40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 700 82. Interlude: Triumphal Ceremony (I)

The shuttle landed again, the hatch dropped, and Khalil jumped out with a briefcase in his hand.

He didn't have time to wait for the shuttle to lower the stairs - yes, he was so greedy now that he wanted to grasp even such insignificant seconds firmly in his hands.

As soon as he landed, he began to run, his boots hitting the ground with a hard sound, but it didn't last long before it was swallowed up by another sound. This sound was extraordinary, deafening, and kept echoing.

It was made from two massive horns, made of pure gold and jewels, costing a fortune to maintain each year, and was crafted by an artist of distinguished descent, one of whose ancestors had carved the Emperor's Vision.

In order not to disgrace this honor, this family has worked hard for generations, hoping that one day they can create works that live up to the name of their ancestors, and this artist may be the one who comes closest to it.

He was commissioned to make them three centuries ago. In order to cast these two golden horns, each 20 meters high, he used up all the money and connections his family had accumulated over the years. Unfortunately, he died of illness due to overwork in the final stage.
After his death, the two horns were presented to Sanguinius by local nobles at the Feast of the Emperor's Ascension that year. They also wrote a long letter, hoping that the Archangel could accept the gift on behalf of the Emperor. The words were so sincere that they almost made people cry.

However, the artist's name was not mentioned in the letter.

Finally, Sanguinius also wrote back a letter, equally earnest, but never mentioned whether he would accept it or not. He just said that he hoped the two horns could remain in their maker's hometown, to attract tourists and to be blown there every year during the Emperor's Ascension Festival.

If you are loyal enough, then my father will be able to hear their voices. In this way, he will know which loyal people miss him.
As a tradition, the two horns were left at Fortress No. 300 and were blown once a year. As for whether the Emperor heard them, perhaps only he knew the answer.

However, most of the nobles who signed the letter had their property confiscated one by one within the next half century. Some died of corruption or had their property confiscated and were exiled, with few exceptions.

It's a very ironic story, but it's a pity that Khalil doesn't have time to learn more now.
In about forty minutes, the grand triumphal ceremony would officially begin, and he hadn't even arrived yet.

He had been notified six hours ago, but, as Machado said, he was also part of politics - the State Council actually sent him a large number of confidential documents at this critical juncture that required him to be personally inspected, signed and filed under his supervision.

When the work was done, the six hours that could have been spent leisurely were reduced to only a short two hours and twenty-two minutes. If it weren't for the fast speed of the shuttle he was riding, he would probably still be traveling in the universe.

What's even more terrible is that all forces in the empire must appoint an important representative to this triumphal ceremony, and the candidate of the Inquisition is him.

Khalil was certain that this series of reactions was a deliberate revenge by a certain Sigillite, but he had no way of saying anything about it.

Is there a problem with the Inquisition appointing him as a representative? No, there is no problem from every angle. In fact, both publicly and privately, he should wait for the return of the heroes of the expedition fleet under the grand red carpet and magnificent city walls.
It would be even better if he had time to arrive early, really great.

He ran wildly, the cold wind whistling past his ears, and his fast speed even forced him to use one hand to hold his hat tightly. Caryl finally couldn't help but sigh.

He really wanted the omnipresent darkness to help him and take him directly to the venue, as easy, simple and natural as before. Unfortunately, this was impossible.

At this moment, the security level of this fortress has reached an unprecedented level. People from all parties have shown their skills and invested huge energy and efforts in security.

Similarly, after hearing the news, people from all over the solar system flocked in to see the glory of the Primarch, filling every corner of it. The site of the triumph ceremony was watched by more than 100,000 cameras at the same time.

Moreover, at this point in time, the inquisition team must have lined up on both sides of the wide road, waiting for the military band to play music. If he suddenly appeared from the darkness like before, the scene would probably not be very good.
Even if he left the darkness in advance and walked into the team, there would be little hope. He didn't know how many sentries were stationed around the team, and if even one of them spotted him, there would definitely be some trouble.

Thinking about these things, Khalil felt that his head had never hurt as much as it did today. Fortunately, this dedicated helipad was not big, but in just three minutes, he ran to the elevator, where someone was already waiting.

Two Inquisitorial agents in black uniforms came up to him from the left and right. One of them met with him and took out a data pad for identification, while the other reached out and took the heavy metal file box in his hand, pressed the headset, and began a series of complex communications in code.

A few seconds later, the elevator door slowly opened and they filed in, with the agents still surrounding him one after another.

Carlile took off his wide-brimmed hat and finally had time to take care of his messy hair, while still keeping his eyes on the bright red numbers that were constantly jumping on the right wall of the elevator.
Soon, it went from one hundred and twenty-one to a simple one.

The door slid open, but there was no one outside. The bright sunlight at noon shone evenly on the wide stone brick road. Khalil stepped out of the elevator, feeling the sunlight after being changed by the ecological dome, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

The agent holding the briefcase raised his hand to show him the direction, and the other moved silently to the end of the team. Three pairs of leather boots began to stomp the ground quickly, coats fluttered, and the loud sound of the horn echoed again.

At this moment, their voices sounded different. They were still powerful, but not deafening anymore. Instead, they sounded like human voices, like the loud roars of warriors, echoing in the valley.
Two minutes later, between the shadows cast by the tall buildings and the little remaining sunlight, they stopped in front of a motorcycle and an extremely empty road.

"Sir, we have made temporary arrangements. Just drive along the road. There will be no obstacles. It will only take you ten minutes to reach the outside of the ceremony venue, where someone will pick you up as well."

Khalil nodded to them, turning his words of thanks into the Sky Eagle Salute. He tightened his wide-brimmed hat, climbed onto his motorcycle, stepped on the accelerator, and sped away.

The agent gave him ten minutes, but he squeezed out the performance of the motorcycle and shortened the time to eight minutes. The person who was responsible for picking him up stood under a triumphal arch that was huge enough to accommodate any size of Titan, waiting silently, as small as an ant.

Khalil didn't bother to brake, and jumped off the motorcycle to meet him, letting the machine fall to the ground and spin away. The latter hurriedly saluted and took him to the side of the Arc de Triomphe without saying a word, and stepped into a tower.

They took two steps at a time up the historic stone steps and reached the second floor in less than half a minute. It was another anxious elevator trip. After that, they ran and changed trains and arrived at the top of the tower.

This place is extremely magnificent, connected to an extremely ancient city wall, towering like a cliff. It covers an extremely large area inside. In the past, it served as the administrative center when the 300th Fortress was first built, and later became the old city, but now it has been completely demolished.

The white floor tiles temporarily transported from other fortresses were polished and smooth one by one, covering every corner. Outside the city wall are countless high-rise buildings, almost reaching the maximum height allowed by the ecological dome, magnificent like countless straight swords, piercing straight into the sky.
But Khalil no longer had time to admire the spectacular sight. There were only eleven minutes left before the triumphal ceremony began, and he had to rush to a floating platform far away on the other side of the eastern city wall before then.

All delegates will be there to watch the following events, such as parades and speeches, and if they are lucky enough, they may even see angels flapping their wings and flying over the city walls.
Khalil ran almost furiously and finally reached his destination in the last five minutes.

Men and women in their assigned boxes, dressed either elegantly or simply, all saluted him. He had no reaction, only felt an unprecedented fatigue. He simply put on an expressionless face and slowly walked to his box. The wooden door closed gently, and he sat down with a sense of relief, and then immediately took off his hat. However, a greeting suddenly came from the control panel built into the room.

"You're not late, Khalil."

Khalil looked up and saw the Lord of Steel appearing in the box as a projection.

He was dressed very formally today, in a straight and serious uniform, but for some reason he was wearing a pair of gloves. At the moment, he was folding his hands, looking at the expressionless Grand Inquisitor with interest.

"What do you mean, I'm not late?"

The control panel buzzed again, and another figure appeared in the box. It was Rogal Dorn the Stone himself. Unlike Perturabo, he had chosen to wear a set of ceremonial armor, and his expression was somewhere between calm and thoughtful.

"We were talking about this for a while," he said, then paused. "He thinks you're going to be late."

Khalil dropped his hat and leaned back on the soft velvet sofa, sinking deeply into it for the first time in a while.

He asked calmly, "What about you, Roger?"

"I thought you'd be late, too."

"."

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Seeing that he didn't say anything, Dawn began to explain seriously: "I don't mean anything else, Khalil, but judging from the current situation, the possibility of you being late is too great."

"Okay, okay." Khalil raised his hand and rubbed his brow helplessly. "Anyway, can we skip this topic? The ceremony is about to start, right?"

"Last ten seconds," Perturabo added. "Get ready."

Khalil took a deep breath.

This was certainly not his first time experiencing a similar occasion, and he knew exactly what the Lord of Steel was reminding him of - ten seconds passed in a flash, and a sudden burst of horns and drums announced the start of the triumphal ceremony.

The walls of the box suddenly became transparent, reflecting the outside world into the interior. A screen slowly descended from the ceiling and landed in front of him, showing the image of a military band marching in step and playing music with all their might.

They formed a red square and marched neatly in the center of the white bricks. Soon after, salutes and more squares joined in, and naturally took over the first piece of music that was about to be played and played the louder second piece of music.

The Titans that had been prepared for a long time also slowly rose from the cracked stone bricks, and the engines of the divine machines began to roar, responding to the majestic music like a horn.
Khalil's head hurt even more, because he knew this was just the beginning. In a dozen seconds, the ecological dome would briefly crack, and the terrifying roar of the battleship's engine would crush all the carefully prepared things.

The sound waves will be hundreds of times louder than now, and the sunlight will disappear, obscured by shadows. Then, the specially selected honor guards from the Imperial Fists and Iron Warriors will walk into this huge square from the Arc de Triomphe.

Their armor will be dazzlingly bright, with flags held high, and followed by armored troops and auxiliary troops. Countless civilians will cheer at home, because they know that the highlight is coming.

Yes, the highlight is coming.

Khalil looked away, slowly raised his head, and briefly pulled himself out of this grand scene. He just had this problem, he was not used to being in such occasions, but he didn't actually think about anything special.
But a voice interrupted him. This voice rose from the bottom of his heart, with the soft and coldness of moonlight.

"Hey, Your Excellency the Grand Inquisitor, how are you doing?"

"Not good." Khalil said. "How about you? Your Excellency Lord of Blades? How are you?"

Conrad Curz laughed, and Khalil could almost imagine him smiling - however, Curz's next words completely interrupted his imagination.

"Very good, very good. By the way, do you know who is not feeling well right now?"

"Who?"

From his shadow, the Night King threw out a dark sneer and a name with malicious intent.

"Yago Sevitarion."

As soon as he finished speaking, the moonlight came on, and the Midnight Blade Chapter Captain in armor appeared in the box with an expressionless face, and met Khalil Rohals' eyes.

They looked at each other and no one spoke until the door of the box was pushed open by two agents.

"My Lord! We detected psychic energy-Ugh!"

".It's okay." Khalil covered his forehead. "It must be the instrument that's wrong, right? What do you think?"

The agents nodded and immediately closed the door.

(End of this chapter)