Chapter 732 Interlude: Diary of the Emperor's Niece

Chapter 732 Interlude: Diary of the Emperor's Niece

My name is Cyrene.

Cyrene-Valantien-Peson.

Cyrene is my real name, Valantien is the legacy left to me in my childhood, and the third surname, Peson, comes from my adoptive father, Mr. Orpeson: he adopted me during the Perfect City incident nine years ago, and then brought me to the Far Eastern Frontier.

In general, this is a decision that makes me grateful to him and regard him as my real father and relative, although the relationship between us is not actually close: after all, in the past nine years, we have been together less and more, and even the nominal [home] is always empty on weekdays.

But anyway: Maybe he did sign his name as a guardian on a whim to add some color to his boring military life, but after the initial novelty faded, he did not abandon his responsibilities, but conscientiously paved the way for me.

I remember clearly that three days after I arrived at the Aurora, a letter of recommendation filled with the names of various officers carried me directly into the gate of the [Avalon First Military Medical College] located at the deepest part of the lower deck of the battleship: you know, the honorary president of this college is the mistress of Avalon and the entire Far East Frontier.

Our president is a veteran who retired from the Titan Legion. Our president has three medals awarded by different gene primarchs on his chest. Our lecturers are either famous interstellar scholars or senior military doctors who have been trained on the battlefield: when we need field exercises, there will always be Dawnbreaker warriors to escort us.

They told me that I was the eleventh student since the opening of the college: the seniors of the first and second classes have long become the leaders of the entire medical system. Among the students who took classes with me, there were even their grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and my teachers would be their parents.

As for the Dawnbreaker who will come to serve as a temporary invigilator during our final exams, he may have the same grandfather as my classmate sitting behind me.

In addition, those who can sit on these tables and chairs are either world princesses who are always held in the palm of the hand by a powerful imperial governor, or descendants of mortal generals or even Astartes warriors: although there are indeed quite a few officers' children like me, they prefer the option of being able to go to the front line.

It is not a pleasant thing to get along with these spoiled rich kids. Even if many of them do have outstanding abilities that live up to their surnames, the arrogance and coldness in their characters are difficult to erase: the more noble the students are, the more they like to use these colleges as their social venues. Many of them may never use the knowledge they have learned in the eight-year course throughout their lives.

After all, for these ancient families who had climbed up to the east of the Primarch a century ago and made great contributions and made a lot of money in the establishment of the Far Eastern Frontier, they did not expect their children to really learn anything. These noble offspring were just a signal: a signal that proved that these families could still have a place in the center of power.

This is not surprising: the history of the Far Eastern Frontier has been more than eighty years. Even the most dull statisticians can see that in this eighty-year time span, the time that Master Morgan stayed on her home planet Avalon is simply counted.

Even if there is no war, Master Morgan and the core team of the Dawnbreaker are accustomed to living on the Aurora Goddess: this huge Queen of Glory-class battleship is the real capital of the entire Far Eastern Frontier, and Avalon is just a vase used to decorate the lintel.

An obvious argument is: looking at the power institutions in the Far East, those dignitaries who come from the Aurora are often able to gain greater advantages in competition with the lingering Dawnbreaker mark on them, and in turn, make this cycle more stable.

Until now, whether you have ever been gilded on the Aurora and felt the infinite glory of the original body Morgan up close has become a hard benchmark on the road to promotion: no matter how outstanding your ability is, if you are not considered a Dawnbreaker, there will always be an invisible barrier waiting for you.

Seeing this clearly, a large number of elites gradually crowded under the feet of the Spider Queen for various reasons, and even forced the already overcrowded Queen of Glory to complete further expansion work, otherwise it would not be able to carry so many people.

As far as I can remember, the Aurora has undergone at least seven transformations in the past fifty years, five of which were undertaken by the Forge World of Riza: Master Morgan's allies invested all their energy and wealth with unimaginable enthusiasm, and each transformation made people feel brand new.

Today, I heard that the Aurora is already a 33-kilometer-long behemoth: in comparison, the Macragge's Glory, which is as famous as it, is only 26 kilometers long, and thanks to the more advanced subspace engine, we have more abundant living space than other warships.

How abundant is it?

I, Cyrene, am an ordinary student at the Military Medical College. The only special thing about me is that I am the first in this class, barely able to beat those monsters that rolled out from the Hive World: but there is no need to be proud, because those real Hive monsters are wreaking havoc in the Political Affairs College and the Legal Affairs College.

You know, the Aurora Goddess is a space city cluster with at least a million permanent residents. The total number of various mortal colleges built on its lower deck alone has exceeded 300: although most of them are not very large, real giants like the Mortal Military Academy need to find a safe world to build an additional school.

Originally, an affiliated institution like the First Military Medical College where I am would also be arranged on a planet, but our fate is slightly different, because the ownership of our school was specially allocated to the Hunting God Rose Legion under his command by the Primarch ten years ago.

Yes, it is one of the strongest mortal legions composed of all women: because the death rate is too high, they have to accept several additional nursing schools to provide themselves with sufficient medical personnel. It is really a funny black humor.

But after the black humor, no one can doubt that the Hunting God Rose Legion has become one of the pillars of Great Avalon: the statues of their warriors are standing in the corridors of the battleship, and their most heroic sacrifices have been adapted into movies. Even if it is an eight-hour uncut version, there are still many people willing to watch it all at once.

Unfortunately, it was removed from the shelves because it is said that the content is too bloody.

But this has nothing to do with me. What I want to record here is my abundance: that is, my [home] on the Aurora.

In fact, in terms of emotion and reason, my adoptive father, Mr. Orperson, who is only a mid-level technical officer, does not look like a person who can buy a house on the Aurora, where every inch of land is worth a lot of money, but who says he is an officer loyal to the Queen's Guards?

I expressed my wishes to my boss, took out my receipt certificate, and then took out an additional advance from my retirement pension that sounded reasonable, and then signed a few names: we now had a house of more than 40 square meters.

A bedroom, a living room, a separate bathroom and kitchen, and a small balcony that overlooked the Three Daughters Square below. It not only had free water, electricity and heating, but also a generally stable signal source: at least my somewhat old Thinker could support me to buy new dresses endorsed by the big singer Ms. Catherine online.

This was almost a single room, because Mr. Orperson didn't come back often, and even if he did, he would just sleep on the sofa: the most stable communication between him and me was the living expenses he sent me every month, which was deducted from his officer salary on a fixed basis, and the amount was still quite high. I was even qualified to save money and pre-order a flying machine for myself on the official website.

However, this did not stop me from planning to find a part-time job on the warship after my 18th birthday: Although he did not reveal it intentionally, I know that Mr. Orpesson's original plan absolutely did not include me, a two-legged money-eating beast.

This house, which I rarely visit, has disrupted his original retirement plan: Although he was able to buy this room on the Aurora Goddess because of his special status as a member of the Queen's Guards and because he was the second most privileged class in the entire Far Eastern Frontier, second only to the Dawnbreaker Legion, the specific amount is still a considerable amount.

It's nothing to say, it's just buying a few square-sized pieces of land on the top floor of the most prosperous hive city in the imperial world except Holy Terra: Mr. Orpesson's savings for himself could originally support him to buy an entire basin ranch and then buy the surrounding mountains as railings, but now he has to start again from a few small hills.

However, in a long-lost father-daughter conversation between us, he did not show much frustration about this matter: he could even smile and confess to me that he never regretted bringing me back from the Perfect City and raising me as his real daughter.

"This makes me feel alive again after many years."

This sentence is really strange.

But there is no doubt that these small problems did not affect the father-daughter relationship between me and Mr. Orperson. I am not sure when I began to regard him as the real father of my life, but I did notice something wrong from him.

Inadvertently, his breath always seemed unusually old. He always liked to talk about some things decades ago or even hundreds of years ago in a joking manner, as real as if he had seen it with his own eyes: ordinary people might think he was joking, but I think this is very likely true.

After all: Don't we live in a world where gods exist?

In this case, what's strange about an immortal mortal?

I accept this well.

Maybe others don’t know that I am actually a staunch believer in the Hunting Goddess. This is not because of the influence of the Fierce God Rose Legion, but purely due to my own ideological evolution: although I have been far away from the Perfect City, the Perfect City in my heart has never collapsed.

Since I became conscious, I have accepted the faith of the God-Emperor and regarded the Lord of Mankind as the only miracle in the world: although this view is not tolerated by the mainstream, the eyes of others are unnecessary, and the only thing we need to care about is our God himself.

And He, the God-Emperor: He responded to us in front of the Perfect City.

That's enough: my faith has been as firm as steel since then, and now, it has only undergone a slight change.

In other words, the faith of the God-Emperor still stands in my heart, but life in the Far East Frontier has completely changed me. I came into contact with new faiths here. Although they are not the God-Emperor, they are within my tolerance range: after all, they believe in the descendants of the Emperor. Aren't the descendants of God also worthy of respect?

Hunting the Goddess?

Reading the error-free version! 6=9+Shu_Bar first published this novel.

Parker Mitrich?

Or: Morgan?

None of this matters: there is a place for the Son and the Daughter of the Saint in the faith of the God-Emperor.

Maybe when I am older, maybe when my words are convincing enough, I can make them accept this truth, and let them get used to integrating the loose worship of Mr. Morgan into the correct belief in the Emperor of God: let the Father and the Son be reunited on the altar.

But now, it is not the time.

In the eight years of study, I clearly realized that I am not a preacher who is good at using words to encourage others. I don’t even have any close friends. Even Mr. Orpesson noticed this and was worried about it.

This is not good. Although there is no flesh and blood relationship between him and me, I tried my best to be a daughter who can make him proud and make her proud, so that he knows that the original choice was not wrong: since I can become the first for this, then I can naturally bring real good friends home.

There is not much time left for me.

A few months ago, Mr. Orpesson followed the Dawnbreaker Legion to Ullanor to attend the ceremony of the Warmaster's enthronement and the following Nikaea Conference: It is said that the conference has ended. Although no one knows what happened there, Mr. Orpesson will be back soon.

We will reunite again and have a rare family dinner. During this period, I must find a friend, a friend who will stop worrying about me.

Unfortunately, there seems to be no such option on the Aurora: Moreover, I am not on the Aurora yet.

But there is good news. According to the experience of the past few decades, every time the Aurora sails to the heart of the galaxy, Master Morgan always brings back some new people: since this is a grand event for the whole empire, then maybe she will bring back some real wise men, some people who are really worth making friends with.

A smart person who may have a unique view of the faith of the God-Emperor.

After she returns, maybe I will go and look for it to see if I can make a real friend.

Then?

Then I gave my father, Olpersson, a small surprise.

——————

Ah… my throat hurts…

I looked at my father who had just fallen ill at the factory and ran home to rest, and my mother who had just been infected by my father and was lying in bed…

…

I had a bad feeling…