Chapter 144: Cat Food, and the Cat Boss.
The melee did not last long.
After scratching each other's faces bloody, realizing that they, as noble Dark Angels, could not be as savage as the Space Wolves, the Fallen Angels tacitly withdrew. At the same time, they were a bit regretful. This secret had already been discovered by that big-mouthed Deathwing.
So embarrassing. Why couldn't I control myself?
"Are you done fighting?" Ramesses's deliberately lowered voice sounded again, drawing the angry glares of everyone present.
I thought you could fight a little longer. There's not a single good brick left in this temporary meeting hall.
The Librarian, following Arthur's command, waved his hand. Several Deathwing marines walked up with a mechanical device carrying nano-metals.
Everyone subconsciously retreated, but their armor was locked again.
Damn it. When I have time, I must crack the system of this armor, the Fallen Angels thought to themselves. The performance of this suit of armor was absurdly strong. It was impossible not to want it. They had to find a way to make it their own. But for now, it was just a thought.
At this moment, they could only watch as the Deathwing approached.
VMMM~
The device activated. A liquid-like stream of nano-machines flowed out, climbing onto their armor, and began to repair all the damage and the paint.
Zahariel, who was from the Ironwing and could hand-craft a suit of Mark VII armor himself, could see at a glance that this was some kind of memory-repair nano-robot from Mars, which could, after inputting a model, quickly repair corresponding small machinery. Larger ones were not unheard of, but they involved the realm of AI.
How extravagant.
He couldn't help but click his tongue. The wounds on his face had already begun to heal with his accelerated metabolism.
"Follow me."
CLICK—
With the repairs complete, the armor was unlocked again.
Ramesses was the first to turn. The Fallen Angels, after a brief exchange of glances, chose to follow.
The moment they stepped out the door—
"Zabriel, are you sure we're still on the Silent Vow?" Cypher asked his companion, one of the only two who could link with the Machine Spirit.
Before them was a corridor that led directly to the ship's great council chamber. From above, they could look down on a warehouse area that was nearly three kilometers long and wide. At this moment, the warehouse was no longer filled with a pathetic scattering of firearms and armor. Rows of heavy armored vehicles such as Mastodons and Sabres were parked within. Some were being moved under the command of a mortal auxiliary force in void armor, making space for the war machines that would arrive later.
"I feel like I've gone back ten thousand years," the members of the Ironwing said, looking at the familiar vehicles with a sense of nostalgia.
Having drifted with the relic-cruiser for many years, it wasn't that they hadn't seen Space Marine vehicles.
Besides Land Raiders, there were just more Land Raiders.
It wasn't that the Land Raider was bad. But was that thing meant for a frontal assault?
And on the other side of the corridor, the mortal living quarters... these mortals all looked like they were from a military background. They must have just been transferred to this ship and were now settling into their new quarters.
"Greetings, warrior of the Imperium," a Fallen Angel said, stopping a female soldier.
"What can I do for you, my Lord?" Yulia immediately straightened her back and tucked the pendant in her hand into a clasp on her belt.
"May I ask, what is the meaning of the decorations you are putting up?" he asked politely, a bit curious about the holy fire insignia that was burning with the image of an unknown xenos. When not dealing with their little secrets, the Dark Angels were the very model of a Space Marine.
"This is to record the heroic deeds of our homeworld, when we fought against the xenos together with the Astartes lords," Yulia said with pride. She had been fighting with the crusade fleet for over two years. Her long battlefield experience had allowed her to realize what a glorious victory the defense of Pierdra had been. Now, the hundred thousand or so of them from Pierdra had left the Cadian auxiliaries and were now serving as the auxiliary force of the Dawnbreakers, fighting alongside them and living and procreating within the fleet.
Their unique culture and history would be passed on in another way.
"Can you tell me more about it?"
"I'm sorry, my Lord." Yulia showed an apologetic expression, then pointed to the door of her home. It was marked with "House of Merit," and also recorded a series of campaign experiences.
The Fallen Angel subconsciously frowned. He found that some of the carvings had a pattern similar to a cipher.
"Is this a secret?"
"Yes," Yulia replied seriously. "We can no longer return to our homeworld. But we can use this way to remember our history and to commemorate our ancestors."
"I will try to understand and remember them." The Fallen Angel nodded seriously. This sense of ritual immediately won his favor. In fact, the Dark Angels appreciated this kind of cultural confidence. Because the original First Legion had come from all over Terra, their cultural exchange was much more frequent than other legions.
A few of the Fallen Angels were already planning to form a study group and join in.
"Thank you for your acknowledgement, my Lord." Yulia bowed slightly, making the sign of the Aquila.
The Fallen Angel waved his hand and walked away.
Following the corridor, after observing the assault formation of the Stormbirds and the laying of the production lines for various basic armaments, and marveling at the formidable strength of this Dark Angel force, the group finally arrived at the true council chamber.
The Round Table Council Chamber.
The basic color scheme here was the same as the hall they had just been in. It looked a bit monotonous, but it did not lack for majesty. The sharp corners in the architectural details broke up the various color blocks, and while retaining a sense of solemnity, it also gave people a sense of the killing aura of a military fortress.
The banners of the various Orders and Knightly Orders hung from the window sills. On the staircase, paved with nearly a thousand white marble steps, stood the round table.
The splendidly dressed Deathwing Knights were lined up on both sides. They were as still as statues, letting the gentle breeze from the air circulation system stir their long tassels.
This was the true heart of the Dawnbreakers - the Broken Steel Wing.
In the center of the bone-white knights' guard, a black knight stood. He was admiring the Roman numeral I, which was wrapped around his wrist by a chain and was shining brightly under the light. The light clearly outlined the knight's face and figure. The deep red patterns on his armor also showed a faint golden edge.
The First Legion!
Everyone felt a sense of suffocation for no reason, as if the Emperor Himself were watching them, especially the Terran-born veterans who had once followed the Emperor.
"Be seated," Arthur said, looking at the knights.
No suggestion, only a command.
The Fallen Angels quickly observed their surroundings. The council chamber was large enough to hold three thousand people. On some of the tables, the helmets of knights had already been placed. This was prepared for them.
"Yes, my Lord!" The various Fallen Angels saluted respectfully and strode to their positions.
As for how they knew... Cypher's gaze fell on the carpet on the stone steps. Compared to the superficial decorations of the previous hall, this was a council chamber worthy of carrying the history of the Dark Angels.
Every seat had been meticulously carved. The artistic cultures of their respective Orders, Knightly Orders, and their subordinate units had been perfectly integrated. Their histories were also mixed in with their respective ciphers, forming deep and beautiful lines. This allowed these Fallen Angels to see their own unique position at a glance.
This feels right. They had been feeling like something was missing. How could the Dark Angels be as classless as barbarians like the Space Wolves? It had to be this luxurious, low-key, and restrained.
Stroking the knight's helmet, looking at the decorations that matched his own, the Fallen Angels couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort.
The previous activity room had been designed too plainly. Not at all Dark Angel-like. Not like now, where only he and his brothers from his Order could understand.
"Zahariel, what are you looking at?" Gareth noticed that Zahariel, at his side, had been staring at the carpet at his feet, and typed out a relatively well-known cipher.
After a fight, all that needed to be vented had been vented. At least now, normal conversation was not a problem. The destruction of Caliban was the Lion's fault, the traitors' fault, but it should not be blamed on these unlucky souls who were in the same boat.
"..." Zahariel was silent, just silently deciphering the cipher that only a very small number of Ironwing Terran-born could decipher.
[Although Lion El'Jonson, at the beginning of the Great Betrayal, chose to wait and see; in order to fight for the position of Warmaster, he gave two relic Ordinatus Majoris to Perturabo to attack the walls of Terra, causing huge casualties; when recovering the Tuchulcha Engine on the relic forge world, he let Typhus go; he participated in the establishment of the Imperium Secundus on Macragge; his homeworld rebelled during the Great Betrayal; he did not display the standard of the First Legion throughout the Horus Heresy.]
[But there is no doubt that the Lion is loyal. It's just that the Primarchs are also human, not omnipotent gods. They also make mistakes and have their own shortcomings.]
Zahariel for the first time felt that his authority in the area of expression management had been challenged as never before.
"It's a secret. You need to discover it yourself," Zahariel knew this was meant for him. He held it in for a long time before he could spit out the organized language.
"I understand." Gareth nodded. Compared to these Terran-born, his experience was still much less. Of course, he also saw what he wanted to see. The numerous Dark Angels realized that they were respected. They looked at Arthur with a tacit understanding, their eyes also filled with awe.
This lord really knew everything. The Legion really had an Inner Circle that monitored all the other Inner Circles. But it was much better than that damned Deathwing.
A secret is a secret. It's enough that I know that you know my secret. How can you just say it out loud?
'Master Arthur is really amazing when it comes to a sense of ritual.'
Ramesses clicked his tongue. These Dark Angels had only been fighting for a few minutes, and he had already arranged everything here so perfectly.
Look at these Dark Angels. They look like they've come home.
"Gentlemen," Arthur said, looking at the Dark Angels, not a single one missing, with some relief. "It is easy to speak of reunion and reconciliation. But it is not shown on the edge of a sword. You could have killed your own comrades, but you did not. And for that, you have earned a seat here."
These Dark Angels were not difficult to handle. At least they were not children. Although they were neurotic, they were more or less reasonable.
"I know that although I have answered some questions, you still have many doubts." Arthur opened his hands, like an emperor inviting his ministers to offer their advice. "Now, please speak freely. I do not wish for lingering doubts to interfere with your efficiency in the future."
This attitude was as if he had tacitly assumed that these defeated generals should be under his command.
But strangely, no one had any objections to this. On the contrary, they all began to think seriously.
Askelon moved his lips, and finally gritted his teeth and said, "My Lord!"
"Speak."
"Are you willing to give every one of our battle-brothers a chance?"
"As long as they have not fallen to Chaos, they can," Arthur replied seriously. "We cannot make the same mistake as the Lion. I, and we, should investigate the evidence, conduct multiple verifications, and not assume that the other party has betrayed or been corrupted without evidence."
"..."
Many of the Fallen Angels felt their composure break. At the same time, it was quite satisfying to hear someone leading the charge in badmouthing the Lion. Especially those Fallen Angels who had understood the cipher.
They didn't really believe this lord had not participated in the Great Crusade, but they believed that this lord had definitely not followed the Lion. The Lion had an extraordinary arrogance, which was that he could not be questioned.
Such a character, who dared to directly say that the Lion's performance in the Great Betrayal was problematic, would have had his head fly off, and that would have been a light punishment.
"I understand, my Lord. Thank you for your mercy." Askelon saluted, then sat down.
"My Lord." Zahariel raised his hand.
"Speak."
"Our bodies. Did you perform some kind of modification on us while we were unconscious?" He had long felt that something was wrong. He felt that he had become significantly stronger, and his bones had also begun a secondary development.
"Yes. I performed the Primaris Space Marine modification on you. Because in the future, your current strength will not be enough to deal with the various threats. The specific data has been stored in your personal terminals," Arthur explained. "I need to apologize to you."
I was wrong, but I still did it.
Arthur had no time to mobilize them one by one. He hoped that these Fallen Angels could play their role faster and more perfectly, and then, in the process, confirm for themselves that there was nothing wrong with the surgery, instead of wasting time on this matter.
"I understand, my Lord." Zahariel touched his face, also suppressing his doubts, and sat back in his seat.
The others had no objections to this. The strong dominate the weak. This was the privilege of the strong.
But they also took the matter of the surgery to heart and decided to study it carefully.
"My Lord." Gareth asked.
"What do we need to do next?"
"We are now under a joint framework called the Dawnbreakers. Within the framework, besides the Dark Angels, there are also the Ultramarines, the Blood Angels, and the Thousand Sons. Because our identities are sensitive, for now, within this framework, you will need to take on the duties of the Apothecarion."
"Of course, this is just on the surface. In due course, besides combat missions, you will also need to gradually take over the intelligence work. The specific strategy database will be open to you."
On this matter, Arthur retained a suitable degree of honesty.
"And you will need to learn the professional knowledge of an Apothecary. Of course, if you have any professional questions, you can ask me."
The best thing about the Dark Angels was that they didn't need to be taught, only managed. They had no physiological defects. They would learn to adapt to their environment on their own.
It's all connected.
The Fallen Angels realized.
So the reason he performed the surgery without telling us was just to wait for us here?
They felt they had been played.
Because if they didn't study it, they couldn't rest assured. And after they had studied it, they would probably be qualified Apothecaries.
"My Lord." Someone else asked.
"What if we intend to leave?"
Are you crazy? Someone looked at his battle-brother in surprise. After being beaten up and captured, you're still thinking of leaving?
"If you insist on leaving, I will not force you," Arthur replied flatly. "I will not allow unstable factors to remain in the team. I will only command the Dark Angels who are willing to obey me and want to enter our group."
The man touched his own head and found that it was really still there.
And so the Fallen Angels began to ask questions, one after another.
Time passed, second by second. The questions from the Fallen Angels were endless. And Arthur just stood in the center of the round table hall, patiently answering the questions from all sides.
In this question-and-answer session, the Fallen Angels finally discovered the problem.
This lord was too patient.
As the victor, he originally had no need to explain so much. Yet Arthur just stood there under the light, patiently talking with them, these displaced Fallen Angels, satisfying their curiosity...
No, we can't go on like this.
Suddenly, the Fallen Angels all tacitly fell silent. This way of communication, where every question was answered, was too comfortable. It was a far cry from the days when they had to find out secrets for themselves.
"My Lord." The Fallen Angels communicated secretly for a while, and finally let Zabriel speak. "What can you give us?"
They all knew that Lord Arthur knew all their secrets, but they still wanted to hear the answer from his own mouth.
"I cannot guarantee the life of every one of you. Nor can I promise you a future that I cannot achieve," Arthur's tone was calm, his voice resonant and powerful. "I will give you the prey for your hunt. I will record the melody of your lives. If you fall, I will bring the echo of this life to the Lion in the future, to your battle-brothers. As for what kind of person I am, you can witness it with your own eyes in the future."
"Then you will be at odds with the current Imperium," a Fallen Angel reminded him, his words filled with meaning.
"Let them come," Arthur said, raising his right hand. The shining insignia of the First Legion passed over everyone present.
"Confirm your own hearts, reconcile with your past comrades. Our war machine can still display its power after ten thousand years. We are far stronger than the current sons of the Lion. As the same pride, will you be afraid, Zabriel?"
Zabriel was taken aback. Facing this lord who had defeated him and many of his comrades in a frontal assault. A series of displays of military detail, and Arthur's mercy towards the various Fallen Angels, all pointed to one thing.
He could do all the things that the Fallen Angels now dared not even think about.
He was willing to discern, to give the Fallen Angels a verdict. He was also willing to lead the Fallen Angels to reclaim their lost honor.
"Forgive me, my Lord. I have already chosen to be loyal to the Lion. I cannot serve the next monarch," he said, striking a fist to his chest in salute, his face filled with seriousness and solemnity.
"If that is your intention, then please allow me to accompany you. Before the end of our journey together—"
"I will swear by my sword, I will follow you."
Arthur took a deep breath and looked at everyone present, whether black or white, their military demeanor solemn. The hall was bright. He remembered everyone's face.
"We are the First Legion."
With this solemn black and white as his background, Arthur raised his blade.
The nearly five hundred Fallen Angels present all stood up at almost the same instant.
"We are fearless!"
(End of Chapter)