Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 1066, page 09.1065: 'Replace 'Ale' with 'Armasaker'

"They are real veterans who have seen combat. Look at their tactical maneuvers!"

Yadwiga pointed to the combat unit that had just landed and, without even pausing for a moment, immediately deployed into a standard indoor close-quarters combat formation in the unfamiliar training ground.

Horatio and Poniatowski followed her gaze.

"Cover team, take position!" a squad leader roared. Two soldiers immediately took up advantageous positions on either side of the building entrance, their guns steadily pointed at potentially threatening areas.

"The right corridor has been suppressed!" The energy beam emitted its distinctive high-energy burning sound, exploding precisely on the dummy at the pre-set suppression point.

"Assault team, charge! Charge! Charge!"

The remaining soldiers, divided into two groups, charged into the simulated building, taking turns providing cover as they swiftly advanced.

Without the slightest hesitation, they executed textbook-perfect "corner-cutting" maneuvers at every corner and doorway, swiftly, deadly, and skillfully "clearing" the potential hazards in each empty room, and completely taking over the training area in just a few dozen seconds.

Their tactical maneuvers possess a battle-hardened ruthlessness and efficiency that is absolutely unseen in planetary defense forces basking in the comforts of peacetime.

These soldiers wore uniform, dark-skinned black armor, and each wore a deep red fireproof tactical hood covering their face, revealing only the cold goggles under their helmets, making them appear inhuman and like killing machines.

Furthermore, their exceptional individual combat skills were so high that even Horatio had to take notice.

Each soldier's left arm appears to be equipped with an additional implanted exoskeleton prosthesis.

With a standard Magap C-grip, they gripped the heat-dissipating handguard of the Hellfire's barrel with one hand while steadily controlling the trigger assembly with the other, unleashing a dazzling barrage of precise and rapid fire at distant targets.

This absolute control over the powerful Hellfire Gun is something that ordinary Astronaut soldiers could never possess.

"I can conclude that these people are mercenaries."

Yadwiga frowned and calmly analyzed, "The noble families of Sintira have always had the custom of recruiting mercenaries from across the galaxy and forming private guards."

They would spare no expense in selecting highly skilled Astral Army veterans, top assassins from the Hive, and even entire outlaw gangs to serve their purposes.

She paused, a hint of disgust in her voice: "During the Great Revolution, these mercenaries proved their 'worth'—sometimes, many Sintira flintlock regiments, for various reasons, did not want to participate in the dirty work of suppressing local civilian uprisings."

Therefore, these tasks naturally fell to these private mercenary armies.

These were the black gloves that nobles used for dirty work.

Moreover, these outlaws, from all corners of the world, who only care about money and not people, have no connection with the civilians of Sintira. They will carry out their employers' orders without hesitation and fire on anyone.

“In other words,” Horatio concluded thoughtfully, “the colonial governor’s so-called ‘planetary defense force’ is very likely… a large mercenary legion composed entirely of veterans, top assassins, and outlaw gangs, loyal only to him personally.”

“It’s very likely.” Yadviga stared at the soldiers’ cold backs. “Polaberia’s huge annual economic output is more than enough to support a professional mercenary army of hundreds of thousands, or even two hundred thousand.”

Upon hearing this, Horatio picked up the microphone in the command tower: "Valina, replace 'Ale' with 'Amasek' and test their skills. Then, provide them with comprehensive tactical guidance. As for our Hellslingers' special training subjects, don't teach them. Afterwards, give me a detailed report on each of their skill levels."

Valina's calm and confident voice came through the communicator: "Yes, Captain. I'll expose every secret about these 'planetary defense forces.' Master Chiefs, give them a taste of the Storm's Legion's power! Move out!"
-
Two days later, at the colonial governor's residence.

Horatio returned once again. Unlike last time when he was moored outside the gate, this time his hovercar received a higher level of treatment, landing directly in the private courtyard inside the governor's mansion.

The same high-ranking servant with white powder on his face greeted them, and under his guidance, Horatio, escorted by a group of Hell's elite soldiers, once again entered the Governor's office, which was shrouded in smoke.

"Ah! Lord Cochrane! Welcome! Welcome! Please have a seat! I've missed you dearly these past few days."

The obese governor still held that thick cigar between his fingers, like a pool of melted, living grease, completely stuck to the specially made, enormous armchair. Horatio wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he felt that the man seemed to have gotten even fatter, his obese body almost blending into the velvet armchair.

"My subordinates reported to me that they've received 'enthusiastic guidance' from your elite troops these past two days!" the governor grinned, his fat cheeks bunching up in a smile. "They said they've never seen such highly skilled combat units before, and the training has been incredibly beneficial, significantly improving their combat abilities!"

[It seems he's more than just superficially greasy; someone who can stay in such a fertile land and serve as governor for decades is certainly no ordinary person.]
“I’ve assigned my best Storm Leader to mentor them.” Horatio calmly sat down. “She comes from the Storm Loyalists Army, which is directly under the Ministry of the Interior. She was also my instructor when I was at the Loyalist Academy.”

"Oh~" A hint of surprise flashed in the governor's eyes, followed by a look of sudden realization. "My goodness, it's the legendary instructor who trained an imperial hero like yourself! Lord Cochrane, you are truly generous. I will have them follow your instructor, learn well, and not be afraid of pain!" "Injury and bloodshed are the lowest level of pain." Horatio's voice was exceptionally clear in the smoke. "The more blood and injuries one sheds during daily training, the more likely one is to survive on the battlefield, when facing those terrifying things that can devour souls."

The governor nodded approvingly: "You are indeed an expert in this field. I have unconditional faith in you when it comes to combat guidance. However..."

He suddenly changed the subject, and his fawning tone turned somewhat cold, but he still maintained a facade of respect.

"Those 'Valkyries' you provided to us..."

"What's wrong with this batch of 'Valkyries'?" Horatio asked, feigning ignorance.

“They…they are too old, too worn out!” The governor’s voice rose a few decibels as he began to complain. “Many of the machines are nearing the end of their service life, and some even have holes from thermal weapons still standing on their hatches, bloody and unrepaired!”

Lord, we offered a price even higher than your Imperial Navy's internal procurement price! But what we received was a batch of obsolete junk that could be sent to the scrap yard immediately for disposal!
"I am of limited ability and truly cannot see the mystery in this arrangement. I hope Your Excellency can enlighten me and explain your intentions and arrangements."

Horatio smiled slightly upon hearing this.

"Your Excellency, I only have one question for you: can all these 'Valkyries' fly?"

"Well... my subordinates reported to me that it's possible. It's just that... when it takes off, the noise is like it's about to fall from the sky at any moment."

"So, is your pilot a professional Valkyrie pilot?"

"Hmm... no, but they are all the most experienced airship pilots with over 8,000 hours of flight time!"

“That’s the problem,” Horatio said seriously, leaning forward slightly. “You’re sending a bunch of airship pilots to fly a military attack aircraft. Your Excellency, do you really think they’re the same thing?”

“…No.” The governor’s questioning tone weakened somewhat.

“Very well, that’s the first point.” Horatio’s tone suddenly rose, carrying a rebuke. “Secondly! We are a battle-hardened army! These ‘Valkyries’ were not long ago fighting aliens and traitors in the Minerva’s orbit! They are meritorious vehicles that have achieved illustrious victories and undergone the most rigorous real combat tests! How can your men use their mortal eyes to assume that these ‘Valkyries’ are ‘outdated’ based on the glorious scars they have suffered? This is an insult to the spirit of these meritorious aircraft! Governor!”

Horatio's voice struck like a warhammer, making the obese governor tremble violently.

"You surely know the simplest truth in the entire galaxy, right? 'The older a vehicle with a machine spirit is, the more powerful it becomes!'"

The colonial governor's eyes, squeezed into slits by his fat, began to dart around rapidly. He clearly didn't understand these professional fields involving "machine spirits," but as Horatio explained it, combined with those unbelievable rumors about the mechanical guild, the more he listened, the more sense it made.

His throat, which was blocked by fat, moved with difficulty, and a look of sudden enlightenment appeared on his face.

"Oh! I see! It was me... I failed to grasp Lord's meticulous arrangements! So you entrusted us with the best batch of meritorious fighter jets!"

“Of course.” Horatio leaned back in his chair and said calmly, “Every single one of them can fly, and they have all recently been tested in actual combat. Every single one of the fighters we provided has actually killed Ducali aliens or Severus rebels.”

I think that alone is enough to justify the price you paid. Not to mention, we also provide a full set of replacement parts.

"Excellent communication skills, a great success."

[In fact, for a flying machine of Valkyrie size, unless it's a century-old machine, its performance is roughly the same as a brand-new one produced on a mechanical repair guild's assembly line. Its core performance depends on maintenance and the pilot's tuning; the key is the 'human'.]
"Oh dear! I was so rude just now, Your Excellency!" The governor immediately put on a grateful face. "I was really stupid to listen to the slander of those mediocre men under my command and to use my petty mind to speculate about Your Excellency's noble intentions. I shouldn't have done that—guards!" He suddenly shouted towards the door.

"Lock that idiot in charge of the inspection in the dungeon!!"

"No! Your Excellency! Your Excellency! I swear to you! I'm not lying! Don't believe his nonsense, the 'Valkyrie' mecha's design lifespan isn't even a hundred years, so—"

A sharp, desperate scream suddenly came from the next room.

Then came the sounds of struggling and dragging. The hysterical screams were dragged past the door and into the distance down the corridor until they disappeared completely.

“But you, Your Excellency the Governor,” Horatio sneered. “You said you sent them here for training as a ‘planetary defense force,’ but isn’t your ‘planetary defense force’ a bit too well-equipped?”

(End of this chapter)