Chapter 342 Drinking Together (Part 2)
Horus' words were true, and Sanguinius realized this as he walked among his timid-looking sons.
The Council of Four Kings and Horus Luperkar, who had changed into ceremonial attire, stood behind him. Of course, Togaton looked after the cart of wine. Sanguinius stepped forward, feeling the supportive gaze behind him pushing his steps forward, and the Ninth Legion drawing him back to their midst.
Even the Lord of Night's gorgeous and rich words are not enough to describe all that the Immortal Nine appears to Sanguinius.
This was a legion that broke his heart. Unlike the Luna Wolf's pearl armor that smelled of polished pearl powder, the ninth legion was sloppily covered with gray monochrome armor. , covered with fire burns and knife wounds. In the war mission, they were deprived of everything, from honor to life. Ever since they were transformed into soldiers of the Ninth Legion, fate seemed to have put its hands on their necks, leaving no trace of mercy or tenderness.
The Immortal Nine were routed, defeated, and fell to their knees time and time again, and all this was brought to them by the blood of Sanguinius, and the harm done to them by the blood-thirsty sub-line in his life. Thinking of this, the angel suddenly wondered how he still had the power to lead and save - the suffering of his offspring came from him.
"Warriors, I am Sanguinius, the Primarch of your bloodline," Sanguinius said, and the speeches he had written were blown away with the wind of Baal. The Immortal Nine does not require a glossy promise, or a promise of future glory and lofty ideals. What they needed was not the philosophy of the Imperial Crusade, for they had never strayed from it.
"Take off your helmet, Baal's radiation is not enough to harm any of us."
The Ninth Legion did so.
And Sanguinius got a pair of fearful and timid eyes, embedded in beautiful but pale faces one after another. These faces are the only masks they have, and they are worth putting on any legion. Enough to gain glory, but here, in Baal, before the eyes of Archangel Sanguinius, the faces of these angels could only barely conceal their fear.
This was not a fear of his own existence, but a heartfelt fear of what his arrival represented. This was evident from their silent retreat when Sanguinius walked into their midst.
They are afraid that their genetic father will get too close, close enough to understand the true body under their armor, close enough to detect any part that can touch their essence.
Sanguinius continued to move, wings carefully folded so as not to inadvertently touch any resisting warrior.
"What is your name, warrior?" Sanguinius asked carefully, choosing a warrior who would look him in the eye.
The warrior's eyes flickered slightly, "Idamas," he said the word quickly, as if expecting Sanguinius to leave him.
"Where did you get this scar, Idamus?" Sanguinius asked, making a diagonal gesture with his finger over his lips.
“I don’t remember.” said the soldier.
"It was a long time ago?"
"...Yes." Idamas said in a low voice.
"It makes you forget time. I'm afraid it was a war that ended long before I started fighting." Sanguinius said, "You have fought better than I have ever fought. There are more battles fought.”
He pursed his lips and smiled, "You were already great warriors when I was still an infant."
Idamas's cheek muscles trembled.
Sanguinius left him, searching for a second within the Ninth Legion who would respond to him.
At some point, there seemed to be more warriors willing to do this.
"What's your name?" he asked next.
"Nasir Amit." He got a response, crisper than the previous one, with an armor-clad aggression.
The angel looked at him: "Do you remember how many battles you fought?"
Amit looked up at him, his eyebrows arched. "Many," he said, "all the battles we had to fight. All our achievements were bloody."
"But they fit the order, didn't they?"
"Not quite. "Amit said, his voice tight.
The angel's hand patted Amit's shoulder armor, "Please don't be humble in front of me."
Sanguinius asked the names of some more warriors, asking questions one by one, listening to the questions. The complete story weaved in those restrained and short words also tells his own story.
A warrior downplays a battle that once destroyed half his face, describing the acid spray weapons and splinter munitions used by the resisters, while Sanguinius introduces him to the Baal mutants spitting out radioactive pus. that part of the liquid.
"I learned that there are greater venoms, that you have stepped into a universe wider than all my dreams," Sanguinius said, trying to touch the warrior's rough cut. The short-cut head said, "Good fight, soldier."
Some soldiers will introduce some habits in the legion. He tells how the legion fights on the ground and what techniques they usually use to tear the flesh and blood of the enemy. . The ghouls he described were brutal and violent, almost deliberately destroying the basis for the normal Primarch to have a good impression, which earned him angry looks from some of his companions.
"Reminds me of those pamphlets written by my tribe," the angel said bitterly, "recording that I fought a road paved with blood for them in front. Sometimes I think I scared them, but the elders Or that I protected the pure-blood tribe?"
"You deserve the praise, my lord."
"What about you," Sanguinius blurted out, looking at the faces of these warriors. Hesitation and struggle. "You are worthy of it."
Sanguinius could feel the eyes of the Luna Wolves focusing on him, and was surprised by his words. Well, he thought, Horus had said that the words would flow from him, and these were the words he suddenly wanted to say.
“The burial banquet on board the Gray Daughter?” Sanguinius asked, “May I ask, why is such a banquet held?”
"We eat our dead brothers," the soldier said stiffly, and soon became almost self-indulgent. "We eat their raw flesh, eat their memories, preserve the history of the legion, and let those souls most worthy of continuation be reborn among us. ." Near them, Legion Commander Ishdur Osuran spoke proactively: "That's it, my lord. I was resurrected from Zarin's body."
Saint Gilet. Si nodded slightly: "Not long ago, the Baal people would not record history on parchment. Some special tribes would even extract water from the dead. I don't know, maybe it sounds cruel, but we - I You and I are all familiar with an unusual custom of extending life. I always thought that this was not taught to us by others, but sung by life itself.”
He shook his head and invited the Legion. The warriors approached him without regard to order or any possible offense.
If you want to tell him a name, say your own name and Sanguinius will remember it. If you want to tell a story, or a few words, just speak, and the Legion will remember, use your brain and thinking, use your spirit and bones, use your blood and flesh.
Even with the most extraordinary memory, an individual may forget some details, but the history of the entire legion will not. Their hearts flow in each other's blood. They come from the same source, are scattered in thousands of places, and eventually return to the same source. There will be no more forgetfulness. The glory that was once deprived of being rejected will return to the Legion's hard work bit by bit.
This took a lot of time and seemed to end very quickly. The ghoul's expression has changed, and all the worried fear has faded away, turning into intense desire and almost tough questioning. They want to know Sanguinius's decision, what exactly Sanguinius thinks of them, why he wants to understand them in this way, and where he wants to take them.
They got to know each other, and it was like a license to indulge these ghouls, allowing them to boldly regain their desire and demand everything they deserved.
Sanguinius looked at his legion with emotion in his heart.
He said: "I am very happy to meet you, Immortal Nine. Everything today makes me re-examine the world today."
"Before this, I always thought that I had saved one planet, and there were hundreds of planets waiting for me outside. But when I was supposed to lead a force that had saved hundreds of worlds, I remembered this - —
“The Ninth Legion belongs to you, not me. It was not created by me, and it has never been protected by me. You have reached the level you are today, but I have not provided any assistance. How can I have the power to impose my orders on your heads?
"My achievements today are actually not as good as any of you. The years I have been since I came to this world, and the things I have accomplished are far inferior to Immortal Nine. In front of you, although I am tall , instead, I am an apprentice and a child.
“Now, I have become the master of the legion. This is not achieved by fighting on my own strength. It is how some of you become captains and company commanders. ;This is given by my innate destiny. Fate does not favor you. "
Sanguinius said among his children, his sighs matching the wind of sand that blew here.
The Immortal Nine, they are the same living beings as the mortals who are struggling to survive and survive in Baal. They are both the emperor's warriors and the people of the empire, but it seems that neither side is allowed to integrate.
“What reason do I have to be your leader, and what qualifications do I have to lead a great, battle-hardened team on a different path? How do I fulfill the responsibilities I have been given so that we can become A true whole, relying on each other, and not being slandered, entangled, or abandoned by others?
"In the face of fate, we all seem to have our own responsibilities, and the preset trajectory allows you to play the role of drinking blood. The carnivorous thugs also allowed me to be worshiped on a pedestal that I did not like.
“However, my recent experiences have repeatedly told me that destiny may be real or fictitious, but it is never trustworthy or worthy of attention. The path we take will always be ours. The path you choose.
“I respect you for your achievements, admire you for your strength, and lament your suffering. The path I have chosen is that I hope to be fortunate enough to be allowed to study with you, accompany you in battles, understand your will, spread my wings in front of you, and pursue reason and belief in the dark galaxy.
"I hope to use everything I provide you in exchange for your trust and your recognition. Although you are my descendants, I am your original body."
In the wind and sand, Shengji Les spread his wings and knelt down on one knee, with only determination on his beautiful face.
The ghoul army was surprised by the rustling sound of sand and dust, and their armor clanged and clashed. The orders and oaths they feared never arrived, the grand words and inspiring scenes they expected were nowhere to be found, and the punishments and blame they expected were nowhere to be seen. Their hearts beat so fast and powerfully as never before.
"If you refuse, I will leave, and I will renegotiate my agreement with the Emperor and never interfere in any of your actions.
"If you accept Accept me as one of you and allow me to learn like a new recruit until I am qualified to be recognized by you. Then I will stay and grow up enough to stand beside you and even in front of you. attitude.
"We will jointly re-explore what the new legion will look like, to find a better look, as a bloodline connected by blood, to find the path we all really want to go, without being restricted by others, regardless of fate's reproach.
“Finally, I know that you are exiles, brave warriors born of the homeless, people who were not promised to Terra. "Sanguinius slowly moved his gaze from each person's face. Under the blazing sunlight, his outline was still gentle, "If you agree, Baal will become your home. "
The gravel rubs against the ceramic steel, and the sound is like rain falling.
"What do you think? "Sanguinius raised his voice, stood up, and shouted in the wind and sand, "Dear warriors? Can you allow me to swear to you and use it for you? ”
Thousands of roars of approval echoed on the plains of Baal, whipping up strong winds that shook the earth, like the surging pulse of the desert, rolling straight into the heaven and earth.
Sanguinius smiled proudly: "In that case, allow me to bring you a sip of wine as a gift for meeting you! This is what I asked for from your uncle in the Eighth Legion. As for the magical effects of wine, I believe you You will be satisfied!”
He turned around and waved to Tarik Togaton, who was waiting with a dull look across some soldiers: “Please also invite friends from the 16th Legion. Distribute the blood wine to us!”
The Four Kings Council, who were watching from the side, came to their senses and drove the car close to the team in a hurry. Sanguinius motioned for them to throw a bottle, and soon Horus threw a bottle of wine into Sanguinius's hands.
Angel easily pulled the cork out of the bottle and took a sip himself. He was filled with agitated and vague high emotions, and splendid and difficult-to-recognize stimulating memories. As the blood and wine impacted his brain, he could hardly imagine anything. A harmless treat more suited to the Ninth Legion than this drink.
He nodded to the legion: "One bottle per person, no matter how much you have, it will be gone! Just think of it as a belated celebration banquet at the end of your decades of fighting. It's a pity that there is no food seasoning, we always Friends from the Sixteenth Legion cannot be paired with wine.”
Sanguinius's words caused a burst of laughter, and the ghouls moved to get their rewards from behind the overwhelmed Luna Wolves. Tarik Torgadun's timely expression of fear of being eaten alive earned him a lot of fangs bared at him.
But the legion commander who has not yet resigned remains at the rear of the legion.
“We need a name,” Ishdur Osuran stepped forward, his restrained tone hiding emotions as bitter as bitter brew, “A name given by you personally proves that we belong You."
Sanguinius nodded slightly and closed his wings: "Holy Blood Angel, this is the title Baal gave me, and it will belong to you from now on."
(End of this chapter. )