40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 861, Section 9: Only to be Understood (Part Two)

Vitus limped out of his room and headed toward the canteen.

This was one of the things left behind from the last mission; the others included more nightmares, two scars on his right cheek, and numerous soft tissue contusions all over his body. It's no exaggeration to say that even breathing now hurts him.

In this situation, one's emotions are unlikely to be good, but he still managed to control himself with the willpower he had acquired through years of training. To some extent, losing control means vulnerability and weakness, and he didn't want to have either of those things.

Ten minutes later, he arrived at the cafeteria at twice the usual speed.

Surprisingly, someone had already chosen a table and was eating, and it wasn't even Captain Cage, who usually loves to feast.

“Major.” Vitus approached him and saluted. “You’re up very early.”

"Stop with these useless pleasantries. Go choose your breakfast and then come over for a chat," Augustus Federica said.

Vitus did as he was told, and he brought back a bowl of minced meat porridge. By then, the major had almost finished eating, and only a thin layer of broth remained at the bottom of his bowl.

“You and your fourth company did a good job,” Augustus said. “To march a long distance for a whole day in the harsh conditions of the Silent Snowfield and then immediately intercept the enemy’s main force. It’s a pity, Lieutenant. If we were a normal army, your company would be commended from top to bottom.”

Vitus swallowed the meat porridge in his mouth, and surprisingly asked without changing his expression, "Aren't we a normal army?"

The major smiled slightly: "Normal? Let me put aside the issue of the unit number. At least other punitive legions have a decent name, but we have nothing."

"Perhaps the colonel forgot."

"He's very humorous, but he doesn't forget anything he's supposed to do. Okay, now let's talk about something else—what do you think of Amarans Valerian? Are she and her people content under your command?"

Vitus lowered his head and stirred the bowl with his spoon. Amidst the gradually forming swirl and the wafting aroma, he replied, "No, Major. In fact, I think these Kriegs are very good soldiers. They have good tactical skills and know how to cooperate with others."

"So, you think this former major and her subordinates are quite good?"

Vitus shook his head, remaining cautious: "It's hard to say, Major. My company only has two hundred Kriegs, and that was just in one battle. Are you doubting them?"

Augustus's smile remained unchanged as he replied, "You misunderstand, Lieutenant. I was simply asking for your opinion, as it concerns their future within our unit."

"How to say?"

"The colonel is considering whether to separate the Kriegs from their individual companies, forming an unorganized company, which you and Captain Cage would then command."

Vitus looked up in surprise at the major. He had never expected such an unexpected answer.

"Are you surprised?"

"Yes, some, Major."

“I guessed it. Listen to me, Vitus, the reason the colonel did this is because our next destination is the homeland of these Kriegs.”

"Years ago, the Death Guard's sub-corps, the Death Legion, went to deal with a rebellion related to Chaos. I can't reveal the specifics to you, but in short, the rebellion wiped out the source of Chaos along with the rebels shortly after it began, which is why Krieg survived. Interestingly, their dictators didn't seem to trust the Death Legion's professionalism and submitted multiple immigration applications to the Ministry of State."

Vitus frowned and asked, "And then?"

Augustus leaned back leisurely and replied with a smile, "Their wishes were of course rejected. The resettlement of hundreds of billions of people is no easy task, especially since Krieg was indeed not contaminated. This has been confirmed by the State Church, the Court of Justice, and the Ministry of Military Affairs."

Vitus paused for a moment, then asked, "Has the Legion of the Dead not commented on this matter?"

Augustus raised an eyebrow, finally displaying a reaction unrelated to his calm smile. He looked at Vitus with slight surprise, then shook his head.

“No,” he said with a sigh. “They…don’t care about these things. On the contrary, their mother ship, the Death Guard, expressed great dissatisfaction. As an apology, the dictators of Krieg spent a lot of money to purchase a large number of weapons from the Cult of Mechanics and sent them to the Death Guard—as a result, not a single one of the twelve ships was allowed to approach the Death Guard’s flagship. They didn’t even respond to the communications of the supply ships, but only broadcast a short message while warming up the gun deck: You are not worthy.”

Vitus listened quietly to this secretive old story, trying to remain calm.

The major didn't use any flowery language or poetic imagery, but he could still grasp the nuances. For example, the Death Legion must have paid a heavy price to eradicate the Chaos Contamination before it spread. And the Krieg dictators were undeniably arrogant and foolish, yet they managed to commit such acts with impunity.
He looked up, slightly sensing something, and happened to see the major looking at him with great interest, his gaze quite intriguing.

"Major?" Vitus took the initiative to speak.

"what?"

"Aren't those dictators very powerful?"

Upon hearing this, Augustus burst into a loud laugh from his not-so-thick chest. He laughed so happily and so sincerely that even Vitus himself was a little confused: Had I asked a very stupid question?

Augustus answered him in the next moment.

"They do have some power, everyone has to admit that. After all, the amount of money that a commercial hub that has been operating smoothly for thousands of years can accumulate is astonishing. But power? Oh, Vitus, you even used the wrong word! That's usually used to describe local bullies and gangsters. Or is it that in your mind, these incredibly wealthy dictators are just some insects no different from gangsters?"

Vitus nodded.

He really thought so. Augustus finally stopped laughing. He patted his chest, slowly calmed down, looked at him with a strange look in his eyes, and slowly spoke.

"In the war ten thousand years ago, several Primarchs perished, you know, Vitus? Among them was the Primarch of the Death Guard, the indomitable Mortalian, the Lord of the Death, whose name is known to all. For ten thousand years, he has been regarded as a paragon of loyalty, countless people have idolized him and inspired themselves, countless people have bravely faced death while chanting his name. But the Death Guard had a different opinion. They seemed to feel that the Primarchs' deaths were related to themselves, and were filled with guilt."

"This is no secret. Ask any unit that fought alongside them and you'll probably get a similar answer. That's why Lord Saint Gilles has been so kind to them. So, in the eyes of the Death Guard, the dictators are indeed just a bunch of insects, not worth mentioning. But that's not a reason for them not to protest to the Empire and punish these fools."

The major stood up with a flourish, picked up his cap and tray, and headed towards the dish return area. Vitus grabbed his minced meat porridge, downed it in one gulp, and quickly followed, then pressed, "So, what's the reason, Major?"

“The reason is that they don’t need to do it,” Augustus Federius stated. “Since the fortieth millennium, the Empire has been gradually pushing forward a top-down reform, and you are one of the fruits of this massive project. To this day, it continues, and it is probably less than a fifth complete.”

He stopped in front of the recycling area, picked up the bowl of porridge, finished the last bit, and turned to look at Vitus.

"As I said, the dictators do have some power. They have woven a vast network of relationships in the star systems surrounding Krieg based on the wealth they have accumulated over thousands of years, and have even extended their reach into the Ministry of Justice. However, the list of names has been written since the moment they began purchasing large quantities of weapons from the Mechanicus. It is long, very long, and the related investigations involve many people and take a tremendous amount of time. And that is the point: the Empire wants to make Krieg a warning."

Vitus stepped forward and placed his own plate in the recycling bin. The robotic arm smoothly took it away, the sound of its operation so low it was almost inaudible.

“But there are at least tens of billions of people there…” he began softly. “Why doesn’t the Empire just take action directly?”

Major Augustus laughed again, winking slyly at Vitus.

“How do you know the Empire doesn’t?” he asked. “Some of us can’t tolerate the slightest injustice or unfairness.”

Vitus spent the rest of the day pondering this sentence.

Even when he finally saw Neguy again before falling asleep, who had been appearing inexplicably infrequently lately, Neguy showed no interest in chatting, which puzzled him greatly.

"What's wrong, Vitus?"

The young lieutenant replied irrelevantly: "Neguy, in the very few seconds we've been talking, how many innocent people across the galaxy have died because of injustice, tyranny, and chaos?"

"This is a difficult question to answer, but you are not the first person to ask a similar question, child."

"Who's the first one?"

Vitus asked, glancing at his friend. At the same time, he suddenly noticed that, for some reason, the latter had a weathered ring on the little finger of his left hand. Compared to his friend's somewhat ethereal spirit, the ring was much more solid, as if it were a real object.

Negui smiled and replied, "The Emperor."
-
"My lord, my lord"

“You can call me by my name, or you can call me Highlord. It’s a unique way of addressing the Chapter Master within our Chapter, but please don’t keep calling me ‘Sir,’” Skaladrik said, somewhat annoyed. “I’m often the target of some people using that word to mock me.”

Arrik was stunned for a moment again by his words. He didn't quite understand what the Chapter Master—or, in his chapter's name, the Highlord—meant, but the immediate priority wasn't understanding or not, but to quickly offer an explanation. At this moment, his forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat. He frantically waved his arms, almost breaking into a comical dance.

Scaradrek stopped him before he actually jumped.

“I don’t care what you say about me, Baron,” he said, his expression unchanged. “In fact, you are among the more polite mortals I’ve dealt with; most people think my brothers and I are just a bunch of bloodthirsty monsters. Besides, you don’t need to worry that I’ll hold a grudge. The mission is paramount, and you’re not part of it. Finally, I reiterate, command of this mission is in your hands.”

The Grand Duke leaned forward, naturally casting a shadow over the Baron. The black in his eyes was deathly still, yet the dark red within them surged forth like erupting lava, brimming with murderous intent.

"Therefore, I need a list."

"What list?" Alric asked blankly, like a clueless, automated early childhood education robot.

The king smiled, though only slightly, but it was a genuine smile.

A human smile can represent many emotions, and the one on his face at this moment can be roughly summarized as a morbid excitement.

Alric's fragile eyes caught it, pulling his thoughts back to reality. Fear surged within him, and he gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to back down.

“I won’t give a specific definition; you’re free to do as you please. You can write down the names of your enemies, or you can write down the names of corrupt officials you remember from memory. You can even secretly carry out illegitimate revenge by adding people who shouldn’t be on this list. However, I must remind you that once you hand it over to me, I will visit each and every one of them, whether they are dead or alive, and their souls will reveal the truth to me. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Alric replied with difficulty. “I will give it to you as soon as possible.”

Skladrick nodded, and the sound of footsteps signaling his departure finally rang out. The door to the room closed automatically half a minute after he left.

Alric looked at the gate, and heard Veronica Lunaster's voice in his ear.

"You absolutely must write carefully!" the woman, whom her father had described as more than brave, said worriedly. "Otherwise, that lord will definitely skin you alive!"

The baron raised his hand to his forehead, wanting to be sarcastic, but after seriously considering the difference in strength between them, he gave up the tempting idea.

He simply nodded.

(End of this chapter)