Chapter 292 Just stopped halfway
“I believed you at the time.” Iskandar Khayon glared at Telemanon Lylas dissatisfied, “I can feel your emotions and know You were angry that your flawless honor was tarnished by those night ghosts, so I argued for you. The only thing I didn't expect was that you actually took that potion."
"I'm sorry. I don't know anything, really." Telemanon said.
His muscles still refused to obey him, and even to speak, he had to use all the tenacity of an Astartes to make his face obey his orders. This also caused his current expression to be uncontrollable. If he weren't an Emperor's Son, he'd be anything but handsome.
Kayon shook his head: "Who dares to attack you in the territory of the Iron Lord? You'd better remember all this quickly, then admit your mistake to the two Primarchs, and beg for leniency."
"Fabius Bile." Telemanon said a name that was very unfamiliar to Khayon. "I doubt him," he added.
"Look at you, now starting to blame others."
"No," Telemanon continued, "He...has a reputation..."
"Let's rest for a while. Can I read minds directly?" Khayon waited for Telemanon to make a face for a long time, but did not continue to say the next word, and finally said impatiently.
Telemanon did not answer.
"I take it as your acquiescence."
Kayon murmured, counting the number of uses of his psychic powers that he had accumulated recently, and found that according to Magnus's request, he had enough left. Close your eyes, relax in the chair, and touch the golden and purple etheric aura of the Emperor's Children next to you in the world that gradually becomes colorful.
In an instant, a large number of thought fragments above the language level were exchanged at extremely high speed.
"Disease is not just an unfortunate add-on to the course of life, but a hateful enemy that must be completely conquered and eradicated. Blight is an example of this."
"You Mentioned. Blight. It destroys many lives and brings decay."
"I've known him since I was on Terra. They. Fabius's mind is hard yet fragile, even if he feels like a god on the operating table. He fears the blight, and that fear is deep in his soul. ”
“For Fabius, death is not just the end of life, but the ultimate challenge to his scientific pursuit.”
"With their own wisdom and technology, pharmacists break the boundaries between life and death, but every moment that comes close to success is accompanied by the fear of failure - the kind of complete and irreversible failure."
"I think your thoughts are more pleasing to the ear than what you are willing to say. No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't think about this, but I can't hide my thoughts in this kind of communication."
"He is not the only member of the Third Legion who behaves like this. In their experiments, every flicker of life is a provocation to death, and every failure of provocation makes them more afraid of the darkness that will eventually come. ”
"I don't think the Ninth Legion is as sentimental as you."
"We are not ghouls! In short, this realization brings a sense of despair among the Legion."
"Until the Emperor An unknown gift?”
“But the despair does not end”
“You glamorous guys...”
"We have not found the end of the pain..."
"Just stopped halfway?"
Kayon suddenly opened his eyes and broke away from the touch of his emotional body. The knowledge he gained gave him a headache.
"You still can't prove that he did it." The scholar said, hesitantly.
“It’s related to him.”
After a few seconds, Kayon proposed the solution he had just thought of.
"I have an idea," he said, "Why don't we ask the mortal legions of night ghosts who smell your...potion? They should know something."
Tai Rhymanon managed to conjure a look of artificial contempt into his immobile expression. "Nefertari?"
"It's not like I have to go see her to prove my innocence!" Khayon immediately countered, "How about I take you to find Fabius now?"
"Good luck to you," said the Emperor's Son. "She's not bad."
"For the Emperor!" Khayon cursed, "Just lie here! Goodbye!"
——
Morse lay on a wicker chair, closing his eyes. Close your eyes, stretch your body, and look relaxed. Of course, every drama he arranged was performed meticulously by the Primarchs. And this is the only task he needs to complete in this sports meeting.
With one last play left to prepare for the closing ceremony, he was done.
"You don't seem to be in a good mood, Perturabo." Mors said, his fingers gently sliding on the armrests of his wicker chair, seeming to be touching some unknown rhythm. .
"You haven't even opened your eyes." The Iron Lord replied.
"Okay, how about you just think that I have opened an eye that belongs to the surreal field of vision?" Morse said, shrugging his shoulders, which made him press against the black robe of the wicker chair. Wrinkled. Perfecting the entire body of reality will of course lead to interference from some physical laws - this phenomenon would not have occurred if he had not made the inner part of the robe.
"Okay."
Morse still opened his eyes and looked at Perturabo, who was in a depressed mood.
"What are you worried about?" he said firmly.
"I don't know," answered Perturabo.
"You are starting to stop talking." Morse patted the armrest and his tone changed to a sigh, "Okay, you are fifty years old, aren't you. I can't take care of everything. "Is this irony?"
"It's true. Speaking of age..." He thought about it, "According to Terra's chronology, Carrie Feng is no more than sixty seasons old. To be honest, she looks a little old.”
Perturabo looked up from his office papers.
Like any of his brothers, he could not completely abandon the expedition even if it was a rare month of free time.
“You are too straightforward,” he said.
“She will not refuse life-extending surgery if someone mentions her age.” Morse said nonchalantly. "You have given her too many tasks. She is a mortal."
Perturabo separated part of his spirit and thought quietly for a while while working.
"When you mentioned that she would play the role of the goddess of youth, she looked happy." Perturabo said, "I will not admit my mistake."
"Then why do you think she refused life extension surgery? ? It can't be because she is tired of dealing with your too-large star cluster... right?"
Morse suddenly became suspicious.
If it were him, he would have to deal with the same job for hundreds of years in a row that would make him so busy that he would not have time to bask in the sun on a recliner every day. Even if his immediate boss was Nios, he would have to run away. No.
"In the legend of Olympia, extending life requires equal exchange, and heroes who claim to be immortal often still end up in the underworld for various reasons." Perturabo said.
"Or maybe she's just tired," Morse said. "Or maybe she doesn't want to grow old like a dead wood, or maybe she has some persistence that's unique to mortals, or maybe the Mechanicus' implants are too ugly. You know, continuation Life and youth are two different things... Well, I don't understand, I'm just an immortal thing."
"There are many possibilities," said Perturabo.
The possibility of Callifon emerged before his eyes. Thirty years, or maybe twenty years later, the last color left by youth on her body will eventually fade away. There will be left an old man tortured by years of burdens, emaciated, tired, unable to see clearly, and unable to remember time.
Perhaps just a turn around, an expedition, a month or even a day's departure, the mortal who is still living in this world and has the deepest ties to him will suddenly pass away.
If the incident had not happened so suddenly, he might have been able to get some urgent reports about the disease, but if the war really got serious, he would not have had the chance to return to Olympia.
If he really had the chance to come back, he could see Callifon one last time. Callifon would hold his hand firmly, comfort him with abundant energy, and focus her distracted eyes on his face.
Abo, she would say, this is inevitable.
After the old man becomes comatose, he will temporarily leave the ward to discuss the queen's condition with her maids and courtiers, and ask the doctor whether she can be treated.
The doctor will give several treatment options, and the Primarch will use his fastest speed to choose one of them, or he will connect his brain to the data pad and write down the treatment method in an instant. Hand the data pad to the medical worker and tell the physician he must do his best.
Then, he might look out the window at Olympia, take a look at Callifon's achievements in this life, and seem to feel something.
As he walked back to his ward, a herald would trot up to him, salute, and tell him that the Queen had stopped breathing.
"She will know how to face it." Perturabo said, not feeling much convincing in her words, "Facing aging and death."
"In You have no say in this matter, Primarch. Mortals are like flowers, they will wither if you are not careful; you are cacti, you will not die even if you care for them."
"What is a cactus... No, no need to explain." Perturabo raised his eyebrows and said, "Forget it, have you started arranging the script for the last scene?"
"No hurry, just give me ten days. Minutes, my quill can finish it on its own," said Morse, "and it depends on the Emperor."
"The Emperor?"
"He is almost here. I think I should write a script about him, after all the Primarchs have already appeared."
Morse Jean His wicker chair disappears into the air.
"Okay, you continue working. I'll go back and think about it first. In addition, who mentioned last time that what you wanted was a historical drama? I took the time to sort out the current historical documents, and it was just right Let’s see how far the fabrication skills of contemporary imperial scholars have developed.”
He smiled and disappeared along with his chair.
(End of this chapter)