Warhammer 30: The Second Legion's Expedition

Chapter 77 Transition

What is the significance of this expedition?

Faced with Hector's question, Lemanrus looked at Hector silently, then revealed a true calmness and rationality that he had been hiding, completely devoid of any roughness or savagery.

At this moment, Leman Russ seemed like a wise man from Fenris, speaking to Hector, his brother, with utmost seriousness.

"victory."

After saying those two words, Riemann Russ stopped, as if waiting for Hector to understand.

As the atmosphere grew heavier, he continued, his voice rising: "Its significance lies in victory."

"My brother."

"Once this expedition is over, we will take care of the rest of the business."

"That will only leave behind ruins," Hector said, frowning.

"Then rebuild it from the ruins, brother," Ruth said resolutely.

It was as if there was absolutely no possibility of further discussion on this matter.

"I find this hard to accept, brother," Hector shook his head.

"Instead of rebuilding a world from ruins, it is better to preserve enough embers for the Empire and for this planet from the very beginning."

"Their resources and population can help us better serve the expedition, brothers."

"That's something the Ministry of Internal Affairs should consider. If my legions can't get enough supplies, I don't think they'll want to face the maw of Fenris's giant wolves," Russ said sternly.

His expression then softened, and he said to Hector again, "Brother."

"As you can see, the planet we stand on is not rare in the entire universe."

"It is filled with ignorance, violence, and unforgivable sins."

"If you want to save this world, the resources, time, and even energy you need are enough to take over at least ten of the same worlds."

"Given the number of people and combat strength of the Second Legion, you shouldn't be lagging behind like this."

"I think we're stuck on who should go first, Ruth brothers," Hector said.

"Obviously."

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"This needs to be removed, Finn Baker."

"How did you find out?!"

"It seems you yourself realize what remarkable things you've written, Finn Baker. I don't think you want the interrogation team of the Eighth Company to peel off your skin, do you?"

"No, no, of course not." Finn Baker felt a dull ache in his skin.

But what Finn Baker feared even more than being exposed was the possibility that this incident would become known, thus costing him his vital role as a recorder.

He chuckled obsequiously at the Astartes before him, a man dressed in civilian clothes and as muscular as a small mountain. He stared intently at the man's closed face, which seemed to be asleep, and his doubts grew stronger.

How did he do that? Finn Baker asked himself.

"No doubt about it," Azir said with amusement.

"You didn't even open your eyes, Lord Azir." Finn Baker opened his mouth exaggeratedly, behaving in a manner completely unlike that of a member of the Cult of Mechanics.

"Spirituality."

Someone responded to his question.

The shadow behind him enveloped him, and a large hand clad in silver gauntlets snatched the paper from his grasp.

"I suggest you don't watch, Paris," Azir said.

"Why?" Paris asked back.

He could certainly sense Finn Baker becoming increasingly dazed and flustered, and his almost leaping spirituality.

Paris was certain that unless he completely outmatched his opponent in terms of strength...

Finn Baker will definitely snatch the manuscript from his hand.

Azir shook his head, and then declined to say anything more.

Paris quickly scanned Finn Baker's works, his initial admiration and praise turning into silence and anger.

The manuscript paper turned into fluttering scraps of paper in Paris's hands, like snowflakes.

"How dare you spread rumors and slander the friendship between the two Primarchs? I can tell you, Finn Baker, there are no conflicts or quarrels between the Primarchs!"

“I heard it with my own ears, sir,” Finn Baker explained.

The bond between Primarchs is undeniable, and the technicians' favorite thing to do is sing praises of the brotherhood between Primarchs.

Finn Baker witnessed the meeting between Lehman Ruth and Hector, who were arm in arm, laughing and joking.

But afterwards, he only heard the Primarch's rebuttals and debates from outside the tent, as well as the final, widely sung duel.

Of course, it was a duel in which no one knew who the winner would be.

However, Finn Baker boldly speculated that, without going into a death match, the savage and brutal Wolf King Ruth should be able to defeat the great Primarch Hector.

This worried Finn Baker, but he had no choice but to write it this way, to fabricate it.

This is also the reason why his spirit beats so restlessly.

He was making wild guesses about a Primarch, and no Dawnbringer would allow such a work to be disseminated.

Paris's giant hand was about to grab Finn Baker's head when Azir raised his hand to stop him: "Stop, Paris."

"This is the duty my Lord has given me," he said.

Paris only intended to scare this audacious mortal; everything he did was merely a pretense.

After Azir said that, he very naturally walked past Finn Baker and casually bent down to take the drink from the servant's body.

Looking at the clear, water-like liquid that emitted a pungent alcoholic odor, Paris held it up to his eyes and looked at the glass and Azir with great surprise.

"Fenris's wine?" Paris said. "I thought you didn't drink."

"I added a little bit of a local recipe from my hometown and re-brewed it," Azir responded. "To make it clear enough that the toxin content is reduced to a level that an ordinary person could drink."

"I'll only take a nap for one day."

"You woke up with a splitting headache, didn't you?" Paris asked in return. "Quite a few Royal Guards have experienced this, even some officers I know well have been affected, and none of them are willing to tell me what happened."

"You used the warship's sergeants to experiment with your drink."

Paris's spirit remained unmoved, and Azir glanced at Finn Baker, who was silently recording the conversation.

He suddenly remembered that this guy seemed to be planning to publish a book about the daily lives of the soldiers in the legion.

I couldn't help but feel a little interested in this idea.

Azir initiated the conversation: "So what's their opinion on this?"

"You're admitting it, Azir?" Paris feigned anger. "This is a huge provocation against military discipline!"

"So, as a brewer, I don't think I've failed in my duty in judging them," Azir said with a confident smile.

Paris glanced at him briefly, then downed the glass of wine in one gulp: "It tastes excellent."