Warhammer: I don't want to be a stinky can! ! !

Chapter 253 244. The Beginning of the Banquet

Without comparison, there is no harm.

It turns out that it wasn't that the Imperials were too high-profile, but that the barbarians from Barbarus didn't understand art.

The dome is arched, and the flame hangs from the top with the gold sheet, illuminating the hall. The ratio of darkness and light is just right, and they complement each other, and the walls against the candlelight emit a shimmering shimmer.

Under the chandelier carved with pearls, gold and silver, there is a sea of ​​bright white silk and satin, and the tables and chairs are scattered high and low, forming the law called empire.

The tallest tables and chairs are naturally surrounded by light and jewels, while the tables and chairs below them are like the aftermath of the tide, surrounding the giant, bowing their heads and bowing their heads, willing to serve as a foil.

The rulers of human beings are always mean. They can't tolerate being in the same room with people of the same status as them. It seems that equality will kill them.

The cheapest joy is naturally produced in comparison, there is something wonderful about being condescending, everyone's approval breeds happiness, and conversations with power will only be confrontational.

So although this is a gathering of Primarchs, there are still planetary governors from other planets and diplomats from the Garden Planet. If a banquet is compared to an outing, then these people are the existence of birdsong or frogs in nature.

Actors and dancers spun on the dance floor, and chords floated from the luxurious and deep string music, graceful and confusing. They stood out from hundreds of millions of people, and they were just impromptu toys for the imperial elite.

But even if their skill and charm are so high that the king takes off the crown and the brave breaks the sword, they are still not the protagonists of the banquet.

Even most people's eyes and attention are not on the stage, they are looming, restrained and forbearing looking at the center——

The bony giant stands on the most remote throne. He is so simple and desolate, and his suit is plain, reminiscent of the cloudy wasteland before the rainstorm, remote and depressing.

It’s not that people haven’t seen rulers who love the night, dark colors are accompanied by mysterious and serious rhymes, but even so, the gems and gold threads in the details of the “clothing” still satisfy their vanity.

But the lord of death didn't wear ornaments that showed wealth or status, no gems, no pearls, no exquisite and detailed decorations.

The only accessory is a brass-colored skull with a cloak, surrounded by six thorns of light, and the Roman numeral fourteen is carved on it, which seems to have traces of blood spattered on it.

Such an existence, even if it appeared at the funerals of the powerful, would be considered too simple, followed by ignorance of etiquette, and deliberately picking on the host's family.

But he was a primarch, a demigod, and held the lifeblood of an entire empire's force, so people automatically found a reasonable explanation for his behavior.

He is a Primarch after all.

The lord of death sat quietly on the seat, seemingly dissatisfied with everything around him. The dishes were served, but he didn't even take off his breathing mask.

A low pressure of death spread itself around Mortarion, and even the boldest administrators dared not speak to him.

But those maids and waiters had to go through under low pressure. There was no other reason. At the dining table behind the Lord of Death, there was a space warrior who kept asking for extra meals.

Strangely enough, most Space Marines would match the Primarch's temperament, but apparently the Death Guard didn't.

Jia Luo had no expression on his face. He should have realized that the commander of the Death Guard was not a normal person, but unfortunately he didn't realize this when he first chose this kid.

The other legions hadn't arrived yet, only the Death Guard entered the main hall first, because they didn't "come in normally".

Facing the cumbersome and lengthy guard of honor of mortals, Mortarion did only one thing, and that was to ignore them.

Mortarion did the same when facing the emperor's imperial army back then. The Primarch despised all pompous actions, and complicated etiquette obviously included them.

So Gallo watched Mortarion lead them on a rampage in the guard of honor. The Primarch ignored the guard of honor who came up to plead guilty, and followed the shortest straight route between two points.

Jia Luo felt that the guard of honor who was rejected by the head of the legion was about to kill himself with his sword, but fortunately Hades stopped this poor and unclear man.

Jia Luo silently breathed a sigh of relief in his heart, Hades' shot, at least he didn't need him to do it.

But this didn't make the whole thing any better. Galo had participated in similar activities, and their behavior could not be called polite and honorable at all, but seemed like an intruder.

Jia Luo felt a little uneasy, and this uneasiness reached its limit when they entered the hall. Their clothes didn't fit here, they were out of place, like mourning.

Garro was wearing the clothes he had previously participated in in foreign affairs, but in order to match Mortarion's style, he had to remove the parts with exquisite patterns.

And Hades's clothes are even more unusual. Graier's Mechanician gave Hades a dress earlier, so Hades put it on.

Although Hades also removed those parts that were too gorgeous, Gallo believed that Hades simply felt that ugly, not for other more obscure reasons.

On the dark background, deep dark red and hoarse moss green are intertwined, outlining the symbols of Mechanicus and Death Guard. The buttons are black stone and dull.

If there were no Iron Hands here, Hades's attire would obviously not be appropriate - in most cases, the Mechanicum is not a welcome object.

But...it doesn't matter, they are already here, Galo looked at Mortarion who was staring at the plate in a daze, and Hades who was asking the maid for extra food
Mortarion stared at the heaving beans in the bowl of soup like a toad in a swamp, and he didn't even take off his breathing mask.
For the first time, Gallo felt that Vox might be more suitable for this occasion than him.

He can only hope now that the other participants in this banquet are not the tougher beings—

Jia Luo suddenly stood up and saluted, and dragged Hades up by the way. Hades, who was still destroying everything just now, suddenly became serious.

The sound of the horn sounded loud and clear, the crowd gathered, the wonderful hymn was sung from their mouths, the lights shone, and the gold and red guests stepped onto the stage.

It was Rogal Dorn and Sanguinius.

Like a moving wall, Rogal Dorn was draped in a bright saffron cloak, and his well-tailored gown accentuated his powerful shoulders.

A halo of gold encircled his resolute and hard face, highlighting the primarch's short, marble-white hair.

He is a true king, magnificent and impregnable.

Rogal Dorn deserves all the attention, but only if—

The angel Sanguinius was not by his side.

This is true angel.

Huge white wings hung down, each one of unparalleled perfection, fluffy and supple, thin chains of gold and red flowed from the cover feathers below the straight feathers, and the jewels on them were microscopic with the actions of the primarch. trembling.

A soft halo burns around him, creating a dazzling holiness. The slightly curly blond hair hangs down, and his face is slightly thin, but the scarlet eyes stand out even more.

The angel, Sanguinius, seems to be shining, and the long river of light flows quietly beside him.

Everything was eclipsed before him, the burning candles, the jeweled lumen chandeliers, everything was gray. It was unbearable.
In the face of true perfection, the flaws of all things are exposed.

No one can resist Sanguinius, people involuntarily stopped what they were doing, and stared at the angel——

Except Mortarion, of course.

There was no standing up to welcome, and the Lord of Death was still sitting on his throne, his movements unchanged from before, except that he moved his eyes from the bean toad to the bird man's wings, and at the same time was slightly confused.

When the two shining Primarchs came in, they seemed to be chatting about something, which might not be a pleasant topic, because Gallo saw Rogal Dorn's slightly frowning brows.

Next, the two Primarchs noticed the Lord of Death at the same time. They were surprised at first, and then Rogal Dorn, the head of the Seventh Legion, looked even more dissatisfied.

But compared to Dorne who had been staring at Mortarion all the time, Sanguinius' eyes moved to the seat behind Mortarion for a moment, and no one noticed that the angel's expression changed for a moment, as if the angel had been It was that holy expression.

The Blood Angels who followed Sanguinius received a secret message from the angel asking them to be cautious.

Rogal Dorn strode towards Mortarion, and the angel smiled and signaled the people who were dazed by his appearance to return to work.

Hades and Gallo also took this opportunity to sit down, while the Fist of the Empire and the Holy Blood Angels moved towards their positions. Gallo was busy trying to identify anyone he was familiar with, and Ha Diss took a sip of the soup with relish.

With the angels around, there's even less worry about what's going to happen, though Rogal Dorn might have some quarrels with Mortarion.

Rogdorn, the real strong man, the simplest mouth smell, the most extreme enjoyment, this primarch who likes to be straightforward, advocates the truth that "everyone speaks out, and there will be no misunderstanding".

Ron Donne stood opposite Mortarion's dining table, his shadow cast down, and his sense of oppression suddenly increased.

"You just caused a commotion in the mortal guard of honor outside."

Rogdorn's serious and earnest voice sounded,

"For an outsized banquet, this behavior would lead to chaos."

"If you're not unhappy with some of them, then you should respect their work."

Mortarion raised his eyes and stared straight at Dorne. His amber eyes seemed to be on fire, and he was glaring at Dorne.

respect?When they wasted his life with that tedious and useless etiquette?
He was about to spit out the vitriolic venom, but a hand suddenly reached out, interrupting his thoughts.

It was the mutant, his sense of presence was too strong, Mortarion subconsciously shifted his gaze to the angel.

"Maybe we should start by introducing ourselves first."

With a gentle and restrained smile, Sanguinius opened his arms, blocking the two of them from seeing each other.

Rogal Dorn glanced at the angel, but Sanguinius was right, they should introduce themselves.

"The Legion Commander of the Seventh Legion Imperial Fist, Rogal Dorn."

"I am the father of the Blood Angels of the Ninth Legion, nice to meet you—"

The angel looked at Mortarion politely, but Mortarion could only see the cold alienation in it,
"No. 14 Legion Death Guard, Mortarion."

"You prefer short welcomes, my brother? Is this the habit of your home planet?"

The angel continued to maintain his flawless smile, gentle with just the right amount of curiosity, as he pulled Rogal Dorn into a seat.

The angel chose to sit between the two Primarchs, which was clearly the right decision.

Mortarion merely hummed in agreement.

Rogdorn spoke again,
"You should adapt to the Empire, Mortarion, maybe your vision should not be limited to one home planet."

Again.

Mortarion realized that, no matter what, these "brothers" of his, shining like dance-floor lights, would mock his homeworld, his origins.

Just because he wasn't raised among gold and thrones?Just because he struggled in the wild swamp?
Ignorance, shortsightedness, arrogance, vanity.
Mortarion cursed his "brother" loudly, but it didn't matter, he had nothing to talk to these people who didn't know the cruel truth, only those who didn't know what to expect were still wasting their time on jewels and silk throw away their lives.

Mortarion gave Rogal Dorn a slow, resolute look of contempt, then turned his eyes away and continued to stare at his bean soup.

An odd enough bro, with a unique edge.

Sanguinius thought that Mortarion looked haggard, as if he was sick, and he was worried, but Rogal Dorn's words obviously blocked the possibility of continuing the conversation, and Mortarion had already refused to talk.

The angel could realize that if he didn't say anything else, Rogal Dorn would speak. Although he didn't want to be such an existence, he also didn't want this banquet to become a disaster.

After all, he had promised Horus.

Even though the Empire had blocked almost all information, the Primarchs were aware of the blood spattered on Randan's battlefield.

The last thing an angel wants to see happens.

If wolves and lions can lift the butcher's knife in the name of the Emperor, then they have a reason to do it a second time.

The incomplete should be eliminated, but Sanguinius and his legion are also in the corner closest to the incomplete.

Beneath the perfect and indifferent appearance is a restless and frightened soul.

But the smile on his mouth didn't change at all.

The angel smiled and chatted with Dawn. It was easy to talk to someone who was willing to be serious about any matter. In fact, Sanguinius appreciated Dawn's straightforwardness.

Dawn came here to give the ashes after the flames a shelter, but he didn't understand all of this, and he still communicated with the angel with a little worry.

Mortarion was still there, and Sanguinius could only console him vaguely.

Horus had gone to the Emperor and Malcador, and Horus had arranged the meeting in order for the Primarchs to communicate.

The executioner was naturally not invited.

But to Sanguinius's relief, Mortarion wasn't curious. The Death Guard was a fallout from the battle, and the new brother shouldn't have known too much.

The angel could detect Horus's affection and concern for Mortarion, so Mortarion was here, and Horus hoped that his dull brother would know more about the rules of the empire.

But... Sanguinius' attention leaned insignificantly behind the Primarch for a moment.

what is that?
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　　Medieval Warhammer: Make the Tomb King Great Again

　　


(End of this chapter)