51. One-Sided

Konrad Curze Curze held the parchment scroll in his hands and began to read it carefully. This was unusual; any document was usually only glanced at by the Primarch. But this was different. This was Rogal Dorn's own handwriting, and it wasn't even a document.

Actually, it was a letter.

Curze cherishes his brotherhood more than ever before. All these factors combined have resulted in his serious demeanor at this moment.

Karyl leaned against the wall, silently observing the changes in the Night Lords's office within the Nest. He noticed several additional paintings, four weapons of different shapes and styles, a sculpture of the Nightfall, and a huge beast pelt.

Paintings and sculptures were not within his considerations; he was not good at art. Weapons, however, were worth mentioning, including a sword, a power hammer, a precision-crafted Boltgun tailored to Primarch size, and a pair of Lightning Claw.

The sword itself is exquisite, almost to the point of being a work of art rather than a weapon, with a strong Blood Angels artistic style. A pair of flamboyant angel wings form the hilt, and a ruby teardrop sparkles between the wings, so vivid it's almost eerie.

At first glance, the blade itself may seem unremarkable, but upon closer inspection, one will discover that it is adorned with countless tiny reliefs, possessing a terrifying elegance.

The power hammer is dark green with a rugged appearance, but its dark black hammerhead radiates intense heat; even with the naked eye, one can feel its heat distorting the air. Strangely, despite this intense heat, it doesn't cause the slightest damage to the wall.

The Boltgun has a quiet gray color, which fits the concept of a weapon, without any superfluous paint or decoration. The only symbol is a golden skull located directly above the barrel, but its shape is quite chilling.

It has six barrels that are joined together.

Finally, there were the Lightning Claw, possessing a somber elegance. Their surface was deep blue, accented with scarlet and gold—a distinctly Midnight Blade style. The six claws crossed over each other, their curved arcs quite deadly. They were probably a match made in heaven for Konrad Curze Curze.

As for that animal fur

"It's far too big," Karyl couldn't help but say. "What animal's fur is this, Konrad Curze?"

"The Banorlig Bear Beast is extinct," the Night Lords replied without looking up. "A beast of immense strength, capable of tearing Ceramite apart. Why are there things that can tear Ceramite everywhere in the galaxy?"

"That's why there's Adamantium armor." Karyl smiled slightly, then leaned closer to the hanging pelt and began to examine it carefully.

The person who killed it was undoubtedly a skilled hunter; he knew exactly how to kill a wild beast to obtain its pelt, and the fatal wound was cleverly concealed.

Karyl stared intently at the inconspicuous penetrating wound, an image flashing through his mind of a hunter wielding a spear to pierce the heart of a wild beast.

"This is a gift from Leman Russ Russ," Konrad Curze Curze said. "I haven't met him much, but he's an honest, uh, alcoholic?"

"A drunkard?" Karyl turned around, his hands behind his back. "That's an interesting adjective."

"He certainly loves to drink, and he's quite good at it." Curze rubbed his neck somewhat awkwardly. "His offspring are too; their original, specially made Fenrisian Mead is truly awful—the taste is unforgettable after just one sip."

"It seems you've made many acquaintances with people I don't know."

"You know them." Konrad Curze Curze shook his head. "They've all seen you, and you've seen them. Don't tell me you don't have those memories."

"No, I mean—" Karyl raised his hand and tapped his chest. "—me, not just an empty shell."

"That's not something I'm considering." Curze smiled somewhat sarcastically. "In short, their first impression of you wasn't very good, especially Vulkan's. You really angered him."

"Excuse me, could you repeat that?"

"Vulkan," the Night Lords repeated slowly. "My tallest brother, he's about your height, maybe a little taller. And very strong. However, although his appearance is somewhat intimidating, he's actually a very good person. You first met when we were reinforcements for their Battle of Herpano."

"Hmm," Karyl nodded thoughtfully. "They're fighting a group of humans who coexist with Xenos?"

"Yes. Don't you remember?"

"Only fragments and images, Konrad Curze, not the complete events. My memories of those eighteen years are fragmented; every face is like a vortex spinning, filled with an eerie light. Everything is mixed together, and I can hardly find what I'm looking for."

Karyl sighed. "So—how exactly did I make Vulkan?"

"You entered the enemy city alone, disappeared for seventeen hours, and then you returned carrying the heads of the Xenos kings."

Curze shrugged, grinned, and made no attempt to hide his mockery.

"What a heroic feat, Father. If it were without you, abandoning us, ignoring our cries, and disobeying orders to act alone."

Karyl was silent for a few seconds. Konrad Curze Curze's expression and words at that moment gave him a strong sense of déjà vu.

"And then?" he asked again. "What happened next?"

"Vulkan tried to reason with you, but you weren't listening at all. You threw the thing's head off, and then—cough."

Curze coughed a few times, straightened his chest, put on a stern face, and spoke again with an icy expression.

"I don't have time to waste here. Proceed slowly. Your accusations are baseless, my actions are correct, and the enemy poses no threat to me. They are currently gripped by fear, and if you are of sound mind, you should seize this opportunity to achieve victory. I must leave; I still have official documents to review."

The Night Lords burst into laughter.

"I still have official documents to review! Listen to that!" He couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "You were a complete workaholic back then."

Karyl fell silent again, this time for much longer than before. He had an urge to sigh, but he held back and rubbed his forehead.

"So, your good image was completely destroyed during those eighteen years, Karyl."

The Night Lords shrugged, chuckled, and stood up from behind his desk. "That's why Corax is so concerned about this; he asks me about you almost every year."

"I'm truly flattered," Karyl said slowly. "What did Rogal's letter say?"

"What? Are you finally going to be a strict parent? Are you planning to check your child's mail?"

Karyl raised his head and glanced at the Night Lords with an indescribable expression.

"Okay." Curze couldn't help but laugh, looking quite pleased. Karyl glared at him, finally showing a more normal expression.

"He simply told me to set off for Ullanor as soon as possible. The general offensive against the Orks had been won, and the Emperor hoped to spend a whole year rebuilding Ullanor, making it a beacon, a beacon symbolizing that the Great Crusade had finally reached a certain point."

"This will probably take a whole year. We have plenty of time to get there and attend this grand event, but it still feels a bit strange to me."

"Strangeness?"

"Yes," Curze nodded. "It's always strange to attend someone else's celebration party; after all, these honors have nothing to do with us."

Aren't you planning to go?

"Of course I'll go," the Night Lords sighed. "How can I not go? Rogal Dorn personally sent the invitation, hoping to see me there. If I refuse, I doubt I'll have any good days ahead of me."

"So, will all the Primarch be present?" Karyl asked.

"Not necessarily." Konrad Curze Curze lowered his head and began to check the list through the Dataslate. An event like Ullanor was worth the entire legion going, but unfortunately, it was impossible.

A portion of the staff must remain in Nostramo to fulfill their duties. Curze doesn't intend to personally select the candidates; that would be excessive, and it wouldn't be good regardless of whether they are chosen or not.

This matter will probably be resolved using the Night Lords' old method—a real sword duel. What other choice do they have?

Are you expecting these Hive City Nostramo, raised by the descendants of prisoners, to be law-abiding? Don't even think about it. Most of the Midnight Blade are full of rebellious spirit when not in battle.

However, while he doesn't intend to select certain people or omit others, he will try his best to make every battle fair by arranging the list.

"Not necessarily?" Karyl raised an eyebrow. "What? There are people who don't want to go to something like this?"

"Some people are probably just too busy," Curze said, head bowed. "Take Ferrus, for example. He and his legion are constantly on the move, practically making war their life. Fulgrim complained to me last time that he hadn't seen him in four years."

"That's definitely like his style."

"And of course, there's Lorgar." Curze looked up and tapped the table with his fingers. "He hasn't spoken to us in many years."

"You?"

"Everyone, not just me and Roboute," the Night Lords said quietly. "His legions have changed a lot; at least, the old ways of spending years conquering a world through faith and peace are no longer seen."

"They were even directly questioned by Terra on one occasion because they had slaughtered an entire world, leaving only a few dozen survivors. Terra questioned them about why they did it, Lorgar replied that they did not believe in gods and that refusing to submit was not his style."

Karyl narrowed his eyes and nodded. "What are your thoughts?"

"No," said the Night Lords. "I didn't see much, Father. Most of it was my own fate. As for Lorgar, I hope he's alright. I can only hope he's alright."

Update complete.