40K: When evil spirits appear

Chapter 67 Name

More than two weeks after the new town hall of Kunia was completed, the advisor, who was known to everyone in and outside the city, lost his temper in a very rare manner, but only one person knew about it.

He vented his anger in his office on the third floor of the city hall, a well-organized and spotless room from which numerous documents passed daily, reaching the desks of various officials, whether they were newcomers promoted "after that night" or veterans who had previously been excluded from the plot to assassinate the governor due to their low rank.

It was a beautiful, sunny Monday morning. The advisor finished his two-hour break, washed up, and went to his office to prepare for the day's work. As he stepped into the office, he was still full of enthusiasm, looking forward to contributing as much as possible to the people of Kunia today, so that he could ensure everything was done perfectly before leaving...

Until he saw a document.

It was related to the caravan from Kunia, who would be returning in a few days. So the writer suggested holding a welcoming ceremony for them to soothe the sailors' weary bodies and minds after their long voyage. The advisor understood what the writer meant as soon as he saw this rhetoric, but he was not angry at the moment, only amused.

After all, how could anyone still believe that those things could be approved and put into the system he is carefully building?

He immediately rejected the document and returned it, while also noting down the name of the person who wrote it.

He said to his guard, a tall man whom most Kunias had hardly ever seen, "There are two possibilities: either he did this on purpose to test me and see if I am any different from those who were in power in the past, or he genuinely thinks so."

His guard replied, "You prefer the former."

"Of course." The advisor nodded demurely, picked up his own cup of bitter tea, and took a small sip.

"But hope is just hope."

Ten minutes later, two newly hired city hall employees placed several new documents on the advisor's desk. After thanking them, he picked up the first document and immediately frowned. Then came the second, the third, and even the fourth. By the time he finished reading all the new documents, his expression had become a mixture of gloom and anger.

"They're really fearless," the consultant muttered to himself, his lavender eyes gleaming in the morning light.

The guard stepped forward, glanced at the spread-out documents, and said, "So, this was a collective test."

"That's about it."

The consultant said that he used his feet to push off the ground and lift the chair off the desk. Then, like a child, he started to touch the ground with his feet, causing the chair and himself to rotate.

The speed wasn't actually fast, but it was enough to make his hair fly incessantly. Silver light flashed continuously, like the reflections of sharp blades, and the purple in his eyes was faintly visible within it, curving into an arc that wasn't entirely composed of joy.

To put it more bluntly, he was laughing, but he wasn't laughing very happily.

The guard came up behind him and, in a manner contrary to most people's expectations of his status, reached out and stopped the advisor.

She spun around, then held up a finger in front of him.

"Good heavens, what does this mean?" the advisor exclaimed, sounding slightly annoyed.

"How many is this?" the guard asked, unmoved.

The consultant glared at him, but still answered, "It's number one, what's wrong?"

"That's number two," the guard said, his eyes wide open. "You're overworked; you should rest more."

The consultant almost burst out laughing.

He struggled to keep his composure and replied, word by word, "I am the Primarch, I don't get tired! Besides, I've only just started working, how can I rest immediately? What do you take me for? One of those incompetent and weak people who held positions without doing any work?"

The guard withdrew his hand and shook his head.

"You've been focusing all your attention on these political affairs lately, and you've done an excellent job. But sometimes, taking a step back for a moment can give you a better perspective and a better overall view... These people who have teamed up to test you aren't necessarily fearless; they're more likely just curious about your specific preferences. All the names on the documents are from elderly people in hereditary official positions; for them, this has become instinctive."

The advisor frowned at these words at first, then quickly relaxed, and smiled strangely: "I remember you said you don't like politics, so why bother remembering their names?"

The guard glanced at him, then looked away and returned to the corner of the office, sitting in the sofa chair that the consultant had specially found for him, and remained silent.

The advisor waved his right hand at him defiantly, his face full of victor's elation.

"I knew you were a hypocrite!" he shouted. "You just wait and see, Ald!"

"Get back to work," the guard said calmly.

"Didn't you just tell me to rest?"

"I'm going to read now."

Several days later, when the sailors returned with the fleet, they found that there was no welcoming banquet arranged, and there were no cheering crowds around the dock where they landed. Instead, there were only armed guards, a young governor who looked much better for some reason, and a giant with silver hair and purple eyes.

The latter was incredibly handsome, attracting the attention of most, but it was the governor himself who actually spoke. Arnis von Quisling, who no longer needed a cane to stand, told them that a shameful rebellion had occurred on Kunia during their year away from home, but they need not worry, as most of the rebels have been killed.

He then took out a list from his pocket and began to read the names. Many sailors heard the names of their parents, elders, or even siblings on the list.

They stared at each other in shock, and several men, enraged, immediately drew their weapons, only to be killed on the spot by the guards. The blood of the impulsive men smeared the cold ground of the tarmac. The merchant ship's engines had not yet completely shut off, their low hum still ringing in their ears, yet the guards had already strode forward with cold steps, aiming their guns at them.

A few minutes later, the young governor put down the list and ended the roll call.

"Those who are related to these rebels, please step forward," he said, his voice amplified through a megaphone on his collar.

Few responded immediately, except for those who had joined the nomadic trade out of family discord; their faces showed little sadness. Seeing that not everyone was willing to cooperate, the governor waved to his head guard, silently issuing the order.

Moments later, many bruised and battered men were disarmed by guards, loaded onto armored vehicles, and driven to a newly built prison. There, they would truthfully confess their crimes and be tried according to imperial law. Whether they liked it or not, they would tell the truth; in the face of modern medicine and drugs, human willpower was practically nothing.

The matter was thus concluded, but for Edmund Rhys, captain of the Cunha caravan, his problems were just beginning.

Later that day, he sat in the advisor's office and was questioned by both the advisor and the young governor.

"We've reviewed your background information," Arnis von Gisling said first. "I must say, you're a talent, Captain Edmund."

"You served as a naval boatswain, and later demonstrated your talent in business. You opened up two new trade routes for Kunia, enabling you to sell the goods collected from Trading Post KI-82 to the two worlds closest to us at a twelve-fold price difference. I must acknowledge your achievements, but unfortunately, the money you earned did not allow the people of Kunia to live a better life; most of it went into the coffers of the nobles who supported your repeated voyages."

Edmund Rhys tried to answer, but found himself unable to utter a single word for some reason, so he could only nod awkwardly.

He was around fifty years old, with a thick, white beard—the kind that made one wonder if he could even drink soup while eating. His physique was decent; it was clear he hadn't forgotten the training he'd been forced to maintain in the army. His resume was also impressive; several deceased nobles had written highly of him in their records…

They said he was professional, had a talent for business, and was eloquent, but unfortunately, he preferred a life of wandering among the stars to settling down. It was precisely this trait that prevented him from being courted by the nobles. He refused several offers to marry women of marriageable age, saying he simply enjoyed the feeling of sailing.

"Captain Edmund," the advisor, who had been sitting behind his desk, spoke softly. "We have a new position for you."

Before Edmund could answer, he stood up, picked up a miniature warship model from his desk, walked over to him, bent down, and personally handed it to Edmund. The stunned captain glanced down at the model in his hand, then looked up at the giant who was staring intently at him, waiting for his answer, and let out a strange groan.

It took him quite a while to manage to organize his thoughts.

"May I ask, may I ask what this means?" he asked cautiously.

The young governor smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"This means we want you to serve as the commander of Kunia's fleet... While we have been enjoying peace, we cannot expect it to last forever. To guard against potential threats, it is time for Kunia to have a fleet. I, in my authority as governor, bestow upon you the position of fleet commander, and you have been re-enlisted. Are you willing?"

"Of course!!" Edmund Rhys jumped to his feet, his weathered face flushed. "Of course I would, gentlemen!"

"Don't rush, Captain," the advisor smiled and winked at him. "We only have a few merchant ships right now."

The governor, who was standing nearby, continued his words.

"Fortunately, we are very wealthy... The vast fortune resulting from the combined inheritances and private treasuries of hundreds of noble families should be enough for you to order several warships from the Mechanicus's trade representatives at the trading post. I will give you my insignia; for the sake of the money and the title of governor, they should not refuse."

Edmund nodded repeatedly, then, somewhat embarrassed but eager, asked, "When can I set sail again? Oh, and, sir, I need sailors!"

"These are not problems; we'll solve them one by one," the advisor said. "Also, my guards and I will be with you at that time."

I want you to come with me.

Late that night, after finishing his work, Eoran made a special trip to the garden of the Governor's Castle.

Without him needing to utter a sound, the Eldar guardian of Antoran emerged from the trees. Eoran greeted her first, using the familiar Eldar hand gestures. In the moonlight, his elegant movements made the greeting appear like a graceful dance. In comparison, Inahish's response seemed almost clumsy...

She was somewhat annoyed by her own reaction, and her overt display of emotion made Aolan chuckle, but he quickly got to the point.

"Was it Iltarin who appointed you here as a guardian?" he asked.

Inahish paused for a moment before nodding.

Eoran's smile remained unchanged as he continued speaking.

"Then, I hope you can deliver a message to him—the people of Kunia will soon have their own fleet, small in size, and it will never be used to wage war against you. There has never been a war between you, and there never will be. This is my promise. If he does not believe me, please come to me again, and I will speak with him in person."

"Overall, the Kunia people are still quite simple and honest. Most of them have only recently transitioned from the Middle Ages to modern life, and their values ​​haven't changed. I don't want to, and won't, let this kindness, so rare in the Empire, disappear. I'm grateful to the Antoran Eldar for selflessly sharing their homeland, allowing the Kunia people to thrive here to this day. I will do my best to ensure that the Kunia people are not let down..."

We owe them a debt of gratitude they are unaware of.

The guard pondered for a long time before solemnly nodding. She could sense the sincerity in the person's words, but at the same time, she also felt a sense of urgency that she didn't know where it came from.

She expressed her doubts directly.

Why are you making it sound like you're leaving soon?

Aeolan's smile faded slightly.

A few seconds later, he replied: "Because I am about to leave. I cannot simply be Eoran, a name that represents beautiful hope, but I have another name to reclaim and inherit... I must face everything it brings before I can sleep peacefully. You can remember my other name, Inahish, and one day I will return with it."

As if sensing something, the guard lowered his head and bowed solemnly.

"Please speak," she said softly.

Under the moonlight, the silver-haired giant looked up at the night sky and softly uttered his name.

"Forgrim".