32. Judgment Day (I)

As soon as he finished speaking, the chill dissipated. In that instant, Al Phall turned around abruptly.

Where did that sound come from?

He tried to find the answer, but there was no one behind him. The Raven Guard stood a few meters away, staring at him silently.

The trigger-activated shields on the shoulders of the Ironclad Terminator gleamed steadily, and countless heavy medals hung from the steel tassels cascading below the shoulder armor. A ribbon of honor wound its way from above the breastplate, like a shimmering golden river, cutting straight through the Raven Guard's cool black and white paint scheme.

Everything seemed normal.

So, who was speaking just now?

Al received no answer, and his turmoil became the source of his troubles. He turned around, only to find a pale skeleton suddenly appearing in his line of sight.

Layered ribs, shaped almost like a human, solemnly guarded a scarlet gem located in the chest. Al slowly raised his head and saw a skeletal face, its deep eye sockets empty, like black holes that swallowed all light.

Al instinctively reached for his sword, but the skeleton reached out first and placed its hand on Arcas's wrist. The pressure wasn't harsh, it could even be described as gentle, but Al was still unable to pull the blade out even a millimeter.

At the same time, that chilling cold returned, ruthlessly robbing him of control over his body.

The skeleton withdrew its hand and turned to walk towards the two Primarch. Al roared inwardly, trying to stop it.

He didn't understand why the Shadow Guard behind him remained motionless, nor did he understand why the Night Lords, who had witnessed everything, stood by and did nothing. But he had to protect the Primarch.

But does his Primarch need it?

Under his gaze, the skeleton walked toward the two Primarch. What happened next was far beyond Al's comprehension.

"Ah, you've arrived, Karyl." Konrad Curze Curze turned his head and greeted him with a smile. "I was just wondering where you'd been. What kept you occupied for so long?"

"I went to see Jago Sevatarion," Karyl said, glancing inquiringly at Kolus Corax as he answered the Night Lords's question.

The latter nodded to him, giving a silent answer. A strange tacit understanding was evident in their exchange. Anric Barbatos, standing to the side, looked up without glancing at him, beginning to ponder why the atmosphere had suddenly become so odd.

He naturally couldn't find the answer.

"And Sergeant Alastor Rorschach," Karyl continued. "He has awakened from his coma."

"I hope Jago Sevatarion is alright," said the Primarch of the Nineteenth Legion. "I saw what his left hand looked like. Alastor's hunger for victory overcame something he shouldn't have."

"Oh, don't say that." Curze leaned back, propping his cheek up with his right hand, and spoke in a listless tone. "Sevatar isn't much better; he's got a lot of bad habits."

Karyl astutely allowed the conversation to fall into a silence that lasted for several seconds; he did not attempt to speak, lest the atmosphere become even more awkward.

And the announcer they had hired—or rather, the Remembrancers who was acting as an announcer— Bellros, resumed his work.

His voice was loud and clear, his words were perfectly chosen and even humorous. He was so professional that one couldn't help but wonder if he had done something similar before.

"A fantastic battle!" Bellros shouted, and then began bombarding the microphone with his voice.

"Captain Jago Sevatarion of the Midnight Blade and Raven Guard have delivered a truly spectacular battle for the celebration! Let's give a round of applause to these two warriors!"

"Please enjoy the food on your tables, and await the start of the next battle! Under the watchful eyes of the two Primarch and all of Nostramo, the fighters will represent the Midnight Blade and the Raven Guard, and their battle will lay the foundation for the friendship between the two legions!"

"He really knows how to talk," Konrad Curze Curze remarked with a hint of surprise, grabbing a piece of dried eel from the round table in front of him.

It has undergone a rigorous processing procedure and has now completely lost its activity. The jerky itself is about the length of a finger of the Primarch, with a flat surface and crystal-clear flesh that reflects light like glass.

The Night Lords twisted it with his fingers, and a rich aroma of meat instantly filled the air. Corax looked over expressionlessly and happened to see Curze swallow the whole jerky without chewing, his eyes slightly narrowed, a hint of satisfaction in them.

"Is it good?" Kolus Corax asked.

"Of course." Konrad Curze Curze smiled slightly, picked up a large plate of dried eel from the round table, and handed it over.

His brother watched him for a while, then picked up the smaller one with an extremely peculiar care. He held it in his hand, examined it carefully for a long time, and then opened his mouth.

Chewing, the flavors of the food bloomed, exploded, and multiplied on the surface of the taste buds. Corax's eyes widened, and his throat bobbed several times before he finally swallowed the piece of jerky.

"Do you want more, brother?" Curze asked with a hint of anticipation.

"No, I won't." The Lord of the Crows closed his eyes tightly and answered in a slightly melancholy tone.

He enjoyed the taste of the dried eel, but he wouldn't allow himself to eat any more. The food was too delicious; he didn't want to indulge in any desire for it. After all, Corax knew very well that such a dish must be quite expensive.

The Raven Guard is not a particularly wealthy legion. Although it has reached many agreements with the Emperor, the time has been too short for them to grow to the point where they can support the legion.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Curze asked, slightly surprised.

"No, brother." Corax opened his eyes and slowly shook his head. "My stomach isn't used to this kind of food."

The lie slipped out without much thought, Primarch smiled bitterly to himself—what a lowly lie, what am I even saying?

He lowered his eyes, avoiding eye contact with the Night Lords. He was certain that Konrad Curze Curze would be displeased by such a lie and rejection. But he was wrong; Konrad Curze Curze showed no displeasure.

His brother simply patted him on the shoulder and said in a calm tone that offered little comfort, "I understand how you feel, Corax. But sand eels aren't actually that expensive."

Corax looked at Curze with slight surprise.

"Surprised?" The Night Lords shrugged. "Actually, the answer is quite simple. For ordinary people, its overly rich flavor is a poison, enough to destroy their taste buds and sensory nerves."

"Moreover, sand eels are far too dangerous for ordinary people. When alive, they are over a meter long, extremely fast, and strong enough to shred steel plates. They are a special food supply for the Astartes and the Legion, so they have always been very cheap."

He reached out and handed the silver disc over again.

"A ton of dried sand eel is even cheaper than an equal weight of nutritious porridge," the Night Lords said with a smile. "So, eat as much as you like. Just don't eat it every meal like our Keg does."

What are the consequences of eating this at every meal?

"Yes, you'll get addicted." Konrad Curze Curze put on a serious face. "Then you'll become famous like Keg because of it."

Corax's lips twitched; he seemed to smile slightly.

Karyl observed them silently, his fingers, hidden beneath his cloak, trembling slightly.

Found it.

A fleeting, dark flame of rage flickered in the skull's empty eye sockets.

--

The celebration concluded successfully after twelve hours, and the invited workers and the administrators of the Hive City returned to their respective homes by car. The civilians who had watched the celebration from their dormitories or homes finally went to rest, satisfied.

Watching continuously for twelve hours is not an easy task for anyone, but no one wants to miss such an opportunity.

Moreover, with the other Primarch and his Legion visiting, the factories and mines are closed for the holidays. If not now, when?

Of course, the end of one thing often means the beginning of another. At this very moment, deep within the "The Nest" beneath Quintus Hive, Karyl is walking side by side with Corax.

Konrad Curze said you have a lot of experience with this kind of thing.

"What kind of thing?" Karyl countered.

"I don't know. The Judgment?" Corax sighed, a slight headache in his eyes. He didn't have the airs usually associated with Primarch. In other words, he only showed seriousness when necessary. In private, the Lord of the Ravens was quite genuine.

It's at least much more authentic Perturabo.

"My preferred methods of Judgment are quite different from what you need right now, Corax," Karyl smiled slightly. "Besides, I'm an outsider. Do you really think I should be involved in this?"

Corax stopped and looked at him for a moment.

"You're not an outsider," the Primarch said in a strange tone. "I mean, if my father trusts you so much, why should I question his trust in you? I don't doubt him, nothing, nothing. I promise him I will be loyal to him and support him, and so he is."

Karyl shook his head, not wanting to devote too much energy to the matter. He had already found a new argument—

"But I still need to tell you one thing, Corax. The evidence I have in my possession cannot be recorded, cannot be mentioned, and should not even be trusted."

The Primarch of the Nineteenth Legion pondered carefully for a moment, then made a gesture.

"I'd rather see it with my own eyes," he said. "If it really is as irrational as Konrad Curze claims, perhaps it would be a good thing for my legion."

Also, the code.