Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 901, 08.900: "On behalf of the Imperial Navy, I hereby declare..."

“I don’t need to explain to you, Your Excellency Wintersko.”

Horatio's voice was very soft, yet it was like a block of ice thrown into the otherwise warm atmosphere.

He casually picked up the priceless glass of wine in front of him, took a small sip, and moved with elegance and composure.

The wine glass was gently placed back on the table, making a crisp sound that amplified infinitely in the dead silence.

He leaned back in the huge chair, his gaze calmly meeting that of the man who resembled an enraged bear.

“I am the commander of the escort fleet appointed by the Gothic Fleet, not your subordinate, much less your private army. I have the authority to make any tactical arrangements for the escort fleet that I deem necessary.”

Every word he spoke was crystal clear, devoid of any emotion: "For you and your dynasty, grain transport ships are more important than passenger ships."

But for the Calissis Sector and the Whirlwind Line, which are ravaged by war and have suffered a sharp decline in population, manpower and equipment are even more important—the aliens and traitors will not retreat on their own just because you throw chunks of corpse starch at them.

I believe I have made the decision that is in the best interests of the Empire. If you have any objections, you can organize your own private escort fleet, instead of standing here and pointing fingers at the Emperor's sacred navy. Besides, you have no right to criticize me.”

Horatio's meaning was clear—'Those in positions of authority should fulfill their duties. You have no right to judge the responsibilities of the sacred Navy.'

Upon hearing this, Carrigos Wintersko was like a powder keg that had been ignited.

He abruptly rose from his throne, the shadow cast by his massive body almost engulfing Horatio.

The metal frame of his chair scraped loudly from the rough movement.

His gaze was like a pair of burning branding irons, fixed firmly on Horatio.

Horatio, not to be outdone, slowly stood up.

His body, honed through genetic optimization and years of military service, was a head taller than this already impressively large man.

He did not respond with brute force, but with a superior and multifaceted pressure stemming from blood ties, status, and rank.

"What? Do you have a problem with the Emperor's sacred navy, or with the supreme lord of the Gothic fleet, Colonel? You wandering merchant."

He uttered the last four words extremely slowly, each syllable filled with cold, deliberate contempt.

He did not back down, and at this moment, he condensed the prestige he had cultivated over the past four years into an invisible storm, pushing it to a climax.

Like a battle between a dragon and a tiger, it stirred up invisible lightning and thunder, and raging waves in this magnificent hall.

"Don't think that a trade license is your get-out-of-jail-free card, sir. What the Empire has granted you can be taken back at any time."

As an extension of the Emperor's will, the Imperial Navy has the right to suppress rebellions by imperial decree.

Our duty is to ensure that every inch of the God-Emperor's vast domain is utterly and devoutly loyal to the God-Emperor, and not to some self-righteous individual.

In the human empire, the eternal contradiction between the central government and local authorities, between autocracy and autonomy, was ignited at this moment like a fuse being lit, and it exploded completely.

"You can leave now, Colonel. We still have things to discuss. This is a stage for traveling merchants and ronin, not for the Imperial Navy."

Wintersko, the 'emperor' of the Colonus expansion area, ruthlessly issued an order to leave.

For most people here, Karigos Ventsko's orders are like a sacred decree, and any disobedience will bring a terrible price.

But Horatio remained unmoved. The dignity of the Imperial Navy could not be tarnished.

"Of course, this involves matters concerning our Imperial Navy."

Horatio's voice became razor-sharp as he swept his gaze across the assembled powerful merchants and wandering warriors: "Anyone who wants to imitate Severus XIII and become emperor for themselves will soon see the fate of that traitor." The moment the name 'Severus XIII' appeared in the hall, the air seemed to be sucked out.

Many traveling merchants and wanderers couldn't help but gasp in shock.

Horatio's gaze swept across their eyes with the speed of a hawk—some were startled, some instinctively looked away, some tried to cover it up with the act of drinking, and some remained unmoved, but their taut jawlines and beads of sweat betrayed them.

The power and influence of itinerant merchants were overwhelming.

As holders of sacred trade certificates, they have the right to govern the world they explore and discover.

They are more like the Empire's "tax farmers," who, regardless of how many planets they possess, only need to pay a fixed "tithe" to the Ministry of the Interior based on the declared scale.

It was discovered that the vast majority of the world's output was controlled by wandering merchants, who filled their own coffers to expand the dynasty's fleet and wealth.

Under such great autonomy, the movements of the merchants' assets were almost unknown to outsiders.

These wandering merchants, each with their own ulterior motives, could not be guaranteed absolute loyalty—or rather, those who truly adhered to rules and ethics had long been eliminated in the brutal competition of the expansion of the Colonus region.

In this group, there are no absolutely clean people, nor are there absolutely loyal ones. Interests and power are the only principles that traveling merchants and wanderers revere.

Therefore, such unhealthy competition requires a military force completely loyal to the human empire to oversee it, in order to prevent the situation from spiraling out of control.

And this force, capable of crushing any ill intentions of the merchant ronin with overwhelming force, is only the Imperial Navy, only the Imperial Navy!

"Could the Duchy of Severus have suddenly acquired such a large armed force and military equipment, and launched a rebellion against the Empire, simply by refusing to pay tithes?" Horatio's words were almost a blatant accusation.

“What…what do you mean, sir?” a traveling merchant asked nervously, his voice trembling slightly. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

"you tell me."

Horatio stepped forward, staring intently at him. "A remote, isolated autonomous principality on the frontier suddenly has a stable channel for colluding with aliens? Suddenly has the resources to murder the Imperial tax collection mission, openly declare war on the Empire, and establish itself as a 'new Empire'?"

Horatio slammed his fist on the gold-plated armrest of the chair, producing a dull thud.

His voice, like the resounding tolling of a cathedral bell, echoed through this "Prince's Court," a place whose very name was utterly defiant, like a divine pronouncement:

"Ladies and gentlemen, do not treat the Empire as a fool! Yes, the vast Empire is bloated and sluggish. But its loyal servants are by no means foolish!"
On the contrary, only the most outstanding elites can shoulder the immense responsibility of protecting this vast empire spanning millions of worlds and ruling over billions of lives!

He spoke loudly so that everyone could hear him.

“We have evidence that someone is supporting the rebellion in the Duchy of Severus. But I will not name anyone here today.”

I, Horatio Cochran, High Lord Captain of the Gothic Fleet of the Imperial Navy, representing the sacred navy of the Emperor, declare one thing to you, you wandering merchants—”

He paused for a moment, making everyone's hearts leap into their throats.

"The double-headed eagle is watching you. The Emperor is watching you. The Imperial Navy is watching you."

In the galaxy that belongs to humanity, there is nowhere that is a traitor's haven! None!
Any act of betrayal will be punished on the day of final judgment.

Once we deal with the traitor Severus, we will expose every single one of his supporters. No one will escape trial!

Those traitors who betray their country, living in luxury and wielding imperial privileges yet serving neither the God-Emperor nor humanity, will ultimately receive their retribution! I swear.

Horatio's voice was deep and firm, as if he were reading a verdict: "The Imperial Navy's light spears and cannons will become the sword of Damocles hanging over your heads, ready to fall at any time, piercing and destroying everything that the traitors covet."

I swear!

(End of this chapter)