"How did you become an Astarte warrior?"

"When I was a child, a stranger came to my family, and he recommended me a job that required the greed of a beast, the ruthlessness of a machine, the constant harm and plunder of others, and the constant shouting of the emperor."

"He's an Asta-specific officer?"

"Yes, but I thought he wanted to recommend me to the Council of Terra."

——————

Jean-Lana is a veteran in every sense of the word.

By the time the Second Legion's fleet had finally completed their meeting with the Iron Warriors and left the Veil of Destiny, which had been abandoned by everyone, and headed south, Rana had served as an Imperial warrior for more than one hundred and twenty Terra standard years.

Seventy-eight years of this were spent in the Great Expedition, and the rest was the ups and downs of the War for the Unification of Terra: yes, contrary to what ordinary people think, the war that the Lord of Humanity used to unify Terra was incomparably long, and it probably took him almost two hundred years to wipe out the barbaric technological tribes, genetically modified warlords, and tyrannical relics of the ancients on the human home planet, and the power and technology that these earth overlords who once entrenched on the sacred Terra actually possessed, It was even enough for them to divide one side of the galaxy and become the ruler and emperor of several galactic regimes.

The time span between the First Legion's Angels of Death appearing for the first time in the Siege of Samarkand on the scale of the Legion and the official start of the Great Expedition is more than 130 years, not to mention that long before the Siege of Samarkand, the Thunder Warriors have been serving as the Emperor's death messengers, constantly expanding their territory.

Lana, on the other hand, has witnessed almost all of this: as one of the first soldiers of the Second Legion, he fought for the first time, and the first time he saw the heroism of the emperor, when he besieged and destroyed the last temple on St. Terra, the Thunderstone Church, as the vanguard of the Second Legion, and for more than a hundred years, he never broke away from this identity.

He was the immortal vanguard, the leader of the spearhead detachment, responsible for the early stage of intelligence reconnaissance and the necessary breakthrough of the front in the war: he was satisfied with these duties, and never thought of further in status and rank, although his resume, honors and medals were enough to make him the leader of the Second Legion, he never thought of leaving his rank and file command.

In other legions, this may be a little strange, but in the Second Legion, figures like Lana abound, and the peculiar and unpretentious pragmatism is one of the most ingrained characteristics of the Morgan Sons, who have a set of values that even seem strange to their fighting brothers in other legions, and a large number of veterans and meritorious people are willing to stay in the grassroots positions where [the Legion needs him most] rather than continue to climb the ladder: because those so-called high positions and powers are not enough to attract most of the soldiers of the Second Legion.

This leads to an interesting phenomenon: among the other legions, especially the War Dogs or the Iron Warriors, their superiors have unimaginable authority and control over ordinary soldiers, but before Morgan took over the Second Legion, the leadership of this legion was known for its relative weakness.

Because you never know how many years you've served, how many exploits and medals you've had, the Morgan's sons have had some of the best damage rates during remodeling surgeries and recruits, but once they've reached veterans, they're basically well-known battlefield immortals.

Figures like Lana, who are enough to associate with Marshall's or Bayar's peers, have at least three digits in the Legion, and those who have witnessed the final battle of the Thunder Warriors may even exceed two thousand: if one Daybreaker had joined the Legion on the eve of the Great Expedition, then the entire Second Legion now has at least two-thirds of the men, far superior in seniority.

These experienced grassroots backbones made Morgan's heirs the immortal birds of the empire ready to be born at any time, but the ensuing low level of organization eventually led to the evil consequences of the Legion's division: the advantages and disadvantages of these legion traditions also seemed to become a confusing topic that can never be discerned.

But this has all become history, and it has become something that no one cares about, since Morgan's return, the Second Legion has fallen under the boots of her own genetic mother, and she has been kneaded and changed at will, and some of the original atmosphere has also changed unconsciously.

A fairly obvious change is that many of the Dawnbreakers who were originally [Poor and Happy] have begun to look for a way to climb up, although they still don't care too much about the temptation of high power, but there is one thing they have to admit and have to care about:

That is, a legion's important officer is always closer to their genetic prototype than an ordinary junior officer, and is more likely to gain the favor, gaze, and trust of their genetic mother.

Closer to the progenitor.

For any true Astarte warrior, this is an irresistible temptation, far greater than status, power, and honor, a greedy desire that even the most desireless Angel of Death cannot give up and resist.

Or rather, it's their instinct.

At the very least, in Rana's case, he sees it as an instinct: after the return of the original genogen, the position of junior commander that he was quite satisfied with is also overshadowed by being closer to his genetic mother.

The immortal veteran would not tell anyone how ecstatic he was when he was selected for the Old Guard, and even became the chief, and that everything in his private lounge was twisted and distorted by his trembling hands, crooked, and scattered all over the ground in his dizzying ecstasy, as if he had been stuffed into a company of space wolves.

Promoted to the rank of knight, wearing more ornate charters and medals, and walking into the command rooms and offices in the core areas of those warships, all of this that he once did not care about or even disdained now made him feel real joy: just because every step he took was one step closer to his genetic prototype.

As a Terra veteran, Rana easily found his destination aboard the massive Queen of Glory-class battleship: the Grand Council Chamber, the theoretical center of all things the Legion, where every person who could enter and sit down could legitimately command ten company commanders.

After handing over his badges and badges to the two guards, Rana pushed open the door and slowly walked inside, taking in the wide, simple center of power before his figure fully appeared in the room.

The Grand Council Chamber was a large enough place to accommodate a company, but its interior was very simple, with a utilitarian aesthetic common to the Second Legion: a large round table occupies the center of the room, it looks like it has been cut from a thousand-year-old tree, the most natural work, the well-tended table top and the unadorned edges bring a visual equality that everyone who sees it will subconsciously know, It's a place to talk and communicate with each other.

The round table was huge, and its long rim looked like it could force more than thirty Astarte warriors, but in reality, less than fifteen seats were scattered around, some far apart, some very close.

Beyond the round tables, there was still plenty of space in the Grand Council Chamber, some of which had been used to house substitute chairs and filing cabinets that were a little taller than Astarte, while the rest was left unused, whether it was for the time being of no use, or if it was intended to give the attendees some visual surplus.

In the inconspicuous corners, a few low tables and mortal chairs can be seen, which, along with a few decorative flowers, a half-filled wine cabinet, and a few old paintings of the Legion's history, form the unimportant but indispensable remnants of the room.

"Ah, here you are, Lord Lana."

No sooner had the Chief Old Guard's gaze passed from the last corner than he heard a gentle greeting, and when he turned his head, he saw an unobnoying face, whose owner was standing up, ready to come over to meet him.

The veteran of Terra was quick to notice: although the round table did not appear to have any sign of status or status, the chair facing the door of the council hall had a circle of gold lines that were very different from the others, and there were two chairs on the left and right of the chair that were very close to each other, one silver and the other copper.

The owner of the voice, who had risen from the copper-veined seat, walked unhurriedly around the round table, one arm raised in mid-air, waiting to shake Lana's hand.

"Welcome, Lord Lana."

"I've been waiting for you for a while."

"Introduce yourself, my name is Hawthorne, and I hope you've heard of me."

The owner of this voice, or Hawthorne, gave the impression that he was a well-mannered preschool teacher at first: that face was not fierce and full of just the right mature smile, so that no one could easily dislike him, and if it were not for the same tall stature and burly strength, Rana would not have been able to see half of the Astarte warrior's breath in that kind face.

"Of course, Lord Hawthorne, I've heard your name for a long time."

Lana quickly reached out his hand, and as he shook hands, he saw Hawthorne's light gray hair that seemed to reveal exhaustion.

"That's a rare one, Lord Lana, after all, I don't remember we ever met on the battlefield."

"Yes, but I have often seen your signature on the various documents issued by the Legion, Lord Hawthorne, in the two columns of document checker and approver."

"After all, Lord Marshall and Lord Bayard value my fighting ability in the office more than the battlefield, and they think that I can carry the combat mission of the three of us alone, and this is true: I once thought of writing the names of the two of them on every document in return, but unfortunately I do not have this authority."

Hawthorne said as he led Rana to the conference table, where there were only two of them in the large room, but as the Chief Old Guard walked to the round table with the swift pace of the greeter, he was caught in an invisible dilemma.

"Where shall I sit, Lord Hawthorne?"

"They...... Do these locations have any specific meanings? Which of them belongs to me? ”

"During working hours, which chair belongs to me and that one belongs to you, we need to use our brains to remember all this, and then it is up to it to decide that we sit there, representing some invisible numbers and collectives."

Hawthorne pointed first to the copper-trimmed chair, and then to a chair closer to the door.

"But now it's private time, the brain is off work, let's listen to the thoughts of the butt and feet, and ask them where they want to sit, after all, they are working overtime today."

With that, Hawthorne casually led Rana to the side of the round table: just in time for the wine cabinet, and took out the bottles and glasses that Hawthorne had brought with him.

Rana sat down with some restraint, looking around and noting his position emphatically, before turning his head to Hawthorne, who was leisurely pouring his wine: what the Lord did seemed to be an unhurried gentlemanly manner, except to speak.

The Old Guard frowned and asked the next question.

"You just said ...... Working hours? ”

"Yes, working hours, and the corresponding personal time, I think you should be able to understand these two words, if you really can't understand them, you can bring in like this: working time is to crouch behind the cover, honestly shoot out the explosives in your hand, and when the ammunition is finished, it is personal time."

Lana looked up at the tall brackets in the dome of the room.

"And here, what's the blaster?"

"It's the stuff you need to browse and review every day, Your Excellency."

"They're lethal?"

"No, when you don't need them, you take them with you as if they were treasures, but when you use them, they don't matter to you, and when you launch all the files around you, you don't have to worry about the consequences of them: because it's time to do it."

"But I don't think personal time lasts long."

"That's right, after all, you don't lack explosive bombs without anything, do you?"

Rana touched his chin, and he felt that there was something in the words that he couldn't fathom or agree with, like the perfect smile on Hawthorne's face, which made him feel an instinctive disgust.

"Wait, Lord Hawthorne...... Well, I'm still a little confused: why do we distinguish between working time and private time? It sounds like we're like those clerks of the Terra Council, we're Astarte and shouldn't all be ......"

"It's all working hours?"

“…… That's right. ”

Hawthorne still kept his smile on his face, and he handed his guest a glass of wine, and drank it to himself.

"There is a problem in your words, Lord Rana: it is not the term working time that gives rise to private time, on the contrary, it is we who first introduced private time and that gave birth to working time."

"That'...... What if we ask for the cancellation of private time? ”

"Then there will be no [working hours]."

“…… What if we asked to set all the time as working hours? ”

"Then there will be no [us]."

“……”

“……”

“……”

"Another drink?"

"Thank you...... Tell me about the workflow here, Lord Hawthorne. ”

"Willing to help."

——————

"So, what do we all need to do when [working hours] start?"

"Do what anyone would do: sit in your chair, listen to and remember every word of the discussion, say sincere advice and rational words, and then relay the content of the high-level meeting to the commanders and soldiers at the grassroots level."

"It sounds like anyone can do it, even dolls that haven't undergone makeover surgery."

"No, Lord Lana."

Hawthorne took a sip and shook his head.

"I've seen it myself."

"Space wolves can't do the first point."

"Chiko can't do the second point."

"The Bearer can't do the third point."

"The Dark Angel can't do the fourth point."

“…… I understand everything else, why can't Chiko do the second point? ”

"For the sons of Magnus will neither listen, nor discuss with you, nor remember anything that anyone else says."

“…… Well, I don't think I have much authority on this issue, after all, I've seen a Chiko who has been in the arena for 1,000 hours now. ”

Hawthorne frowned.

"1,000 hours, isn't that too much?"

"It's a little ......"

Lana scratched his head.

"In fact, at the beginning, there were quite a few people who wanted to see what kind of special things [Friends of the Original Body] had, and we didn't even prohibit him from using psionic energy, I have to say that his psionic energy level was good, and he even won consecutive victories in the very beginning of the competition."

"Then, Bayar appeared, and fought with that Ahriman three times in a row, three battles and three victories, the first time was before his psionic spell could be cast, he had already put his sword across Ahriman's neck, as for the remaining two fights, he even waited until Ahriman's psionic spell was used, and then he dodged and put the sword across his neck."

"Sounds like it's something Bayard can do, and then?"

"And then? Then in fact, everyone thought about stopping, after all, there was no real hatred, most people just wanted to see what kind of character this Qianzi was. ”

"However, it was the Ariman side that went wrong, and was defeated by Bayar while dodging psionic spells, and three times in a row, which obviously hit him."

"He made an impulsive move?"

“…… A little more serious. ”

He shouted in front of the more than 400 fighting brothers present: How can a group of reckless men with muscles like you be qualified to be Morgan's warriors."

And then ...... Hmmm......"

"Okay, I see."

Hawthorne finished the glass of wine.

"I will draft a letter to be sent to Prospero in the name of the Legion Council: Thank Your Excellency Ahriman for his outstanding contribution to the cultural heritage of the Second Legion, for his practical actions to mingle with us, to reaffirm the deep friendship between the Second and Fifteenth Legions, and to lay a good foundation for future cooperation."

Lana blinked.

"In the name of the Council of Legions...... Does that mean I want to sign it too? ”

"Functionally no, but if you want, no one will refuse to sign your name as well, after all, you are also a member of the Legion Council, although we don't expect you to be the icing on the cake every time, but if you want to face possible troubles with us, we still accept it."

"One more person to sign means one more person to share the risk, and that's definitely a good thing for everyone else."

“…… Shared risk? ”

"You could call it democracy."

Hawthorne poured another glass of wine and raised his glass to his guest.

"And then all together?"

"One person's failure is dereliction of duty, two people's failure is a secret transaction, and the failure of three people is a small group, but the failure of a group of people is not called failure, it is called a decision-making error, which is a force majeure problem, and no one needs to be responsible for it."

Lana blinked, and he stroked the round table beside him, feeling only an exceptional cold.

"That's what we're doing in the Grand Council Chamber? Discussion and review? ”

"Specifically, it's called exchange of ideas and day-to-day management: our working hours are generally ten to fifteen Terra standard hours, of which four to seven standard hours are spent discussing, and the rest of the time is spent reviewing various documents."

"Why does it take more time to review documents than to discuss?"

"Because the discussion determines what we do now, and the review of documents is because of what we've done in the past: there's always been more in the past than in the present, isn't it?"

"What's more, the things that can be discussed here are often things that have become or are becoming established facts, and the discussion we have to do is just a formal acknowledgment of the fact that it happened, which doesn't take too long."

"Then why do you have to discuss them here, instead of acknowledging them when the various departments have negotiated them in private?"

"Because it's private time."

"That's the value of working hours."

Hawthorne smiled.

"Showing attitude, acknowledging the established facts, and then writing your name on the corresponding documents, and then moving on to the next thing, when they are all done, and then re-reviewing the established things that have been decided before, this is our workflow, it is not complicated."

"Every document has to be reviewed?"

"It won't take long, Lord Rana, you just need to write your own name on the cover, and they will transfer your name to the page where it is needed, and in general, you only need to write your name once."

“…… Write more than once in a while? ”

"Sometimes, you do have to write your name twice, but you better hope that you don't run into those times."

"Where will the second time it be written?"

"There is a confession of malfeasance."

——————

Lana sat there, and he was silent, for a very long time.

He may have been silent for more than ten minutes before he raised his head and looked at Hawthorne in front of him.

"Unacceptable? Lord Lana? ”

“…… Yes, I can't take it, I can't take this ......"

"Inefficient? Pedantic? Bureaucracy? ”

“……”

"It doesn't matter, I have forty more adjectives that I can use in this sentence."

Hawthorne leaned back in his chair, and Lana couldn't tell for a moment whether he was more of an Astarte warrior or more of a bureaucrat of the Terra Council.

"If you can't accept it, then Lord Lana, I have another way."

Hawthorne straightened his throat, and he shook the wine in his glass until a shallow swirl appeared.

The next moment, the smiling gentleman vanished, and in Ranna's somewhat shocked pupils, the person in front of him turned into a cold and ruthless operating machine.

"The branch fleet led by Cortés has returned, carrying with them a batch of top-level secret supplies, a legion-sized Katachan auxiliary, and a report on over 50% casualty rates, all of which must be reported to the genoplasms, and the council is only allowed to leave one record."

"The reconnaissance troops, vanguard squads, and ronin traders sent to the Avalon Star Sector and its nearby star sectors to investigate have largely returned, and all the star maps and world information have been sorted out and reported, and handed over to the information department directly under the original body for screening, and the council should determine and verify the first batch of attack targets, and report the plan to the genetic prototype."

"The envoy from the Ultramarines has sent us an application before the holiday, and if the time is correct, we should welcome him after three Terra Standard Days of arrival in Avalon, and the welcome ceremony and corresponding personnel deployment will need to be drafted in advance and submitted to the genetic prototype for approval."

"And ......"

Lana blinked, and he stared in shock at the cold political machine he was talking about in front of him, and he didn't bear even the slightest resemblance to the good-natured old man he had just a few minutes ago, except for the light gray hair that symbolized old age.

In the time measured in seconds, Hawthorne said more than a dozen crucial topics and bills in one breath, and his speed of speech was so fast that even Lana couldn't react, and the chief old guard, in his shock, watched the actual head of the legion council in front of him finish all the bills in one breath, and spent a shorter time to pick out all the problems, precautions, and special cases in them, and state them separately.

Until this time, the swirls in the wine glass had not completely disappeared.

Hawthorne returned to that harmless smile as he shook his chin at Lana and said in a soothing tone.

"That's the real efficiency of the Legion Council, Lord Lana, and what we need to ensure is that any emergency will be presented to the progenitor or anyone who needs it within a minute.

"That'...... Before......"

"That's working hours."

Hawthorne laughed.

"Those are not responsibilities, they are the jobs that the original has given us, the things she wants us to do."

"Although no one can understand what she means now, everyone believes that the system we have formed now can help our primordial body in the future. It will enable us to fulfill our part of the responsibility in her plan. ”

"An almost mortal council?"

"You may call it that, of course, Lord Rana, but you can also call it: the mirror image of the Council of Terra, doesn't that sound like it has a sense of sacredness and nobility?"

"Who needs the sacred and the noble?"

"Those mortals need, whether they are Terra's, or Avalon's, or those who will live under our rule in the future, and who will be high up in the heavens, who will squeeze their heads out and join this council that is sacred and important in their perception, content with their position as the central hub of power in the kingdom of the primordial, and ignore the other plans of our mothers."

"Externally, our genetic prototype wants to convince many people that in the realm she rules, mortals hold a considerable part, if not most of the power."

"But...... This is the ...... of the legion"

"After our genogen founded her kingdom. Figures like me, who originally belonged to the Legion Council, could leave their seats and form a so-called Kingdom Council or Round Table Council, which would serve as the supreme organization of the kingdom that would overtly rule over the Genogenites, and absorb the attention of mortals and Terra. ”

"And then let the real new blood enter the Legion Council to run the Legion: isn't that a simple thing?"

"So, in your eyes, we're practicing this pointless mortal move: because with the exception of you and a few really important Novas, most of the people in this council are actually people who are about to retire, like me."

"The genogen gave me respect, gave me a decent step, gave me a position where I could still play my worth, and although it doesn't sound like it has anything to do with the battlefield and honor anymore, you know, I don't care about those things."

"Our genetic mother used this to tell me that when she was useful to me in another place, this was what I wanted."

"You know, in almost all legions, there is some kind of contradiction between the Terra veterans and their genetic protoplasms, and this contradiction sometimes leads to an obvious tragedy."

"And in our legion, although it is not obvious yet, with our imminent arrival in Avalon, the addition of new recruits will also make us those Terra veterans in the eyes of the Originals."

"And this is also a temptation for her, a proposal."

"A suitable retreat, a position where I can continue to shine: what else do I need to expect?"

"You know, Lana, many of the Terra veterans are not dissatisfied because of the so-called status, honors, and titles, but the things they want are actually very simple."

"They just don't want to be forgotten."

"And the mother of our genes has shown her attitude: she will not forget us."

"Just as she gave you the position of Chief of the Guard, she gave me the right to be at peace with mortals, and I am glad to take these rights and continue to serve the legions and the primordial on a bloodless battlefield."

"So, I went on and began to practice for it, practicing how to adapt to the so-called rules of the mortal council, and use them to the benefit of our genetic protoplasms."

Lana nodded.

"Form a council that will bring you, the other Terra veterans, and the mortal rulers from all worlds together to discuss matters of no importance, disguised as if you could rule her kingdom in place of the Primordials."

"The word camouflage is not well used, we only convince mortals that they can rule this kingdom."

"Convince Terra?"

"Let those mortals who are ruled by the original body, Terra knows, but Terra doesn't know either."

"Now, do you understand, Lord Lana?"

“……”

"Yes, Your Excellency."

(End of chapter)