Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 957, page 08.956: 'Under the Guillotine'

A young brigadier general of the Astronautical Army followed closely behind General Nansutti, about a horse's length to his left rear.

He was Jean Lannes, the elder brother of Colonel Jadvig.

After the bloody battle at the energy center, his magnificent noble uniform had been restored by his attendants and was once again radiant.

After the dried bloodstains were sprayed with chemical reagents and carefully wiped away, the faint fishy and rusty smell that could not be completely removed from the fabric, as well as the few tiny scorch marks and holes left by the energy beams, instead added a sharp and capable quality to him that the old general's old aristocratic elegance lacked—a quality unique to young professional officers who had come down from the front lines.

His gaze was as sharp as a hawk's, calmly and cautiously sweeping over the two sides facing off in a tense standoff.

There is nothing new under the sun. As a core member of the military reform faction, he has already witnessed and experienced countless similar conflicts.

Therefore, when his gaze met that of his sister Jadwiga, a silent exchange of information was completed in an instant.

He could almost read the whole story from her eyes, which were filled with anxiety, helplessness, and resentment, as well as the predicament she was in as a commander.

With a barely perceptible nod, he had already grasped the most crucial part of the information.

“Colonel Yadwiga, citizen.” Rana came to his sister’s side, his voice clear and steady, with an unquestionable commanding tone, “Go and report to General Nansutti what exactly happened here.”

His actions were decisive and precise.

After Yadviga took his orders and left, he rode alone, slowly approaching the restless dragoons.

He did not draw his weapon, nor did he shout; he simply raised a hand wearing a white riding glove.

That wasn't a threat, but a calm gesture asking for quiet and to be listened to.

The soldiers, who were initially furious, miraculously calmed down when they saw the young brigadier general who had fought alongside them in the previous battle.

Strict discipline returned to them, but their determination to resist did not diminish; it simply transformed from outward roars into a restrained, steel-like silence.

"Loyal patriotic soldiers!" Brigadier General Rana took a deep breath and his booming voice pierced the deathly silence, "No matter what happens, we have the Imperial Code and the eyes of the Divine Emperor to protect the rights of every citizen! The law protects you, and it protects every Imperial citizen present here!"

Horatio, aboard the tank, keenly noticed that the young brigadier general's choice of words was extremely clever.

He defined these armed dragoons as “citizens” and “patriots” rather than “rebels,” which was both an affirmation of their loyalty and a way to give them dignity.

He did not forcibly order the protesters to disperse, nor did he threaten them with the iron hooves of his cavalry. Instead, he pointed out a legitimate channel for them to vent their overwhelming anger.

Behind these words lies a deeper political game.

Horatio learned from Yadwiga's previous conversation that these soldiers from the 'New Land' Polaberia had not obtained formal citizenship in Sintira, nor had they ever received recognition or respect from the local nobles.

They are "third-class citizens" in name only, unrecognized inferiors who have only the obligation to contribute but no right to enjoy what they deserve.

However, the Sintira military reform faction, represented by Brigadier General Jean Lannes, is attempting to change this situation.

These young, radical officers knew that the empire's ability to stand for millennia in endless darkness was not solely due to the rule of a privileged minority.

The collapse of the defensive line and countless bloody facts have proven that if you only talk about dedication and not rights, no one will be foolish enough to risk their life for the high and mighty.

Even if you force them to fulfill their obligations with explosive pistols, they will only slack off on the front lines until the battle lines collapse and they are killed by the aliens, becoming fertilizer to nourish maggots and green spores, or simply becoming new problems.

Ultimately, the rigid privileged class, like termites that bore into a tree, will not only kill the entire tree but also destroy themselves.

We must encourage everyone who is still willing to dedicate themselves and fight for the Empire, and support their courage to fight for the God Emperor with rights commensurate with their contributions!
"Believe in the Imperial Code, and believe in the rights you have earned with your blood! Now, state your demands respectfully to General Nansutti! He will grant you justice!"

These words acted like a powerful tranquilizer, precisely targeting the core of the mutiny.

The soldiers fell completely silent.

They watched silently as the young brigadier general spoke up for them, and then, like Moses parting the Sea, the crowd spontaneously parted to make way for a path leading to the center of the square.

Lana rode back behind the general, and the Imperial Guard cavalry resumed their movements.

The aged General Nansuti rode slowly on his tall warhorse, making way for the soldiers. He scrutinized the soldiers, whose expressions were tense but whose eyes were resolute, noting the unhealed battle wounds and dried bloodstains on their young faces, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes.

“Patriotic soldiers.” His voice echoed in the silence, filled with the power of metal and stone, “I heard your cries, and I learned what happened from Colonel Yadwiga. When we recruited you, we promised to fight for your equal rights and to improve your social status and economic conditions.”

Justice must be served. I hereby declare that a wartime military tribunal shall be convened immediately to hear this dispute!

Thump...thump thump...thump...

Amidst the deep, rhythmic beat of military drums, a trial began.

The Imperial Guard cavalry sat upright on their horses, forming a huge square enclosure made of steel and flesh, confining everyone within this temporary enclosure.

The trial was set up simply, but the implications behind it were anything but simple.

A heavy altar table, moved from a nearby bombed-out church, became the judge's bench, covered in a thick layer of dust, as if symbolizing long-forgotten justice.

Seated above were the jurors invited by the Astrail Army: General Nansutti and Brigadier General Rana of the Astrail Army, Horatio Cochrane of the Imperial Navy, They Perug of the Tribunal, Falida Hood of the Military Oversight Committee, and Jawi of the Ministry of Justice.

They will hold a public trial and deliver an objective and fair verdict on this special and highly politically charged wartime trial.

Boom!Boom!
In the tense but dull wait, Horatio's gaze was drawn to a group of busy figures in the center of the arena.

Several grenadier engineers wearing thick leather aprons were silently and efficiently assembling something around a pile of parts unloaded from a supply truck, holding engineering equipment.

In the usually bustling camp, the grounds were unusually quiet at this moment, with only the sounds of the tools in the engineers' hands echoing in the empty space—the piercing "squeak" of the coarse-toothed saw cutting through huge logs, and the dull "bang" of the heavy mallets striking the mortise and tenon joints.

With the help of several engineers, a tall wooden machine was slowly erected.

Only now did Horatio finally see what the result of this group's hard work was.

That was a guillotine.

A tall, imposing guillotine, which could even be described as having a certain Gothic aesthetic.

Its structure is extremely simple, with only simple but exceptionally cold geometric lines. Two huge pillars point straight to the gloomy sky, and on the top beam, a simple double-headed eagle emblem is looking down at everyone below with its majestic metal eyes.

Beneath the eagle, the guillotine, tilted and gleaming with a chilling light in the dim light, was being slowly raised to its top by the noose, like a hungry beast awakened and awaiting its sacrifice.

click!
The wartime court invited the Imperial Ministry of Justice bailiffs present to serve as maintainers of order and enforcers of justice—no one was more convincing than them in adjudication and trial.

Under the instructions of Chief Justice Javert, two high-ranking law enforcement officers strode heavily onto the makeshift execution platform. One of them suddenly pulled down the testing mechanism, and the guillotine instantly broke free of its restraints, sliding down with a whooshing sound as it tore through the air.

Whoosh! — Thump!

With a heavy thud, the blade precisely carved into the groove below—the guillotine was fully functional.

The dull thud struck the hearts of everyone present, and even Horatio felt a chill run down his spine.

He never imagined that, in the 41st millennium of human civilization, he would still be able to witness such an ancient, bloody, and ritualistic instrument of torture.

It is not merely an execution tool, but also an undisguised political declaration in the complex and bloody political struggles of Sintira today.

Silence reigned beneath the guillotine.

Even the soldiers who believed themselves innocent couldn't help but swallow nervously, their Adam's apple bobbing laboriously beneath the rough collar of their uniforms.

The towering machine exuded an invisible pressure, making everyone feel a chill down their spines.

"Now, the wartime military tribunal is officially in session!" Brigadier General Jean Lannes's announcement broke the deathly silence, his expression as solemn as a marble statue in a monastery. "The defendants and plaintiffs are to be heard in a group trial. Take your seats!"

The war drums sounded again, slow and heavy, heralding the start of the bloody trial to come.

(End of this chapter)