40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 750 39. Pre-war Preparations (IV)

Is this some kind of bad joke?

Cato Sicarius wanted answers, but Belisarius Cawl had no time for them.

The Casting General was busy at his workbench like a possessed monster. One glance at him was enough to tell that his attention was completely immersed in his work - in other words, to put it in a way that was more in line with the priests' behavioral logic, he now had no extra computing power.

So Sicarius had to walk aside and stand upright at the end of the workbench, temporarily acting as a sentinel.

Of course he knew that there was no need for anyone to take up the position of a Casting General like Belisarius Caul, but he had to do it. Otherwise, if he stood there with empty hands and no one paid attention to him, what would be the difference between him and a fool?

No, there is a difference. The young Ultramarines complained. At least a fool can do whatever he wants, instead of having to follow someone's orders and go back and forth on a road.
He resisted the urge to sigh and instead warned himself: Courage and honor. This short motto originated from Robouti Guilliman, first proposed by him, first applied by him, and then brought into the blood of the Ultramarines by him.

For thousands of years, they have strictly followed the requirements of this motto.

This was difficult at first, as the responsibility of becoming an Astartes was greater than the power it brought. But the recruits would always see the power and status first, and then realize why they were transformed from mortals to the sons of the Primarch.
Some accepted it quickly, others reluctantly, and of course, there were others whose names were erased and who would never become a member of the Ultramarines.

Not everyone knows what honor is, Sicarius thought.

He had realized this long ago, and at the time, it had made him feel irritated and incredible, as well as some inexpressible disgust.

However, now, in his eleventh year of service, when he thought about it again, the feeling was different - the irritation subsided, the surprise was eliminated, and even the disgust turned into a calmness of being accustomed to it.

Now, he understood that recruiting was not a sacred process. There might be a few special cases, but in most cases, it was just calling names from a list and then conducting a physical fitness test. What was sacred about these two things?

Those who sanctify, poeticize, or even sing praises of it either have ulterior motives or are blinded by faith.
He was thinking about these things idly, intending to use them to kill time, but his attention inadvertently fell on the armor rack not far away, where the prototype power armor he had just worn ten minutes ago was quietly lying.

It was still just a prototype in the initial design stage, but Sicarius saw many strange things about it.

For example, it does not adopt the one-piece chest armor structure of MK3, but it also does not provide additional pipelines placed in the abdomen like MK7.

The same is true for its legs. No power pipelines can be seen embedded in them. Although this is highly similar to the MK7, it does not have the independent knee armor design of the MK7. The overall look is thicker and has a smooth curve, which makes it more like the MK6.

Its shoulder armor made him feel very familiar, the very standard curved protruding border design was exactly the same as his own MK7.
The sound of footsteps interrupted his gaze. Sicarius turned his head to look and almost shouted out.

He immediately stood up straight, looking straight ahead, and really turned himself into Belisarius Cawl's sentinel, and a model sentinel. His posture was so impeccable, his manners were the same, and even his expression was so serious that he looked like a statue.

The footsteps stopped in front of him.

"What are you doing, Cato Sicarius?" the visitor asked curiously.

"I am here."

Sicarius got stuck in the middle of his speech, which annoyed him and made him a little worried, but the visitor was already laughing.

He nodded, patted his forearm, motioned him to follow him, and turned to walk towards the still busy casting general.

The latter seemed to be oblivious to all this and waved its appendages behind it continuously, turning the endless metal knocking sounds and flying sparks into a fusion of sounds that could be called music.

Of course, the Casting General himself had no actual intention of doing so, it was just a wonderful coincidence.

"Kawl," the man called gently. "Can you stop for a moment? Or should we wait until you're done?"

"Please wait a moment, sir!" Call shouted without turning his head.

"Okay, then we'll wait until you finish what you're doing - come on, Sicarius, I'll take you to see someone."

Before he finished his words, he took another step towards the only exit of Caul's laboratory.

Sicarius caught up with him in a few steps and asked in a low voice: "Sir, why are you here?"

"This plan was led and implemented by me, so of course I have to be here. You don't think I'm the kind of person who doesn't care about anything after issuing a task, doesn't ask anything, and no one can contact me, right?"

"This, I..." Sicarius was embarrassed.

Khalil smiled pleasantly and added, "Please don't mind my sense of humor. I have only recently discovered that it is actually very unusual, but I do like to make jokes. So if you find these jokes unacceptable, just tell me directly. However, if you find them funny, please laugh out loud."

"Anyway, Sicarius, we are still some distance from our destination, and I would like to take this time to ask you a few questions. Are you willing to accept?"

Sicarius was silent for a moment, then asked cautiously, "Is this also a joke, sir?"

"No—I assure you it is not."

"Then ask."

"I heard you turned down a promotion?" Khalil asked with interest. "Can you tell me why you did that?"

Sicarius thought for a moment before answering - but he actually didn't spend much time organizing his words, but instead spent them trying to figure out who had told the person in front of him about this.

He quickly came to the conclusion: it was the Primarch.

Ugh.
"Because I don't think I'm qualified." said the recognized battle brother in the Fourth Company, very seriously.

"I was promoted to adjutant directly after serving for eleven years. I don't have much experience, and I don't have any honors. Even if you say I'm a rookie, I can't refute it. With such ability and qualifications, how can I be the adjutant of Captain Ideos? Is it just because of a flash of inspiration in a battle? I don't know why the captain thinks so highly of me, but I personally can't accept that I was promoted to adjutant like this. This goes against my own principles."

Khalil made no comment on his point and simply continued to ask.

"So, you have just put on that prototype power armor? What does it feel like?" Sicarius frowned, instinctively recalling the machine spirit, and his voice became low.

"If I compare it with my MK7, then this prototype armor is superior in terms of reaction. When I put it on, any action I take is faster. I can even say that before I make a move, the armor itself has already taken action before me. However, its machine soul is very strange, sir."

"What's so strange about that?"

"I don't know how to describe it, I can only say it's powerful."

"Powerful? Interesting." Khalil nodded thoughtfully and stopped talking.

They advanced in silence until they were well beyond the contemplative expanse of Belisarius Cawl's laboratory.

Compared to the inside, the outside was much brighter. A young woman wearing a hood and a robe, with a holy book and a lantern symbolizing the Emperor's glory hanging around her waist, was standing among the moving servants, with her eyes closed and her hands clasped together, as if she was praying.

Sicarius looked at her in a slightly strange way, but as soon as he took a few steps closer, his problem was immediately solved. This person was indeed praying, but the object of her prayer was the servitors around her. Her voice was sad and pure, as if she was sympathizing with them.

Sicarius's brows furrowed more and more, but the woman took a few steps back after finishing her prayer and bowed deeply to them - no, that's not right, not 'them', but him.

The young Ultramarines subconsciously looked down at the so-called mortal standing in front of him, who nodded slightly to the woman and called out her name.

"I hope you didn't wait too long, Sister Celestine."

"It's worth the wait, my Lord."

The woman replied in a strange voice, her hands still clasped together. Sicarius looked at her and immediately noticed that these hands were actually covered with calluses from holding weapons for a long time.

The instinct of the Ultramarines allowed him to instantly build a theoretical model to deduce her true identity. In just two seconds, Sicarius came to several conclusions, one of which he retained after careful consideration.

He believed that the young woman named Celestine should be a battle sister. As the only military force under the state religion, they were officially established in the 36th millennium and have continued to this day.

And this is all Sicarius knows about them - there is nothing he can do about it, after all, he comes from the Five Hundred Worlds, and they are nowhere to be found where he was born.

"Come and meet Cato Sicarius," Khalil said again. "He is from the 4th Company of the Ultramarines, a trustworthy battle-brother, and the one personally selected by Forge-General Belisarius Cawl to try out the prototype of the power armor. You will inevitably have to deal with him frequently in the next few months."

As he said, Celestine looked up at him. Her eyes were cold and focused, with an assessment that was not disguised at all. She looked at him for a while, then nodded, spread her hands apart, and made a Sky Eagle salute.

"I salute you," she said, bowing her head. "May the Emperor bless you."

"I salute you as well, Sister Celestine."

Sicarius deliberately answered in a rough voice. He really found it hard to accept the other party's extremely obvious scrutiny and observation just now - what? What on earth did I do to make you dissatisfied?

Of course, his slightly childish behavior did not receive any response.

"I hope you will have a pleasant cooperation in the future." Khalil said. "However, Sister, I am a little curious. I clearly requested ten devout believers, so why did the State Church only send you?"

As soon as these words came out, Sicarius immediately noticed that the nun was extremely surprised. She had originally opened her hands, but now she closed them again, interlaced her fingers, and clasped them tightly. Then she lowered her head and spoke in a low voice as if begging for forgiveness.

"I don't know, sir, but I was indeed ordered to come here."

Sicarius once again noticed that the adult in front of him was shaking his head helplessly.

Before he could observe it again, Khalil turned around and said to him, "Please take Sister Celestine to the laboratory to meet Master Kaul. I have something else to take care of for the time being."

"clear."

Sicarius saluted him and watched him go away. With the Ultramarines' keen sense of politics, he believed that there was probably some kind of political struggle behind this incident.

This conclusion made him extremely angry - it was already this time, and yet they were still obsessed with using power tactics to fight each other?

However, in addition to his anger, he also had a somewhat sarcastic sneer: Well, go ahead and make trouble, and wait and see how this lord will deal with you. I just hope you don’t kneel down and beg for mercy.
With these two emotions, when he looked at the nun again, he couldn't help but have some sympathy in his eyes. A victim of political strife, sent here without knowing anything, what kind of fate will she encounter in the future?
Sighing secretly, Sicarius spoke slowly.

"Please come with me, Sister Celestine."

"Do not."

"Hmm?" Sicarius looked at her in surprise.

Celestine did not explain much, but slowly took off the lantern from her waist and raised it. This lamp was probably an ever-burning lamp, and it was specially designed. When her hand touched its handle, the flame inside immediately rose.

She raised it to her eyes, shielding her face from view, and looked at Sicarius through the flames.

"Sister?" Sicarius asked in a deep voice. "What are you doing?"

Celestine did not answer, but the sounds around her suddenly quieted down - a sound of wind whimpering from beneath their feet, like the wailing echoes coming from the abyss where the dead live.

After a long time, she put her hands down, hung the lantern back up, and clasped her hands together again.

“Please forgive me.” Celestine bowed deeply to him in apology, but that was all she said, and she had no intention of explaining herself.

Sicarius frowned and looked at her for a long time before turning around to express his true thoughts on her behavior without saying a word, and then strode towards the door of the laboratory. Behind him, the nun made a very soft sound of footsteps.

(End of this chapter)