40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 95 93. Robert Guilliman (4k)

"Being trusted" will to some extent make some people jump into a cage of paranoia on their own initiative. Similarly, the eyes and expectations of others will sometimes become poison that erodes rationality.

Robert Guilliman knew both things well.

In fact, he could even describe them a thousand different ways if he wanted to.He can use the philosophical way of thinking he learned in Jericho University to analyze, or he can write a sonnet to vaguely and ambiguously point out their good and bad.

But after putting aside these useless recitations, there was really only one thought left in his mind.

He cannot fail them.

Anxiety and restlessness ensue.

So Robert Guilliman set to work again.

This has been No.30 nine times today.Sitting behind his marble desk, he straightened his back and reached for a data slate.

Macragge's livelihood report for today emerged from the green figures, he read them, mastered them, and then began to issue orders. Three minutes later, he heard footsteps coming from outside the corridor.This means that the officials in the administration building have received his order and are now going to carry it out.

He relocated his office, the former King Connor's study, to the top of the building, which was Macragge's administrative hub, where all government officials worked.While the location has changed, the office decor has not.

Everything inside is the way Connor Guilliman once liked, even the scratches on the wooden floor have not been removed.Nothing had changed except that some furniture had been changed to fit his size.

Crunching data—by this day, it's almost something of an instinct for him.He does it well without thinking.

He quickly finished handling today's share of government affairs, and then fell into a burst of indescribable emotions.Uncontrollably, he began to think back, and started to think back to that cold feeling, as if lying in the middle of the ocean and being washed by the tide.
In a trance, that huge sense of oppression came again.

Robert Guilliman closed his eyes and pressed his temples with both hands, trying to ignore it, but he was still unable to do so.

His reason screamed, and the part of his memory about the truth of the Empire clashed horribly with the reality he had seen.

After a long silence, he sighed and raised his head, intending to take a look at the portraits of his adoptive father and biological father.Looking up, what he saw was not the two portraits hanging high on the wall, but a pale and gloomy face.

".I didn't hear any sirens." Robert Guilliman said after taking a deep breath.

"Of course." His unexpected visitor replied softly. "I used some means that I shouldn't have used. I'm sorry if I scared you."

Robert Guilliman frowned, then actually laughed.

"Actually, Instructor Khalil, you didn't scare me...Compared with what you showed me five days ago, this sudden appearance is nothing."

Khalil didn't answer him immediately, but stared at the slightly haggard Lord of Macragge. After staring briefly, he smiled slightly.

"That's the truth you ask for," he said. "So, I don't want to take the charge of keeping you in your room for more than five days."

"Stop using honorific titles at times like this." Guilliman shook his head wearily. "I guess my housekeeper has already gone to you?"

"Yes."

"Forgive her. Ms. Euton is so stubborn. She still forces me to eat vegetables three times a week. I'm not a picky eater, Khalil, but I don't want to see more than three vegetables on my table during a big dinner."

He smiled and shook his head, but watched Khalil's reaction from the corner of his eye.

It's interesting that Khalil didn't ignore this incident, as well as the slightly interesting little story that Robert Guilliman deliberately revealed-in and out, he was telling Khalil Louhals: Euton is a lady with a detached status.

Can't speak well anymore?
Khalil also laughed, but what he said next had nothing to do with Robert Guilliman's last sentence: "You should be guessing now why I came to you quietly."

Guilliman narrowed his eyes slowly, and said calmly, "I won't deny it."

"I won't admit it either."

"Of course, politicians are like that, and I'm Macragge's biggest politician."

"And a politician with the best heart."

"Being a politician has nothing to do with having a good heart, Khalil."

"Do you enjoy this charade?" his visitor asked softly.

"Do not."

"Really? But I think you seem to be enjoying it."

"Because you're the only one I've talked to in the past five days. I don't enjoy charades, but I like and enjoy every second of talking with someone I respect." Guilliman said frankly. "I've thought about it many times these days, will someone push the door and come in. But let alone push the door, they won't even knock on the door, and even the data board and government affairs are sent in through the fast lane over there."

He raised his hand and pointed to a long iron-gray metal block on the wall next to it. It was inconsistent with the overall style and structure of the study, and it could even be said to be a bit abrupt.

"A small sacrifice in efficiency." Guilliman said, he noticed Khalil's line of sight, so he explained it a step ahead. "Sometimes I have to spend a day and a night in this office."

"Is it working so hard?"

"If you simply serve as the captain of the Ultramarines, it's actually not too much trouble. It only takes half a day at most to handle all the affairs of the day, but I'm still the ruler elected by Macragge, and people trust me. So I must do my best."

"Best." Khalil nodded thoughtfully. "Normally, people do the best they can, but you seem to be different, Robert Guilliman."

Guilliman raised an eyebrow.

"Finally you don't plan to call me by honorific title anymore." He said half-jokingly. "Roger didn't quite believe it when he told me about it."

Khalil smiled slightly, with a gentle face: "Maybe you should believe, just like you should believe in the imperial truth."

After this sentence, the atmosphere turned straight down.

"...how am I going to believe again?" Guilliman replied gloomily.

"Imperial Truth denies superstition, religion, and all supernatural forces. Even those things that humans cannot understand are only part of objective existence. Sooner or later, they will be fully read, fully analyzed and understood. Before that night, I really believed that, Khalil. But not now."

"Why not?"

With a wry smile, Guilliman shook his head, the laurels shining on his forehead: "Because one cannot believe a lie."

"But you can maintain it," Khalil said softly.

"Trick everyone with lies?"

"White lie."

"It's also a lie, the essence is the same. I can't believe I said that."

Guilliman leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. Although he was smiling, his face was full of extreme self-deprecating self-sarcasm.

"I'm a young and seasoned politician, maybe even the most outstanding group of politicians in the galaxy. And now I'm denying a lie that can keep countless people rational?"

"You're not denying it," Khalil said. "You're just trying to convince yourself. It's a common problem of people like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Yes."

"Who am I?" Guilliman asked rhetorically. "If you're going to prevaricate me with a long list of titles, please don't. Without them, I'm just Robert Guilliman, and that's all."

"And it's Robert Guilliman I'm talking about now," Khalil said quietly. "A man torn between being right and being right."

".correct?"

Guilliman looked at him in bewilderment, as if he didn't understand the meaning of the words just uttered from Khalil Rohars' mouth.

"Correct?" he repeated, in the most standard High Gothic. "What is correct?"

"Correct, it's the hardest way." Khalil replied softly.

He stood in the shadow of the room, which was completely dark now.

The curtains in the study room were originally drawn, and at this moment, the few lights were cut off. His pale face was looming in the darkness, and paired with those dark eyes, he seemed to be the incarnation of some kind of evil that only existed in ancient legends.

Guilliman laughed abruptly, laughing at his inappropriate metaphor.

Evil incarnate.He smiled and shook his head.An avatar of evil patiently counseling me.

After a moment of silence, Guilliman spoke again.

"Father trusts you," he said. "Both Rogge and Fulgrim mentioned this matter. Ferrus didn't say it explicitly, but I can see that he wanted to tell me the same. As for Lorgar... well, Khalil, did you have any conflicts?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"Just a gut feeling."

"There was a conflict," Khalil said. "But it's nothing, it's just a trivial matter, and it has been resolved."

"I won't ask about the specific situation." Guilliman sighed and gestured.

"In short, my father trusts you a lot—not only from my brothers' descriptions, but also from many aspects. So I'm wondering, is it his will that you showed me those things?"

"Is this important to you?"

"It doesn't matter," Guilliman said. "But it will solve a lot of my problems."

Khalil watched him for a moment—a stare, to be precise.

Guilliman pursed his lips helplessly, he didn't like the feeling of being stared at by Khalil Rohals.

To say the least, meeting his eyes would make Guilliman feel like a garden, and Khalil Rojas a seasoned gardener.

The gardener would swing a shovel and turn up every grove in the garden to see what was underneath—he might even unearth a few rotting bones a few feet below.

"So, you don't plan to get to the bottom of it." After a long excavation, Khalil said, his voice as soft as ever.

"maybe."

"Those things...they are poisonous, Robert Guilliman," said the visitor slowly in the darkness. "They contaminate everyone who sees them in such a way that there is no trace of it, and there are few ways to avoid it."

"Humans are protected from their direct gaze only because someone stole the fire. That's all."

"This man held a torch and terrorized them again and again in the dark, fighting them. Sometimes they ran away easily, and sometimes they didn't, and he had a hard fight. Think of that, Robert. Isn't it funny a man with a torch fighting monsters in the dark?"

Yeah, it's funny.

Guilliman sat up slowly, his expression serious.

"Where did you learn this?" he asked in the softest voice of his life.

His visitor didn't answer, his visitor just held out his right hand, just like that night.

"How?" the visitor asked. "Want to find out?"

Robert Guilliman stood up slowly, his eyes fixed on the hand.Pale, slender fingers, tiger's mouth, fingers and palms are full of calluses.Speculations about weapons and combat rushed into Guilliman's mind, but he let them slip away.

Now is not the time to analyze, and he doesn't need to analyze these.

"What does that mean?" Guilliman asked calmly.

"Handshake." Khalil smiled slightly. "Old etiquette, from Terra. I think you should know."

"Of course I know - but what I want to ask is, what are the consequences of this?"

"What do you think?"

Guilliman frowned and shook his head angrily: "The time for charades is over, Khalil, I don't want to play these tricks with you now, I just want to know what consequences it will bring."

"Hold it." Khalil said calmly, his tone so calm that there was no hint of urging. "Then you'll know."

The corners of Robert Guilliman's eyes began to twitch, and half a minute later he thought of Euton's face.After another half minute, he looked up and glanced at the portraits of his fathers.

Conor Guilliman gazed calmly, while the Emperor, Lord of Mankind, had his eyes closed and his face pitiful.

Then he held out his hand.

And then—there was a flash of golden light.
-
Macragge's night was very different from Nostramo's, but Khalil was not surprised.Looking at the entire universe, places like Nostramo are rare.

He squatted above the garrison assigned by the Eighth Army, gently pressing his palms against the roof, feeling the lingering warmth that was about to disappear.It's just getting dark, but it will take some time for the heat cast by the sun to wear off.

so good.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes, instead of using psionic energy, he used another kind of warm power.

+ He is really good. +
+ His excellence has nothing to do with me. +
+Is it?If Robert Guilliman knew this, he would not be so happy. +
+ Are you going to tell him? +
+Maybe if you don't thank me. +
+I thanked you earlier that night, Khalil. +
+I didn't mean that. +
The pale giant opened his eyes, and smiled a little mischievously, which was rare.He lay back and slowly closed his eyes.

He needs a break.

　I'm stuck, that's all for today ()
　　
　
(End of this chapter)