40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 640 23. Pardon (I)

Looking in the mirror, Khalil buttoned the last button of his military uniform, feeling an unfamiliar urgency.

The dress uniform he wore only had two colors, black and midnight blue, which was unique to the Eighth Legion. The shoulders were supposed to have golden military ranks, but, strictly speaking, he had no military rank, so the gold became black metal.

There were many dimmed details like this on the whole dress, such as the triumphal mark on the collar or the personal mark of honor on the hem. Coupled with his usual expressionless face, he looked gloomy and solemn.

Staring at the mirror, Khalil shook his head - it was still not suitable.

He didn't wear formal clothes much in the past, and the same goes for ceremonial armor. Besides, neither of these things is based on comfort first. And if he really needs to attend an occasion that requires etiquette, no formal clothes or ceremonial armor can compare to his original armor.

But he had to wear it now. After all, it was the lion's order, who dared to disobey?
The person in the mirror smiled slightly at this strange joke, then reached out and picked up the medal on his chest and looked at it carefully.

They were not the real ones he had owned, but they were pretty close. They were of a very precise design, made of the finest materials. If you really wanted to argue, there was only one problem: they had not been issued since the Great Crusade.

The lion ordered them to be made according to his memory. I don't know what the craftsman in charge of this matter was thinking, following the order of the original body to make fake medals.
No matter how you look at it, this is not a good thing.

"He's really attentive," a voice sounded from his shadow, with a hint of mockery. "He only saw you in a dress once, and he memorized all the shapes of these medals. How interesting."

Khalil put down his hands, letting the medals clink against each other. He stepped back, picked up the military cap beside him, put it on, put on the ceremonial white gloves, and began to look at himself, wondering if there was anything wrong.

At this moment, the voice in the shadow sounded again.

"Are you going to pretend I don't exist?"

"No, Conrad, I was just thinking about something."

"Don't think about it, there's nothing wrong with your memory." Shadow sneered mercilessly. "You have indeed never worn a medal or a dress uniform."

"So--?"

Shadow laughed uncontrollably. "Do I need to remind you? Eighteen years, father! It's amazing that you can still review documents in that state. Do you like your work so much?"

Khalil sighed in anticipation, ignored his sarcasm, and silently changed the subject.

"So, when are you going to make your presence known to them?"

"Don't be impatient, father. The longer this thing is delayed, the more fun it will be. Don't you think so?"

"It's a very bad thing to have fun with your brother, Conrad."

"Yes, brothers - and I will be very careful about my behavior," Shadow answered meekly, but he couldn't hide his smile no matter what.

Khalil shook his head helplessly, turned around and walked out of his room. His boots hit the ground, bringing a gentle rebound. Everything was normal and comfortable, but he couldn't help feeling a sense of weirdness.

The metallic sound of medals colliding, the tightness of the waist design of the coat, the collision of boots and shin bones
But he happened to have extremely sensitive perceptions, so all these sensations mixed together at an indescribable speed, making his gait abnormally stiff.

No matter how good the suit was, he felt as if he were being restrained. Even if he had put tons of steel on his body, it would not have been comparable to the feeling he felt now.

+Relax, you'll get used to it sooner or later. +The shadow whispered quietly. +No matter how much you resist, it's useless, father, just get used to it as soon as possible. +
Khalil frowned and stopped to make way for two oncoming legion servants. They were carrying a huge machine and walked past with heavy steps. They could only express their thanks with their eyes.

+What does it mean? +
+Meaning, I think you'll be wearing this dress a lot in your future, Khalil. So your days of wearing a bone mask to avoid speeches and eye contact are over! +
"."

Khalil ignored him and walked towards an elevator without saying a word.

A few minutes later, he arrived at the 20th deck of the Rational Edge in a normal way, and successfully arrived at the door of a hall with the guidance. Two mechanical servants that seemed to have been modified to a low degree pushed open the heavy stone door that was 20 meters high with their hands, allowing him to enter.

However, after walking in, what first attracted Kalil's attention was not the black-armored giants who were talking to each other, but the emptiness of the hall.

There was no decoration here, not to mention gold and silver, not even a single painting could be seen. The stone pillars supporting the ceiling were extremely rough, and were completely unpolished raw stones. The only thing worth describing here was a stone chair, which was wide and rough, and directly connected to the ground and the steps. It was located inside the hall, blurred by the stone pillars and burning torches, like a huge beast hiding in the forest.

And it is indeed a beast.

+Ah. Did you see that, Khalil? You see, Lion El'Jonson is my brother for a reason. +
Khalil did not answer, but just looked at the stone chair calmly, then looked away, pretending that he did not know that there was a person standing behind the chair with his eyes closed in meditation.

A giant in black armor walked towards him. His armor was still worn out, but he had an unremarkable long sword on his waist.

He was not wearing a helmet, so Khalil recognized him easily - Zabril, a Terran-born Dark Angel, a member of the Death Wing.
This is very interesting, because the Death Wing still exists now, and Khalil really wants to know how they will view this 'old senior' who suddenly appeared. Will they protest fiercely, or accept it reluctantly?

Zabril stopped a meter away from him and then made the Eagle Salute. It didn't look familiar to him, but the hand gesture made when he crossed his hands was indeed the Eagle Salute.

Khalil raised his head to return the greeting, but found that not far behind Zabril stood an Astarte with a sullen face and who looked out of place with the others.
Zabril noticed his gaze and immediately began to explain, but his tone was very strange: "That's my, uh, squire, his name is Asmodai. Anyway, it's nice to see you again, my lord. My name is Zabril."

Khalil suppressed his smile and nodded calmly, "Me too, Knight Zabril. But, squire? I don't think he volunteered."

The old Dark Angel's expression fell instantly. He made a gesture in response to Khalil's words, and then fell silent. He had probably prepared for the conversation and had some mental notes, but now his plans were disrupted.

Khalil could tell from his troubled expression that he had many questions to ask, so he solved the problem for Zabril directly.

"Are you all here?" he asked, taking the initiative to start a conversation.

Zabril looked back quickly before answering, "I think so, my lord."

Silence fell again.

Khalil sighed and spoke again: "Is there anyone you know?"

Zabril smiled a smile that was too obvious to be true.

"I know all of them, but there are only a few I know well. I'm not sure they're as excited about this as I am. We've all been through a lot, and being hunted down so persistently isn't a particularly good experience."

"Are you ready?"

Zabril thought for a few seconds, his expression becoming somewhat empty. He shook his head and said, "No, I don't think we can be prepared. We don't even know why the lion summoned us here."

“He built this place with stones from Caliban, but, I’ll be honest with you, my lord, we don’t have a very good impression of Caliban at the moment.”

+Ha. Bad move, Leon.+
Khalil lowered his head as if thinking, to hide his helplessness at the moment - although Conrad's sarcasm and ridicule still echoed in his ears, he was not wrong, the lion did do something that was difficult to evaluate.

He summoned these people who had survived his sword, but he didn't give any reason. Although it only takes a moment to think that there will be no more bloodshed, why not be honest?

+He can't do it, Khalil. Leon and his army are different from the rest of us. Creating and keeping secrets has become their nature. And they love this nature. +
+You seem a little overactive today, Conrad. +
Khalil made a neutral comment and looked again at Zabril, who was still waiting for his answer.

This made him a little distressed, and he even had the urge to just say something to deal with it - fortunately, he didn't have to do so, because a figure had slowly walked out from behind the stone chair.

He was wearing only a long robe, with the dark winged swords of the Dark Angels faintly visible at the cuffs. He had tied up his long hair, and his thick beard was obviously well-groomed.

At this moment, he looked non-threatening, like a country lord who had decided to withdraw from the political struggle and was admiring art paintings in his mansion.
Of course, this is just an illusion. If you stare into those eyes, you will understand who he really is.

The conversation in the hall suddenly stopped.

+Father.+
+I beg you, Conrad, if you are really looking forward to this event, please come out on your own. +
+No, I just want to ask you, if you think my behavior of making fun of Leon and Ruth is bad, then is what Leon is doing now also bad? Don't you plan to educate him, great educator? Don't be partial to one and ignore the other.+
Khalil looked away with a twitching eye.

(End of this chapter)