Chapter 611 The Forsaken Army
Leaving the assembly hall, they quickly arrived at the command tower of the fortress and headed to the personal chamber of Chapter Commander Randall Blanchard.
In the wide corridor leading to the private room, there are many broken weapons, as well as some warriors called gloomy guards.
When he heard this name, Soshyan was already very sure that the White Templar, like the Astral Knights, was a descendant of the Eleventh Legion.
These ornately decorated veterans wear Terminator armor and guard key positions. There is a conspicuous black spire coat of arms on the left shoulder armor, which is also one of the symbols of the Eleventh Legion that Soshyan is familiar with.
"The Chapter Master wishes to meet with you alone."
At the end of the corridor were two huge bronze doors. After Mutali stopped and whispered, he looked at the expression on Soshyan's face.
"Taros, you wait outside."
Taros nodded and stayed outside with Soshyan's guards.
The moment Soshyan walked into the room, with a subtle click, the two doors with bronze plates closed automatically.
Another pair of identical doors is closed at the front of the house.
Soshiyan looked around and found that the environment here was very comfortable, the air was cool and clean, seeping in through the blinds, and he could even hear the lazy gurgling sound of the fountain in the courtyard outside.
In the middle of the room there is a huge table, on which lies a kettle, a towel and a crystal-cut glass, sparkling in the soft light.
Soshyan did not move, just kept standing in front of the door.
He watched the sun shine through the blinds, smelled the flower-like fragrance of wood and fabric, and listened to the gentle music played by the fountain.
Through the window, he could see a majestic fortress made of rock, adamantine and steel stretching out around him, with spiers pushing against each other along with observatories and weapons towers, missile arrays and bunker slots squeezed in between colonnades. There are also polished monuments to human pride and ambition
all displayed under the azure sky of the Sanctuary Star.
Soshiyang stood quietly, listening to the gentle sound of water, and calmly recalled the doubts and confusions in all these things.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I just have some things to deal with."
Suddenly, a voice came, quite soft, with a hissing sound.
Soshyan woke up from his meditation. He couldn't see the speaker, but saw that the second door was open. He didn't notice when they were unlocked. The mechanical structure inside must be very smooth.
Through the door, he entered a large, sunny room.
An entire wall was replaced by seamless glass, and the mountains broke the distant horizon, shining white in the sunlight.
The ground is paved with polished wooden floors, and various weapon racks and bookshelves are dotted in the cave-like interior - this makes Soshyan feel very weird, a collector's study and an armory. The combination is full of contradictions.
The room was quiet, and the door closed behind him, as quiet and elegant as when it was just opened.
Soshyan stayed where he was and stood for a while, listening to his own breathing and wondering if what he saw around him was real.
“I hope you won’t be surprised by how I look now.”
The voice came from nowhere, and Soshyan turned around and scanned the room.
The voice sounded like it was ringing in the air in his ears, reverberating off the panels, sinking into the fabric of the woven rug - a tone sad, rich in timbre, yet a little husky.
Then, Randall slowly stepped out from behind the bookshelf.
He was not much different from eight years ago. Without the power armor, he was still tall and tall, but his left arm had become a mechanical arm and there seemed to be two more scars on his face.
Soshiyang calmed down.
"Brother Randall, your hands-"
As soon as the words came out, he felt stiff and stupid.
Randall didn't answer, he just smiled, and Soshyan noticed that the other person's eyes were full of life - deep and fiery, almost as sharp as the eyes of birds.
Those eyes stared at Soshyan for a long time.
"I was unlucky to be bitten by something. I'm just lucky to have one missing arm." Then, Randall walked to a huge sofa and sat on it.
His movements were a little staggering, like a person who had been trained to reach the peak of his natural limits, but suffered serious injuries. This seemed a bit incredible.
Then he leaned back, his gray face smoothed a little, and his tense expression relaxed.
"Sit down."
Soshyan did as he was told and walked towards a huge chair opposite the sofa.
"Would you like a drink?"
Randall asked, glancing at the glass bottle on the table between them, which contained a clear liquid.
However, Soshyan was not an alcoholic, not to mention that in this strange place, he really had no interest, so he shook his head and said:
"No, thank you."
The Chapter Leader of White Templar smiled and poured himself a glass of something that looked like wine.
Then he raised the glass to his nose and let the scent linger for a while.
"I grew up on the Sanctuary Planet. This world is worthless to many people, but this wine is a very popular trade product."
He said, sipping lightly from the cup. He took a sip, swirled it around in his mouth, and then swallowed it.
"But even if it is quite famous in the galaxy, Sanctuary Star is still worthless to most people."
Randall pursed his thick lips in thought.
"Just like our abandoned legion."
He said, and then his eyes suddenly became sharp, as unhesitating as a bird of prey.
“Everyone knows it was once important, but everyone agrees it is worthless.”
Soshyan didn't look surprised. He looked at the other person and poured himself a glass.
This is a kind of distilled liquor, but it is not harsh on the throat and is very moist.
"Who are you?"
Putting down the wine glass, Soshyan asked softly.
Randall smiled slightly in response.
"I am the Chapter Master of the White Templars."
"That's it?"
"What else do you hope to hear?"
Soshiyan After hesitating for a moment, he didn't know whether to tell his name, but the other party was also a descendant of the Eleventh Legion, and depending on the situation, his history might be older than that of the Astral Knights.
In the end, he decided it was better not to say anything yet, so he changed the question:
"How did you manage to preserve the past?"
"Because of one man and one order,"
"Who can disobey the Emperor's order?"
Entire Randall, who was stuck on the sofa, drank all the contents of the cup, then held the cup with both hands, exhaled a breath of alcoholic breath with trembling lips, and said softly:
"Prime Minister of the Empire, Terra Regent, Holder of the Palm, Malcador of the Magic Pattern"
(End of this chapter)