Chapter 260: Koz's Wardrobe

"Are you talking about this... color-blocked gown?" A string of low laughter emerged from the depths of Conrad Coates' throat, lingering in the small room that was temporarily converted into a dressing room, and finally passed to In the ears of three Primarchs.

He stretched out his fingers, put a corner of the robe between his fingers and rubbed it gently, as if he was reminiscing about the unique touch when the robe connected with his skin.

"Beast skins, my friends." He twitched his hand briskly, letting the robe swing back into the cabinet, colliding with other leather materials. "I used the best beast skin bags harvested during the hunting process to sew mine. Clothes.”

Fulgrim's thin eyebrows were slightly twisted into a set of arcs on his perfect face. Maybe it was not a good thing to let Konrad Curze tell these nonsense, but exposing his brother's obvious lies might also bring some trouble. Come to worse results.

Those human skins hanging on the street lamps and the eaves of the minaret had not faded from his mind in the past ten minutes.

"Do you really like this material?" Phoenix asked tactfully, sincerely hoping that there was nothing in his tone that could offend Coz, "This seems to be the only clothing material in your cabinet."

"I also had a choice." Cozz pushed aside a few leather coats, bent down, picked up a few children's pajamas with lace and onyx and spinel from the bottom of the cabinet, and threw them back in disgust.

After thinking about it, he picked up the clothes again, opened the window, wrapped a small gift box as a counterweight directly from the window and threw it, letting the things fly into the trash can outside his backyard.

"But would you wear these clothes? No, no normal person would inlay too much jewelry into..." Curze's eyes glanced at Fulgrim, and suddenly, with a little hesitation, "... On yourself?"

"No one would," said Ferrus, his eyes like two polished silver coins of tranquility and power, containing nothing but the face of his interlocutor. "Fulgrim has his perfection, And we have our own. However, your aesthetic seems to be more special, Primarch."

"I hope you can accept it," Curze said suddenly.

"Oh my God..." Fulgrim took a breath. He felt that most of the frown he had spent this whole year was spent on today. "I always feel that when we first meet, I should use some noble principles to talk to you. , It’s very disrespectful and rude, but I can’t always give in to you, really, Conrad.”

"What do you think?" Curze asked, studying Fulgrim's facial expression intently, as if he knew himself better than the Phoenix. "A third Primarch? Speaking out to me will make you lose your bearings." If so, I would like to apologize to you in advance for my behavior. Unfortunately, the future I see does not really belong to our world.”

He laughed again. This low laugh could not be suppressed at all. Coz quickly lowered his lips and said, "I really want to know what kind of people my... friends are in today's glorious days."

He stroked the leather-stitched robes again, his fingertips lingering on the midnight blue-dyed surface. "I did it all," he whispered.

"Okay, this is what you asked me to say, Conrad. If you must take advantage of those people's skin, from a legal or righteous perspective, what can I say against you?"

There was a hint of complaint in Phoenix's soft voice.

"But after this behavior, what message did you want to send? To intimidate? To emphasize? To strengthen your control over Nostramo? After doing this, why did you bring these things to the public? Into our first meeting?”

"Then, when can I reveal the truth?" Coz said without pause, like throwing out a series of links, "I pretended to be tolerant and kind, and removed the dead people from the streets one by one. I force people to reopen the market and welcome you all. While we are chatting happily, wait until you suddenly find out what kind of clothes I am wearing under my black waterproof cloak."

"Conrad Coates," a voice as serious as stone suddenly fell into the center of this dense and endless conversation, "this is not human skin, although it looks like it. But it is more delicate and flawless."

Roger Dorn suddenly spoke, looking directly at Conrad Coates, his light eyes seemed to contain two cold golden lamps.

On his waist wearing golden armor, a golden skull was pierced by an iron chain and hung firmly on his side, facing the long sword on the other side. This skull was unknown to Curze.

"I don't understand why you're implying this," he asked calmly, every word clear and understandable. "Combining your previous speeches with Fulgrim, I think the purpose you want to achieve is to observe the tolerance limit of our three Primarchs for your behavior. Currently, the known conditions I have obtained are limited, so I cannot "Continue to extrapolate what you're going to do next, but I hope our conversations will have a more open and transparent nature."

Ferus immediately re-examined the texture of the leather, which was obscured by dye, even though he remained silent.

After a moment, he nodded slightly and admitted that Rogal Dorn was slightly better in this observation challenge.

"Of course, not human skin. I said it was a beast... forget it." Curze said vaguely, his shoulders slumping. He closed the closet door and leaned against the surface of the huge homemade iron cabinet, his interest suddenly waning. "Whatever you think, maybe I just want to scare you."

"You still haven't..."

Fulgrim glanced at Dorne. Dorne's hand moved to his golden skull and stopped midway.

Also stuck was the question of Rogal Dorn. He looked at the leather clothes, and his eyes gradually slid towards the iron cabinets containing the clothes, with no unnecessary expression on his face.

Fulgrim looked at the robes again with suspicion.

There was a very faint smell of human blood - he could not mistake that smell, still lingering on the surface of these cloths.

He moved closer to where Dorn was, and then he saw the hard-to-find miniature scent-emitting device hidden deep in the closet.

This surprised Phoenix for a while, and he didn't know whether he should feel unbearable that Curze used human blood to smoke his clothes, or should feel relieved that Curze didn't actually use human skin to sew clothes... Although invisibly, he Still vaguely, in this house, I feel a kind of violation that cannot be erased by reason.

Immediately afterwards, he discovered that his bottom line had indeed been lowered by Coze's tricks.

"God," he muttered, "I don't know how to face you, Konrad." He noticed that Konrad Coates had always avoided using the word brother, which was very difficult for this aggressive man. Primarch, this was clearly not a coy one.

During this short meeting, Fulgrim had asked himself more than once, did Konrad Curze really want to return to the Empire? Or was it something, some kind of thinking, that was stopping him and intensifying his emotions?

"Confront me in any way," Cozz said, as if he wanted to say something more, but when the words came to his lips, he swallowed them again.

There was something unexplainably familiar about Konrad Curze's attitude towards Fulgrim. Several Primarchs present could feel this specialness, and Ferus patted Phoenix on the shoulder with his iron hand.

"I really hope that's not a dispute, Konrad," Fulgrim said.

"Okay, Rogal Dorn." Curze changed his attack target. Although from a behavioral point of view, he gave up challenging the easier one, and instead stared at a piece of land incomprehensibly and with great momentum. Jushi, "What did you want to say just now?"

"You still haven't explained the content behind your temptation." Donne continued his half sentence. He didn't want to be like Fulgrim, going back and forth with Konrad Curze. No matter what Curze did, he never seemed to waver. "This probably means that you think your secret cannot..."

"You're right. You're surprisingly sharp, Roger Dorn. Now, since this is my closet, and right next door to my bathroom, I'm obsessed with cleanliness, and yes, I'll order the outdoor The streets are kept absolutely clean. In this way, everyone, I have introduced you to the house where I have lived for twenty years.”

Conrad Coates threw out the last lines he had prepared, like a bad actor who has run out of patience. This behavior subtly brings out a kind of habitual coldness. His proficiency in this aspect is in sharp contrast with the unfamiliarity facing visitors from the empire behind his exaggerated performance.

"If you have any questions, ask me now. Later, according to the clock, this Midnight Star will enter dinner time. The number of soldiers you brought is so great that my subordinates had to switch from preparing lunch to preparing lunch for them. Dinner."

"You won't take the initiative to tell your secrets, you can't trust us." Dorn said, calmly accepting Kurtz's attitude. The latter seemed to be a little stung by this, and the expression that flashed across his face was similar to that of confusion. Or maybe it's a regret.

Rogal Dorn continued: "So, I have another question that has nothing to do with your secret. I want to know, enter Nostramo, except me, Ferrus Manus, Fulgrim Mu, and our guards, and possibly the interplanetary traders, are you the only one not native to this place?”

"What does this mean?" Coz's back bowed slightly.

"I'm not sure." Dorn's armor-pierced fingers touched the golden skull at his waist again, which was a subconscious movement. "If you understand what I mean, tell him or them, Perturabo... It’s been a long time coming.”

"Emperor, when did your stone brothers start playing this game of 'if you understand, you understand, if you don't understand, you don't understand'?"

In the poker airship of the believers of the Laughing God, Morse pushed away the monitor screen as if he was ready to roll over, then put on a show, crossed one leg, and told his fixed joke dryly.

Since the cooperation with Gemo, the incarnation of the Laughing God has disappeared, leaving only this group of pied-dressed spirits who have lost the care of their gods. They are dragged by Morse and held beside him, euphemistically saying, "We must continue to let them help." Transport Map Chucha Engine".

Mechanical Perturabo was slightly startled by Rogal Dorn's words, and his movements slowed down. "I don't know." He said, even the mechanically synthesized human voice could not completely cover up the lump in his throat.

"I think……"

"I mean……"

The two looked at each other, and then Perturabo made a gesture toward Morse.

"I mean, we probably better get back to Terra soon, right?" Morse said. "Looks like someone's been thinking about us for a while."

"Yes." Perturabo's mechanical eyes and artificial eyes looked at Morse at the same time, confirming this.

Morse rubbed his hands together and snapped his fingers casually. The first time, the rubbing cloth didn't move enough air. He calmly mobilized the hidden runes to delay the sound.

"This is not my problem." He said quickly. "Do I want to leave without saying goodbye? No, of course not. And we sent Alpharius back to report. This is not even a departure without saying goodbye, but just a known journey."

"Once Konrad Curze and all his endless worries are resolved, it will be time for us to run back to Terra to continue to work hard for the Emperor. I have to be ready..." His toes trembled rhythmically.

"Before that, if you think it's okay based on your understanding of yourself and Dorn, we can also inform the Iron Warriors in advance through Dorn..."

"I will." Perturabo said. "The items he carried prove his credibility."

"Skull, right?" Morse snorted, this time his breath was a little weaker than usual, "I hope that thing will help him more than... Wait, I forgot this." He patted his leg.

"What?"

"Oh, the bad news before... I think Conrad's little secret will soon be exposed. It's a pity that he thought of playing house here. News is coming, big robot."

The troupe leader, whose real name is still unknown, walked into the command room occupied by the Imperials empty-handed, greeted him listlessly, and spoke the matter at hand, trying to speak directly in Gothic.

"You two, you also know that Victor has been recovering his dark Eldar all over the galaxy along the webway, taking the blood relatives who happened to be wandering outside during the Gomorrah turmoil, and throwing them all back to the underworld for trial, right?"

"He didn't run to your Ark to arrest people, which only shows that he is at the moral peak of his life."

"Well, I have good news here. Due to lack of manpower, Victor is getting beaten up himself."

"Who can catch that cunning resurrected?" Perturabo asked.

"A huge black-skinned, red-eyed giant, and his green-armored Astartes born of flames." The troupe leader said, and when mentioning the black-skinned giant, the mask turned to Perturabo, as if making some kind of comparison, "On the wild world of Ibsen."

"Victor just escaped back to orbit, pretending that there was not much blood under his helmet. But he was obsessed with the local wild Eldar, asking if it was possible to save a few world singers... Of course, you completely ignored it, and Victor would also find a way to get rid of the pursuers behind him. But how could our blood relatives who grew up eating grass still have the kindness to get so close to you humans?"