Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 101 Interrogation 939.M41

On the morning of the ninth day that the Black Pearl was anchored in Lucis Harbor.

Armored porthole covers were raised, and guide lights in the port area formed chains of light in the morning light, while shuttles trailed blue exhaust flames as they moved between berths.

The communicator beeped. The duty officer's voice was calm and unhurried: "Captain. We have guests. They claim to be envoys and investigators, accompanied by members of the State Church, Martians, and combat nuns. Legal arbitrators have verified their credentials; they haven't disclosed their specific clearance levels."

Cohen put down the data panel. "Take it to the meeting room."

He stood up, straightened the collar of his robe, and walked out of the bridge. The corridor lights shone with a cold white light in daytime mode. He paused for a moment as he passed the wall-mounted mirror, glanced at his reflection, and then continued walking.

The door to the reception room was open. A cauldron at the foot of the imperial statue burned with frankincense, smoke rising slowly beneath the dome.

Eight people were already standing on the other side of the long table.

Standing at the forefront was the envoy's investigator, dressed in a well-tailored, heavy black overcoat with a silver interrogation badge pinned to the collar. His face was lean, his jawline high, and his grey eyes focused and restrained, scrutinizing Cohen's every move. Behind him stood two legal arbitrators, clad in heavy riot gear, helmets tucked under their arms, shotguns pointed to the ground, fingers resting on the trigger guards, like two silent iron towers.

Caius stepped aside, making way for the person behind him. Standing to his right rear was a Grand Inspector of the Church, wearing a deep purple robe edged with gold thread and bearing the I-shaped Great Saint symbol on his chest. His face was solemn, his white hair neatly combed back, and his black eyes held no emotion, only a cold hardness honed from countless sermons.

"Sage Cohen Severus. I am Sebastian, the Holy Church's Privy Council in Terra." His voice was not loud, but every word was as neatly cut from a hymn.

To his left rear was a Martian technical priest, his entire body covered in a deep red robe, the edges of which were trimmed with golden gear patterns. His face was hidden beneath a mask and respirator, with optical lenses embedded in his eye sockets. His pupils were fine, silken lattice sensor arrays that contracted and adjusted in the dim light, their focus shifting from Cohen's chest to his face and then to his fingertips. Floating behind him was a servo skull, its top adorned with a gear-skull emblem.

Behind them, a battle nun strode into the reception room.

She wore grey and white power armor, with rose patterns etched on her breastplate and gold thread trimming the edges of her shoulder armor. Her helmet was tucked under her arm, revealing a breathtaking face—long golden hair tied in a neat ponytail, her features sharp and refined, her skin as white as marble, and her lips pressed into a thin line. Even within the power armor, her figure was still remarkably well-defined; the curves of her breastplate and waist armor were perfectly proportioned, not that of a bulky war machine, but a perfect body forged by faith and steel. When she entered, her boots landed silently on the terracotta floor, yet all eyes were involuntarily drawn to her.

She stood at one end of the long table, neither near the head of the table nor sitting down. Her helmet rested on the corner of the table, her hands clasped in front of her lower abdomen, her posture as straight as a sword. Her deep blue eyes swept over Cohen's face, lingered for a moment, then moved away, landing on the face of the Imperial Statue.

The recorder sat in the corner, a data tablet on his lap, his fingertips hovering above the screen.

Caius spoke, the silver Chapter of Inquiry gleaming coldly in the smoke of frankincense.

"Sage Cohen Severus. I am Caius, the Investigator, from the Inquisition's investigation team in the Misty Starfield, assigned by Inquisitor Strabo."

He didn't hand over the badge; instead, he turned the badge of inquiry on his chest towards Cohen. Cohen didn't take it.

"Please sit down."

Caius pulled out a chair and sat down. The movement was unhurried, but the chair legs made a short, metallic clang as they hit the terracotta floor. The Clerk of the Church sat to his right, and Father Martian to his left. The Battle Sister remained seated.

"My lord." Caius tapped his fingers heavily on the table, as if striking the iron table of an interrogation room. "Our investigation has dragged on for over a year, not because of the documents themselves—the documents are genuine, and everyone agrees on that."

The reason this has taken so long is because we're investigating how many people handled this document after it came from the wrecked ship, whether it was contaminated, altered, or touched by unsuitable individuals. You are the last link in this chain.

He paused for a moment, his gray eyes like two steel balls.

"Therefore, please think carefully before you answer."

The Overseer of State took a roll of parchment from the inner pocket of his robe and placed it on the table.

"We are ordered to investigate a document personally signed by the Emperor regarding the establishment of the 24th Division of the Solar Auxiliary Army."

"The document is authentic." His fingertips pressed against the edge of the parchment. "The question is—how did you discover it, and under what circumstances?"

The Mars Priest's optical lens focused on Cohen's face. The recorder's fingertips uttered the first word.

Caius steered the conversation: "Between Imperial Calendar 936 and 937, did your ships conduct any technology recovery missions in the Eastern Sector?"

"Yes."

"What is the nature of the task and who initiated it?"

"Technology recovery. A field mission commissioned by the Sage Vitellius and approved by the Temple of Lucius."

Caius turned a page of the data panel. "Sage. Your Black Pearl was launched in Imperial year 935 and sailed to the Eastern Sector for technology recovery in 936. According to the records of the Lucis Temple, you had never formally cooperated with Sage Vitellius on a mission before 935. A newly commissioned ship, a client with whom you had never cooperated before—why did Sage Vitellius choose you?"

Cohen paused for a moment. "A personal relationship. He trusted me. At the time, he was still working at the Temple, although he was a third-tier novice priest, but he was in charge of field operations and had the authority to entrust trusted ships with missions."

Caius paused for a moment, then wrote a note on the data panel: "Reliant on private endorsements, lacking a systemic record of vetting."

He didn't turn the page, but stared into Cohen's eyes. "Sage. You spent months in that wrecked ship. That wrecked ship had been drifting in the warp for who knows how long, infested with orks and genestealers—you know what's behind those things. Did you ever—even once—sense anything amiss? Anything that shouldn't be in the normal universe—"

thing?"

Cohen answered without hesitation. "No. The Black Pearl's Geller position never fluctuated, the Void Shield never overloaded, and the crew showed no signs of warp stress. All records are in the operations log, which you can access."

Caius tapped his pen heavily on the data board and wrote a longer note: "The respondent denied any unusual contact."

Cross-referencing of ship sensor data is required.

"What did you find in the wreck?" Caius continued.

"A large amount of military supplies debris, some recoverable equipment, and an ancient document sealed in a stasis field generator."

The Ombudsman paused, his pen still. "Did you discover the document?"

"It was discovered by my team while cleaning the compartment. At the time, we didn't know what it was; we simply followed standard procedure to retrieve the stasis field generator intact, brought it back to Lucius, and handed it over to the Sage Vitellius for disposal."

The inspector nodded and wrote a few lines on the parchment.

The Martian priest spoke, his voice coming from behind his mask, his tone calm: "Sage, the retrieval record for the Stasis Field Generator does not include the name and servant number of the first person to discover it. This is a strict requirement of the Imperial retrieval procedures—anyone who comes into contact with the relic must be documented. In your team, who was the first to come into contact with the generator?"

Cohen answered without hesitation. "The scene was chaotic at the time, and the equipment was handled by servitors; there were no separate records. After receiving the equipment, the Sage Vitellius completed the contamination testing and mental assessment, and completed all the formalities."

The Martian priest's optical lenses shifted slightly, but he didn't press the matter further. The servo skull emitted a short buzzing sound, marking "Procedure defect, corrected by Vitellius."

Caius flipped the data panel, his gaze landing on another page. "What else did you salvage from the wrecked ship?"

"Eleven Starfortress-type intelligent control mechs, all intact. They have already been handed over to the Lucis Forging World. There is also a batch of older models of equipment from the Solar Auxiliary Army, not many in number, which are currently being sorted and archived in Garros, in preparation for their handover."

The Martian priest's servo skull emitted a continuous hum, the Starfortress mechs being the focus. The inspector's pen also paused for a moment.

Caius didn't stop, turning another page. "Sage. Garros' fleet—the Black Pearl, the Truth, three Moon-class battleships, ten Cobras, five Odysseus battleships—as well as your industrial capacity, domes, and docks. Where did all this come from? In the recovery list you submitted to the Temple of Lucis, the Starfortress mechs have already been handed over, and the Solar Auxiliary Force equipment has not yet been transferred. These are not directly related to Garros' expansion. So, what has fueled Garros' expansion?"

Cohen's tone was calm. "The construction of Garros relied on the labor force brought by immigrants, the technology and equipment provided by Lucis, and the industrial accumulation of the Dominion itself. Ship recycling was merely a technological supplement, not a source of production capacity. Most of the ships in the fleet came from funding agreements, the specific channels of which involve commercial agreements, and the Lucis Temple is already aware of this."

Caius wrote a line on the data board: "Industrial expansion depends on external aid and immigration, endorsed by Lucis."

The Ombudsman Sebastian put down his pen and placed his hands, folded, on the parchment.

"My lord," he said calmly. "The immigrants to Garros mainly come from Armageddon. According to the latest report from the Ministry of Military Affairs, Greenskin activities on the northeastern frontier of the Solar Sector are intensifying, and the situation in Armageddon is becoming increasingly tense."

You're recruiting immigrants from there on a large scale—though you believe you're taking away "dispensable" people from the bottom nest—in the eyes of the Military Affairs Department, any population loss could be interpreted as a weakening of the Empire's war potential. Aren't you worried that this will be misunderstood?

Cohen paused for a moment. "Amegiddon's population is in the hundreds of billions. Garros took away those who couldn't survive in the Underhive—those dispensable people who were never counted in the Imperial industrial system's production capacity. The people I took away have no impact on Amegiddon's war-making capabilities. They were nothing to begin with. If the Ministry of Military Affairs has any objections, the Temple of Lucis can provide an explanation."

The inspector stared at him for two seconds, then nodded and wrote a few lines on the parchment. He didn't say "pass," but he didn't press further either.

The battle nun stood motionless at the end of the long table the entire time. Her self-aura receded from the Imperial statue, fell upon Cohen, and then moved away. Her deep blue eyes held no emotion, only an instinctive assessment of her prey honed through countless battles. She was listening, judging, and waiting. If the Inquisition concluded that "purification" was necessary, she would be the first to act.

Caius shifted the conversation to relationships: "Sage, how long have you known Sage Vitellius?"

"Several years. We met in Lucifer."

97

"Personal relationship?"

"friend."

The inspector wrote another line on the parchment. Cohen's answer was completely consistent with Vitellius's report on the key points.

Caius then shifted the focus to specific dates: "Where were you when the documents were discovered?"

"We were carrying out material recovery inside the wrecked ship. I don't remember the exact date, but it's recorded in the operation log."

The Martian priest marked this time point in the data stream of the servo skull.

Caius tapped his fingers heavily on the table one last time.

That's all for now.

He stood up, without looking at Cohen, and simply closed the data panel and put it into the inner pocket of his robe.

"I will compile today's questions into a report and submit it to Inspector Strabo." His voice was flat. "Until the report is ready, I suggest you do not leave Lucis. Of course, this is not house arrest—it's just for procedural convenience."

Without waiting for Cohen's reply, he turned and walked towards the door. The arbitrator stepped aside, the inspector put away the parchment, and the Martian priest's servo skull ceased recording.

The battle nun turned last. She picked up the helmet from the corner of the table, put it on, and a short, sharp hissing sound echoed as the visor closed. Her golden ponytail was tucked into her neck armor, and her cold, refined face disappeared behind the terracotta mask. As she passed Cohen, her steps didn't falter, but the shoulder armor of her power armor almost grazed his arm. The rose emblem flashed a dim, cold light under the lamplight.

Cohen escorted them to the gangway. The envoy investigator led the way, followed closely by the inspector, then the Martian priest in the middle, with the battle nun bringing up the rear. Only Caius and his team remained on the bridge, silently crossing the spaceport.

Cohen returned to the drawing room and stood before the imperial statue. The frankincense in the incense burner had burned out, the smoke dissipated, leaving only ashes.

He stood there for a while.

The corridor lighting switched from daytime to nighttime mode, casting a soft glow. Cohen returned to the bridge and sat down next to Marcus.

"Captain, is everything normal?" Marcus asked.

"normal."

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Outside the porthole, the exhaust plumes of Caius's shuttle had disappeared into the lights of the berth area.

The questioning ended. Caius did not convict on the spot, but he left behind procedural "advice" and the report awaiting submission to the inquisitor. Doubts remained in the file: the coincidences in the timeline, the missing records of the discoverer, the indifferent attitude towards the relic, and the origins of the Amegiddon immigrants. None of these alone was sufficient for conviction; each could be explained by Vitellius or Lucius. But the accumulation of multiple doubts created a gray outline in the file.

The documents were discovered by the execution team and entrusted to Vitellius for submission; the Starfortress mechs have already been handed over to Lucis, and the Solar Auxiliary Force equipment is being organized; the expansion of Garros is unrelated to the retrieval mission. The entire process is auditable.

He knew these people wouldn't disappear completely after just one question. Caius's advice not to leave Lucis was a thorn; it might not pierce him, but it was there. They would go back and write a lengthy report, put it in the archives, and let it sink into some filing cabinet. Until one day, something would happen, and those files would be unearthed again.

The hallway lights switched back to daytime mode. Cohen opened his eyes and turned to the next document.

Outside the window, the battle nun's figure had long since disappeared at the end of the corridor. The spaceport's guide lights formed chains of light in the morning glow, and shuttles trailed blue flames as they moved between the docking areas.