Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 100 Tides and Undercurrents 939.M41

The Black Pearl was anchored in Lucis Harbor for the fourth day.

Cohen stood at the porthole on the bridge, the armored hatch raised, a thin layer of ash from the circulating air on the glass. The port's guide lights formed chains of light in the vacuum, and shuttles trailed blue plumes as they weaved between the berths, like a group of startled deep-sea jellyfish.

Along the outer ring of the Lucis Forge world, six massive dry docks stand in a row, each capable of accommodating the simultaneous construction or repair of several cruisers. A little further away, at the ordnance dock, several capital ships painted in dark gray are moored—the permanent force of the Lucis Forge world's field fleet, under the direct command of the Temple.

The communicator beeped. The person at the gangway said, "Vitellius has arrived."

Cohen stepped off the bridge and through the corridor. The airtight door opened, and Vitellius stood at the gangway, followed by four Guardians—the Templar Guard's uniforms, their robes concealing terracotta armor plates, optical lenses replacing their eyes. Vitellius himself wore a dark gray robe, the hood undone, revealing a face honed by warp travel and bureaucratic banquets. His left eye was an optical lens, and his right arm, from the elbow down, was a mechanical prosthetic, the knuckles gleaming a dull, golden light under the lamplight. A gear and skull insignia adorned the collar of his robe, below which were five thin gold lines—the mark of a fifth-order sage.

"Couldn't you just have them waiting down there?" Cohen said.

Vitellius glanced back at the four iron lumps, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Isn't this more impressive? Otherwise, where would I put the reputation of the Sage of Forging?" He stepped into the cabin, while the Guardians of the Faith stood at the gangway, not following him in.

Only two people remained in the corridor.

"Twelve." Vitellius pulled a data tablet from his pocket and handed it over. "Everything you need is here."

Cohen took it and swiped his thumb across the screen. He flipped through the identification codes, names, numbers, and registration information of the twelve ships, page by page. The seals were all correct, and the dates matched.

"No problems on the black market?"

Vitellius snorted. "With the money in hand, what could possibly go wrong? Those people only care about money, not people. If you pay the right amount, they can dig up a dead ship number from three hundred years ago from their archives." He paused, "But for this batch of ships, you can fill in the ship names yourself. There are blanks left in the data panel."

Cohen put away the data panel. "With these twelve, the Garros fleet now has thirty ships: nineteen combat ships and eleven transport ships."

Vitellius whistled. "The Black Pearl, the Truth, five Odysseus, three Moon-class, ten Cobras, and those dozen or so small transport ships—not small at all. Have the naval office in Lucis started your files?"

"Yes, it's the Garros fleet now."

The two walked down the corridor. The friars did not follow, and the corridor was so quiet that only the echo of their boots stepping on the metal grille could be heard.

"The Garros fleet," Vitellius repeated, a hint of meaning in his voice, "Navigators, star talkers—you'll have to put some effort into these people."

"So I've stopped in Lucis again. I'm planning to poach a navigator family from Sera, what do you think?"

"Sera Novak?" Vitellius thought for a moment. "You can give it a try first. The Novak family is rather marginalized in Lucius, so going to Garros might be a better option for them. Besides, Sera is already on your ship, so with her as a go-between, things will be much easier."

Cohen nodded slightly.

"And the Star Speakers, I'll look into that for you here at the Temple." Vitellius's voice lowered, then he paused. "There's one more thing—about the Solar System, especially the location of Amigiddon. We need to be very careful now."

"6

He paused for a moment, and the aperture of his right mechanical eye contracted slightly.

"Several ships that came from over there said things weren't peaceful. The Greenskins are much more active than before. The Temple's report also mentioned that the Military Affairs Department is concerned about the situation on the northeastern frontier of the Solar System." He emphasized the word "concerned." "You know what 'concerned' means to them. In the Empire, that basically means war, and it won't be small."

Cohen didn't reply, but his gaze darkened.

"Your immigration program should probably be stopped soon," Vitellius said.

"There's still a year left in the window. There's enough time."

"A year?" Vitellius stopped and turned to look at him, the blue halo of his mechanical eyes shrinking slightly. "How did you arrive at this time? And why did you go to Amegadoton to recruit immigrants? There are many hive worlds relatively close to Garros."

Cohen paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on the end of the corridor. "I came from Amighadoon. Perhaps—I'm more familiar with it."

Vitellius stared at him for two seconds without pressing further. "Whether you're familiar or not, I don't know, but you definitely have your reasons, and I won't ask." He resumed his stride. "At this rate, in a year or two at most, those greenskins might actually storm Armageddon. At that point, the Empire's attention in the Solar Sector and even the Misty Sector, including our Lucis, will be drawn to them. Guess if anyone will stop Garros from pulling people out of the war zone then? Stopping now is your way of withdrawing voluntarily. If you stop later, you'll be skinned alive."

Cohen was silent for a few seconds. "One year. With the current capacity, Garros will probably reach 80 million in a year."

Vitellius stared at him for a moment, his lips twitching slightly as if he wanted to say something but then swallowed it back. "You're the kind of person who thinks you have everything under control. Be careful."

The two walked to the end of the covered bridge. Vitellius pulled another data tablet from his pocket.

"About Pronoris."

Cohen took it but didn't look at it right away.

Vitellius leaned against a support pillar, his right hand's mechanical knuckles tapping lightly against the metal wall, producing a soft metallic sound. "Those old fogies' attitude is clear—they believe it's Lucius's inescapable duty to serve the sole survivor of a Forgeworld who fought and died for the Empire's loyalty, a backup of the consciousness of a Mechanical Sage. See how noble and righteous they are?" He paused, then continued, "Everyone knows this is entirely beneficial to Lucius. Lucius now possesses a small Forgeworld of considerable importance, with a Titan legion. In this treacherous universe, that's incredibly hard-won."

"reason?"

"The situation in the Solar System isn't good. The Temple reports that the Military Affairs Department's assessment is becoming increasingly pessimistic every day." Vitellius tapped the table with his mechanical fingers. "Even the most optimistic are saying that those greenskins might be much larger than expected. Those old fogies aren't stupid—a loyal Titan legion, nearly a hundred knight mechs, and a technological backup of a forged world from the Great Crusade era. So what if they've been adrift in warp space for ten thousand years? At this critical juncture, who wouldn't want to befriend them?"

Besides, is it only about the green-skinned ones? Those in the highest positions of power in the Temple know far more than we do.

"So no one objects to vouching for Great Sage Enpu?"

“Not a single one,” Vitellius said. “They need more power. As long as the knife doesn’t come back at them, who cares which blacksmith’s shop it came from? What problems could a Titan legion that dares to put Mars under scrutiny have? As long as they don’t get targeted by those mad dogs in the Inquisition. Procedurally, they’ll use connections and exchanges of favors as much as possible.”

Cohen put the data panel into his inner pocket and nodded. "In other words, the matter concerning the Titan Legion and Great Sage Enpu can now proceed to the verification stage."

Vitellius replied, "The senior officers of the Papacy, the representatives of the technical priests, the legal sages, and the representatives of the casting director are being assembled and will then proceed to Garros."

"And what about the shipyard?" Cohen then asked.

Vitellius pulled another parchment document from his robe, with anti-counterfeiting wax seals on the edges and the double-headed eagle of the Imperial Navy engraved on it.

"I've already made arrangements for the navy." He handed over the documents. "Once the Lucis Temple review team is assembled, they will travel to Garros together with the Imperial Navy's Lucis office. Shipyard, production capacity, supporting facilities, and so on."

"There must be some conditions, right?"

"Once the approval is granted, the Navy will issue shipbuilding quotas. There are time limits and quotas. The order price is calculated at cost, which is practically working for them for free." Vitellius looked at Cohen calmly. "That's how it is. Once you get their code, you have to build ships for them. Any spare capacity is yours. Garros is at best an industrial world, not a foundry world, much less a behemoth like Lucis."

Cohen opened the parchment and glanced at the deadline requirements.

"That is, about a month or so later," he said.

Vitellius took the document back and nodded. "That's settled then. I find it unbelievable that things have come to this. Back then, you told me someone was sponsoring you a ship; was it that great sage who approached you?"

Cohen did not deny it.

Vitellius pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag. Smoke rose between the two men, only to be swept away by the circulating air in the corridor.

"There's one more thing." His voice suddenly dropped a half-degree, and the halo around his right mechanical eye contracted slightly. "Those people I told you about last time, the group from Terra—the Martians, the State Church, the Inquisition, and the Battle Sisters—they're still here."

Cohen looked at him.

"The name of the person who discovered it is mine on the official records." Vitellius held up a finger, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "The records show that I commissioned you to carry out that technology recovery operation. The Black Pearl was on a mission for the Lucis Temple. So, in the official records, I'm the initiator of the operation, and you're the executor. The documents, as the mission's outcome, belong to me. This title can deflect most of the firepower."

He took a drag of his cigarette and continued.

"But you must understand—the investigations by these various factions won't stop at paperwork. After they examine my letter of appointment, they'll go after the people who actually carried it out. The State Church's inspectors will verify the sanctity of the document's discovery process," the Inquisition will verify it wasn't contaminated, and the Martians will verify the technical details. You are the only one who was physically present at the scene from beginning to end."

His mechanical finger tapped lightly on the metal wall.

"The documents were artifacts from the Great Expedition period, discovered inside a military-grade stasis field generator. The Martians weren't interested in documents; they only cared about technology. A perfectly intact Great Expedition stasis field generator was a sacred object to them. I gave the generator to the Martians; the technological relic silenced the technocrats. They went back and wrote their reports, and then they stopped arguing about the document's origin."

"The state religion faction—they represent the imperial state religion and want the sacred relic." I handed the document over to the temple and the church for joint management, allowing them to transform it into a great sacred relic of the imperial state religion. With their core demands satisfied, their investigation into its origins wouldn't be too in-depth.

"As for the people in the courtroom, they never ask about the technology, the authenticity of the documents, or who discovered anything."

They only asked one question: "Have these things been contaminated?"

"Fortunately, the Lucius Forge World isn't something they can just create at will. The Forge World is one head of the Imperial double-headed eagle, independent of the Human Empire, with its own army, its own planet, and its own political status. No matter how far the Inquisition's reach extends, it has to follow the rules to get in. They want to bypass the Temple and arrest people directly—not so easy. So I told them directly, 'You are my appointed executor. Just explain things clearly, and I, as your appointer, will handle the rest.' If they want to take a hard line against me, they'll have to ask the Lucius Temple and Mars for permission first."

Vitellius stubbed out his cigarette on the metal wall of the covered bridge, leaving a charred dot.

"The Battle Sisters—they are the state religion's armed force, serving as the Holy War Chamber for the Inquisition." They accompany the Inquisition. If the Inquisition confirms heresy, it can request their support. But until then, they won't act themselves. Those people use knives, not words.

He paused, his gaze lingering on Cohen's face for a moment.

"But you're different. Several forces will ask you: What else is in the wrecked ship? You're the executor, you've been to the site, you've handled the documents. You can't completely stay out of it."

"I'm holding down the fort for you in Lucis, blocking as much as I can. Since you're not in the front lines, they see less of the enemy, and most of their firepower is directed at me. I've already diverted most of their attention. But they'll come knocking on your door sooner or later."

"Be prepared to be questioned. Don't be guilty, and don't say too much. What did you do in the wrecked ship? Technical recovery. Don't utter a single word else. I entrusted you with the paperwork; you were just carrying out the task. As for the rest, let them come to me."

Cohen did not speak.

Vitellius patted him on the shoulder and turned to walk toward the shuttle.

"I'm gone."

The escorting officers lined up at the gangway, their optical lenses sweeping the berth area one last time before they holstered their weapons and boarded the aircraft. The hatch closed. A plume of blue light shot out into the vacuum, condensing for a fleeting moment before fading into the starlight.

Cohen stood at the gangway for a few seconds, then turned and went back to the bridge.

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