49: A Deserter (VII)
Lion Aljonson fell into a rare deep contemplation, something that was unusual for him.
In the past, nothing could truly trouble him. He had read many books—history, art, philosophy. These books contained not only knowledge, but also questions.
These questions that have troubled countless people for countless years are nothing to him, not even a mystery. He doesn't need to solve them; the answers will appear in his mind on their own.
Now it's different; now he's thinking from the heart. He could have been more focused, but he has to divert some of his energy to suppress his anger.
Corswain stood beside him, his gaze fixed straight ahead, unmoved by anything. He belonged to no wing, no order, no the Order. He moved among them, familiar with and mastering all the hidden knowledge and organizational structures in the name and command of the Lion El'Jonson.
In a sense, he was almost synonymous with a part of Lion El-Jonson's will.
Now, he is staring at Luther.
Luther frowned, unsure how things would unfold next.
The inquiry has ended.
It lasted eleven hours and twenty-three minutes, during which all the officers and knights, whether of Terra or Caliban, renewed their oaths before the Lion El'Jonson in the audience hall.
They meticulously recounted these matters, which should have been carefully buried, to the recording Servitor. The Lion El'Jonson himself wielded a shovel, bringing these truths buried in the grave back to light.
However, no remains were found in the tomb.
The dead man— Trinfu Radon, a sergeant from the 439th Armored Division of the Imperium. He should have been lying in one of these millions of graves; he should have received today what he had lost.
But he didn't, because he wasn't even in those tombs.
Lion Aljonson opened his eyes and found Konrad Curze Curze staring at him. He turned to look back, but didn't know how to interpret Curze's expression.
The Lion El'Jonson clenched his right hand, his gaze finding Luther in the quiet audience hall.
"What's going on?" the Lion El'Jonson asked, his tone so matter-of-fact that he himself didn't realize what was hidden in his words.
Curze raised an eyebrow and glanced at Karyl, who didn't answer, but the corners of his mouth subtly curved downwards.
Luther pursed his lips as if it were second nature and shook his head. "I don't know, Lion."
"You didn't know?" The Lion El'Jonson narrowed his eyes. "You are the Grand Master of the Order, my steward. These matters should have been destroyed by you after they were completed. How could you be completely unaware, Luther?"
Yes, I shouldn't be completely ignorant, but--
Luther remained silent and lowered his head.
"--I truly know nothing about Sergeant Trinfu," he repeated. "I know everything about other things, like those guys in the 398th Regiment, and that lieutenant colonel."
"I remember them. Every victim should be remembered, that's what you said, Lion. I haven't let those words die in my heart, we all are."
"But how could you not know about this?" the Lion El'Jonson asked. His tone was calm, but his expression was puzzled.
A few seconds later, Luther felt a chill run down his spine, because Lion had begun pacing around the long table.
"Look, Luther— "
He raised his hand and pointed to Konrad Curze Curze and Karyl Lohars, who were standing on the other side of the long table. The two pale men watched them silently.
"--My brother came with Terra's orders, which means the Emperor is also aware of this. He will certainly agree with our treatment of the victims, but will he agree with us erasing their honor? No, he won't. If he did, he wouldn't be the Emperor."
The Lion El'Jonson walked up to Luther, lowered its head, and looked at him.
"At the same time, this also means that this matter cannot be fake," Lion Aljonsen said calmly.
"It's not one of those dark clouds hanging over our heads, made up of gossip. It's a real black spot, appearing on our pristine white smocks and collars. Can I ignore it, Luther?"
Luther remained silent for a moment before raising his head.
"I beg you to give me some time," he said. "I will make the truth come to light."
"No," said the Lion El'Jonson. "There's no need for that, Luther."
"I beg you," Luther practically pleaded—he knew what Lion Al-Jonson was thinking, and he couldn't let it slip out and echo in the audience hall of the Invincible Reason.
Luther left Caliban long ago to join this legion, and he was one of the driving forces that made it what it is today. Many people's honors are tied to this legion, including his.
What the Lion El'Jonson is about to do may cause everyone to lose their desire for honor.
But he knew what the Lion El'Jonson was thinking, and the Lion El'Jonson knew him just as well.
"No, no, Luther," the Knights King said in a cold voice. "This matter must be announced, without delay. I trust you, therefore, if even you are unaware of this, then there is only one reason."
He turned around and roared at Corswain.
"Bring all the officers who participated in that battle here and have them wait for me in the main hall!"
His gaze was extremely dangerous, as if a sword were held to his neck. He raised his hand and threw the sharp sword at his waist. It had an ornate scabbard and was an integral part of his armor.
They can all represent something.
"If necessary, you may draw your sword!"
"Yes, Primarch."
The knight, who belonged to no wing, reached out and took the sword, placing it on his belt, and answered his king with a firm tone.
"If necessary, I will draw my sword."
--
The Lion El'Jonson left the audience hall, saying he needed some time alone. He happened to have the time to do so. After all, gathering all the officers who had participated in that battle was no easy task, Corswain would need to expend considerable effort to find them all.
Even with an optimistic estimate, the whole thing would take at least two hours to complete. Now, only three people remained in the audience hall, but only one was lost in thought.
Luther.
He tilted his head back, gazing at the stained-glass window high above him, his expression filled with bitterness.
Once Lion Aljonson's will was set, it would never waver under any external force, a fact proven countless times by the Lion El'Jonson. Luther recalled those emerald eyes, the color of the deepest part of the Caliban Forest, and sighed softly.
Involuntarily, he also thought of his wife and daughter. He didn't want to remember, but humans cannot prevent memories from surfacing by their own will.
Finona.
He murmured his wife's name, then thought of his daughter, whom he hadn't yet named, and his heart skipped a beat. His wife had suffered a difficult childbirth when their daughter was born, and the doctors in Caliban couldn't save them.
Luther tried to Thunder, but he was so heartbroken that he could no longer stand. He couldn't bring himself to confront the doctor he shouldn't have, nor could he lash out at the injustice of fate.
Six months later, he found Lion Aljonson in the forest. He didn't find him alone; he had several companions with him. The atmosphere was tense because they had entered the depths of the forest to track a giant beast.
Lion Aljonsen didn't look like a human being at the time.
He was completely naked, covered in blood and filth, his golden hair as thick as sideburns. Thinking of this, Luther couldn't help but smile.
Perhaps that's why he blurted out "Lion" in Lion tense atmosphere.
He called himself the Lion.
And Lion certainly behaved like a Lion.
Many years have passed, and to this day, Luther can no longer understand the relationship between him and Lion.
He was entitled to call the Lion El'Jonson his son, and if he had, the Lion El'Jonson probably wouldn't have objected. But he didn't. He could also have called the Lion El'Jonson his superior, comrade, or brother.
But he still didn't. He simply called him Lion, just like before.
"What should I do?" Luther muttered to himself, turning to the other two with an almost heartbreaking look in his eyes. "He'll make the Legion bleed, what should I do, you two?"
"What do you intend to do?" Konrad Curze Curze asked. "In my opinion, this situation is not surprising at all, Grand Master Luther. No Primarch would allow something like this to happen within the Legion, let alone with Lion."
He paused for a moment, a glint in his dark eyes giving Luther the strength to continue listening.
"I don't know him very well, but his emphasis on honor doesn't require deliberate observation."
"He'll question them," Luther replied bitterly. "Given his character, he can't possibly remain calm now. He'll question everyone. Will he get the truth? I don't know. But I do know something else."
"What happened today will certainly become a stain on our reputation, Lion will spread it around. At that point, where will the legion's cohesion go?"
Curze shook his head and said nothing more. So Luther switched allegiance to another giant, Karyl Lohars, who watched him with his arms crossed and fingers lightly tapping his arms.
"One mystery after another," Karyl began slowly. "We came here to remind and to redress the grievances of the victims, but we never expected that the First Legion would actually have only one wrongful conviction all these years."
"You've only created one deserter, Lord Luther, and this deserter doesn't even seem to exist. This whole thing sounds like a bizarre and terrifying joke. But a joke has to be funny enough, otherwise it's not a joke."
Luther's heart began to pound; he had already discerned something from Karyl's expression.
"We won't let things get to that point, Lord Luther," Karyl said. "Ultimately, this news came from the Eighth Legion. Terra's intention was to remind you, not to let your friendships be eroded by anger and shame."
Luther's heart skipped a beat—a few seconds later, he nodded heavily, and at the same time, he made a silent decision.
Forgive me, Lion, he thought to himself. But if things really come to that, sacrificing a few is better than sacrificing the many.
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