40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 715 8. Certificate of Honor (II)

Khalil boarded the Eagle Wing at 6:21 in the morning in Chemos, and by the time he had answered those seemingly endless questions one by one, the time had come to 6:48 in the afternoon.

At this moment, people in the city above ground could only see the last bit of the setting sun. However, with the help of the height of Eagle Wing, Khalil could clearly see the huge orange fireball.

It floats at the far end of the horizon, and the light it emits dyes the endless clouds red, looking a bit like a rain of fire that is about to fall.
Khalil absentmindedly put on his sunglasses, to prevent his now 'fragile' flesh from being hurt by the light and triggering some automatic program-like reaction mechanism. He had avoided everyone and secretly conducted experiments on himself, but the results did not make him feel at ease and satisfied.

"Excuse me, will you come tomorrow?" There was a sound of footsteps, and Lonatistel asked expectantly behind him.

Standing in the wide corridor outside the room of honor, facing the French window with his back to him, Khalil sighed deeply and then turned around.

"Of course I will come. I still have a lot of work to do." He said slowly. "Just don't ask me about the Emperor's Dream anymore."

"Thank you, instructor!"

The second captain smiled sincerely and brilliantly, and then trotted away with his brothers. The fully armed soldiers of the Third Legion walked out of the honor room one by one and saluted him in turn.

The only thing Khalil could do was to stand there, accept the sudden admiration, and then respond to them with a stiff smile.

"We must never let down the kindness of others - I seem to have heard this somewhere before."

Please be quiet, Conrad.
"Please listen to how rude your request is, okay, father? I have waited so long for this opportunity, how can I just give up like this?"

Seeing the last prince disappear at the end of the corridor, the smile on Khalil's face finally disappeared. He raised his hand to rub his cheek, and returned to his expressionless look, determined to remain silent and not answer this question.

The man hiding in his shadow obviously knew he would do this, and was not angry at all, but instead let out a low laugh.
As if telling him that I will wait for the next opportunity to come.

Well, then you just wait, Khalil thought helplessly.

He lowered his head and took out the portable data pad at his waist, sent the same message to the two people, and then strode to the other end of Eagle Wing - where the auxiliary troops trained and lived.

If he walked at an average pace, it would take him a whole day to travel this distance, so he followed the instructions on the map on the data tablet and went to a fast lane, using the power of technology and machinery to shorten the travel time to twenty-two minutes.

At 7:15 that evening, he successfully arrived at his destination.

But this place was not as empty as the one where the Emperor's Children were staying. As he stepped off the express train, he immediately attracted everyone's attention.

The first people to notice him were two soldiers in all-black armor, followed by a patrol team in simple attire, and finally a large group of family members and civilians - today is the open day of the military camp, and all the soldiers' families and civilians who have applied for a tour quota can stay here for a full 24 hours.

Khalil knew about this, but he had not expected that a platform outside a line that was hardly used by anyone could have such a large flow of people.

Of course, there won’t be much left soon.

After noticing his judge's uniform and the iconic coat, the pace of the family members and civilians quickened several times. As they left, the previously lively voices instantly dissipated, leaving only a hollow echo lingering between steel and steel.

It was only then that the two soldiers and the patrol team came towards him. They stopped in a line and an officer soon walked out from among them.

Judging from his rank, he was a sergeant, about forty years old, with brown hair, thick eyebrows, and a tanned complexion. The sleeves of his military uniform were rolled up to his forearms, revealing scars and small tattoos that probably commemorated a war.

"Sir." He saluted, then took out a silver square instrument from his waist. "We have received a notice that an inquisitor will visit Eagle Wing in the near future, but some procedures must be followed, please understand."

"fine."

Khalil nodded to him and said nothing more. He had already adapted to the many effects of being an inquisitor - some of his old habits, such as chatting or showing kindness, would become a bad thing under the influence of this identity.

He raised his hand and handed over the data tablet. The sergeant reached out to take it. The instrument in his hand beeped for a few seconds and the display light on it immediately turned from red to green.

The sergeant breathed a sigh of relief, saluted again, and then strode away with his team and the two soldiers on guard. It was hard to say whether he was extremely efficient or determined to escape from the Inquisitor, who always represented trouble.
But, for a moment, Khalil was the only one left in the station, which was terribly empty. He looked to the left, then to the right, and finally chose to look down at the data pad in his hand and open the map.

He walked for another while, and wherever he walked, the excitement in the place disappeared briefly. The soldiers had obviously learned of his arrival in some way, and the number of guards increased a lot, as did the number of patrols.

There was no other way. In order not to cause more unnecessary trouble, he had to quicken his pace and head towards the last destination of the day.

But this gesture seemed to cause even greater misunderstandings. Wherever he went, people suddenly stopped and buried their heads. Even the children who didn't understand why they had to do this were forced to do so by the hands of their elders.
They expressed their innocence and humility in this way, and he could not even stop to make any response, otherwise he would most likely be greeted with many sudden kneelings and shouts of "I am absolutely loyal to the Emperor".

"I knew the old way would work better, right, father?" someone asked with a chuckle.

I should have changed my clothes before coming in. Khalil rarely complained in his heart.

"Oh, that's useless. You don't know how to disguise yourself - unless you use psionics, but then you lose the point of a field visit and it becomes more like stealth."

Are my disguise skills poor?

"What do you think? You are used to having a blank expression on your face, and you observe everything around you, especially when you look at people. And considering your appearance, even if you change into civilian clothes, what will happen? I guarantee that at least half of the people will think you are a spy from the Ministry of Justice."

Khalil raised his hand and touched the right side of his face, thinking: What if I kept smiling all the time? Like the political commissar in the recruitment advertisement?

"I advise you not to do this." Conrad Kurtz's voice suddenly became serious. "I'm serious, Khalil, you must not do this." Okay.

With regret, Khalil walked into a canteen. It was crowded with soldiers having dinner. The aroma of food was mixed in the air, very tempting. The smell of various meat dishes was the most obvious, but there was also a hint of wine.

I think this is probably a special case today. After all, it is an open day that happens once every six months, and the soldiers' tense nerves must be given a chance to relax - they are not Astartes, and it is impossible for them to regulate themselves through meditation and suggestion alone.

Khalil looked around, and under everyone's gazes and scrutiny, he walked towards a window for collecting food. Through the translucent glass, he saw a nervous young man and his robot helper.

There were two huge iron barrels beside and behind them, from which the aroma of stew emanated. Khalil reached out and took out a stack of imperial coins, and used five dollars to get a portion of the stew that was not originally for sale, accompanied by soft white bread and gin, an ancient and simple alcoholic beverage.
He turned around with his plate and, as expected, saw that the cafeteria was half empty.

The remaining soldiers were divided into two groups. One group ate recklessly, at a speed that made people worry about their stomachs. The other group maintained their original eating speed, sitting together in groups of three or four, chatting and laughing. Although they looked at him from time to time, they would not do anything radical.

Khalil walked to a newly vacated round table and sat down, beginning to savor the simple meal.

He ate quickly and carefully, making sure the flavor of the food fully bloomed on his taste buds with every chew - and then Conrad Coates' voice appeared again.

"I used to think you didn't have a big appetite." He said thoughtfully. "The first time I saw you eating nutritional paste, I thought it was some kind of delicacy, but when I put it in my mouth, I realized it was just like mud."

Eating is a basic human desire. My abstention from real food is not because I don't want to, Conrad, but because I have no choice.

"But then you had a choice."

Yes, but unfortunately I had almost lost the desire by then.

"Then I will be quiet for a while -" Midnight Haunter suddenly whispered softly. " - Eat slowly, father."

Thank you, ghost.

Khalil let out a sigh and began to work on the stew on his plate with all his might.

The meat is evenly sized and cooked properly, and it almost melts in your mouth. Its fat and lean characteristics make its already extraordinary taste rise to another level. When you take a bite, the juice splashes everywhere, and then it is seasoned with thick soup and embellished with plant tubers.
When he put down his knife and fork, the stew on the plate had disappeared, leaving only two slices of white bread and a glass of gin.

He didn't waste it. He grabbed the bread, wiped the remaining stew juice, and finished it in two or three mouthfuls after it changed color. He took the first sip of gin and put it into his mouth. He rinsed his mouth a little and swallowed it directly, letting the fragrant taste bloom in his throat.

Khalil swallowed the bread and wine, leaned back, took off his hat and placed it on the left side of the plate, began to taste the wine, and waited. At the same time, he observed the reactions of others through the cover of sunglasses.

Many soldiers looked at him in surprise, obviously not expecting that an inquisitor could swallow this cheap stew so carelessly.

If they knew that he had never eaten a proper meal in his short but long life, perhaps they would understand his reaction.

Thinking of this, Khalil raised the corners of his mouth slightly and smiled secretly, and a voice came from his right.

"I didn't expect you to actually do what you said. What's up, Khalil? Are the stews in the cafeteria more appealing to you than my cooking?"

The cafeteria fell silent instantly, even the chewing sounds disappeared, and everyone stared at the purple-clad giant who suddenly appeared. It was not until about half a minute later that exclamations, greetings, and salutes were heard.

Khalil slowly stood up, hiding his headache as he sipped his wine, and said, "I'm just doing my job, Fulgrim."

Fulgrim smiled at him, but did not answer immediately. Instead, he turned around and waved to the soldiers. In an instant, the military-style solemnity and urgency turned into a meeting mixed with excitement. Some people even began to applaud, their faces flushed.
The uproar died down only when Fulgrim himself asked them to leave for a while.

"You could at least let them finish their meal, right?" Khalil asked.

He got a raised eyebrow and a shake of the head. "You'd better stop joking, instructor--I really don't understand. Did Conrad or Van Cleef never tell you that your sense of humor is actually very strange?"

Khalil was silent for a moment, then replied, "You're the second person to say this about me recently. Is my sense of humor really that bad?"

Fulgrim shook his head again. "Odd, not terrible. Now, let us discuss the results of your day's field work."

Khalil put down his glass, took out the portable data tablet again, and began to slide the screen. Clicking, writing, and typing, it didn't take him long to write a short report.

The content is actually very simple. If I have to summarize it, it only takes two sentences: In the name of the Grand Inquisitor, I wrote back to inform the Executive Council, the Regent and the Seal that Chemos is still prosperous and the glory of the Third Legion will last forever.

Therefore, any unnecessary speculation and speculation about the abnormal number of the Third Legion should be regarded as heresy. At the same time, I ask the Archmagos Belisarius Cawl of the Mechanicus to come immediately to help me solve the difficulties of the Third Legion.

After reading the report, Fulgrim slowly raised his head with a complicated look in his eyes. After a moment, he spoke softly.

"What are you going to do? Is there already a solution?"

"Yes," Khalil said noncommittally. "And one of them is very simple."

Phoenix's eyes lit up slightly, and he asked impatiently, "What is it?"

"Kill you," replied the Grand Inquisitor, rising and putting on his hat.

(End of this chapter)