40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 618 4. Lion and Wolf (I)

Khalil had to be honest about one thing - Banjo-1 was definitely the most harmonious hive city he had seen in the past four years. Or rather, a quasi-hive city.

Its resources have not yet been fully mined, and according to Imperial law, turning such a world into a hive is a waste of resources, but foresight is essential.

Sooner or later, the natural environment of Banjo-1 will be completely destroyed. The land will become desertified, the sea will dry up, and the air will become poisonous enough to kill people. At that time, it will have to find another way out, and transforming into a hive city is obviously the best choice.

First, it is a mining world that has a considerable degree of cooperation with the Mechanicum. Second, as a world that produces minerals, its rulers must have used their political skills and minerals to gain a lot of friendship.

If he wanted to maintain these hard-earned and precious friendships, he had to continue to maintain the value of Banjo-1. When the mineral resources were exhausted, it would be a completely profitable business to make it a hive city and serve as a transit station and resting place on the route.

Yes, huge profits without any investment.

Khalil was familiar with those nobles, no matter they were lords or ladies, they didn't care about the life and death of others, or in other words, they never considered other residents in the hive as their "originals".

A system that desperately needs reform, but cannot be reformed.

he mused.

Of course, to others, this was just him looking at himself in the mirror: a thick black coat, high collar, made of fine materials, priced at fifty common coins. A synthetic fleece sweater, 15 common coins. A pair of warm and comfortable deerskin gloves, 5 common coins.
The price of a complete set of clothing, excluding scarves and boots, was as high as seventy universal coins, which was equivalent to the old sailor Hayd's entire day's salary as a tour guide.

That is why, while the part-time tailor stood by with an expectant smile, Haid's face was full of embarrassment and anxiety.

He hadn't bought himself new clothes in a long time and had completely forgotten about the soaring prices, but Khalil still didn't say anything; he just paid the bill.

When a hundred-dollar bill fell into the shopkeeper's hands, Haid sighed deeply, and the shopkeeper's smile became even brighter.

"Thank you for your patronage, handsome sir!" he said, quickly giving them the change and then escorting them out of the store.

In the cold wind, the two began to walk silently. Khalil was just thinking, but Hayd was different. His face began to get redder and redder, and his gray beard and rough skin could not even cover it up.
Until finally, he couldn't stand it anymore and said, "Sir!"

"Ok?"

"It is really"

"Don't apologize." Khalil said first. "Believe me, Haid, this price is very fair - the overall price level in the Hazy Star Region is probably beyond your understanding."

"but--"

Khalil sighed, and looked down at the old sailor who was only slightly shorter than him. While feeling a sense of déjà vu, a strange thought came to his mind: Is this how they felt at the time?

He laughed, patted Haid on the shoulder, and led him forward.

There were hovercrafts speeding through the middle of the road. The height limit of six meters caused all these vehicles to fly at low altitudes, one after another, running at a rapid speed. Some were carrying people, some were carrying goods. They not only stirred up the smoke and dust, but the buzzing sound they emitted also made the conversation between the two people very secretive.

"I don't think you have anything to apologize for, Haid. But I must point out one thing. How did a man like you survive on Banjo-1?"

The old sailor paused.

At first, he was a little confused about this question, but the moment he looked into Khalil's eyes, the doubts disappeared.

In those dark eyes, perhaps caused by a mutation, Haid saw his own face, an old and battered face.

He couldn't help but feel a little dazed, and the memories that surged in his mind aggravated the blow to his mind. Somehow, in front of his employer whom he had only known for one day, Haid suddenly had the urge to talk.

He couldn't stop it.

"That's just how I live, sir," the old man replied with a wrinkled smile. "But it's hard, that's true, I won't lie."

Khalil looked at him with concern, saying nothing, but encouragingly with his gaze.

Haid lowered his head in confusion and muttered.

"I guess I just don't understand. They said I was too traumatized, too traumatized to continue serving, so they sent me here. This is not my home, sir. I'm not from Banjo or even the Hazy Galaxy."

"I understand," Khalil said.

He raised his head and continued walking, and this time he actually walked in front of Hayed.

He did not focus on the hovercrafts passing by or the miners who had just finished their shift, but instead looked at the huge chimneys rising one after another in the distance. These terrible hill-like buildings would release thick smoke all year round, polluting the sky of Banjo-1.

Over the centuries, these factories would be expanded, and the priests of the Mechanicus would use their Reason to merge factories and entire urban areas together to form Lower Hives.

The workers will live here for generations, unless they are lucky enough to go to the upper nest. The underground mines will not be spared either, and will become the bottom nest, where scum and unfortunate people will fend for themselves.

But this future is probably not coming.

Khalil looked away and smiled at the old sailor, whose spirit had improved. "By the way, Hayid, do you know where the government building or some place like that is?"
-
Azriel walked into a secret room with hurried steps. The medal of the Knights Templar was pinned on his collar, shining with a dull light.

This was the only ornament on his body. He was still in a period of asceticism, so he had to keep his body and mind pure in order to prepare for the next upcoming battle. In fact, if he hadn't come here to meet someone, he wouldn't even wear the medal.

Azrael paused.

There was a stone door in front of him, its surface covered with cracks and moss. It looked fragile, but underneath the stone was a sheen of pure gold.

Azriel solemnly raised his right hand and pressed it on the stone door. With some low humming sound, the ancient gears buried in the wall began to turn and creak.

The stone door slowly opened, and a cold air stream rushed out from it like a sword, piercing Azriel's face and pressing against his neck, making him unable to speak. The words he had prepared were swallowed silently back into the depths of his throat.

Inside the secret room, a giant slowly opened his eyes.

He was surrounded by ancient stones from Caliban, and the knight's robes he wore were worn and worn. A faint white light shone from the crack above his head, shining on the stones and his body, illuminating his thick golden hair that seemed to have faded.

The giant stood up and walked towards him.

"Azrael." He spoke in a low voice. "What do you want from me?" "Lion, I have no intention of disturbing your meditation."

"Of course you don't mean it." The giant called the Lion replied calmly. "But, tell me, what is it?"

Azrael's throat rolled up and down, obviously not knowing where to start. Ten minutes later, they walked into a meeting room.

The ornately decorated ceiling was covered with carved paintings, with black-armored knights holding swords and facing monsters one after another. And under the paintings, there was also a group of black-armored knights standing silently.

Even the arrival of the lion did not break the silence. It could even be said that his arrival deepened the silence.

The lion ignored them, simply reaching out and picking up a data tablet from the round conference table, sliding it up and down a few times, and then he fully understood what was going on.

But he did not speak immediately. Instead, he threw the data tablet back on the round table, then pulled out a chair and sat down.

His expression was hidden between his beard, and his long, unkempt hair fell on the back of his neck like a lion's mane.

At this moment, the only window through which everyone present could observe his emotions was his pair of deep green eyes. However, only a few of them dared to look him in the eye and explore his true emotions at the moment.

The lion snorted indifferently.

"Again," he said suddenly. "You keep your mouth shut and act weak and incompetent every time you get into these old secrets. Azrael, come here."

The young non-commissioned officer walked stiffly out of the crowd and came to him.

"Read the information and inferences on this data board." The lion said expressionlessly. "Read it out loud."

“As you command, my Lord,” Azrael croaked, then picked up the dataslate and spoke in a booming voice.

The message was actually very simple, just a string of secret keys, sent directly from Banjo-1's Arbitral Department, but it actually came from ten thousand years ago, from the Legion period of the Dark Angels.

In that complex era when various organizations were stacked one on top of another, this key and tens of thousands of its kind were widely used within the Dark Angels. Each had its own unique function and reference, and this one... After seeking help from the Fearless Elder Antros, the Dark Angels now got the answer before the Lion arrived.

As time passed, they no longer used these keys, and even the codewords and organizations were updated. Today, perhaps only the fearless elders and lions in the chapter still remember them and the glory of the past.

But shame is different.

".To sum up, this key is likely from a fallen angel who knew of our arrival."

Azrael said, putting down the data tablet. He had read the inferences above and now stood beside the lion, watching his nose and heart, without saying a word.

The lion couldn't help but let out a low laugh. Then, he slowly stood up and calmly denied the inference on the data board.

"No, this key was not given to us by the Fallen Angel."

As soon as these words came out, the members of the Knights looked at each other in bewilderment. One of them frowned and asked a crucial question: "But, sir, if not, who else could know these secrets of the past?"

"Fallen angel." The lion said. "But after sending this secret key, he is no longer a fallen angel."

"Now full speed ahead. I want to reach Banjo-1 in four Terra hours. Let us meet this surrendered criminal - and, have Asmodai calm down for me."

He threw down these words and turned away. Ten minutes later, he reached out and grabbed a spear from his personal armory.

The next second, the world changed. The incomparable cold replaced the tranquility in the armory. The cold wind like a knife blew in his face, blowing the lion's golden hair into a mess, but he ignored it and just walked silently in the cold wind.

"I say, isn't it time yet? Leon? Or are you not satisfied with the last result?"

"Shut up." Lion El'Jonson scolded helplessly.

He looked annoyed, but there was a smile in his eyes. The snowstorm in Fenris was still raging, and this year's winter seemed to be even more unbearable than in previous years. He was keenly aware of this, so he quickened his pace and rushed towards his destination.

"Oh, now I know what you are going to do." The voice sounded again, slowly and with a smile.

"I told you to shut up." Leon scolded again. "Don't bother me anymore. Do you know how difficult it is to find a trace in this damn snow?"

"It's not difficult for me, Leon. So, do you need help? Come on, just say a word and you will get help from Leman Russ. I am an experienced hunter. I have done this kind of thing at least tens of thousands of times."

"Am I not a hunter?" Leon retorted coldly.

With a frown on his face, he began to walk deeper and deeper into the snowfield that had been deserted for a long time.

This is an absolute forbidden area. No beast living on Fenris will set foot here. The same is true for the Sons of Rus. For ten thousand years, only the Lion would come here once a year on time.
Ruth laughed in his ear.

Lion El'Jonson took a deep breath.

"Yes, yes, of course you are a hunter, but the environment you hunt in is very different from here. You are a lion in the forest, and I am a wolf in the snow, so speak up, brother, and let me help you."

"You don't have a few hours left. You still have things to deal with on Banjo-1. Am I right?"

"Shut up!" Leon growled. "It's just a small matter! Bastard! If you look down on me again, I'll beat you so hard that you can't stand up!"

"Then you have to dig me out of my grave first, brother."

Rus laughed softly, and suddenly, the spear in Leon's right hand was raised freely, piercing through the wind and snow, and accurately pierced into the thick hair of a giant wolf.

A bloody mouth bit through the biting snow and rushed towards Lion El'Jonson, then bit his shoulder and gently threw him to the ground. Another giant wolf followed closely and rushed out of the snow and pressed the lion's chest as Russ couldn't stop laughing.

"Let me go!" the lion roared. "God damn it, I'm not Leman Russ!"

The wolves did not listen, but dragged him toward their den, where they gradually disappeared in the snow.

(End of this chapter)