40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 794 15. Professional Ethics (8 in , K)

015.M40, Nuceria, summer, twenty-second day since the once-in-a-century rain.

"Yes." The man who called himself Eric Winslow nodded. "What do you think of a standard unit of fifty tons of water, five hundred Imperial coins per ton or equivalent?"

How can I see it? Your price is so low that it's like charity!

Patty Brar, the water trade agent jointly elected by eleven large towns in the Nurla Desert, stepped forward with a smile on his face and shook the right hand of the stranger wearing the local Nukeriya robe.

She was too lazy to care about other things now. For now, her biggest and most urgent desire was to take all the water in this man's hands - yes, the heavy rain had only stopped for 22 days, but the stored rainwater would eventually run out, and it would never go wrong to prepare in advance.
What's more, the price this person offered was really good!

Patty Brar has been in the agency business for thirty-three years, and even in the first few years of her career, a standard unit of water has never been so cheap. The water dealers are extremely shrewd bastards. Even if the water is recycled and purified countless times and is not drinkable, they will not lower the price to this level.

As for this Eric Winslow, Patty had just checked the goods he brought a few minutes ago. The water was not inferior. Its price should be 4,000 Imperial Coins per ton, which was normal.

"I want them all, sir!" Patty cried. "I'll take whatever you have!"

Eric Winslow smiled but shook his head.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, ma'am. The Freewood Alliance bought two standard units, and a group of archaeologists reserved one standard unit. In other words, I only have the last two standard units of fresh water left for you -"

"——I still say that, I want them all!"

Patty said firmly, cursing the group of Southerners in the Free Woodland Alliance secretly: Damn it, how could I let them get there first? If I had known, I should have come back earlier.
"Happy business, then," Eric Winslow said softly.

The following things went very smoothly. Only forty minutes later, the foreigners' goods arrived on the ground from the space station under the escort of a special plane and a special person. Two standard units, one hundred tons of water, were uniformly packed in cans and placed in front of Patty Brar.

She hadn't paid yet, completing what should have been the most painful step, but she couldn't stop smiling.

She first paid twenty thousand in cash, and then gave twenty kilograms of spices at the standard market price to fill the gap. Just like that, witnessed by the notary servitor sent by the trade guild, their transaction was officially concluded and declared blessed.

"If you have more goods, please come to me first!" Patty Brar said loudly, standing in front of the transport plane that was about to take off. "The people of the Free Woodland Alliance have no shortage of water at all. They even use water to plant trees!"

Eric Winslow smiled again and nodded. The cabin door closed, and its engine let out a high-frequency howl. It took off and headed straight into the clouds.

Another forty minutes later, they returned to the space station in Nukeria.

The merchant and his tall modified servitor bodyguard walked quickly to a dock and found the Black Sparrow. Its hull had been completely repaired and maintained, which was completely different from the dirty and messy appearance of the A-310-7 trading station.

"What's going on now?" the robot servant asked in a low voice.

"I'm going to finish my work, and you can go for a walk, Yago. I know you've been quite free lately."

"No thanks, I'll just wait here for you to come out." The pale face under the hood of the robot servant forced a stiff smile. "But don't go too far."

"Do I look like someone who doesn't know his limits?"

The robot servant said nothing, but made a gesture with his right hand tucked under the black robe.

He received a cold snort from the merchant, and a figure walking forward with a big stride. A few seconds later, he turned into a black shadow and merged into the wall of the Black Sparrow. This scene was not seen by anyone except the servitor. He lowered his head with a clear conscience, acting as a low-intelligence cyborg creature with a dull program.

As for the merchant? He has already arrived inside the Black Sparrow.

There was no one here, all the sailors seemed to have gone off the ship to indulge themselves, and the corridor was filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant. The rusty places were no longer visible, and even the rivets on the floor had been completely replaced.

Apparently, Captain Rolle used the advance payment he received to renovate his ship.
This was a very common thing for ship owners, but Roll was not described as such by others - his investment in the Black Sparrow was almost zero, and all the money earned from trade was spent by him.

Although the crew's remuneration was the same, the ship had not had any equipment updated in nearly thirteen years. For the ship owners of trading stations that mainly engaged in short-distance voyages, this was undoubtedly reducing their own competitiveness.

But Captain Rolle doesn't care about these things.

The merchant came to the door of the captain's room silently and quickly. Before he entered, he smelled a strong smell of alcohol and singing coming through the wall.

He stopped and listened for a while, then pushed the door open and walked in. The door that had been locked seemed to have been ajar from the beginning, and was easily pushed open, revealing a mess inside.

There were wine bottles scattered all over the floor, dirty and messy footprints, clothes stained with vomit and blood, and the ship owner himself, who was sleeping soundly on the bed.

His brows were furrowed and his forehead was bruised and swollen. He slept like a corpse that had fallen freely from a high altitude. His left hand hung on the edge of the bed, where a small phonograph lay, singing a sad song with all its might.

Khalil walked in quietly and closed the door.

He ignored the bad smell in the room, walked slowly forward, brought a chair, sat down opposite Rawl, and picked up the phonograph. Its base was gray and crudely made, and someone had carved a line of words on the front with a knife.

Khalil read it softly, turning off the phonograph.

"I wait for death to come."

Roll woke up instantly, and before he opened his eyes, he had already put his right hand on his waist.

With a flash of cold light, he instinctively stabbed Khalil with the sharp blade in his hand. By the time Roll realized what was happening, he was no longer able to stop himself. He could only watch as the dagger pierced into the opponent's chest from bottom to top.
However, the bloody scene that he had seen thousands or even tens of thousands of times did not occur as expected.

"Quick reflexes and good technique." Khalil nodded in praise. "You obviously do this often, Captain Rawl - but I suggest that you stab a little lower by half an inch next time. That way, if they struggle, you won't have to worry about the knife getting caught in the bone."

Luo Er stared at him blankly, and only came to his senses after a few seconds.

He let go of his hands as if he had been electrocuted, his bloodshot eyes widened instantly, but he could not utter a word. He could only sit back on the bed trembling, his whole body shaking.

Khalil pulled out the dagger as if nothing had happened, examined it carefully, and then smiled.

"Good knife, really good knife"

He held it and skillfully tapped the blade with his fingers. Amid the crisp echo, Raw finally regained his sanity.

He took a deep breath, sat up straight, and spoke slowly.

"Have you finished your business?"

"Of course." Khalil nodded. "Although I have to travel across most of Nuceria, I think it is worth it."

Luo Er was silent for a moment, and suddenly asked: "Late at night on the day you just got off the ship, I heard an emergency news broadcast in the space station. The Nukerians said that their largest city was attacked by terrorists, and someone killed many people in the city. A few hours later, they announced that Bastola was under martial law and curfew, and no one was allowed to enter or leave."

"Yes, I was involved in this matter." Khalil nodded bluntly and smiled. "I killed 3,422 people in the city that night."

"."

"what happened?"

"Can I ask why?" Rawl said with chattering teeth.

Khalil leaned back and threw the dagger. It drew a beautiful arc and pierced accurately into an apple not far away. It was half eaten, rotten and shrunken, and smelled pungent.

Roll was tense by this scene. He didn't know why Khalil did this, but he could feel an extremely strong threat from that casual action.
This made him alert and nervous, and his muscles twitched slightly, but it also gave him a strange sense of joy.

It was as if a survivor of a destruction, after wandering aimlessly for decades, heard a human voice coming from the ruins - this joy was called meeting one's own kind.

"There are many reasons," Khalil said. "But I'd rather just say one: They deserved to die."

"How did you determine that?" Rawl asked quickly. "Three thousand four hundred and twenty-two people? You can't find out so quickly unless you have a list - no, wait."

The ship owner took a deep breath after realizing it belatedly: "Are you from the Inquisition?"

"Yes, I am from the Inquisition."

The joy disappeared, and Luo Er raised his hands to cover his face. The sound of deep breathing continued to come from the gaps between his fingers.

Half a minute later, he put his hand down and regained his composure, a calmness that was like confession. He shook his head and sighed softly.

"I knew this day would come sooner or later, but I never thought an inquisitor would be so condescending as to act with me."

Khalil did not answer this, but put his fingers together, ready to listen.

Luo Er lowered his head and continued slowly.

"Whatever you want to arrest me for, I'll take it. I know I broke the law, but I don't think I did anything wrong. Like you said, they deserve to die."

He raised his head with red eyes and repeated it, then he uttered a long string of dangerous remarks in an excited tone like a machine gun.

"They deserve to die, judge! None of those beasts deserve to live, they should all be sent to the gallows! But our law does not favor the weak, on the contrary, it is kind to the strong - a powerful person who breaks the law only needs to pay compensation to be exempted from punishment. Even if he kills someone, he only needs to make some arrangements, pay a sum of money, and then say sorry publicly, and he doesn't even have to go to jail!"

"What the hell is this logic?!"

He roared angrily and had a nosebleed due to excessive excitement. The blood flowed down and he raised his hand to spread it evenly. He looked as if he was wearing a scary mask.

"People who steal to make a living will be sent to labor camps. Even if they survive, they will die of starvation or disease soon. However, these bastards can sit at home and despise all the order and laws we rely on to survive. The little money they slip through their fingers is enough to allow hundreds of people to live a comfortable life for most of their lives, but they don't want to do that. They just want to have some fun."

"Driving cars into markets just for fun; torturing servants and making them kill each other; trafficking in people, keeping slaves, and turning civilians into pets - I've been sheriff for twenty-one years, and I've seen this kind of shit and I don't even dream about it anymore! I tell you, they're capable of anything, Inquisitor, and they just don't get punished! And you. You don't care about it."

Luo Er paused for a moment and began to breathe heavily. The blood kept flowing, staining his dirty clothes and dripping on the back of his clenched fists.

"You will only show up when things are beyond redemption," he whispered. "But by then, won't everything be too late?"

Khalil had been listening calmly, seemingly having no desire to speak - until this moment, when he took the initiative to speak and answered Rawl's question.

"Not every legal department is as bad as the one at Trading Station A-310-7, which would drive a clear-minded person like you to become cynical. The galaxy is vast, Rawl, and the current situation of the Empire has changed a lot compared to the past. At least, I can assure you that in most worlds, the Legal Department and the order they represent can still be trusted by the general public."

"As for us, you have some misunderstandings about us. Most of the work of the Inquisition is unknown to outsiders. We have always believed in one thing: prevention is better than cure. Nipping danger in the bud is far more meaningful than judging it afterwards. However, as I said, the galaxy is vast, and we are always short of manpower. No matter how hard we try, we can't take care of all the worlds. There will always be fish that slip through the net, and there will always be places where evil is rampant."

Luo Er raised his head, looked at him, and suddenly sneered nonchalantly: "Are you making excuses?"

"You can think so, but I'm not defending myself."

"Whatever you say."

Rawl sighed tiredly, then stretched out his blood-stained hands and put them together in front of Kalil.

"Come on, do what you have to do." He whispered. "Arrest me, or execute me now. You should prefer a knife to a gun? That's fine. I've killed so many people with a knife, so I should try being stabbed with it." "I think you misunderstood." Khalil shook his head. "I don't intend to arrest you."

Luo Er looked at him in astonishment, and after a while he stammered, "What? But I killed a lot of people! I was--"

"--You have been working diligently as an amateur killer at the A-310-7 trading station for twenty-one years. Yes, I know this, but you did nothing wrong. You would conduct a detailed investigation before taking action, and you would not act until you were sure that the person deserved to die. Moreover, you did not use this incident to seek benefits for yourself, otherwise you should have a better identity as a cover, and the Black Sparrow would not be so shabby."

"How did you know?" Luo Er blurted out in shock, but he got stuck halfway through his words.

Yes, how could a judge not know these things?

"You misunderstood again." The judge smiled gently. "I know these things because I used to do the same thing as you. In fact, you are just an accidental discovery during my journey, Luo Er. I have not investigated you. That is why I want to ask you a question."

".You ask." The former sheriff said in a trance.

"Why were you fired?"

Luo Er pursed his lips.

"My partner at the time was killed during a mission, leaving only his mother and daughter to depend on each other. Logically, they should have received a compensation, but the money has never been paid. I tracked it down for three months and finally found that the death benefits of all of us had been embezzled by the director, and the bureau couldn't pay even a penny at the time."

"I used my savings to fill the gap in the pension and sent it to them. A few days later, the director found me at my home and returned every penny of my savings. He then told me that if I continued to investigate or did anything out of the ordinary like this, I would be fired and sent to a labor camp."

"I didn't understand what he meant. He told me that since his last term, no one in the bureau had received any family compensation. If someone did receive the money, then this forgotten incident would be brought to mind again. He didn't want to deal with that kind of trouble, so he sent someone to get the money back."

As he spoke, he suddenly smiled strangely.

"Then he asked two colleagues to tie me up and beat me in my bedroom until I was gasping for breath on the ground like a dead dog. Then he told me that my partner's widow had committed suicide yesterday, so I didn't have to worry about them anymore. I asked him if he did it, and he said he just took the money back."

Rawl ended his story with trembling teeth.

The tremors caused by extreme anger began to appear again. He was shaking non-stop, and something that was not sure whether it was tears or blood rolled out of his eye sockets and hit the ground and shattered.

Khalil said softly, "You killed him."

"It was a long time before I could stop," Rawl said hoarsely. "I stabbed him to death in his house two years later, which is what I should have done then. Besides him, I also killed the former director who retired and his son. That's when I started, and then it got out of control. I'm guilty, Judge, do you understand? I'm as guilty as they are."

"Where is the sin?"

Rawl looked at him in disbelief.

"I killed people!" He suddenly collapsed and shouted. "I am a sheriff, but I killed so many people--!"

"So?" Khalil asked calmly, and he put the five fingers of his right hand together, raised it, and cut it down, gently but firmly. "Don't they deserve to die?"

"But but the law?!" Rawl became incoherent.

Khalil slowly stood up and walked straight to the apple. He bent down and pulled out the dagger, holding it and walked back to the former sheriff, grabbed his hand, and put the dagger back in his hand.

"The law is just a piece of paper when it cannot play its due role. It is essentially just for maintaining stability. Therefore, when people's grievances cannot be expressed and resolved——"

He slowly tightened his grip around Roll's fingers so that he could hold the rapidly sharpened knife.

"——It is the only one that speaks for them."

He smiled, and the bloody smell dissipated in the blink of an eye.

"Besides this, what other methods are there to make the real criminals receive the punishment they deserve? Wait for heaven's punishment or the appearance of gods? No, no, no. The only way is to kill them."

He lifted Rawl's hand and pointed the dagger back at his chest, staring into his red eyes, his voice becoming softer and softer.

"Killing people will never solve a problem, it has never been like this, but it can breed fear. Fear can make those who have never known what punishment is think carefully before they do evil next time. If they insist on doing so, will a knife be placed on their necks late at night?"

"They will think deeply, hesitate, and give those kind but unfortunate people a way to live. Even if only one person is saved, it is good. In fact, Luo Er, I don't think you are guilty. On the contrary, I think you haven't killed enough people. You have to kill until the blood flows like a river, so that they can be truly afraid."

The former sheriff stared at him blankly, having lost the ability to speak.

Khalil loosened his hand, took a step back, and took out a small badge and a data pad from his arms and placed them on the chair he had been sitting on.

"In a little while, two people will come to see you. They are a pair of twins. You may have guessed who they are. They will act with you next. Holding this badge means that you have become an intern member of the Inquisition. The data pad contains all the information and help you will need next. I wish you good luck, Rawl. Our transaction is over. You can return home on the Black Sparrow."

After the words fell, he turned and left.
-
"You really did go too far." Yago Sevitarion said without surprise.

"What?" Khalil asked in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

The First Reserve sneered and simply skipped the question. He had already seen that Khalil was not going to give a direct answer. Even if he continued to ask, he would probably find some way to evade the question. In this case, he might as well take the initiative of the conversation back into his own hands.

"The War Hounds want to invite you to a banquet." Sevatar said slowly. "They are very excited now, especially after you brought their Primarch back. Why do I feel like I have heard of something similar?"

Khalil glanced at him without answering, but suddenly stood up as if he had foreseen the future, opened the door of the box, and took the tray from the surprised waiter.

After expressing his gratitude, he closed the door, returned to his seat, pushed Sevatar's portion in front of him, and then started eating the specialty of the Nukeria Space Station - grilled desert black scorpion ribs.

Although this mutant creature is called a scorpion, it is actually closer to a large animal. From the appearance alone, it looks like a black lion with a mutated tail that has become like a steel whip and is also poisonous.
The only thing it has in common with a real scorpion is its tail, but its meat is delicious, melt-in-your-mouth tender.

"You made some money and you're going to eat something good right away, right?" Sevatar raised his hand and held the fork that was too small for him, but he didn't stop talking. "You used to give the chefs on the Nightfall a lot of headaches. They always complained that you didn't eat at all."

Khalil wielded his knife and fork without even looking up, finishing the delicious food on the plate at an extremely fast speed. Then he raised his head and looked at Sevasta - to be precise, at the ribs on his plate.

The latter immediately stretched out his hand to protect it vigilantly.

"Don't you want to eat, Yago?" Khalil asked softly.

"How do you know I don't eat?"

"Since you've been babbling away maybe you'd prefer a Grax steak? Ah, Terra salt and pepper?"

Sevatar, with a gloomy face, forked up a whole rib, bit off two-thirds of it in one bite, and began to chew with the bone. Khalil smiled and put down his knife and fork, and began to observe him eating - soon, the expression of the first reserve changed from gloomy to dangerous. He swallowed the mouthful of bone powder and minced meat angrily, and knocked the table hard with his free left hand.

"Are you going or not?!" he growled. "And stop looking at me like that--!"

"No." Khalil replied with a smile. "I still have some things to deal with. For example, the origin of those soul-stealing needles. They don't seem to be purely witchcraft creations."

Hearing this, Sevatar began to recall the appearance of that thing in his mind, and he frowned instantly.

"Did you think of that?" Khalil asked.

"I thought of it, but I don't believe it," Sevatar said coldly. "But if it is true, then we must cooperate with the war dogs."

Khalil thought for a moment and nodded.

"Indeed. Anyway, wait a few more days. The members of the nearby Inquisition have received my call. They will come here soon with a full set of equipment. By then, the truth will be revealed."

Sevatar unhappily stuffed the last bite of ribs into his mouth, chewed it two or three times, and swallowed it. He seemed to be holding back something, but in the end he couldn't help it and opened his mouth.

"Why did you call them instead of us?" he asked seriously. "You were the instructor of the Eighth Legion first, and then the chief judge of the Inquisition!"

"Yago, what are you doing?" Khalil asked with a helpless look.

"I'm asking you why you didn't call us!" Sevatar glared at him. "You could have just called that bastard Skaladerick over!"

"I find it extremely disrespectful for you to address a Scarlet Lord like that."

"Oh, really? Why didn't I see you say that when you were about to strangle him to death?"

".Yago."

"What's wrong? My dear biased judge?"

"You know we're going back to Terra to report, right?" Khalil said expressionlessly. "You also know there will be a small banquet, and there will be several Primarchs. One of them is Rogal Dorn, and he will definitely be there."

"However, I heard that he was considering recalling Thunder some time ago. He needs to ask the latter in person for some detailed information about the transformation of Thunder Warriors. Now, I hope you will think carefully about it. If Thunder has returned to the solar system now, will he also attend the banquet? If he attends, will Sigismund also be awakened?"

"."

"Why aren't you talking, Yago?"

"You're so annoying sometimes." The First Reserve stood up with a gloomy face and turned his face away impatiently. "Pay the bill quickly! Don't you still have to send the Rainmaker to the boat? Let's go!"

"For a freeloader, you have a pretty tough attitude," Khalil praised. "I appreciate it. Keep it up."
-
015.M40, a monastery in the Nuceria sector, twenty-six days after the heavy rain.

A tall apprentice was led by an acolyte into a small church. Unlike ordinary churches, it was not ornately decorated. Instead, it looked more like a small library with statues and paintings of the Emperor.

"You can study here." The acolyte said kindly. "For apprentices, the books here are more than enough for them to study. But don't rush, Nairo, you have a whole year to read these books."

"I understand, Master." said the apprentice named Nairo. "Thank you for your guidance."

"Hey, what's the matter?" The acolyte smiled rather embarrassedly. "This is my job."

They talked for a while, the acolyte remained in high spirits and seemed very happy, while the apprentice was unusually calm. After a few minutes, the acolyte pushed the door open and left, leaving the place to the apprentice.

His study officially began from this moment on, and according to convention, it would last for a whole year until he had finished reading all the books here and passed the test before he could make further progress - for any apprentice who was fortunate enough to enter the monastery to study, this was a difficult test, so they would often seize every opportunity to study hard.

But the apprentice named Nairo was not anxious. He was tall, but not strong. Instead, he looked a little thin, with a hunched back, which made people subconsciously ignore his height. At the same time, he walked with a limp, as if he had an old injury or a chronic disease.

He limped to the statue of the Emperor and gazed up at it.

This statue is not the common one with eyes closed, and its expression is not compassionate, but rather calm, with its eyes directed to the heart, as if it could ask a thought-provoking question at any time.
The apprentice looked at it for a long time, his hands hanging by his sides without ever clasping them together.

He did not pray.

(End of this chapter)