Chapter 613

Leaving the assembly hall, they soon arrived at the command spire of the fortress and went to the room of war leader Randall blancard.

In the wide corridor leading to the room, there are many broken weapons and some soldiers called dim guard.

When hearing this name, soshyan had confirmed that the white temple, like the star knights, was the descendant of the eleventh Legion.

These richly decorated veterans wear terminator armor and guard the key position. There is a prominent black spire crest on the left shoulder armor, which is also one of the symbols of the 11th Corps familiar to soshyan.

"Commander Zhan hopes to meet you alone."

At the end of the corridor were two huge bronze gates. MUTARI stopped and whispered. After stopping, he looked at the expression on soshyan's face.

"Taros, you wait outside."

Talos nodded and stayed outside with soshyan's guard.

When soshyan entered the room, with a slight click, two bronze doors closed automatically.

The other pair of identical gates are closed in front of the house.

Soshyan looked around and found that the environment here was very comfortable. The air was cool and clean. It penetrated through the shutters. He could even hear the lazy gurgling sound of the fountain in the courtyard outside.

In the middle of the room was a huge table with a kettle, a towel and a crystal cut glass shining in the soft light.

Soshyan did not move, but kept standing in front of the door.

He watched the sun shine through the shutters, smelled the fragrance of wood and fabric like flowers, and listened to the music gently played by the fountain.

Through the window, he could see a majestic fortress made of rock, refined gold and steel extending around, the spire pushing against each other with the observatory and weapon tower, the slot of missile array and bunker crowded in the middle of the colonnade, and the pride and embrace of mankind

Negative polished monuments, all displayed under the blue sky of the sanctuary star.

Soshyan stood quietly, listening to the gentle sound of water, and calmly recalled the doubts and confusion in all these things.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I just have something to deal with."

Suddenly, a voice came, quite soft, with a hissing sound.

Soshyan woke up from his meditation. He couldn't see the speaker, but saw that the second door had been opened. He didn't notice when they were unlocked. The mechanical structure must be very smooth.

Through the gate, he entered a large, sunny room.

A whole wall was replaced by seamless glass, and the mountains broke the distant horizon and glittered white in the sunlight.

The ground is covered with polished wooden floors, and various weapon racks and bookshelves are scattered in the cave like interior - which makes soshyan feel very strange. The combination of a collector's study and an armory is full of contradictions.

The room was quiet, and the door closed behind him, as quiet and elegant as when it had just been opened.

Soshyan stayed where he was, stood for a moment, listened to his breathing, and wondered whether what he saw around him was real.

"I hope you won't be surprised by what I look like now."

The voice came from nowhere. Soshyan turned and scanned the room.

The voice sounded like it sounded in the air in his ear, echoed on the panel, and sank into the fabric of the woven carpet - sad, rich in tone, but a little hoarse.

Then Randall walked slowly from behind the bookshelf.

He didn't make much difference eight years ago. He was still tall and tall without power armor, but his left arm became a mechanical arm, and there seemed to be two more scars on his face.

Soshyan was calm.

"Brother Randall, your hand --"

As soon as he spoke, he felt stiff and stupid.

Randall didn't answer. He just smiled. Soshyan noticed that each other's eyes were full of vitality - deep and bright, almost as sharp as the eyes of birds.

Those eyes stared at soshyan for a while.

"I'm not very lucky to be bitten by something, but I'm lucky to lose an arm."

Then Randall went to a huge sofa and sat on it.

His movement is a little faltering, like a person trained to reach the peak of natural limits, but seriously injured, which seems incredible.

Then he leaned back, his gray face slightly smoothed, and his tight expression relaxed.

"Sit down."

Soshyan did so and went to a huge chair opposite the sofa.

"Would you like some?"

Randall asked, glancing at the glass bottle on the table between them. It was a transparent liquid.

However, soshyan is not a drinker, let alone in this strange place, he is really not interested, so he shook his head and said:

"No, thanks."

The war leader of the white temple smiled and poured himself a glass of something that looked like wine.

Then he held the glass to his nose and let the smell linger for a while.

"I grew up on the sanctuary star. The world is useless to many people, but this wine is a very popular trade product."

He said, taking a sip from the glass, swirling in his mouth, and then swallowed.

"But even though it has a reputation in the galaxy, the sanctuary star is still worthless to most people."

Randall pursed his thick lips in a thoughtful way.

"Just like our abandoned Legion."

He said, then his eyes suddenly sharpened, like a raptor without hesitation.

"Everyone knows it used to be important, but everyone thinks it's worthless."

Soshyan didn't seem surprised. He looked at each other and poured himself a cup.

It's a distilled wine, but it's not hot in the throat. It's very moist.

"Who are you?"

Putting down his glass, soshyang asked softly.

Randall smiled in response.

"I am the commander of the white temple."

"That's all?"

"What else do you want to hear?"

Soshyang hesitated for a moment. He didn't know whether to report his name, but the other party was also the inheritance of the 11th legion, and depending on the situation, the history may be longer than the star knight.

Finally, he decided that it was better not to say it first, so he changed the question:

"How did you keep the past history?"

"Because of a person, a command,"

"Who can disobey the emperor's order?"

Randall, who was trapped in the sofa, drank all the contents of the cup, then held the cup in his hands, and his lips trembled, exhaled a turbid breath containing alcohol, saying softly:

"Prime Minister of the Empire, Regent of Tara, palmprint, magical makado."