Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 961, page 08.960: "Without nobles, there would be no Cintira"

Outside the monastery, the sandstorm continued to rage.

The Hell Soldiers, operating in three-person combat teams, silently spread out among the ruins, forming a wide-ranging and highly mobile external perimeter.

Sergeant Valina leaned against a corner of a wall that could still protect her from the wind and sand, tending to a fresh combat wound on her arm.

Her bare right shoulder, scarred and patchy, was tightly bandaged with blood-stained bandages. The wound was slowly healing with the help of advanced healing gel, but it still caused a burning pain.

She held a cigarette, which was readily available in Abyss Harbor, between her left arm, which was still able to move freely, took a deep drag, and then slowly exhaled the pungent smoke into the wind.

Nicotine and analgesics work together to be one of the effective ways to relieve pain.

Ok?
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Valina caught a glimpse of a small, suspended object that swept across the sand a hundred meters away.

She suddenly turned her head and squinted.

It was a servo skull, drifting unsteadily from the direction of enemy-occupied territory.

Its jawbone was shattered by shrapnel, and the optical sensors in its eye sockets were flickering, clearly indicating that it had suffered severe damage.

Valina took a few deep drags, threw the faintly glowing cigarette butt on the ground, and stomped it out. Then, without hesitation, she activated the gravity parachute on her back, leaped off the broken wall high above, and landed steadily on the sand, heading towards the dying 'messenger'.

Inside the monastery, the standoff continues.

“If,” Yadvig’s voice was low and dangerous, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying an icy indifference and coldness, “if I ever hear that word uttered from your disgusting mouth again, I will chop off your head in the next second.”

There was no hint of joking in her tone, only a terrifying chill. Everyone present was certain that she would actually carry out her plan and behead the man before her with a single sword stroke.

“I mean what I say, Charles-François-dimourière de Orléans citizen.”

I have absolutely no relationship with you whatsoever!

The warning lingered in the air, eventually transforming into a heart-wrenching roar:

"Now, get out of my sight!

Horatio had never met a woman with such a strong and unyielding temperament before.

Neither Louise's composure, Falida's coldness, nor They's quirky charm ever displayed such untamed fierceness, like a wild horse on the prairie seeking freedom.

“Oh, look, my brother-in-law, how come your sister is…” Dumoulier seemed to want to continue his disgusting teasing.

"roll."

Brigadier General Jean Lannes interrupted him with a stern face.

His gloved hand, gripping the sword hilt tightly, tightened again: "Take your men and get out of here. The shackles of arranged marriages imposed by our fathers in the old days have been shattered by the hammer of the new era."

Now, Sintira is a republic. No one can be her fiancé unless the female citizen of Yadwiga herself acknowledges it.

You have insulted the reputation of a female citizen of Yadvig. Apologize, and then get out of here immediately.

"Ha~ Republic." The heavily made-up man laughed, and the flintlock musketeers around him burst into a cacophony of raucous laughter. "You're still dreaming of your republican dream, Brigadier General Jean Lannes."

The man shook his head and sneered arrogantly, "A bunch of lowly people, fantasizing that by launching a shameful and blasphemous riot, they can rise from being lowly third-class citizens, or even lowly rats at the bottom of society, to become the masters!"

His voice suddenly rose, his riding crop cracking as he pointed at the rows of commoner grenadiers and colony natives of the new lands, shouting in an almost hoarse voice:
"These stinking rats don't even know that this land! The entire territory of the Calicis Sector! was won by our ancestors with blood and lives since the Anjou Expedition!"
Our ancestors shed blood for the God-Emperor! Our ancestors rendered meritorious service to the God-Emperor! Everything we possess today is thanks to the sacrifices our ancestors made for us thousands of years ago! Without our ancestors, how could the Calithis Sector be bathed in the glory of the God-Emperor today!
These foreign commoners! What right do they have to compare themselves to us, the pure-blooded nobles of our own bloodline!

The heavily made-up man raised his voice, shouting in an unpleasant tone:
"Be grateful! It is we who protected your families and the stability of Sintira! If it weren't for the loyal protection of us nobles, and our bloodshed and sacrifice, your wives and children would have been torn to pieces by the aliens outside! You shouldn't complain about your lives. If it weren't for the hard work and dedication of us nobles, you would certainly not be living as well as you are now!"

"Yes! I am a true 13th-generation nobleman! A descendant of the Anjou Expedition era!"

"Hahahaha! You lowly commoner!"

Go back to your sewers!

"The army does not belong to the common people! The army belongs to the nobles!"

"What right does someone who doesn't even have full citizenship have to stand here!"

The flintlock musketeers taunted them loudly; some blew sharp whistles, while others made obscene gestures that were the most insulting to the civilian soldiers. They were utterly ineffective on the front lines, but adept at humiliating their comrades.

“That doesn’t mean the descendants of former heroes are still heroes,” Brigadier General Rana retorted sharply and bluntly. “They’re more likely a bunch of hypocrites!”

"Get lost! You aristocratic soldiers!"

"Die, you oathbreaker!"

"My grandmother fought far more bravely against the greens in Polaris than you do!"

The dragoons were enraged, and they roared at the flintlock musketeers.

Horatio was extremely annoyed by these Cintira treasures. He had never felt such rage, wanting to personally slap someone.

Suddenly, Sergeant Valina descended from the collapsed high wall using a gravity parachute.

She rushed over from the perimeter of the monastery, where she was responsible for reconnaissance and guard duty, and whispered a few words nervously in Horatio's ear, who was already burning with anger.

Horatio's brows furrowed into a tight knot, his eyes widened in astonishment and disbelief.

"Sintira flintlock artillery... has launched a barrage of artillery fire at the target point being searched by the third detachment?!" His voice wasn't loud, but it immediately drew the attention of everyone around him to this bombshell news.

They and Farida sensed something was wrong. They exchanged a glance and immediately moved closer to Horatio, trying to find out what was going on.

"Yes, sir. This is the last image recorded in this servo skull."

Valina handed Horatio the shattered jawbone of the servo skull. Dark red bloodstains still clung to the forehead of the skull.

No mistake, this is a modified tactical servo skull personally modified by Lati, specially designed for Hell's Vanguard, and it's even a special model for technical support.

The recorder in the skull's eye sockets is still operating. It flickers and dapples, beginning to replay the images within.

(End of this chapter)