Leaving the assembly hall, they soon arrived at the fortress's command spire and headed to the room of the commander Randall Blancad.
In the wide corridor leading to the room, there are many broken weapons, and some soldiers called the Desolate Guard.
When he heard this name, Soshiyan had already confirmed that the White Temple, like the Knight of the Astral Realm, was the descendant of the Eleventh Legion.
These ornate veterans were wearing Terminator armor and guarded in key positions. There was a conspicuous black spire emblem on their left shoulder armor, which was also one of the symbols of the Eleventh Legion that Soshiyang knew.
"The Battle Commander hopes to meet you alone."
At the end of the corridor are two huge bronze doors. Mutari stopped and whispered, and looked at the expression on Soshiyang's face.
"Talos, you're waiting outside."
Talos nodded and stayed outside with Soshiyan's guard.
The moment Soshiyang walked into the room, accompanied by a slight click, the two doors with bronze plates closed automatically.
Another pair of identical doors is closed tightly in front of the house.
Soshiyang looked around and found that the environment was very comfortable, the air was cool and clean, and it penetrated through the blinds, and even heard the lazy gurgling sound of the fountain in the courtyard outside.
In the middle of the room there is a huge table with a kettle, a towel and a crystal-cut glass that glitters in soft light.
Soshiyan did not move, but just kept standing in front of the door.
He watched the sun shine through the blinds, smelled the fragrance of wood and fabric like flowers, and listened to the music played by the fountain.
Through the window, he could witness a majestic fortress made of rock, fine gold and steel extending to the surroundings. The spire, the observatory and the weapon tower push each other together. The missile array and the slots of the bunker squeezed in the middle of the colonnade, and the pride and embrace of human beings.
Negative polished monument, all of which are displayed under the azure sky of the Sanctuary Star.
Soshiyang stood quietly, listening to the gentle sound of water, and recalling the doubts and confusions in all these things.
"I'm sorry, I've been waiting for you for a long time, and there's something to be done."
Suddenly, a sound came, quite soft and hissing.
Soshiyan woke up from his meditation. He could not see the speaker, but saw that the second door had been opened and did not notice when they were unlocked. The mechanical structure inside must be very smooth.
Through the gate, he entered a huge, sunny room.
The entire wall was replaced by seamless glass, and the mountains broke the horizon in the distance, and shone with white light under the sunlight.
The floor is covered with polished wooden floors, and various weapon racks and bookshelfs are scattered in the cave-like interior - which makes Soshiyan feel weird, and the combination of a collector's study and an armory is full of contradictions.
The room was quiet, with the door closed behind him, as quiet and elegant as when it was just opened.
Soshiyang stayed in place, stood for a while, listening to his breathing, thinking about whether what he saw around him was real.
"I hope I don't surprise you when I am now."
The sound came from nowhere, Soshiyang turned around and scanned the room.
The sound sounded like it was in the air in his ear, echoing on the panels, sinking into the fabric of the woven carpet—a sad tone, rich tone, but a little hoarse.
Then, Randall slowly stepped out from behind the bookshelf.
There was not much difference between him eight years ago. He was still tall and burly without wearing a power armor, but his left arm turned into a robotic arm, and there seemed to be two more scars on his face.
Soshiyang calmed down.
"Brother Randall, your hand—"
As soon as he said that, he felt stiff and stupid.
Randall did not answer, he just smiled, and Soshiyang noticed that the other party's eyes were full of vitality-deep, with a torch-like gaze, almost as sharp as the eyes of birds.
Those eyes stared at Soshiyang for a long time.
"I'm not lucky enough to be bitten by something, but I'm lucky to have one arm missing."
Then, Randall walked towards a huge sofa and sat on it.
His movements were a bit staggering, like a person who was trained to reach the peak of his natural limit but was seriously injured, which seemed a bit incredible.
Then he leaned back, his gray face slightly smoother, and his tight expression relaxed.
"Sit down."
Soshiyan did as he did, and walked towards a huge chair opposite the sofa.
"Do you want to drink some?"
Randall asked, glanced at the glass wine bottle on the table among them, which was a transparent liquid.
But Soshiyan is not a drunk person, not to mention that he really has no interest in this strange place, so he shook his head and said:
"No, thank you."
The commander of the White Temple smiled and poured himself a glass of what looked like wine.
Then he held the wine glass to his nose and let the fragrance stay for a while.
"I grew up in the Sanctuary Star, a world that seems to be useless to many people, but this wine is a very popular trade product."
He said, taking a sip from the cup, whipping it in his mouth, and swallowing it.
"But even though it has a reputation in the galaxy, the Sanctuary Star is still worthless to most people."
Randall pursed his thick lips and looked meditative.
"Like our abandoned legion."
He said, and then his eyes suddenly became sharp, like a bird of prey without hesitation.
"Everyone knows it used to be important, but everyone thinks it is worthless."
Soshiyan didn't seem surprised. He looked at the other person and poured himself a glass.
This is a distilled liquor, but it is not so spicy and very moist.
"Who are you?"
Putting down the wine glass, Soshiyang asked softly.
Randall smiled slightly in response.
"I am the commander of the White Temple."
“That’s all?”
"What else do you wish you could hear?"
Soshiyang hesitated for a moment. He didn't know whether he should have his name, but the other party was also the inheritance of the Eleventh Legion, and the history of the situation may be longer than that of the Knights of the Star Realm.
In the end, he decided not to talk about it for now, so he changed the question:
"How did you keep past history?"
"Because of one person, one order,"
"Who can disobey the Emperor's order?"
Randall, who was trapped in the sofa, drank all the things in the cup, then held the cup in both hands, exhaled a sip of the turbid air containing alcohol with his lips, and said softly:
"The Prime Minister of the Empire, the Regent of Terra, the Seal Master, the Magic Pattern Makado."