Do I like it...... A baker's dozen? 】

As Morgan stood in the shadow of the wings of St. Giles' back, crossed her arms, and chewed on the archangel's inquiry, she took the opportunity to blink her eyes at the right time, obscuring the thoughts in her blue pupils.

In the mottled heart of the Lord of Avalon, a glimmer of joy was creeping through: after such a chaotic process of tugging and ritual nonsense, Morgan had finally found this opportune opportunity to seize the trace that had been left out of St. Giles's words.

A baker's dozen.

It's an interesting number: the number thirteen seems to have both sacred and ominous meanings in the entire culture of the Human Empire, and with the return of a certain Archon of Macurag, it is plagued by ignorant gossip that adds a hint of ambition.

But Morgan knew that St. Giles's mention of the number thirteen at this time had nothing to do with Gilliman, and it had nothing to do with the so-called "Imperial Sacred Number" in that rumor: it could be said that if it was taken out alone, the number thirteen would have no meaning in this conversation, and it needed to be placed together with St. Giles's previous words in order to understand its deep meaning.

So, what did the angel just say?

Morgan quickly recalled: St. Giles's words were trivial, but not obscure, and the Lord of Avalon understood what he meant almost instantly.

Barr's archangel first quietly replaced the two concepts of [original return to the empire] and "original body serving the empire", so that Morgan returned from the sixteenth on the surface to the fourteenth: and the number fourteen is often used by Motarian as the genetic prototype of the fourteenth [Death Guard] regiment of Astarte.

For Morgan, this is a very delicate number: presumably, long before the arrival of the archangel, he knew about the deep contradiction between Morgan and the Lord of Barbaros through various channels.

With the general arrogance of the genetic prototype, this contradiction is basically unsolvable, so in this case, Morgan's number of [fourteen] can also be fully estimated.

Thus, the archangel puts himself and the Lord of Avalon in a clever position of common hatred: just as Morgan hates the number fourteen relatively much, St. Giles hates the number ten relatively much, and he wants to make himself the original one who returns to the ninth.

So, is there a way to get St. Giles and Morgan out of the position they each hate at the same time?

……

Of course.

You know, the Eleventh Primordial, who is being erased by the Empire with all its records of existence, is second only to Horus and Riemannus: if he disappears completely, St. Giles will return to his favorite ninth, and Morgan will get rid of the fourteenth she hates.

……

Yes, as absurd as this reasoning and explanation may sound, it is indeed the most likely option that Morgan has chosen after eliminating all impossible options.

Eliminate all the impossibilities, and the remaining absurdity is reality.

Reality is always absurd.

So, then, in the face of the question raised by St. Giles at this time, this figure is raised.

A baker's dozen.

This would simply erase one of the brothers who had returned before them and allow Morgan to get rid of the number fourteen, which she hated, and thus reach a new position.

And is it liked by the Lord of Avalon?

……

What kind of answer does this angel want from her on this question?

Looking at St. Giles' smiling amber pupils, and the patient waiting and careful consideration in the depths of the pupils, Morgan just blinked her turquoise blue pupils, her eyebrows lowered.

She didn't think about it for long.

She didn't have any affection.

So, she smiled wildly.

——————

[St. Giles, of course.] 】

Of course I would like it, or rather, love the number thirteen. 】

[Actually, my brother, within a certain range, thirteen is my favorite number.] 】

[Who wouldn't want to arrive at this wonderful location, don't you say?] 】

——————

Morgan suppressed a smile on her lips, and she made her answer sound as serious and sincere as possible, as from a vile heart as possible.

When she puffed up her chest and proudly said this answer, it was not surprising that the Lord of Avalon saw the transient seriousness and helpless disappointment in those suddenly narrowed amber pupils.

【……】

She had to admit that St. Giles had beautiful eyes, even more valuable than his wings to be collected, and if she could get them, she would not mind sleeping with these precious stones for every silent midnight.

In Morgan's heart, a long-lost bad pleasure rose up, and she carefully grasped this piece of pleasure, carefully kneading every texture and detail of it, until her exhausted heart felt a long-lost satisfaction.

It wasn't until deep in St. Giles' amber pupils, the sediment of disappointment, was about to fall to the ground, solidifying into an eternal entity, that Morgan burst out laughing.

She laughed suddenly, precisely calculated, just the right amount of suddenness, to ensure that when she began to laugh, the light lift of the corners of her mouth would hold the last trace of disappointment at the head of the archangel, and trace the traces of sugar in those amber pupils.

Remove that disappointment, let the heavy gaze sublimate again, and let new hope and optimism light up like a spark: just for a moment, in the angel's pupils, all the heaviness is taken away, leaving only lightness.

It's a moment worth the wait and an intoxicating work of art.

Morgan thought to himself: everything was as she expected, a gaffe from a perfect statue that was almost like a god, and even if it was only for a moment, it would be enough for people to plan for it.

After all, she was painting in the pupils of St. Giles at the moment, splashing her own colors on the most precious work of art in the galaxy: what could be more joyful?

Morgan thought so.

So, she spoke again.

——————

[But ......]

The Lord of Avalon deliberately put this turn on for a long time, until the hot air mass in her mouth gave birth to a mist in the colder room, smeared on the crystalline sculptures, and coalesced into dew at the tips of St. Giles's wings.

She blinked, as cunning as Riemanlus, and stepped forward so that her voice could strike on St. Giles's breastplate, just as the Baral archangel had done to her.

[As I told you earlier, St. Giles: I am an introvert and passive, which means that when the outside world hands me something, I am not destined to like it alone, nor to hate most of it.] 】

“…… I would like to hear about it. ”

The angel's face was still as flawless as a marble sculpture, his eyebrows lowered slightly, it was clear that he had not expected the conversation to come to this point, and the brief hesitation also spoke of his inner confusion, but he still turned around, keeping a slow pace that anyone could follow, and stopped on Morgan's body, but this time, he was only less than half a position ahead of Morgan.

The crystal light shone on the brother and sister who had paused their stroll, forming tens of millions of shattered reflections.

Morgan craned his neck slightly.

[In fact, in the range of ten to twenty, thirteen is indeed my favorite number, just as in the range of one to ten, I like two the most.] 】

The Lord of Avalon narrowed his eyes into a slit, a smile that made Saint Geres unable to see her pupils.

[But the fact that I like thirteen the most doesn't mean I hate other numbers, for me, numbers like ten, sixteen, or eighteen are all admirable: eighteen is especially admirable, isn't it?] 】

“……”

"yes, I like Eighteen too."

[As for fifteen and twenty, although there are some problems, they ...... Acceptable. 】

[In fact, in this number range, in addition to fourteen, there is only one number, which I hate.] 】

“……”

The Archangel's footsteps stopped.

"Don't say it yet, Morgan, let me guess what that number is."

"Luckily, there aren't many options, aren't they?"

Morgan didn't answer, she just aimed her pupils at the angel's: the genetic prototype of this holy blood angel was still so natural and calm, and there was no disguise in the half, and this great talent even made Morgan feel slightly jealous, just like Conrad was always thinking about some brother who had not returned.

“……”

"That's eleven, isn't it?"

St. Giles's words flowed to Morgan's ears as if a light dagger was striking a glassware, and the Lord's eyebrows twitched slightly: at this moment, she finally determined the purpose of the angel's coming to talk to her.

And she wasn't going to procrastinate on the subject any longer: a delay would certainly give her some vile pleasure, but it would be too obvious if it were to be repeated.

She couldn't beat St. Giles: in such close proximity.

[No, St. Giles.] 】

Morgan replied briskly and quickly, landing almost at the same time as the archangel's long sigh.

"Not Eleven?"

St. Giles' brow furrowed, as if he were genuinely saddened by his misguess.

Morgan, on the other hand, did not immediately answer her brother, and the Lord of Avalon walked slowly to the statue beside him: Abel and Cain, two brothers who killed each other.

[Do you know, St. Giles, of all my children, there is one that has been particularly favored and noticed by me: his name is Hector, and he is the first child to truly reunite with me, and the first Dawnbreaker to call me Mother. 】

[So, in my heart, he will always be the special one, a little more special than all his brothers: I believe you can understand this feeling. 】

"Of course I understand."

St. Giles nodded briskly, always appearing sincere on these irrelevant questions.

"Although my first meeting with my legion was a big one: I met almost all of them in the misty rain, and it was impossible for me to discern which of the heirs was the first to recognize me, but I only need to put myself in my shoes and I can understand how important Hector is in your heart."

"That's why you appointed him as a company commander?"

[No, of course not: the main thing is that he is very good. 】

【……】

[You've actually heard of him?] 】

Morgan was a little surprised, and her surprise was exchanged for a chuckle from St. Giles.

"Have you forgotten, my sister: the best of Horus's sons, who served temporarily in your legion, always boasted of the heroic prowess of many Dawnbreaker warriors in his letters to his fighting brothers, Hector and Ahriman being the most frequently mentioned figures, and then Bayar."

[Ah, I overlooked this: Abaddon and the Shadowmoon Wolf told Horus, and Horus told you?] 】

"He doesn't like to be hidden in front of me."

The angel smiled brightly and proudly.

Morgan nodded, she gathered her mind, turned away, and gently stroked the blood-killing face in the statue with her fingers: what a hideous, excited, and terrifying it was.

[You know what, brother. 】

[Hecht was the commander of the twenty-third company under my command, but after the end of this expedition, in order to reward him for his exploits, I decided to promote him to the commander of the eleventh company: that company had suffered heavy losses in the expedition, and its number was on the verge of being erased, and I would merge the two companies, and this heir whom I favored would become a soldier with the number eleven. 】

“……”

[Eleventh Company is broken: but I'm not going to give up this number.] 】

“……”

[After all, Eleven is a very powerful number, and the performance of the Eleventh Company in the expedition also impressed me: I don't have any superfluous emotions about this number, but I don't hate it either, and when I think of this number, I can only feel a little emotional. 】

It makes me sad. 】

[Just like this statue.] 】

Morgan's fingers brushed the rim of the crystal carving, then turned away, never to look at it again.

It also makes me sad. 】

[I don't like this statue. 】

Let it be forgotten: he should have been forgotten by anyone. 】

“……”

Behind Morgan, St. Giles, who had been thrown away by her, stood in place, his eyes narrowed, he looked at the statue of fratricidal brothers, and after a moment of silence, he couldn't suppress the relaxed smile on the corner of his mouth.

"It was my negligence, Morgan."

"No one is going to like this kind of statue."

The wings behind the archangel are shaking unconsciously, exuding an indescribable comfort and ease.

"Let's go over there and have a look."

As he spoke, St. Giles quickened his pace to Morgan's side, and with a casual gesture of his hand pointed to the brighter central part of the room, where there were countless statues of various shapes, which seemed to have been moved only a short time ago.

"Come on, my sister, there are more artworks in this room than you think, we can look at them while we ......"

"Talk slowly."

[Of course.] 】

Morgan smiled brightly.

[Which one do you think we should go see next?] 】

“……”

St. Giles' eyes narrowed, and he didn't look directly at Morgan.

"How's that [Legion]?"

【……】

[It couldn't be better.] 】

——————

Very good.

Corps......

——————

[However, before we continue browsing and watching, there is one thing I want to do. 】

"Please."

The light of the archangel is far warmer and brighter than before.

[Anyway, this can be regarded as a little willfulness of mine.] 】

As if something had suddenly occurred to her, the Lord of Avalon stopped, and she turned around in a dignified manner, taking a few quick steps backwards, stopping once again in front of the statue of the fratricidal brothers.

As Morgan placed her psionic palm on the fragile crystal artwork, she looked into St. Giles' pupils, with a genuine goodness.

[Like I said: This statue really makes me sad.] 】

[Although it contains very ancient values, I think that not all values should be remembered and sung, or placed in sacred palaces. 】

As he spoke, Morgan smiled and looked at the archangel of Barr.

[Is that possible?] 】

[After all, it was brought by you.] 】

"Of course."

St. Giles spread out a hand, and he smiled nonchalantly.

"It's a work of art, and a souvenir I brought from Barr, but it's not some priceless treasure, Morgan, and these colorless stones are worthless compared to the purity and goodness of your heart."

"Do what you want."

Thank you very much. 】

Morgan smiled, and the angel smiled, and it was a pleasantly harmonious brother and sister: a good but well-behaved sister, a gentle and generous brother, even if a Janissary was standing next to them at this time.

And in the next moment, in the midst of the laughter between the brother and sister, with the slight force of Morgan's fingertips, the violent psionic power directly smashed the entire crystal statue, and countless broken lenses fluttered with the wind, swallowing the entire room into a storm of psionic energy.

St. Giles stood straight at the center of this psionic storm, watching his memento being shattered by Morgan's power, his natural golden light so that countless flying sand stones could not get close to his majestic body, nor to his immaculate smile.

The archangel couldn't understand why Morgan did this: he only thought it was a small willfulness of the Lord of Avalon: after all, compared to the [willfulness] of his other brothers, Morgan was indeed well-behaved.

It's just an unpleasant statue.

But with this in mind, St. Giles subconsciously ignored one thing: when one of Morgan's hands blew such a violent psionic storm that covered the room, her other hand was behind her back, beating the rhythm of psionic energy as well.

The rhythm was so faint that it would not be noticed by anyone as it drifted out of the room in the face of a violent storm.

St. Giles likewise did not find it.

——————

However, Conrad found out.

Midnight Wraith took a deep breath.

At this time, he was climbing a tower in the palace, not the famous tower of hegemony, but a more secluded but more elaborate tower, a structure that could be climbed by the genetic prototype with bare hands.

Maybe there's a long-haired princess waiting for him?

Conrad laughed when he thought of this boring fairy tale, and his claws clung to the outer wall of the tower loosened slightly, but this was not enough to shake the body of the original genogen, he still moved like a sensitive goat on the outer wall of the tower, and even the patrolling forbidden soldiers seemed to be familiar with this uninvited guest.

Just as the Midnight Ghost was about to reach the top window, Conrad sensed something: without the slightest hesitation, the Midnight Ghost stopped his climbing, and then, his slender tongue sticked out, reaching out to the only vulnerable spot near his face.

It was an unprotected neck from power armor, and there, there was a trembling pendant, and Midnight Wraith's long tongue wrapped around the melon pendant before throwing it into its mouth.

Then, Morgan's message was directed through the psionic teleportation beacon, and it sounded in Conrad's mind: the message was concise, and it was a real-time inquiry from the Lord of Avalon.

[St. Giles's legion, what's wrong?] 】

"Ah......h

Upon hearing the question, Conrad laughed cruelly.

"Of course there is a problem, and it is a big problem that cannot be solved in 10,000 years."

"How's your conversation with him, sister?"

【……】

[I'll go back and clean you up.] 】

Morgan's words sounded unthreatening with anger, and Conrad laughed very happily: but after smiling, without Morgan's blessing, he told his sister in the most concise words about the dark past of the Blood Angel Legion.

【……】

[That's it?] 】

"Yes."

"That's it."

【Are you sure ......】

"Have fun."

Without waiting for Morgan's next reply, a certain Nostramo man, who had already finished what he had to say, spat out the pendant in his mouth, and then he looked up and saw the window he was about to climb to.

……

He could already imagine how angry Morgan on the other end of the pendant must have been.

Well, the angry Queen of the Rotting Corpse, he hadn't seen it for a long time, and he missed that appearance a little bit, and the fist afterward.

……

Forget it, fists or something, it's better not to miss it.

Conrad hooked the corners of his mouth.

Although he was not a prince, and there was no princess in it, he did go to that window for a meeting.

A meeting that is long overdue.

“……”

I hope this meeting will be worth the money, otherwise the beating he will suffer when he goes back will be in vain.

Conrad shook his head, only briefly cranky, and then continued his climb.

And on top of his head.

In that window, there was a relentless light like the sun.

(End of chapter)