In Warhammer, throwing a muddle is impossible.

Caesar pointed indignantly out the window, “Solomon is just slacking off! He’s using meditation as an excuse to avoid work! And Vlad, he just wants to play! Why am I the only one here to be a beast of burden?”

"No, I have to think of something..."

Caesar paced back and forth in his spacious office, his footsteps thumping heavily on the floor. "I need to find a reason, a legitimate, grand reason that they can't refuse, to throw these damn documents back at me."

Just then, a deep humming sound pierced through the dome of the Governor's Mansion.

Caesar's wrist communicator lit up, and a report came from the spaceport control tower:

"Reporting, Lord Caesar! Orbital scanning has detected an approaching fleet! Identification code... It's the Mechanical Order! The fleet from the Riza Forging World has arrived!"

In that instant, the despair in Caesar's eyes vanished. In its place was a ecstatic joy, as if he had seen a savior.

"Hahahaha! Praise be to the God-Emperor! Praise be to the God of Myriad Machines!!"

Caesar rushed to Audrey, placed his hands on the little girl's shoulders, and revealed a charming yet dangerous smile on his face, which was hidden by his helmet.

“Listen, Audrey. Big business is here. The oil enthusiasts are here.”

“Since we are going to establish a warband, we must abide by the structure of the Astartes Codex, right?”

Audrey nodded blankly: "Yes, sir."

"The holy code stipulates that each chapter needs a 'technical sergeant' specifically responsible for maintaining equipment and communicating with the Mechanicus, right?"

Audrey continued to nod.

“Excellent!” Caesar snapped his fingers. “Since we’re going to make a deal with Riza, someone has to be in charge of the technical integration, to learn those profound, obscure mechanical skills that require a lot of time to study!”

"For the future of the chapter, for everyone's gear, I, Caesar, have decided to sacrifice myself!"

Caesar thumped his chest with righteous indignation, his eyes gleaming with a wise light that seemed to say "I want to be lazy."

"Starting today, I will be in charge of receiving the Mechanical Instructors and training the Technical Sergeants! These administrative documents... I'll leave them to you and Solomon!"

Without giving Audrey a chance to react, Caesar pressed down on his helmet and rushed out of the office like a whirlwind.

Only his cheerful voice remained, carried on the wind: "Tell Solomon! For the sake of the Emperor, I have to go negotiate with the oil enthusiasts! Don't worry! Farewell, cage!"

……

Orbit of Quintesson, spaceport ruins.

Although it is a ruin, thanks to Caesar's no-holds-barred investment of resources, several main berths have been cleared.

At this moment, a massive Mechanicus fleet is slowly cutting into orbit.

Leading the way was a magnificent mechanical ark, its hull covered with countless antennas, cannons, and intricate gear emblems. Its dark red paintwork appeared solemn and oppressive under the starlight.

That was Riza's flagship for exploring the world.

On the deck of the ship, the four men reunited.

Osiris watched as the ghostly soldiers he had summoned were forcibly dressed in robes by Caesar to serve as his guards.

"Kaizi, what kind of performance art are you doing?"

Osiris looked at his summoned creatures, who were being used as clothes hangers, with a look of disgust. "This looks like some kind of cult ritual."

"What do you know? This is called class."

Caesar, who was directing the formation adjustments, said without turning his head, "The Mechanics love this kind of gloomy, mystical atmosphere. If we were just four people standing on an empty deck, that would be pathetic. This is called 'silent majesty.'"

“And,” Caesar turned around, pointing to his gleaming power armor, “I’ve decided to become a technical sergeant. This is my moment to prove myself.”

Solomon stood to the side, leaning on his scepter, watching Caesar bustling about, and sighed: "You just don't want to approve the documents, do you?"

"We'll see through it but not say anything; we're still good brothers." Caesar chuckled.

Just then, a piercing, synthesized electronic voice forcibly cut into everyone's communication channel.

"Zzz... Unregistered Astartes signal detected. This is the Riza Exploration Fleet, I am the Great Sage Theta-Prim."

The voice was arrogant, cold, and filled with mechanical ruthlessness.

"According to the agreement, we are here to retrieve Level 1 STC data. Please open the data port immediately for transmission. Given that our fleet also has technical exchange missions, we will not be landing; supplies will be delivered via transport ships."

There was a moment of silence in the channel.

Vlad turned his head to look at his friends: "This guy's pretty arrogant, huh? He's just going to grab his stuff and leave without even seeing me?"

“That’s normal.” Solomon shrugged. “In their eyes, a small team of only four people like ours is probably no different from stray dogs on the roadside. They only care about STC.”

Caesar's eyes narrowed.

Not meeting in person? Not logging in? That won't do!

If we don't manage to lure these people away, who will repair this wrecked ship? Who will take his place as that damned "technical sergeant"? Who will provide free labor?