40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 89 87. Between the Stars (3, [-]k)

Robert Guilliman smelled a burnt smell so horrible that he almost lost his sense of smell within the first two seconds of its presence.

The smell came and went quickly, and his pain disappeared in an instant, so fast that he almost doubted whether he really smelled that smell just now.

It wasn't until he saw the smoke emanating from the Astartes and his molten armor that he realized that the smell might not be a hallucination.

He heard footsteps, turned his head, and saw the head of the First Chapter escorting his housekeeper.

Marius Gage supported her, very cautiously.In response, Robert Guilliman pursed his lips. He actually didn't want them to come over, at least not Euton.The scene in front of her was not suitable for her to see.

——Actually, he thought that Eutun would show a little bit of shock when he saw the broken shoulder armor and the terrible scene, but she didn't.

She clutched her cane tightly, with a serious and serious expression, calm and composed among the giants who were much taller and stronger than her.

"What's the matter, Robert?"

".I can't answer your question at this time, ma'am."

Robert Guilliman bent down muttering, and the commander of the first battle instead of him supported Euton, but the latter threw off his hand, leaned on his cane and shook his head, under the short gray hair, the entire face Seriously.

"It doesn't matter if you don't answer me, but you have to figure out what's going on with this whole thing. I'm going to exercise the power you gave me to receive them, Robert."

She raised her right hand and pointed to the 490 Nine Astartes who were at the end of the red carpet, accepting the wreath and cheering from the crowd.

Their grimly colored iron armor even seemed a little warmer under the enthusiasm of the people, but Robert Guilliman could roughly guess their mood at the moment from their walking posture, and the lines of his cheeks became more and more tense.

"I understand, ma'am," he whispered.

Euton nodded to him, his gaze became much gentler, she leaned on her cane, and said nothing, but her expression had already told Robert Guilliman everything she wanted to say.

The Lord of Macragge smiled at his adoptive mother, then hardened his heart and let his First Chapter Master escort her away.

He turned around and saw a pair of open eyes.

"Instructor Khalil?" Guilliman asked seriously. "This is how the same thing?"

"I'm going to ask you for a quiet room so I can explain," Khalil said slowly. "And at least half an hour of talking time—alone. Just the two of us."

Robert Guilliman did not refuse, and began to rejoice that he had gotten Marius Gage and Ms. Euton out of here.

If they heard this sentence, it was absolutely impossible for them to accept it.In fact, let alone accepting it, Guilliman even suspected that his housekeeper would
No, now is not the time to think about that.

He cut off his thoughts and calmed himself down: "A quiet room is not a problem, and half an hour of talking time is not a problem. I can fight for being alone. But, what about this one?"

"He is VanCleef, First Captain of the Eighth Legion," Khalil said slowly. "He is alive and needs medical assistance. That's all, I can't say much more now."

silence.

For five full minutes, Robert Guilliman said nothing.To the Macragge his silence was almost deafening as thunder.But Khalil Rohars just looked at him calmly, maintaining the same silence throughout.

Gazing into those eyes, Guilliman finally nodded slowly.

"I trust you," he said. "I'm sure whoever directs the mind behind those eyes won't lie to me—but what medical assistance does this First Captain VanCleef need?"

"Please wait."

Khalil came to Van Cleef, raised his right hand, and gently but firmly took off Van Cleef's helmet.Accompanied by the unbearable sound of tearing flesh and blood, the molten helmet was slowly taken off.

The face underneath was incomparably mutilated, and the skin surface looked terrible as if someone had set fire to it with a promethium flamethrower. The tendon texture dripped to the ground, sliding down along the face where the bones had been exposed.

Moreover, his eyes are open—or, he has no way to close them anymore.Fortunately, he left his eyeballs and eyesight, and he left the misfortune to those who observed him.

Guilliman noticed that he was even breathing.

The corners of Lord Macragge's eyes twitched violently.

Immediately afterwards, he felt a chill—he couldn't tell where this feeling came from, but he saw Kalil, who was facing away from him at the moment, sticking his right hand firmly to the face of the melted flesh.

"It's my fault, Van Cleef."

He said in a low voice, his tone was like an announcement. "But you don't have to die, at least you don't have to die here. That thing retreated at a critical moment, and it didn't want to be traced back to it by me through the trace left in your heart. It escaped, but you will suffer for a long time."

VanCleef opened his mouth, and charred teeth protruded from the flesh - a terrible guess suddenly appeared in Guilliman's mind, and he realized that the captain's self-healing ability was still functioning.

However, his flesh and blood instinctively refused to be reborn.

why?
The realization made Robert Guilliman's eyes widen and he almost felt dizzy.

Van Cleef opened his mouth and awhed hoarsely, as if he wanted to speak.And his voice is obviously not as lucky as his eyes, he has lost the ability to speak, but Khalil listened very seriously, and even nodded repeatedly.

After a moment, he nodded.

"I understand."

Guilliman couldn't see Khalil Rohars' expression, but he could hear the suppressed anger in his tone - he had often spoken to others in this tone himself, and he was an old hand at it.

"But this is not your responsibility, Van Cleef. You don't know what that thing is. But I assure you, that thing will get its comeuppance."

Guilliman saw that the captain of the Eighth Legion nodded slowly.So he turned his head and made complex and continuous gestures to the Ultramarines behind him.

He didn't need words to express the words 'medical assistance'; in the Ultramarines' internal tactical manual, he codified emergency hand gestures for every possible situation.

Khalil Rohars turned around and looked at him with a suppressed and calm expression, which made Guilliman feel as if he was looking in a mirror.

This expression was all too familiar to him.

"A room," Khalil said softly. "And three 10 minutes alone, and I'll answer every question you have."

"These things are not a problem," Guilliman said, hearing footsteps behind him, and he knew it was his—

He stopped his thoughts, sighed deeply, and at the same time raised his right hand, making a stop gesture.His medics stopped behind him, the hum of power armor still evident, but the footsteps had died away.

Then, he saw the first company commander of the Eighth Army take the helmet that belonged to him, which was melted and intertwined with flesh and blood from their instructor, and slowly brought it up.

His fingers were trembling, but he didn't stop for even half a second.

"First Captain VanCleef." Robert Guilliman said solemnly. "We'll heal you."

He turned sideways to let the medical officer pass by.Seeing Khalil Rohars' grateful eyes, but for the first time, he didn't know how to respond.
-
It's a study, obviously.The marble table is extremely thick, obviously not the size for mortals.It was piled high with paper—everything from parchment rolls to plain white paper, and even a few Macragge local newspapers.

And at the other end of these papers are stacked data boards.At this moment, sunlight just penetrated through the long and narrow floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a comfortable temperature on the brown-red wooden floor.

The Lord of Macragge let out a foul breath and took off his uniform.God knows how much he had just spent convincing his steward to give him this precious half hour.

He turned around and hung his clothes on the coat rack by the door. He wanted to find a suitable opening statement, but he didn't expect his guest to be the first to make a speech.

"Just like I said." Khalil calmly lowered his stance. "I will answer every question you have, Lord Robert Guilliman."

"."

Guilliman was silent for a moment, rubbing the little finger of his right hand against the braided thread of his trousers for a few seconds.He then chose a more cheerful tone from hundreds of alternatives.

"My brothers say you don't like honorifics," he said. "Rogge used hundreds of words to warn me about your little persistence in this regard. It seems that he is wrong?"

"No, there is nothing wrong with Roger Dorn, but I am not talking to you in a private capacity."

Khalil Rohars - Instructor of the Eighth Legion shook his head slowly. "Therefore, etiquette is a must."

Guilliman nodded calmly, already realizing that his opponent was obviously more difficult to deal with than he thought—yes, he didn't take Khalil's words seriously.

It's enough to listen to answering every question. Seriously, people are either children with a pure heart, or politicians who are the worst.

Before he knew it, he seemed to have come to regard Khalil Rohars as a political opponent.

"So, can I start asking questions?"

"Of course." Khalil nodded slowly. "Just, before that, I hope you can give me a map of the city of Macragge."

Guilliman frowned.

　That's it for today, [-], I'm tired, I can't write anymore.

　　Ask for votes.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)