Emperor's Bane

Chapter 905 Darkness Beyond the Realm (12)

"We made it!"

"We actually survived the subspace storm!"

But where are we now?

"Wait a minute, let me check Star Torch first to confirm our current situation..."

"Um?!"

"Where's Xingju?!"

------

As captain of the expedition ship Northwest Passage, Franklin felt he had been having a lot of bad luck lately.

But if it were a few months ago, or even decades ago, he would never have thought that way.

Before this, his life had been smooth sailing.

As one of the earliest subjects to pledge allegiance to the Lord of Man during the Great Crusade, Franklin was born in Krysis, a knightly world that later belonged to the Cult of Mechanism. This place is located in the Solar System, very close to Holy Terra: if you can't understand how close, Krysis is not far from the star system where Krzonia is located.

That's right: it's the same Krzonia where Horus, the Primarch of Shadowmoon Wolves, landed.

Thanks to his unique geographical location, in the fifth year after the start of the Great Crusade, Franklin was forced to become a loyal subject of the Lord of Mankind. But this was not a bad thing for him: originally, given Franklin's background, his best life trajectory would have been to serve tea and water to some knight on the planet, or to help him memorize the history of his ancient family.

But when the Emperor arrived, things changed slightly, because with him came the massive fleet of the human empire: a behemoth that had expanded rapidly with the development of the Great Crusade, and was constantly craving fresh blood.

Rather than becoming a waiter serving toothbrushes to knights, serving as a sailor of the glorious human empire might be a better future: Franklin easily persuaded his parents and family, and then at the age of seventeen, he embarked on his unknown destiny.

He served on three frigates, two cruisers, and five battleships. At the height of his career, he was one of the many first officers on a Queen Glory-class battleship, though that great ship is no longer on the Imperial Navy's arsenal and he has forgotten his service there.

He vaguely remembers that he participated in at least two wars, the Randan War and the Ulanno War, as well as hundreds of battles, large and small. Although his memories of the Randan War have long been faded, only a few nameless medals remind him of his past experiences. The Ulanno War was the last military operation of his life.

When the Emperor announced to billions that he would withdraw from the Great Crusade, Franklin made the same decision at roughly the same time.

Thus, filled with honor, wealth, and the blessings of his comrades and superiors, First Mate Franklin returned to his hometown of Chrysis. Now he was a great man who could be entertained by knights with special banquets. He became a guest of honor of many lords in Chrysis, indulging in endless extravagance for more than a decade.

But honestly, this wonderful time didn't bring him much joy.

Whether it was the extremely cumbersome lifestyle of the knightly world itself, or his physical and mental inability to adapt to peaceful life, Franklin felt out of place in his hometown. He had hoped that the long-awaited reunion with his family would ease all of this, but reality disappointed him.

Those family members who helped him through countless battles are long gone; their faces are forever preserved in images and photographs. Although he still has relatives in this land, their blood ties and relationships have become very distant. They respect him and revere him, but they cannot love him like family.

This became the final straw; just fifteen years after he retired and returned to his hometown, Franklin lost all reason to stay there.

He bid farewell to his lord and family, and finally boarded a ship to Holy Terra: he had heard that the High Lords Council was recruiting experienced sailors.

It was a peaceful era following the Great Crusade, the most glorious period of the great order left by the Emperor. Just over a decade had passed since the Emperor enfeoffed his sons. The Empire had not only ceased the years-long wars of the Great Crusade, but had also weathered the shadow of the Badab crisis, and had not yet fallen into the quagmire of the Tien Tax and interstellar conflicts: the people of the Lord of Man enjoyed endless wealth and glory, and in the minds of billions of people, they envisioned the best future for humanity and the Galactic Empire.

Only at this time would some ambitious plans be brought to the table: an official organization called the Explorers' Guild was approved by the High Lords, and they were granted hundreds of specially modified exploration ships and corresponding supplies, ready to explore and finalize the most distant frontiers beyond the stars for the human empire.

This is undoubtedly a great undertaking. If even the darkness beyond the borders can be conquered by the Empire, then the Empire can proudly declare that it has surpassed the past eras of pioneering and dark technology, and has become the greatest regime since the birth of mankind: this reason alone is enough to win the unanimous support of the High Lords.

Franklin happened to be in the right place at the right time for this plan.

He became an exploration captain and, over the next thirty-three years, organized several highly successful expeditions into the dark beyond, discovering more than sixty previously unexplored star systems for the human empire: this made him the best among his peers.

Naturally, before his next exploration of the Dark Beyond, Captain Franklin was personally summoned by the Seal of Macado, forty-eight years after the Emperor left the Empire.

As mortals say, when a person undergoes a great change, those who don't see them often notice it more clearly than those who are close to them: when the exploration captain returned to the heart of the human empire, he felt more uneasy than he had decades ago.

Unbeknownst to them, the empire was transformed.

Although on the surface the power of the High Lords remains awe-inspiring, millions of worlds continue to enjoy the wealth and peace brought by the Great Crusade, the Empire's rise is like the towering spire of Terran Palace, seemingly never to collapse: the golden age will continue for countless generations to come.

But at the airport, at the docks, and among the lower-ranking officers and sailors who spoke with him, an unprecedented anxiety was spreading: people were no longer thinking about the legendary stories of the Great Expedition and the hopes for the future; the main topic of conversation had become war again, but this time, it was not a war like the Great Expedition.

It was a real war.

Several Primarchic fiefdoms were stirring, the conflict between the Legion and the Terran government was growing stronger every day, and almost every ruler with authority was expanding his army and seeking and winning over more allies: the smell of gunpowder permeated the millions of worlds of the human empire, and everyone could feel the increasingly strange unease in the air.

Franklin was the same.

Therefore, when the Seal Master presented Franklin with a difficult task that no expeditionary captain or merchant fleet would dare to undertake, Franklin accepted it without hesitation.

This mission required him to travel to the northernmost part of the galaxy, beyond the reach of the Star Torch, to a dark region beyond the Empire's control, a hidden vortex that even the Dark Ages had never set foot in: he was tasked with planting the banner of the double-headed eagle on the farthest world he could reach, as a symbol of the Great Crusade reaching its zenith.

The Empire of Man will become the most expansive and magnificent monarchy in the history of the galaxy. When Franklin and his crew plant their flag on the dark soil beyond the borders, the entire Great Crusade, and indeed the fate of all humanity, will reach a truly significant zenith—the tangible moment of the Empire's ascent to the pinnacle of its era. This is precisely what Franklin sought: compared to this unparalleled meaning in his life, the mortality rate of over 97% is utterly insignificant.

Thus, one day in the forty-eighth year after the Emperor of Man departed his Empire and the Great Crusade, Franklin's expedition ship sailed into Mandewell Point, thus escaping the gaze of the Starlight and the Lord of Mankind.

Just one month later, on the planet Baimon, Warmaster Horus officially issued the order to his legions and all his followers to march on Terra. A little over a hundred days later, the Terra crisis broke out.

------

Captain Franklin learned of the galactic upheaval from a tattered interdimensional communication a full ten months after the Terra crisis began: he had to thank his Star Speaker, the seasoned psionic master, who had undoubtedly pushed him to his limits.

Not only the Star Speakers, but ever since the Northwest Route set sail from the outpost world called Bitter Watch and entered the range of Star Torch, hardship and misfortune have surrounded this exploration ship, which was converted from a Sword-class frigate: yes, those geniuses actually named a port Bitter Watch.

And as it turned out, the superstition of those who sailed the seas was not without reason: after they left the Bitter Watch and plunged into the dark beyond the seas, Franklin and his crew experienced more deadly dangers during their year-long voyage than he had in the entire Great Expedition combined, and two-thirds of the crew lost their lives as a result.

They survived three subspace storms, were hunted by up to fourteen different alien fleets, traversed more than twenty pirate lairs and the "human world" where all morality and character were worn down in the darkness beyond the realm, and also experienced two strange plagues, one of which killed all of them with purple eyes.

During this time, they also attempted to land on some seemingly safer worlds: their first daring attempt was on a desolate, barren world, but less than twenty minutes after landing, a group of silver-armored skeletons wielding terrifying weapons appeared out of nowhere. Franklin fought desperately to escape the pursuit of those strange black ships with his vessel.

The price he paid was that he had to abandon the star map he had just drawn and plunge into the uncertain subspace once again. With another small storm, the Northwest Passage was eventually swept into a dark hell where even a seasoned navigator could not see the future: the only certainty was that this place was no longer within the Milky Way.

It was at this moment that the Star Speaker, in the last effective communication with the interior of the galaxy, brought Franklin news of the collapse of the Empire.

"It's as if all of this isn't bad enough."

After swearing to the navigator that he would find the Starbeam as soon as possible, the white-bearded expedition captain fumbled for the last letter that Terra had sent back, while considering their current predicament: there were still more than eight thousand lives on board, waiting for him to bring them home.

As for the Terra crisis mentioned in the letter, and the seemingly inevitable civil war in the Empire, Franklin didn't have much to say: after all, he was a warrior who had participated in the most dangerous battles of the Great Crusade, and his sense of war was far more acute than that of ordinary people. He had already anticipated this before leaving the galaxy.

Whether it was Holy Terra or the various worlds he traversed along the way: they were all preparing for war.

This is undoubtedly bad news.

If Holy Terra were truly preparing for a full-scale war against certain Primarchs, then no one would care about their unfortunate expeditionary ship, which had been lost in the distant galaxy: if they wanted to survive, they would have to rely on themselves.

Relying on oneself? In the darkness beyond the borders?
Franklin felt like his head was about to explode.

He could only rely on instinct and muscle memory to maintain the ship's daily operations. Fortunately, this was a simple task for an old sailor: first, to smooth things over and appease the various departments and key personnel, then to take stock of all the supplies they could still use, to formulate a stricter rationing system, and temporary legal and violent measures were also necessary, but stability could not be maintained by oppression alone.

If Franklin wants to restore the energy that enabled this ill-fated ship and its more than 8,000 crew members, who have survived countless near-death experiences and are now filled with anxiety, to return alive to the galaxy, then he needs to give them something extra.

Yes: Hope!

They need hope.

At least it's a good thing that can make people happy.

A joyous occasion, one that could dispel the current gloomy atmosphere: perhaps he could set aside some extra funds from his meager supplies to host a banquet, and then make some new promises to the sailors via broadcast: that they could continue working at their posts instead of suddenly starting to storm his room one day.

Franklin made up his mind.

He is lucky because he just happened to have some encouraging good news.

"Are you sure?"

When the first mate, who had been with him for thirty years, pushed open the door and entered, Captain Franklin stared intently at the face he knew all too well, hoping to hear good news from those thick lips.

"Yes."

The first mate nodded.

"I have had the navigator and the most experienced sailors confirm that we are indeed in a star system that has never been marked before, and it is more remote than any frontier that mankind has ever explored: we have indeed become pioneers on the frontier of history."

"And we also completed the mission."

Franklin smiled, and a hint of relaxation finally appeared on his bearded face.

Do you know what this means?

------

This is the first update tonight.

It was originally a long chapter of 8,000 words, but it seems there's no time to revise the last 4,000 words, so I'll just post these 4,000 words first.

I'm going out of town tomorrow, and my computer's E drive suddenly stopped working. The nearest official store is 30 miles away. I'll see how the update is tomorrow night, but it shouldn't be a problem.

(End of this chapter)