Chapter 253 244.
If there is no contrast at the beginning of the banquet, there will be no harm.
Facts have proved that it is not that the imperial people are too high-profile, but that the barbarians from Barbarus do not understand art.
The dome is arched, and the flames hang down from the top along with the gold pieces, illuminating the hall. The ratio of darkness and light is just right, complementing each other, and the walls set off by the candlelight emit a sparkling shimmer.
Under the chandelier engraved with pearls, gold and silver, there is a sea of bright white silk and satin, and the undulating tables and chairs are staggered, forming a law called the empire.
The tallest tables and chairs are naturally surrounded by light and jewels, while the tables and chairs below them surround the giant with the aftermath of the wave, bowing their heads and willing to accompany him.
Human rulers are always mean. They cannot tolerate people of the same status as them being in the same room. It seems that equality will kill them.
The cheapest joy naturally arises from contrast. There is something wonderful about being condescending. The approval of others breeds happiness. Conversations with those in authority will only lead to sharp confrontation.
So although this is a gathering of the original bodies, there are still planetary governors from other planets and diplomats from garden planets. If a banquet is compared to an outing, then these people are the existences that make birdsong or frogs sing in nature.
The actors and dancers twirled on the dance floor, and the chords floated out from the luxurious and low string music, graceful and confusing. They stood out from hundreds of millions of people and were just impromptu toys for the imperial dignitaries.
But even if their skills and charm are so great that they make kings take off their laurels and brave men break their swords, they are still not the protagonists of this banquet.
Even most people's eyes and attention are not on the stage. They are looming, and their restrained and forbearing eyes are focused on the center - the
skinny giant is propped up on the most remote throne. He is so simple that he is desolate, and he is dressed in plain colors, which reminds people of before the rainstorm. The cloudy wasteland is vast and depressing.
People have seen rulers who love late night. The dark colors are accompanied by a mysterious and serious tone, but even so, the gems and gold wires that should be the details of the "costumes" still satisfy their vanity.
But the Lord of Death's clothes do not have those accessories that show wealth or status, no gems, no pearls, no exquisite and detailed decorations.
The only accessory is a brass-colored skull tied with a cloak, surrounded by the light of six thorns. The Roman numeral fourteen is engraved on it, and there seems to be traces of blood spattered on it.
Such a presence, even if it appears at the funeral of a powerful person, will be considered too simple, followed by a lack of etiquette and deliberately finding fault with the host.
But he is the original body, a demigod, holding the lifeblood of an entire empire, so people automatically found a reasonable explanation for his behavior.
He is the Primarch after all.
The Lord of Death sat quietly on his seat, looking dissatisfied with everything around him. The dishes were served, but he did not even take off his breathing mask.
A low pressure of death automatically spread around Mortarion, and even the boldest administrators dared not come forward to talk to him.
But those maids and waiters had to go through the low pressure, for no other reason than that there was a Space Marine at the table behind the Lord of Death who kept asking for extra food.
What is strange is that most Space Marines will match the temperament of the original body, but obviously the Death Guard does not comply with this theorem.
Jia Luo was expressionless. He should have realized that the commander of the Death Guard was not a normal person, but it was a pity that he did not realize this when he selected this boy.
The other legions had not arrived yet, and only the Death Guard entered the main hall first, because they did not "come in normally".
Faced with the tedious and lengthy honor guard of mortals, Mortarion did only one thing, and that was to ignore them.
Mortarion did the same when facing the Emperor's Imperial Guard. The Primarch despised all flashy behavior, and complicated etiquette obviously included it.
So Garro watched helplessly as Mortarion led them on a rampage in the honor guard. The original body ignored the honor guard who came up to plead guilty and followed the shortest straight line route between two points.
Gallo felt that the honor guard who was rejected by the legion commander was about to kill himself with his sword, but fortunately Hades stopped this poor and unclear man.
Jialuo breathed a sigh of relief silently in his heart. Hades's action at least did not require him to do this.
But this didn't make the whole thing any better. Jialuo had participated in similar activities, and their actions could not be called polite and honorable at all, but instead seemed like an intruder.
Jialuo felt slightly uneasy, and this uneasiness reached its limit when they entered the hall. Their clothes did not suit the place, they were out of place, as if they were in mourning.
Garro wore the same attire he had worn on foreign affairs, but in order to match Mortarion's style, he had to remove the intricately patterned parts.
And Hades's clothes were even more unusual. Gray's Mechanicus had previously given Hades a dress, so Hades put it on.
Although Hades also removed those parts that were too gorgeous, Gallo believed that Hades simply felt that it was ugly, rather than for other more obscure reasons.
On the dark background, low dark red and hoarse moss green interweave, outlining the symbols of the Mechanicus and the Death Guard. The buttons are made of black stone and are dull.
If the Iron Hands weren't going to be here, Hades's attire would obviously be inappropriate - in most cases, the Mechanicum is not a popular target.
But it doesn't matter, they are already here. Gallo looked at Mortarion who was staring at the plate in a daze, and
Hades Mortarion staring at the ups and downs in the bowl of soup. Douzi was like looking at a toad in the swamp. He didn't even take off his breathing mask.
For the first time, Gallo felt that Walkers might be more suitable for this occasion than him.
He could only pray that the other participants in this banquet were not tougher beings.
Gallo suddenly stood up and saluted, and dragged Hades up. Hades, who was just destroying everything, suddenly became He had a serious look on his face.
The loud sound of the trumpet sounded, the crowd gathered, the wonderful hymn was sung from the mouth, the light shone, and the gold and red guests entered the stage.
It's Rogal Dorn and Sanguinius.
Rogal Dorn was like a moving wall. He was draped in a bright saffron cloak, and his well-tailored gown highlighted his powerful shoulders.
A halo of gold surrounded his resolute and strong face, making the original body's short hair as white as marble shine even brighter.
He is a true king, magnificent and indestructible.
Rogal Dorn deserves to attract all the attention, but only if
the angel Sanguinius is not by his side.
This is a real angel.
The huge white wings hang down, each one with unparalleled perfection, fluffy and supple. Thin gold and red chains flow down from the coverts under the straight feathers, and the jewels on them are delicately following the movements of the original body. The ground trembled.
A soft halo burned around him, burning out a dazzling holiness. His slightly curly blond hair hung down, and his face was slightly thin, but it highlighted his scarlet eyes.
The angel, Sanguinius, seemed to be shining, and the long river of light flowed quietly beside him.
Everything was eclipsed in front of him, those burning candles, those lumen chandeliers inlaid with jewels, everything became gray and unbearable. In the face of true perfection, the flaws of everything are exposed
. .
No one could stand against Sanguinius, and people involuntarily stopped what they were doing and stared directly at the angel—
except, of course, Mortarion.
There was no standing welcome, the Lord of Death still sat on his throne, his movements unchanged from before, except that he moved his eyes from the bean toad to the wings of the birdman, with a slight confusion at the same time.
When the two shining originals came in, they seemed to be talking about something. This may not be a pleasant topic, because Gallo saw Rog Dorn's slightly frowned eyebrows.
Next, the two original bodies noticed the Lord of Death at the same time. They were surprised at first, and then the eyes of Rogal Dorn, commander of the Seventh Legion, became even more dissatisfied.
But compared to Dorn who had been staring at Mortarion, Sanguinius's eyes moved to the seat behind Mortarion for a moment. No one noticed that the angel's expression changed for a moment, as if the angel had been It's that divine expression.
The Blood Angels who followed Sanguinius received secret messages from the angels, asking them to be careful.
Rogal Dorn strode towards Mortarion, while the angel smiled and signaled the people who were dazed by his appearance to get back to work.
Hades and Gallo also took this opportunity to sit down. The Imperial Fist and the Blood Angels moved towards their location. Gallo was busy identifying whether there was anyone he was familiar with here, and Ha Dis took a sip of the soup with relish.
With the angels around, there is no need to worry about what will happen, although Rogal Dorn may have some quarrels with Mortarion.
Rogal Dorn, the real strong man, the simplest bad mouth, the most ultimate enjoyment, this primordial who refers to himself as a rock likes to be straightforward, advocating the truth that "if everyone speaks out, there will be no misunderstanding".
Rowan Dorn stood opposite Mortarion's dining table, his shadow cast down, and the sense of oppression rose sharply.
"You just caused a commotion among the mortal honor guards outside."
Rog Dorn's solemn and serious voice sounded,
"For a large-scale banquet, this behavior will lead to chaos."
"If you are not among them, If some people in the country are dissatisfied, then you should respect their work."
Mortarion's eyes rose and he stared straight at Dorn. A fire seemed to be burning in his amber eyes, and he was glaring at Dorn angrily. kindness.
respect? While they were wasting his life with that cumbersome and useless ritual?
He was about to spit out vitriolic venom, but a hand suddenly stretched out, interrupting his thoughts.
It was the mutant, and his presence was so strong that Mortarion subconsciously turned his gaze to the angel.
"Perhaps we should start by introducing ourselves."
Sanguinius smiled gently and restrainedly, opening his arms to isolate the two people from the exchange of sight.
Rogal Dorn glanced at the angel, but Sanguinius was right, they should introduce themselves.
"Legion Commander of the Imperial Fists of the Seventh Legion, Rogal Dorn."
"I am the father of the Blood Angels of the Ninth Legion. It is a pleasure to meet you-"
The angel looked at Mortarion with a polite look. Tarion only saw cold alienation in it,
"The Death Guard of the Fourteenth Legion, Mortarion."
"You like a brief welcome, my brother? Is this the custom of your home planet?"
The angel continued to maintain his flawless smile, gentle and with just the right amount of curiosity, as he pulled Rogal Dorn to his seat.
The angel chose to sit between the two Primarchs, which was obviously the right decision.
Mortarion merely nodded in agreement.
Rogal Dorn spoke again,
"You should adapt to the Empire, Mortarion. Maybe your vision should not be limited to one home star."
This is the case again.
Mortarion realized that no matter what, his "brothers", who shone like dance floor lights, would mock his home world and mock his origins.
Just because he didn't grow up among gold and thrones? Is it just because he is struggling in the swamp of the wilderness?
Ignorance, short-sightedness, arrogance, vanity.
Mortarion cursed his "brothers" loudly, but it didn't matter. He had nothing in common with these people who didn't know the cruel truth. Only these people who didn't know what would happen were still there. Waste their time and throw away their lives among jewels and silks.
Mortarion slowly and firmly gave Rogal Dorn a contemptuous look, then turned his gaze away and continued to stare at his bean soup.
A strange enough brother with a unique sharpness.
Sanguinius thought that Mortarion looked haggard, as if he were ill, and he was worried, but Rogal Dorn's words obviously sealed the possibility of continuing the conversation, and Mortarion had refused to talk.
The angel could realize that if he didn't say something, Rogal Dorn would speak. Although he didn't want to be such a presence, he also didn't want to let this banquet turn into a disaster.
After all, he had promised Horus.
Even though the Empire blocked almost all information, some Primarchs were aware of the blood splattered on the battlefield of Randan.
The last thing the angel wanted to see happened.
If wolves and lions could lift a butcher's knife in the Emperor's name, then they would have reason to do it a second time.
The Incomplete should be eliminated, but Sanguinius and his legions are also in the corner closest to the Incomplete.
Underneath the perfect and indifferent appearance is a restless and frightened soul.
But the smile on his lips didn't change at all.
The angel smiled and chatted with Dorn. It was easy to talk to someone who was willing to take any matter seriously. In fact, Sanguinius admired Dorn's straightforwardness.
Dorn came here to give the ashes behind the flames a place to stay, but he didn't understand all this yet and was still communicating with the angel with a little worry.
Mortarion was still present, and Sanguinius could only offer cryptic comfort to him.
Horus went to see the Emperor and Malcador, and in order to allow communication between the Primarchs, Horus arranged this gathering.
The executioner was naturally not invited.
But what gave Sanguinius some comfort was that Mortarion was not curious. The Death Guard was a aftermath of this battle, and this new brother should not know too much.
The angels were able to detect Horus's overtures and concern for Mortarion, so Mortarion was also here. Horus hoped that his dull brother would know more about the rules of the empire.
But Sanguinius' attention tilted slightly behind the primarch for a moment.
what is that?
Normal updates will resume tomorrow! Get ready for updates! Make up for the debt!
——Recommend
a book! It’s about medieval times, the writing is very good, and it’s still pork ribs! The author's praise is in the code. Because we don't understand the Middle Ages, I won't comment. Interested friends can take a look at
"Medieval Warhammer: Make the Tomb King Great Again"
(end of this chapter)