St. Giles withdrew his gaze in surprise and gave Coates an inquiring look. The Lord of the Night continued his wicked smile and nodded.

"Yes, he 'recovered.'"

“.”

The archangel let himself ignore Conrad Coz's peculiar articulation accent for a moment, and he let out a long sigh of relief and smiled.

"I was worried that it wasn't necessary."

"Oh, it's still necessary, St. Giles."

Coetze casually stretched out his right hand and grabbed the archangel's left hand, with a sudden movement, but with a long-planned swiftness. St. Giles was slightly stunned, and did not stop his brother, but allowed the cold to seep into his bone marrow.

"It's better to worry." The Lord of the Night whispered, a flash of light in his inky eyes. "One is two, and sooner or later he will do it again. He is such a man, brother, who never repents. ”

"Really?" St. Giles lowered his head and sighed softly. "Thank you, Conrad."

Coates didn't reply, just chuckled and let go of his hand, floating away like a ghost. St. Giles watched him go, and when he looked back, he saw the stern face of Roger Donne.

"What happened?" Boulder asked in a low voice. "There's something secret about your conversation that I don't quite understand."

"Your description makes Conrad and I sound like members of some kind of secret society, Rog," Saint-Giles smirked, shook his head, and spoke to Carlil again. "Anyway, it's good to see you back, Instructor Carlile."

"Strictly speaking, I never left." Carlil said. "But I'm still curious to know what I've done in those eighteen years to make you all sigh this way."

"You"

Dorne spat out a single syllable, then frowned, and muttered visibly for a moment. He pondered, as if trying not to make his description sound too stiff.

"You've done something completely different from your used style, and you've refused to meet and talk to everyone, even if it's just a holographic conversation, and you think it's a waste of time. You're suddenly a productivity madman without warning. And"

"And what?"

"And, you give the illusion that you don't exist."

St. Giles took the words softly, and the archangel's expression became serious, which was different from his usual expression, almost like the cruel mask he only wore during war.

"Even if I see you in person, this feeling will not go away, and it will even be oppressed with another coldness. You didn't seem to have any emotion, just a machine, or something worse. ”

Carlil nodded thoughtfully. Did his detached perspective look like this to others? It didn't surprise him, it was just

"I don't know—"

"-Karil!"

A voice came from the other end of the platform, loud, hoarse, with an obvious concern. A giant strode up, clad in bright silver and dark blue armor, thick steel braids spilling out from behind his forehead, shaking in the air.

He approached them, his eyes like torches, staring at Carlil gravely.

"Is it the real Karil Lohals standing in front of me now?" Angron asked in a deep voice.

Carlil didn't answer.

He only let go of some kind of constraint, like permission, like a brief escape from the shackles. Angeland's talent flashed in the imperceptible vision of ordinary people, and the gladiator was slightly stunned, he didn't expect that his snooping would be successful this time.

He had tried three times before, and each time he was turned away and given a cold warning.

"How?" Carlil asked gently. "See what you want to see?"

"That's enough." The Nukerians made a dull nasal voice. "You seem to be even whiter than ever."

"This sentence is not very suitable for such an occasion of reunion after a long absence." Carlil chuckled. "But, then again, it's the first time I've seen you wear this kind of ceremonial armor, how does it feel?"

"It sucks." The Nukerians replied hoarsely. "Robert is right, ceremonial armor is indeed not as light as power armor. I hate this cloak in particular—"

He reached for the corner of his cloak on the back of his shoulder.

"—See? So heavy, I don't understand what it does at all. ”

"Its role is to show identity." Dorn said. "Just like this platform, or like my father going to completely change the surface of Ulano, at the end of the day, the purpose of this armor is to try to make you a symbol."

"The symbols are usually idols." Angron narrowed his eyes. "Hello, Rogge"

"Hello, Angron." Dorne nodded at him. "It's been a long time, at least ten years?"

"Yes." Angron grinned at him, the smile as gentle as he could. He looked again at St. Giles, who was looking at him with concern, and his gaze did not shy away from falling on the steel nails.

"Oh, don't do that." Angron shook his head. "I told you they wouldn't get any worse, right? It's just some old injuries, nothing to pay attention to. ”

"Not following?" St. Giles looked at him sternly. "Do you expect me to turn a blind eye to the pain you occasionally exhibit? You can't ask me that, Angelon, it's not fair. ”

"What did I ask of you," Angrand grunted and tilted his head. "Didn't I say anything, brother?"

The archangel looked at him solemnly for a moment, then suddenly reached out and pulled him over. The strength is not great, but there is no room for refusal.

"Come with me, you guy." St. Giles admonished sternly. "I'm going to give you some medical knowledge."

Angron stared at Carlil and Dorn with wide eyes, and began to ask for some kind of help, only to receive a helpless smile and a calm rejection.

The archangel dragged him away with ease, and judging from the seriousness of his expression, Angelon was probably facing some situation from which he would not be able to escape.

Dorne looked at it for a moment, then withdrew his gaze. He was one of the few people in the room who didn't wear armor like Kotz, or the iconic Archon uniform, every button buttoned down tightly.

The boulder turned his head and looked at Carlil with a strange look he rarely showed, and it took a moment before he spoke.

"Have you talked to him?" He asked solemnly.

"Who?" Carlil asked knowingly.

"Who else?" Dorne shook his head. "Lord of Men, Emperor, who else could our father but him?"

"You may sound a little angry." Carlil said he was keenly aware of some of the resentment hidden in Dorne's words. It's not easy to do, unless you're familiar with Roger Dorn.

"Not angry, but incomprehensible about what he was going to do." Dorn corrected. "He should have told you, Carlil, I'm sure he told you about it."

Yes, he did.

Carlil chuckled, "I probably know what you're worried about - so, he didn't reveal this to the others?" ”

"He didn't even reveal it to me, I guessed it." Dorn clasped his hands together and stroked the medal he hung on his chest with his right hand, a rare melancholy in his face under his short gray hair.

If there were a painter here, most of them would immediately kneel on the ground and thank God for the gift - how could Roger Dorn show a third expression besides seriousness and calm?

"He must have his own considerations." Carlil blinked and began to excuse the emperor. "I'm sure he should have his own considerations."

"It's useless to just believe, what he's going to do will cause the Empire to earthquake, he'll have to come up with a convincing enough reason not—"

Dorne stopped and took a deep breath.

"—instead of keeping silent as before, or simply making us forget for a moment what he was going to do with a great speech that revealed nothing."

Carlil raised an eyebrow in surprise, he didn't expect Rog Dorn to say such a thing. What's even more surprising is that Dorne even continues, and has no intention of stopping.

"And, I know, he's going to do it. He would definitely explain to us in detail some things that he had already thought about, make some decisions that we could not accept, and then stuff those decisions into us and force us to accept them. If someone says no, then he will force it with his gaze, and if the person still refuses, then he will show a disappointed gaze. You see, he has so many ways to communicate with us, but he just doesn't want to make it clear."

Carlil silently packed the long sentence and sent it to someone, and he was answered with a sigh and a helpless warning.

+ If you really don't have anything to do, I can give you a temporary position to inspect the whole army, Karil+

+ Really? It is an honour to be my great, wise and eloquent Majesty. +

The Emperor hung up the communication, quickly, resolutely, and without hesitation. Dorn took another deep breath, Carlil thought he would continue, but he didn't. In fact, Dorne even opened his mouth to remind him of another thing.

"Looks like Conrad wants to introduce you to some people."

Carlil looked up, looking ahead. He saw Conrad Coetze, and another tall figure.

The latter was clad in pale armor, with an antique respirator, a gray hood hanging over his long withered hair, and amber eyes staring towards him with a hint of curiosity.

"That's Motarian." Dorne explained softly for him. "Lord of Death, a man who doesn't like to talk much."

Carlil nodded slowly.

Updated.

(End of chapter)