Emperor's Bane

Chapter 544 Intermission: The Band of Doom (Part )
"You should have told me you were going to take me to see Corax, Morgan."

"I haven't prepared anything yet."

Until the moment he was dragged into the corridor by his silver-haired relative, Lord Macragge was still complaining in a low voice, his voice echoing in the cold air and attracting the attention of several of the Primarch's guards nearby.

[Is there anything else I need to prepare? ]

Morgan turned around and looked at her blood relative with a smile on her face. There was a sense of matter-of-factness in her upturned voice. The Primarch casually smoothed his somewhat disheveled long hair, and a long-lost malice flashed in his blue pupils.

The Lord of Avalon certainly knew that his current behavior was somewhat inappropriate.

But: Robert wouldn't get angry with her over these little things.

In this case, isn't it interesting to watch this guy who is always organized, serious and even a little boring, suddenly become confused and sweating?
A long-lost feeling of joy lingered in the Spider Queen's heart: To be honest, she had been a boring good person for too long these days, and it had been a long time since she had come up with any pure entertainment purpose that would harm others but not benefit herself.

"That's what I said..."

Just as Morgan thought, after hearing the smiling question from their blood relative, the Macragge people did not respond in the end, but silently swallowed the Spider Queen's nonsense. The complaints and mutterings like talking to themselves were so soft that even Morgan could hardly hear them clearly.

After a few seconds, he coughed, straightened his clothes, adjusted the angle of the medals on his ceremonial armor, combed his hair, took the freshest laurel leaf crown from the hand of the servant beside him, put it on his forehead, and then took a glance at the urgent official business presented to him, blinked, and gave a reply.

Checking, cleaning, thinking and reviewing, all things were done at the same time, and it only took one or two seconds: this moment of concentration could be called art. At any rate, Morgan was appreciating the beauty exuded by her Macragge brother at this moment from the perspective of appreciating art.

Among all the brothers, only this Macragge man could make Morgan appreciate the aesthetics derived from logic, rationality and calculation. It was a kind of beauty that was different from the beauty of the body, and it was also a unique charm that could make people fall deeply in love with it: in Morgan's memory, the last person who could make her appreciate this kind of beauty was Jonson, who focused all his attention on the blade when he swung his sword to chop off the head of a powerful enemy.

It was a different kind of beauty than the one Guilliman was focusing on at the moment, a reason enough for Morgan to stand firmly beside the Calibanites: only at that moment could Morgan understand a little bit about Horus' feelings for Sanguinius.

Compared with Jonson at that time, or Guilliman now, even the archangel is just an ordinary-looking guy.

[…Squeak…]

The Lord of Avalon was amused by her own wonderful ideas, and when she finally came to her senses, she found that Guilliman had solved all the problems and was standing in front of her: the decadent atmosphere on his face made Morgan's words instinctively add a bit of comfort.

【Don't worry, brother: I believe you can handle this situation. 】

"I wish I could have your confidence: socially."

The Primarch just smiled bitterly, and this smile made Morgan raise an eyebrow.

It's really interesting. First the Emperor, then Jonson, then Perturabo, and now Guilliman. So this social phobia is actually inherited from the family? It seems that it is probably a dominant trait: It should be said that as the top nobles who rule the galaxy, even the family genetic disease is so humanistic.

【Why do you have no confidence? 】

Morgan turned her head and winked at Lana on the side of the gate. Seeing the Grand Steward nodded in response, the Primarch turned around and led her Macragge relatives deeper into the corridor: Morgan did not meet her relatives in front of the throne, so they still had to walk some distance before reaching Corax's room.

This journey was enough for Guilliman to take care of his appearance and complain: although the Emperor's daughter wanted to laugh at her own blood relatives, she would not be stupid enough to embarrass Guilliman because of such a trivial matter.

"You can't say you don't have confidence."

Following behind Morgan, the Lord of Five Hundred Worlds shook his head dejectedly.

"After all, this meeting was very sudden."

【So what? 】

"The last time you suddenly arranged for me to meet my brother was Conrad. Do you need me to recall the scene at that time?"

【…】

Morgan paused, a blush flashing across his cheeks for a moment.

[Corax, it’s still good...]

"hope so."

Guilliman nodded and didn't dwell on the question too much.

"But even so, I still have a lot of things to think about in advance, like how should I greet Corax and what should I talk to him about? Oh, and I didn't even bring a corresponding gift. It's always impolite to come empty-handed."

【Didn’t you bring a gift? 】

Morgan paused, and took the opportunity to turn around, facing her brother, with her hands on her hips, her left knee bent forward, her neck slightly raised, her posture appearing somewhat arrogant: her eyes lingered on Guilliman's neck, giving the Macragge a shudder.

[Corax is an insurgent, my brother the Lord of Macragge.]

"……so?"

[So: The thing on your neck is not a gift for Corax, is it your head? ]

"..."

------

"No, this is a removable permanent prop that I carry with me."

"Responsible for increasing intelligence."

"Remember, the interface is very fragile, so be careful to handle it with care and avoid contact with sharp objects."

"Yes, that's it. Be careful: you are as rough as an alien performing a shaman act."

Midnight Haunter sat cross-legged next to Corax's arm, his hands waving in the air, leaving ugly marks under the light: It was under Conrad's directives that Corax, sitting upright in his seat, pinched those delicate parts, with sweat stains on his forehead.

This state lasted for more than ten minutes, until Corax finally installed most of the parts in the correct position. The basic outline of the exquisite decoration in front of him was revealed. The Primarch frowned, and he was thinking about the information about this outline in his mind.

"Are you sure this is a relic from ancient times, brother?"

"Yes."

The Night Haunter's claws hooked around his ankles, rocking his body back and forth.

"My descendants dug this out among the Ghoul Stars. At that time, there were several oil-guy teams that did not belong to the Far East Industrial Complex who wanted to snatch this thing from them. I had to work hard to impress those people."

"Those people? How many?"

"About forty crematoriums."

Conrad recalled.

"But then I experimented with it and found that it seemed to be a very old radio or tape recorder, which stored some songs from ancient times. One of them might be what you need, Corax."

"Maybe."

Corax nodded.

"But I still don't think this will be a useful method: a song, a song chosen by me, let those Terran warriors and Redemption Star warriors sing together, can it bring them closer to each other? Effectively promote the unity of the entire legion?"

"In academic terms, this is called building collective cognition among the team."

Conrad moved his neck, making a creaking sound.

"Of course, it's definitely not as easy as just singing a song. You also need some special stories behind the song and unforgettable shared memories. But no matter what, it's always right to choose a legion song. I used a similar method to unite the old faction of the Night Lords."

"How to do it exactly?"

"Uh……"

"Fully respect their interests and traditions in the field of fashion design; and then prove to them that I am the Queen of Prada in the field of adult clothing, and I lead the fashion of the Legion with my unique artistic style." Midnight Haunter licked his lips.

"speak English."

"The human-skin fur I made is cooler, more dazzling, more powerful, and more domineering than theirs, just like the strength of one million horses is bound to beat up those weak chickens with 990,000 horses, mouth teeth!"

"..."

Conrad was saying something he couldn't understand again.

The Crow King turned around and continued to focus on the task at hand. He and Midnight Haunter had been roommates for several months and had long been accustomed to these unusual places: for example, waking up in the middle of the night, opening the refrigerator, wanting to drink some ice water, and then finding that the refrigerator was full of Midnight Haunter's treasured heart, liver, lungs and spleen.

Well, all his own.

It was the first time for Corax to see such a unique collecting hobby.

Shaking his head, the Raven King focused his attention on the remaining parts, and just as he was thinking about the unfinished half in his mind, the Primarch's keen senses allowed him to hear some messy footsteps coming from the corridor outside the porch.

"……somebody is coming?"

"Ah, I heard it."

Conrad jumped off the table.

"It sounds like two people: they appear to be our blood relatives."

"What are they here for, a visit?"

Corax glanced at the clock.

"It's ten o'clock at night now: when I was doing night operations on Redemption, we never assembled so late."

"You don't understand this."

Conrad shook his head.

"Wait until tomorrow, and I'll take you to the lower deck to take a look at the boarding schools for the mortal crew members. Then you'll understand: in those mortal schools, teachers will check the dormitories at around 10 o'clock in the evening, before lights out, because only then will all the crew members be present, and they can also introduce new members to them."

"You mean... bed check?"

This word made the Crow King's brows twitch, and he obviously thought of some bad memories.

"Do we need to clean up? This room is a bit messy now."

"What are you doing cleaning it up?"

Conrad waved his hand, turned around and leaned back on Corax's chair.

"It's not like we're first-year students living in the dormitory: I'm a senior after all."

"Wait, just sit here and watch how I deal with these dormitory inspectors."

The Crow King blinked and said nothing.

------

Morgan walked in front, about half a body length ahead of Guilliman. She stopped, first knocked politely on the door, then slightly opened half of the crack, and adapted herself to the dimness and warm light in the room in advance: but what swept the Primarch's senses earlier than these colors was a kind of silence that was not disgusting.

"Enter."

When Morgan put her entire upper body in, Conrad's voice reached her ears belatedly, but no one present cared about this matter: the Lord of Avalon stood at the door, one hand on his waist, the other holding the half-dragged door handle, his figure and Guilliman behind him intertwined, allowing the Macragge people to observe everything in the gap.

Like any living room that is occupied regularly, this Primarch's residence has some expected chaos, but it is always within an acceptable range. When the two Primarchs stand in it, everything seems so harmonious and natural.

At first glance, one could see the shy light hidden behind the ice-blue chandeliers, like stars in the dark clouds, but the lanterns on the table were more tolerant than the moon, caressing the black hair of the two primarchs, preventing them from losing their due luster.

In the concerto of stars and moon, other things in the room gradually emerged from the fading darkness like a town in a painting: piles of books were piled on the table, looking shaky but supporting each other; various decorations on the wall were either cold and hard or strange, but they were all wiped clean without a speck of dust; the bunk bed in the corner was messier than expected, with obvious signs of someone lying on it, and the pillows and bedding piled at one end had sunk under them, and there was no time to smooth them out, with scattered handwriting and notes scattered around.

It is a little messy, but not too messy. Although the items and papers thrown everywhere seem far from being neatly put away, they have a kind of wonderful coordination, as if the owner of the room deliberately placed them there: just raise your hand and you can get what you want in the familiar position, but if you move them casually, it will cause unnecessary trouble and long searching.

And when the chaos formed a certain trajectory in the eyes of the two visitors, guiding them around the entire room and returning to the origin, they would find that their two blood brothers were sitting in the center of the origin, smiling at them.

Corax was sitting in a chair, fiddling with something on the table, while Conrad was leaning lazily with his hands on the back of his chair, as if he was watching with boredom, or as if he was giving patient instructions.

What are they doing?

Morgan asked.

Conrad smiled and pointed at his crow brother.

"Me and Corax are fixing up this old thing: and then we're going to practice singing with it."

【Practicing singing? 】

Morgan and Guilliman looked at each other.

【Then, can we join? 】

"..."

This time, it was Conrad and Corax's turn to stare at each other.

------

"Do you know what this is, Brother Corax?"

"An invitation?"

"Yes."

"Then do you know how those mortals would respond to such an invitation, Brother Conrad?"

"..."

Midnight Haunter's face was filled with pain and entanglement, and he hesitated for a moment.

"Watch this, Corax."

“I’ll only demonstrate it once.”

Then Conrad turned around.

In that gentle light, in that comfortable leisure and warmth, in that pleasant moment when there is nothing to do, the moment that appears quietly before the brothers.

Midnight Haunter looked at his sister.

smile.

then……

------

"Call Dad."

(End of this chapter)