Leaving the assembly hall, they quickly arrived at the command tower of the fortress and headed to Chapter Master Randall Blanchard's personal chamber.
In the wide corridor leading to the private room, there are many broken weapons lined up, as well as some warriors called gloomy guards.
When he heard this name, Soshyan was already very sure that the White Templar, like the Astral Knights, was a descendant of the Eleventh Legion.
These ornately decorated veterans wear Terminator armor and guard key positions. There is a conspicuous black spire coat of arms on the left shoulder armor, which is also one of the symbols of the Eleventh Legion that Soshyan is familiar with.
"The Chapter Master wishes to meet with you alone."
At the end of the corridor were two huge bronze doors. After Mutali stopped and whispered, he looked at the expression on Soshyan's face.
"Taros, you wait outside."
Talos nodded and stayed outside with Soshyan's guards.
The moment Soshyan walked into the room, the two bronze-paneled doors automatically closed with a subtle click.
Another pair of identical doors is closed at the front of the house.
Soshyan looked around and found that the environment here was very comfortable, the air was cool and clean, seeping in through the blinds, and he could even hear the lazy gurgling sound of the fountain in the courtyard outside.
There was a huge table in the middle of the room, on which sat a kettle, a towel and a crystal-cut glass that shimmered in the soft light.
Soshyan didn't move, just kept standing in front of the door.
He watched the sun shine through the blinds, smelled the flower-like fragrance of wood and fabric, and listened to the gentle music played by the fountain.
Through the window, he could see a majestic fortress made of rock, adamantine and steel stretching out around him. The spires, observatories and weapons towers were pushing against each other. Missile arrays and bunker slots were squeezed in the middle of the colonnades.
Also used to commemorate the pride and embrace of mankind
Negative and polished monuments, all displayed under the azure sky of the Sanctuary Star.
Suoshiyang stood quietly, listening to the gentle sound of water, and calmly thought about the doubts and confusions in all these things.
"Sorry to keep you waiting for so long, I just have something to deal with."
Suddenly, a voice came, which was quite soft and had a hissing sound.
Soshyan woke up from his meditation. He couldn't see the speaker, but saw that the second door was open. He didn't notice when they were unlocked. The mechanical structure inside must be very smooth.
Passing through the door, he entered a large, sunny room.
An entire wall was replaced by seamless glass, and the mountains broke the distant horizon, shining white in the sunlight.
The ground is covered with polished wooden floors, and various weapon racks and bookshelves are dotted throughout the cave-like interior - this makes Soshyan feel very weird. The combination of a collector's study and an armory is full of contradictions.
.
The room was very quiet, and the door closed behind him, as quiet and elegant as when it was just opened.
Soshyan stayed where he was for a while, listening to his breathing and wondering whether what he saw around him was real.
"Hopefully what I look like now doesn't surprise you."
The voice came from nowhere, and Soshyan turned around and scanned the room.
The voice sounded like it was ringing in the air in his ears, echoing off the panels, sinking into the fabric of the woven rug - sad in tone, rich in timbre, but a little hoarse.
Then, Randall slowly stepped out from behind the bookshelf.
He is not much different from eight years ago. Without the power armor, he is still tall and tall, but his left arm has become a mechanical arm and there seem to be two more scars on his face.
Soshyan calmed down.
"Brother Randall, your hands—"
As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he felt stiff and stupid.
Randall didn't answer, he just smiled, and Soshyan noticed that the other person's eyes were full of life - deep, bright, almost as sharp as the eyes of birds.
Those eyes stared at Soshyan for a long time.
"Unlucky enough to be bitten by something, but lucky to have one missing arm."
Then, Randall walked to a huge sofa and sat on it.
His movements were a little staggering, like a person who had been trained to reach the peak of his natural limits, but suffered serious injuries. This seemed a bit incredible.
Then he leaned back, his gray face smoothed a little, and his tense expression relaxed.
"Sit down."
Soshyan did as he was told and walked to a huge chair opposite the sofa.
"Would you like a drink?"
Randall asked, glancing at the glass bottle on the table between them, which contained a clear liquid.
However, Soshyan was not an alcoholic, not to mention that he really had no interest in this strange place, so he shook his head and said:
"No thanks."
The Chapter Leader of White Templar smiled and poured himself a glass of something that looked like wine.
Then, he raised the wine glass to his nose and let the scent linger for a while.
"I grew up on the Sanctuary Planet. This world is considered useless by many people, but this kind of wine is a very popular trade product."
He said, taking a sip from the cup, swirling it in his mouth, and then swallowed it.
"But even if it is quite famous in the galaxy, Sanctuary Star is still worthless to most people."
Randall pursed his thick lips in thought.
"Like our abandoned legions."
He said, and then his eyes suddenly became sharp, as unhesitating as a bird of prey.
"Everyone knows it was once important, but everyone thinks it has no value anymore."
Soshyan didn't look surprised. He looked at the other person and poured himself a glass.
This is a distilled liquor, but it is not harsh on the throat and is very moist.
"Who are you?"
Putting down the wine glass, Soshyan asked softly.
Randall smiled slightly in response.
"I am the Chapter Master of the White Templars."
"That's it?"
"What else did you expect to hear?"
Soshiyang hesitated for a moment. He didn't know whether to tell his name, but the other party was also a descendant of the Eleventh Legion, and depending on the situation, the history might be older than that of the Astral Knights.
In the end, he decided it was better not to say anything yet, so he changed the question:
"How do you preserve the history of the past?"
"Because of one person and one order,"
"Who can disobey the Emperor's orders?"
Randall, who was slumped on the sofa, drank all the contents of the cup, then held the cup with both hands, exhaled a breath of alcohol-containing turbid breath with trembling lips, and said softly:
"Prime Minister of the Empire, Regent of Terra, Holder of the Seal, Malcador with the Demon Pattern."