his words, Vulkan looked at the two chairs covered with white cloth, and he couldn't help but sigh.

"Don't grieve for them," said Perturabo coldly. "Do you think they deserve your compassion, brother?"

".I don't question my father's decision, but I do feel sad that they will be forever absent from this."

Perturabo snorted, but didn't say anything. He walked behind the chair that belonged to him, reached out and picked up the flag, unfolded it and looked at it carefully, and then he began to fold it carefully.

Vulkan looked at him confused and asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"Political purposes," the Iron Lord said calmly.

"Politics? Is there anyone who opposes you?" Vulkan frowned. "Who would do such a thing at such a time? And isn't Ms. Euton's opinion enough to shut them up?"

"Politics is not a matter of words, Vulkan. Tarasha Yuton may be widely respected, but she will never be liked by all Macragge's bureaucrats."

"What do you mean?" the Fire Dragon Lord asked cautiously.

"Some may privately express their admiration for her, but publicly they will staunchly oppose her and occasionally dissent Robert Guilliman."

"The game called politics is essentially just an exchange of interests, and Robert Guilliman is obviously capable of breaking this exchange of interests that has lasted for thousands of years. Whether it is him or us-"

Perturabo lowered his head and carefully tucked the flag into his belt, his voice still calm.

"——In fact, all of them have the ability to make politics a matter of fact. The only difference is whether they want to or not. Of course Robert Guilliman will not do this. He is willing to use some regression to turn Macragge into a so-called progressive democratic city. I'm different. To me, these opponents deserve to go to jail or be beheaded, whether they are or not."

He paused.

"Will be willing."

Vulkan was silent for a while and then answered him: "Macragge hasn't changed his name to Olympia yet, has he?"

"Huh?" Perturabo narrowed his eyes and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"I just think this is a bit weird-" Vulkan struggled to explain what he 'meaned'. "——I mean, I understand every step of your transformation of Macragge, and I fully understand their necessity."

"But, is it a little too much for you to walk into a private room sealed off by Robert like this and openly take away the things he prepared so that you can find a legitimate reason for yourself to kill someone?"

"You've done your good old habits again, Vulkan." Perturabo sighed, turned around and walked out of the room.

Vulkan quickly caught up with him, while still not forgetting to close the door. The victorious troops nodded to him, but the Fire Dragon Lord hid his face and speeded up.

In the court of Lord Macragge, the two Primarchs began to walk and talk - or rather, pursue and argue.

"What does it mean that a good old man has committed another problem?" Vulgan frowned and asked. "I simply don't see the need for you to do this. Even if they oppose you, what can they do?"

"Erotic Valentus and Ms. Euton firmly support you. The two forces you need to fight for most are already standing behind you. What else do you have to worry about? Why behead them?"

"I do everything for a reason," Perturabo replied coolly.

"Then please at least explain it to me?"

"I don't see the need to do this." Perturabo tilted his head and said.

His words caused the Fire Dragon Lord to suddenly raise his hand, grab his shoulder armor, and forcefully force him to stop. The two victorious soldiers following them turned their heads without looking away and began to look up at the windows in the wide corridor of the palace.

Vulkan stared into his brother's eyes and asked sincerely for the last time. "I'm not accusing you, Perturabo. I just don't understand why politics in the secular sense has an impact on you. You said it yourself, you are a primarch and you can make politics a one-word speech. "

"What's more, you still have the support of Hero Valentus and Ms. Euton. Why are you doing this? There is a limit to some things. You can transform Macragge because it is necessary for war, but why do you You want to kill people for no reason because of a few objections? What do you think Robert will think if he finds out?"

"He will thank me." Perturabo said helplessly and angrily. He couldn't stop sighing.

"What?" Vulgan looked at him in shock, as if his brother had finally gone crazy.

"He will thank me," Perturabo repeated. "And I'll forgive you, because you've basically been away from me behind that damn tactical desk for the past four days, and you don't know what I sensed in those documents."

Vulkan was a little embarrassed, but looked at him more and more doubtfully.

"In ten minutes—no, nine minutes. Valentus will lead two men into a drawing-room to which I am about to go."

"A man named Mog Srelter is a rogue trader on Macragge. He is very powerful and is responsible for selling their local specialty wine across the galaxy."

"The other person is Elam Santiafos, the foreign director of the Macragge Press Office. He ended his overseas assignment half a year ago and returned to Macragge."

"The lives of these two people have never intersected in the past, until half a year ago. Do you know where this respected businessman and this dedicated foreign director came back from?"

"Where?" Vulgan asked uneasily.

"Istvan," Perturabo replied coldly. "What's even more coincidental is that they happened to be among those who opposed me - and strongly requested to meet with me."

His words made Vulcan's pupils shrink sharply.

"you mean--?!"

"It's better to kill the wrong person than let him go." The Lord of Steel said, and took steps again, striding forward.
-
  Looking at the scene in front of him, Valentus couldn't help but frown. After a moment of silence, he finally couldn't help but ask: "Mr. Mog Slater, do you really need to bring so many attendants?"

"Of course, Lord Yingjie." The man wearing a beautiful dark purple cloak and a straight mustache answered his question without raising his head, his attention still focused on the wine swaying in the glass.

"Besides, is this really a lot? It's just ten followers. Besides, they don't wear weapons."

His tone was very arrogant, just like every rogue trader with a big family and business, full of a sense of superiority brought about by privateering licenses and huge wealth.

Valentus suppressed his anger and looked at his ten followers. These people were uniformly dressed, all wearing beige armed robes, and their hairstyles were also very uniform. They were all bald for easy wearing of helmets.

They did not wear weapons, but Valentus could see some clues from their stance. They were too professional, and it was obvious that these people were actually the private soldiers of this rogue trader.

Stupid coward. Valentus thought. They sternly opposed him, believing that he was destroying Macragge's civilization and progress. The request was met and he could meet with him, but he had to bring along these private soldiers who were unlikely to be effective.
  If a Primarch wants to kill you, what can these people do, even if they are armed?
  "Then do as you wish," said Valentus. "And what about you, Director Elam?"

"Huh?" The person whose name was called looked over in panic. "Wh-what's the matter, Lord Yingjie?"

"Why did you ask for a meeting with Lord Perturabo?" Valentus asked according to the script. He had just thrown this question to Mog Slater.

Although the answer given by the latter was stupid, it was also reasonable - the Rogue Trader believed that Perturabo's martial law policy prevented him from leaving Macragge and threatened his life safety and business opportunities. For this reason, he Oppose the Lord of Steel and demand a meeting with him.

So, what about this person?
  Valentus looked at the frightened foreign news director, and some doubts gradually flashed in his heart.

He hadn't met the other man before, but he didn't think a normal Macragge would be so uneasy when facing an Ultramarine.

This may be explained by the fact that he is about to meet Perturabo. After all, it is Perturabo, so it is expected that he is worried about his personal safety. But why does he keep glancing back?
  Valentus looked behind Elam Santiafos.

There was a young assistant holding a camera, carrying the machine that had not yet been started, looking calmly ahead. Noticing where his gaze fell, Eram Santiafos's trembling actually became more intense.

Yingjie narrowed his eyes and moved his hands to his waist. At this moment, he heard a sigh, coming from Elam Santiafos' assistant.

"You worthless idiot," he cursed and dropped the camera.

A thousandth of a second later, a violent explosion suddenly erupted.

　This chapter is 3k, with 7k to go.

　　
  　
  (End of this chapter)