Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 923, 08.922: 'Repairing the Cintira People'

"High Lord Colonel Horatio Cochrane from the Imperial Navy is running for the election."

Colonel Yadwig's voice echoed solemnly and powerfully in the candlelit chapel, "This venerable nobleman is a lord personally conferred by the Imperial Ministry of the Interior, whose lineage can be traced back to the legendary Admiral Spier during the Gothic Wars."

Furthermore, he was personally appointed and awarded the title of 'Knight of the Glorious Macragge' by Lord Karga, the leader of the Ultramarines Chapter, and personally conferred the rank by Lord Cato Sicarius! Whether in terms of status, lineage, or rank, he was far beyond our reach.

I believe that His Excellency Cochrane is the only qualified person to take over command of the entire army.

The officers of the Sintira flintlock regiment looked at each other, whispering among themselves as they gazed at the tall, imposing naval commander before them.

Their arrogance melted away quickly in the face of those resounding names, replaced by a speculative fervor.

"I've heard from inside sources that the Imperial Navy is planning to form a permanent landing force."

A very young flintlock battalion commander lowered his voice and said to his colleagues, “My distant relative, General Pyrus, persuaded the Ministry of War to give them a special opportunity to form this unit right here in Sintira.”

"A permanent establishment?! Is that true? If so, wouldn't we have a chance to be transferred into the Imperial Navy?" Another noble officer's eyes immediately lit up.

"Once we can get one foot on the starship, we can stay comfortably in orbit and never have to tread on the muddy ground again." Another officer rubbed his hands together, unable to contain his excitement. "Then we can just sit elegantly by the porthole, sipping fruit wine and occasionally pressing the launch buttons for the macro cannons and light spears!"

This enticing prospect acted as a shot in the arm, quickly bringing these cowardly and lazy nobles to a consensus.

Unexpectedly, the biggest obstacle Horatio might have encountered disappeared, and the Sintira officers almost eagerly raised their hands in unison: "We unanimously agree that Lord Horatio Cochrane of the Imperial Navy shall serve as the Commander-in-Chief!"

We have only one small request: do not let those lowly people tarnish our lines; we hope to fight alongside your valiant naval forces!

Horatio laughed, his expression as warm as a spring breeze, but the smile did not reach his cold eyes, where only a barely perceptible chill remained.

“Very well,” he nodded slowly, a hint of amusement in his voice, “This is what you yourselves requested. I will have the Imperial Navy’s most elite boarding crew fight alongside you.”

"All officers of the Sintira Military Reformation support Lord Horatio Cochrane as Commander-in-Chief." Colonel Yadwiga then raised her hand to speak, and the officers beside her also raised their hands in unison.
-
On the monastery's defensive line, the former chaos and laxity were quickly replaced by a bloody order.

"Report to the Chief Military Supervisor! The ultimatum for reorganization has passed! Fifteen deserters have been captured!" A group of heavily armed naval sailors, with ropes binding the captured Cintira deserters, reported to Farida, the cold-faced Military Supervisor, who was wearing a platinum military supervisor uniform.

These are soldiers who remained hidden and did not return to their units after the commander issued an ultimatum ordering reorganization.

They could only hide in the besieged monastery, so they weren't hard to find. When they realized they had been discovered, they ran away, but they were easily caught by the dragon riders on horseback. They were tied up, taken back, and handed over to the armed sailors of the navy.

Now, they have been brought before the military supervisory committee to await the final verdict.

"Firing squad!" Farida's voice was sharp and cold, as she held a buzzing power sword in one hand and a loaded bolt pistol in the other.

Kaka!

A row of naval boarding crew members, armed with shotguns, lined up in unison, their movements demonstrating the strict discipline of the Imperial Navy.

The heavy goggles of their boarding helmets obscured their vision, giving them an inhumanly cold and ruthless aura.

Farida pointed with her long, pointed chin at the corner of the outer wall of the main building of the monastery.

The deserters were dragged roughly to the wall and made to stand in a row, howling in pain. The sailors tore strips of cloth from their bodies and blindfolded them despite their struggles.

"Shoulder the gun!" Farida raised her power sword high, the eerie blue energy flowing along the blade illuminating her merciless face.

"Aim!" The power sword's blade was pointed horizontally at the group of trembling, leg-shaking Cintira deserters. Some of them felt a heat in their groin; their light-colored crotches were stained dark and dripping with murky yellow urine.

Some people lost their balance and fell, pulling down those next to them in the process.

Soon, they were pulled up by armed sailors and pushed against the wall.

"Fire!"

Bang bang bang bang!
The dense hail of bullets, like a storm of steel, swept over the dozen or so bodies.

Human tissues were torn and shattered under immense kinetic energy, mixed with scarlet blood and broken internal organs, covering the ancient limestone wall like an abstract, horrific painting.

In any case, using a shotgun to carry out an execution still seems far too brutal and horrific.

This bloody and horrific scene stunned all the Sintira flintlock musketeers on the defensive line.

Two soldiers who were slacking off and smoking at the sentry weapon control console stood rooted to the spot like two wooden stakes, their lips trembling, completely unaware that the cigarette butt had burned their fingers.

"Hurry up! Set up the defenses! Are those sandbags over there just for decoration?! Fill them in now! Are you trying to betray the God Emperor's protection by dawdling like this? Then you're next! I'll personally smash your head to pieces!"

The remaining military supervisors also patrolled the flintlock musketeers' positions, using the muzzles of their bolt carriers to instruct them to build temporary defensive lines.

They completely ignored the elite naval sailors whose defensive maneuvers were already exemplary, keeping a close eye on every single Sintira flintlock musketeer the entire time.

"I just... I just wanted to rest..."

boom!
With a roar of a bolt-action musket, a flintlock musketeer who was trying to argue with a military supervisor was blown to pieces in full view of everyone before he could finish speaking.

The headless corpse swayed, then fell straight down, its warm blood quickly soaking through its once exquisite and respectable uniform.

"Eek!!" The flintlock musketeers nearby were terrified, letting out a short scream before turning and running away in a panic.

But they were almost immediately pushed back by a wall of steel.

brush!
A row of naval sailors, wearing helmets and bearing the words "Military Police" on their backs, approached with rifles fitted with gleaming bayonets at their chests, forcing the fleeing flintlock musketeers back to their positions.

Then, they all raised their guns and aimed, the cold muzzles pointed at each of the restless people, awaiting the orders of the military supervisory committee.

“You can’t do this! We are nobles! The Sintira flintlock regiment has never needed the supervision of the military supervisors! Never!” A lieutenant platoon leader stepped forward, his face pale, and protested loudly to a military supervisor, but his voice was filled with fear and trembling.

The military supervisor's face, hidden by the shadow of his peaked cap, remained expressionless and motionless. The only movement he made was the military department's standard bolt pistol in his hand.

He slowly moved the gun from the headless corpse on the ground to the lieutenant platoon leader's face, and said in a cold, factual tone that was more terrifying than a direct threat: "Get your men in order, lieutenant. Incompetence and dereliction of duty can only be repaid with death. I will only say this once."

The lieutenant's Adam's apple bobbed violently, and cold sweat soaked his collar.

Now, he has finally calmed down completely.

Standing on the high walls of the monastery, Horatio crossed his arms and looked down with satisfaction.

Under his iron-fisted reforms, the previously disorganized 17th Sintila Flintlock Regiment finally began to show some real military organization and discipline.

(End of this chapter)