Chapter 465 Rebirth From the Ashes: Dream Lover

Petronilla Viva sat in the lounge, which had gorgeous red decorations, a sofa with the right hardness and softness, and velvet tapestries hanging from a high place. There were a lot of decent cabinets and furniture under the dome, and a huge floor-to-ceiling window on one side, where you could look out at the starry sky.

There was even a decanter connected by a hose, and at the other end was a 10-liter wooden barrel filled with delicious wine. There were also delicious snacks on the small table next to it, served on a silver tray, which looked very good.

But all this could not change Petronilla's depressed mood. As a preacher, she had not been doing well recently. In fact, all preachers were the same. Since they came here and came to the expedition team, they have been treated with indifference. Everyone in the military regarded them as air, and even those who could barely talk were particularly indifferent.

This is true for mortal soldiers, and even more so for the extraordinary Astartes. Ever since Petronilla was selected to join the preacher team, she has been looking forward to meeting the Angels of Death and hearing many wonderful stories from them.

But like most preachers, Petronilla was disappointed because they came at a very bad time. Shortly before they arrived, the Logistics Department and the special envoys of the Terra War Council arrived at the expedition, bringing orders that they claimed to be delivered by Guilliman himself.

Yes, orders, not requests. Guilliman ordered the Logistics Department to take over all the logistics supplies of the expedition, the conquered planets, and the previously cooperated forging worlds. They verbally claimed that this was to better assist the expedition and assist the marshal, but in fact it was not the case at all.

The new department established by Guilliman began to hinder the expedition in all aspects, interfere with the decisions of the expeditionary army, and convey orders and requirements instead of humble requests. The entire expeditionary army was called back and forth.

This made many people very dissatisfied, especially the Space Marines. As subordinates of Supreme Marshal Vito Constantine, they enjoyed completely independent actions, combat and decision-making powers, and could directly obtain supply support from Mars and other forge worlds, but now everything has changed.

The Marshal's expeditionary force suddenly fell from the supreme position to the same position as other fleets of the Indomitable Crusade. They needed to wait for distribution and "wait" for the "orders" of the Terra War Council.

The expeditionary council of the Supreme Marshal suddenly became a subordinate department of the Terra War Council, and they also became Guilliman's subjects. Although this was not strange and no one expressed any opposition in public, the opposition within the expeditionary force naturally spread.

From the Astartes, it quickly spread to the mortals, and the preachers became targets. As people sent by Guilliman and the War Council, they immediately became excluded outsiders. All requests to follow the fleet to the war and witness the battle and record it with their own eyes were rejected.

Four of the five Astartes regiments under the expeditionary force explicitly rejected them. Lancelot refused to allow the preachers to board any of his warships, while Locke declined very tactfully. Eisenstein simply refused to meet with the preachers due to his military affairs, and all the applications for joining the army fell into the sea.

The most direct one was Ragnar, the Lord of the Wild Wolf, who publicly stated, well, I think it is more appropriate to quote his original words, he said this.

"It is better to give those guys a gun, so that they can at least help a little bit besides reciting poems and composing letters and bothering us."

His words reflected the opinions of most people in the expeditionary force. The preachers were outsiders here, not valued or accepted. This hostility could only be transferred to a certain extent when the tax collectors sent by the Administrative Office arrived.

So, like most preachers, Petronilla could only stay on the core flagship of the fleet, on the Emperor's Dream, or go to the only warship fleet willing to accept them. The Truth Warriors reluctantly accepted the existence of the preachers, but this was more because Bell, as the offspring of Guilliman, was just fulfilling the orders of his Primarch and definitely didn't like them.

So most of the time, Petronilla didn't have the opportunity to go to the fleet of the Truth Warriors. Even if their ship was just outside the window, hovering in the starry sky outside the French window, it looked close, but she couldn't get there, and all her requests to board the ship were ignored.

So Petronilla Viva could only be like most preachers, doing nothing, wandering around the battleship all day long, looking for anything worth writing and recording, but this was often meaningless.

Petronilla tore off the paper on the notebook in her hand with a slap, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it directly into the trash can in the distance, which was already full of garbage.

As the paper ball fell into the frame, the automatic door on one side opened, and a man wearing loose breeches and a well-dressed coat walked in from outside. The buttons on his coat were fastened tightly, and a small hummingbird pin was pinned on the collar, which was the symbol of the Druwa family.

"What's wrong, Petronilla? Everyone is eating in the cafeteria downstairs, but you are staying here alone?" Druwa said as he walked in. He walked over the exquisite low cabinet on the side and poured himself a glass of wine from the decanter.

He was holding a bag in his hand, which contained some packed food. At this time, Petronilla realized that it was already noon, and most of the preachers were downstairs, enjoying lunch in the cafeteria specially prepared for them.

"Then why are you here? Drewa." Pedronilla didn't even look at him, and continued to write and draw in her hands, but she had no clue at all, and the notebook was a mess.

"Ha, what do you think? I don't want to have lunch among a bunch of arrogant people and bragging guys. There's not much interest there, so I came here, but it looks like I'm in a bad mood, right?"

"What do you think? Drew, we have been locked up here, far away from any tragic battlefield, no, anything, for a month, a full month!"

Petronila complained loudly, and Drewa walked into the lounge with a camera hanging on his chest. He sat on the sofa opposite Petronila and began to play with his exquisite camera. It was custom-made by the famous master of the Mechanicus, and Petronilla heard that it was quite expensive.

Only guys like Drewa who came from a noble family could afford it. In fact, there were many of the preachers like him who were nobles of the empire. Only they had the leisure to leave their homes thousands of miles away and come to the expedition. Jun is looking for excitement to make his boring life interesting.

Petronila was also one of them, but until now, their current position was still far away from the excitement they were looking for, or even a little further away.

"I submitted more than a dozen applications to join the army, but there was no response to all of them. We are locked up here! Drewa is on this ship and will always be locked up!" Petronilla said angrily. Drewa, who was opposite, raised his head and looked at her, with a faint smile on his lips.

"There's nothing wrong with that. I've taken a lot of good photos recently. There are a lot of beautiful places worth taking pictures, like here now."

He looked at Pedroneela's figure, which was like a marble statue made by a master. Her short light gray hair hung down by her ears. It was not too long, just like most female officers in the imperial army. The clothes are similar.

Pedrone was wearing a small crimson coat that only covered her navel. It looked like something worn by a motorcyclist. It was paired with a pair of roomy woolen breeches and exposed waist. The corset made Pedroneela look heroic, or even more appealing to Druid.

"What a beautiful scene this is, I can create a masterpiece for you." "Come on, Drew, I'm not in the mood for your trashy flirting right now."

Pedronela, who had long been accustomed to his constant attentiveness, flirting, and invitations to sleep with him since she met Drew, had no interest in Drew, not at all.

"You are not my type, Drew, so save it." Petronilla said ruthlessly, but Drew seemed not to have heard. He carefully removed the lens from the camera, and then He handed it to a servitor waiting in the corner behind him.

"Take it for repair. It needs to replace the focus ring. It's a 2.65-inch one. Don't make a mistake." "Yes, sir." The servitor stepped forward and gently held it with his hand covered with a metal finger frame. He looked pretty good for a servitor, at least there were no exposed pipes or an annoying smell.

On the contrary, he was wearing a red robe, which was well-built. This was a servitor. He could usually be seen in noble mansions that valued privacy and confidentiality. After all, ordinary servants may leak secrets and betrayal, but servitors , Absolutely not, so these nobles who hold a lot of secrets are keen on these service servitors.

The Adeptus Mechanicus also rarely considered comfort. They made a lot of modifications to this kind of servitor. The mechanical parts of the body that would make people uncomfortable were covered under the robes, and the arms and body did not look so so. It is dry and pale, and its face is more like a human face. In other words, it looks more like a human being. You would not recognize him as a servitor at first glance. He looks like a slightly dull servant.

But this is not absolute. You can still get a glimpse of his true identity from his clumsy reactions and synthesized voices. The flash of light on his mechanical eyeballs cannot be hidden. This seems to be deliberate. The Cult of Mechanicus uses this to Prevent servitors from being used as assassins and spies used by Chaos traitors to silently infiltrate the Imperial nobility.

The servitor took away the camera, while Drew took out a loaf of bread from his pocket, put the jam on the table, and took a sip of the wine he had just poured. His expression was subtle, as he savored the wine in his mouth. After drinking the wine, he slowly opened his mouth.

"Each of us has our own wine tasting habits, but sometimes, you just have never drank some wine. You don't know whether it is delicious and whether it matches your taste. You will only know after drinking it."

"But some wines, such as poisonous wine, are known to smell bad when you smell them." Pedrunilla mercilessly rejected Drois's flirtation again. She had long been used to it and didn't even want to look at him. One glance.

She once again tore off the pages of the notebook in her hand, crushed it and threw it into the trash can. She threw it up high, as if she was having fun, and the ball of paper flew through the air with precision. It fell into the paper frame.

Drew glanced at the fallen paper ball, then turned to look at her, "Then what kind of wine do you like? Or, what kind of man? What kind of person would make the aloof Petronilla Interested?"

His tone was still teasing, but this time Petronilla did not have any sarcastic sarcasm. He wrote and muttered, "Marshal Vito Constantine, I have heard of him. His story is very interesting. I have always wanted to meet him. After all, we are on his ship, right?"

"I didn't expect that your dream lover would be so noble." "What kind of woman in the Empire would not regard the marshal as her dream lover? Listen to his story, a mysterious, ancient, and powerful man, just like the original body, or even better, fascinating." "Like you? Petronilla Viva, a mysterious and cold lady?"

Petronilla wrote in the notebook, but there was nothing to write in her memory spiral except some trivial things. As she wrote, she unconsciously wrote down the trash that Druwa had just said.

She sighed angrily at the words, tore them off, crumpled them into a ball and threw them out, then leaned back on the sofa and snapped her fingers at the service servitor beside her, "Servitor, I'm having lunch here, get me something to eat and drink." "Yes, ma'am."

Druwa smiled at the servitor who passed by, leaning back on the sofa with one hand on the top of the backrest, "Are you really so interested in the marshal? Are you eager to meet him?"

"Just as you heard, Druwa, but I guess you don't have the ability to introduce me, right? So shut up and don't try to attract any of my attention, it's a waste of effort."

Druwa He smiled again, leaned back on the sofa and shrugged slightly, "I can't recommend the marshal, but I can recommend Mr. Olga to you."

"Olga? What's the use of him? He's just a boring and uninteresting old man. I passed by the restaurant before and saw him bragging inside, so I came here, stay away from him."

Petronilla commented so sarcastically, but her words were not wrong. Mr. Olga was the leader of the preachers, at least in theory. He was once a missionary of the state religion, known for his passion and eloquence. He had preached on many planets that did not believe in the Emperor and converted them to the state religion.

Some people commented that he used bolters as weapons, while he used the Holy Word as a weapon. He shot at the Chaos Demons, and even the evil gods would loudly praise the greatness of the Empire and the Emperor, and wholeheartedly follow the contents of the Holy Word.

It is said that Guilliman admired him very much, although he did not agree with his religious beliefs. In fact, there have been rumors about Guilliman's opposition to the Imperial Church and quarrels with the bishops, but those were strictly prohibited as tricks of Chaos schism, even within the Preachers who always advocated free speech and no guilt for speaking.

But regardless of whether there was a dispute with the State Church, Olga was indeed very trusted and appreciated by Guilliman, so he appointed him as the leader of the Preachers and held this important position.

But the Preachers organization is not an army after all, there is no hierarchy and discipline, so his title of Preacher leader, more often than not, can only be exchanged for a new compliment from everyone, and no one takes him seriously.

After all, Olga is like most of the State Church missionaries, enthusiastic but stupid. In Petronilla's view, they are like a group of fanatical fools, always chattering their holy books and wanting everyone to hear them, so when she passed by the restaurant, she turned around and left as soon as she heard his voice.

"Olga is in the dining room now, preaching the greatness of the Emperor again, right? Is this the nth time she has recited the entire Word of God?"

"Don't be so sarcastic, Petronilla, old Olga is still useful." "For example?" "For example, I suggest you go to the dining room now, because Olga will go to the throne room after lunch to be summoned by the marshal. If you want, maybe you can squeeze in? Then you can meet your dream lover."

Petronilla jumped up from the sofa when she heard it. She stood there staring at Druwa with her green eyes wide open. That was the longest time she had ever looked at herself.

"Really?" "Really, I promise." "Damn, I hope he hasn't left yet."

Petronilla said, grabbing the bag next to her and preparing to leave. She walked over from behind the sofa, and Druwa leaned on it and glanced in her direction, "But the delegation is full, so there is no place for you."

She stopped, and just as Druwa hoped, the latter smiled and leaned back on the sofa and raised one hand, seemingly looking at his nails, "But I know one of the friends, Inila, I think I can also convince her to turn down the job and go on a little date with me in the afternoon."

Petronilla stopped at the door and looked back at Druwa. She was silent for a moment. After a moment, he sighed, "What are your conditions? You won't help me for nothing, right?"

"There is indeed a condition, but it is easy to achieve, and you won't lose anything." "I will know if you lose anything after you tell me." Druwa smiled silently, he leaned on the sofa and shrugged, "I have made an appointment in the officers' restaurant tonight, prepared a table of delicious food and a candlelight dinner, I haven't found a female companion yet, maybe you will be interested?"

"Officers' restaurant? How did you make an appointment there?" Petronilla was a little surprised, but Druwa still smiled, he leaned on the sofa and drank a sip of wine, "I have my own way, I can do many things, and the corresponding remuneration conditions are not high."

"Yes, including sleeping with you." Petronilla muttered. She didn't know if Drewa behind her heard it, but the latter shrugged briskly, "So, what's your answer? Do you accept it?"

Petronilla sighed longly, put her bag on her shoulders, and stuffed some of the yellow book protruding from the mouth of the bag into it. Drewa noticed the book. It was not a book of the state religion, nor was it Any document he recognized, he seemed to see a circle on it, and a name on the cover.

The fifth evil god or what?

But before Drewe could see it clearly, Pedronela stuffed the book into her bag and covered it with canvas. She turned around and pressed the button next to the door. The door opened immediately, and she She stood at the door and looked at him with a slight tilt of her head, "Okay, go ahead and contact your "Date No. 1", I'll come in the evening."

"Do you have suitable clothes? You can't wear what you are wearing in the officers' mess, right? If you don't have one, I can lend you one." "No, thank you, no need."

After saying that, Pedronniera walked out, and the door behind him immediately fell down. When the hatch was closed, only Drew and the service servitors moving behind him were left. Nila's lunch was brought.

Drew looked at the food on the tray and smiled softly. Now he knew that Pedronilla was of noble birth, "Put it here, she will come back to have another meal with me in the evening."