"You're done with all I have to say, Rog. I'd also like to introduce Motarian to Carlil personally. Coetzes smiled a little flirtatiously.

"Should I apologize for that?"

Dorne asked rhetorically, showing a rare sense of humor. However, considering his usual performance, this sentence has become a joke with less obvious humor, and the threshold is extremely high, and only a few people are lucky enough to grasp its joke.

Coates laughed, and Carlil laughed, but Motarian didn't.

The Lord of Death froze, and looked at him as carefully as if he were first meeting Roger Dorn. The respirator hissed hoarsely, and a puff of incense-scented gas erupted from both ends.

"It doesn't have to be an apology, but I ask you to tell one more joke." The Lord of the Night chuckled.

He can switch back and forth between mean and funny whenever he wants. It's a rare trait, some people think it's funny, others are more straightforward, and they treat everyone equally and despise both.

Dorne shook his head and folded his hands, "Why do you think I'm just telling a joke?" ”

"Here we go again. Well, because that sentence does sound funny—and most importantly, it doesn't quite sound like what Roger Dorn should have said. ”

"So, in your eyes, how should Roger Dorn express himself?" Dorn asked inquiringly.

He wasn't ironic with a question, but genuinely inquired into Conrad Coetze's view of the matter. Neither he nor the Lord of the Night felt anything wrong with these few lines of conversation, they were familiar enough with each other to know each other's styles well.

But if these words fall on someone else's ears

"That's enough, you two."

Motarian spoke suddenly, his voice hoarse. The respirator apparently changed his voice, making him sound as if he was wearing a breathing grille, as gloomy as a dark cloud.

"I don't think there's anything worth arguing about, it's just a name and a few introductions, and I don't need anyone else to do it for me."

Conrad Coetzes raised an eyebrow, Dorne nodded imperceptibly at him, and the two of them chose to remain silent for a moment - and the Lord of Death had turned his gaze to Carlil.

After a moment of scrutiny and staring, he raised his hand, lowered his hood, and even reached out to remove the respirator. The face exposed by the original is thin, with deep-set eye sockets, high cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and pale skin, which looks almost lifeless.

If you were an ordinary person, this face could even be called terrifying, but Motarian was a genetic protogen, and this seriously ill appearance only made him more impressive.

"I'm Motarian, from Barbarus." He held the respirator and said so.

Freed from the shackles of the machinery that still emitted the smell of incense, his voice sounded less sombre and quieter.

"I've heard your name many times, Karil Lohals. My brothers seem to be very keen to talk about you, and every time there is a banquet attended by more than one person, they are bound to have a topic to keep for you. ”

"Sounds like I've become a buzzword," Carlil chuckled, and couldn't help but make a little joke — which Kotz was surprised to find didn't seem so bad.

"Anyway, it's a pleasure to meet you, Motarian. Although this may seem redundant, I'll say it again – my name is Carlil Lohals and I'm from Nostramo. ”

"Conrad talks a lot about you." Motarian raised his left hand and placed it on Koz's shoulder. "Although it is mostly complaining."

"Hey!" Coates turned his head and glared at him. "I don't remember any of the complaints I ever complained."

"Perhaps." Motarian looked at him strangely and nodded noncommittally. "Since you said no, then no."

"Not at all!"

"Hmm" Motarian let out a dull nasal voice again in reply. He looked at Carlil again, as if he wanted to say something. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke again: "What do you think of psionic energy?" ”

"A dangerous force."

Motarian nodded his head repeatedly, as if he couldn't agree more, and his face finally fluctuated a little, no longer completely dead or calm. Then he spoke very quickly.

"Yes, I agree, but it's not just dangerous. It also has a meaning that we don't yet understand, like a metaphor used in literature. Ordinary people can't understand it, only those who stare at the words over and over again can understand what they mean, but if you do, you're not far from insanity. ”

"What is he talking about?" Coates turned to look at Dorne. "Why can't I understand Gothic all of a sudden?"

"This is the first time I remember you have said so much in one breath, man."

Dorn ignored the Night Lord's slightly mean joke and expressed his surprise to Motarion. At the same time, he was astute enough to come up with a conjecture.

"Are you looking for support? For Magnus's sake? ”

The Lord of Death narrowed his eyes and was silent for a while before answering this more pointed question.

"Normally I don't mean anything towards others, but Magnus is different in that he is arrogant beyond all of us can ever imagine. He's crossed the line, he's striking, he's trading with forces he simply can't understand. And when I presented this to him, he proudly declared to me that there was nothing he could not understand. ”

He looked at his two brothers, then at Carlil.

"Psionic energy itself may not incur disaster, but his attitude will. His blind faith, arrogance, and condescension must lead to some kind of consequence. It's not probability, it's an event that is bound to happen, and sooner or later, it will happen. ”

Rog Dorn frowned slowly—he wasn't one to talk about people behind his back, and Motarian was acting with something not so good, but the Lord of Death had never understood such things.

He is a withdrawn man, not good at words, and sometimes even refuses to communicate. It's a miracle that he's able to say so much today, and Dorne doesn't want to dampen that positivity, but he doesn't want to completely agree with Motarian either.

So he spoke slowly.

"Magnus may be arrogant, but he's a scholar, brother." Dorn said solemnly. This means that he is also very rational. Scholars are usually very curious about things they don't understand, and you don't have to blame them for that. ”

"Blame?" Motarian snorted coldly. "I'm not in a position to blame him."

Dorn shook his head, "Ruth has asked his father many times to make some restrictions on Magnus, but not once has his father agreed. Doesn't that mean anything? ”

Motarian simply looked away, refusing to comment on Dorne's words. He looked at Conrad Coetzes, who looked like he was in a deep dying, and he turned to Carlil again.

"So, what do you think, Karil Lohals?" With a desire for support, the Lord of Death asked. "Conrad often brings up your wariness of psionic abilities."

"I'd love to echo your point, but I'm afraid I don't know much about Magnus himself, Motarian."

Carlil raised his hand and made a calm gesture, he had realized something from Dorne's attitude.

"I have only seen him once from afar, and all I know about him is his name and your words. That's not enough for me to say anything about him, but if you're just looking for psionic evaluations, I do have something to say. ”

"Please!" Motarian looked at him intently.

"Like I said, psionic energy is dangerous, and both it and its users need to be strictly controlled. At the end of the day, it's just a form of power, like a blaster and a chainsaw sword. Whether or not a disaster is caused depends on the user's own will. Just like the poison gas in the hands of the aliens that can cause great panic, in our hands, it can also be an effective tactic. ”

Motarian frowned, but quickly let go.

"I see." He nodded. "At least you still agree that psionic abilities are dangerous, and that's enough—as for Magnus. Hum. ”

He snorted coldly and said his last words in a declaratory tone: "You'll know who he is, Karil Lohals." ”

He turned and walked away.

The Lord of the Night sighed, looked at his back, and shook his head.

"We all have some shortcomings, Rogge. I'm a paranoid, you're another type of paranoid, and so is Motalian. But he wasn't born like this, it was Barbaros who made him like this."

"What are you talking about?" Dorn asked. "Dissect the impact of the environment on people?"

"No, I'm saying—" Conrad Coates turned his head and grinned at him. "—he walked another seven steps before turning his head, and in forty-nine steps he would come to Ruth, and then he would annoy the Fenris brute enough."

'Stone' gave a noncommittal look, he knew what Coates was alluding to.

It's no secret that Motarian is obsessed with numerology, and he firmly believes in these things, which Magnus once used as an argument to argue with him. The Crimson King was almost standing in his chair and yelling at the Lord of Death, and Dorne still remembered what he had said.

'You accuse me of being lost in knowledge, but how good are you?' You even ask your own guards to stay within your seven-by-seven paces at all times! ’

"Anyway," Dorn said slowly, shaking his head at one of the men standing near them. "At least one thing you said is right, each of us has different shortcomings. Just like you, Chagatai, you are always excessively silent. ”

"Hmm," the man known as Chagatai groaned and narrowed his eyes. "Silence is golden, Rogge."

Yes, yards.

If nothing else, it will probably be a chapter at noon every day, and a chapter in the afternoon.

(End of chapter)