Warhammer: Hail to the Void Lords!.

Chapter 979, 08.978: 'The Survival Rules for a Toiling Life'

A fleet of brand-new blue and white armored vehicles screeched to a halt outside the makeshift refugee camp, the dust kicked up by their tracks and tires crashing against the rusty iron fence like waves. On either side of the fence lay two completely different worlds.

Inside was hell. The disheveled Polaberian men, their cracked, rough fingers gripping the cold wire mesh, gazed wearily and worriedly at the unfamiliar army outside.

They instinctively mistook these vehicles painted in unfamiliar colors for yet another group of Sintira flintlock muskets coming to show off.

Outside, there was hope. Yadwiga rode her warhorse slowly out of the chariot formation and came to the forefront of the array.

Her gaze swept across the entire camp, over the dirty, drafty tents, over the emaciated, poorly clothed people, and over this harsh and difficult living environment shrouded in despair.

Then, she rode her horse to the checkpoint.

With a clang, the footplate at the rear of the tank came down, and fully armed soldiers of the rail landing force filed out, quickly surrounding the gate of the checkpoint.

They outnumbered the garrison several times over, and though they remained silent, they exuded a powerful sense of oppression.

"Bring out the officer in charge of your camp!" she commanded, reining in her horse. Her imposing presence proclaimed, "We are under orders to investigate a blasphemous act that violates the God Emperor's blood tax!"

“Excuse me, Colonel. We do not have any officers here.” A Cintira veteran with a sergeant’s badge embroidered on his sleeve stepped forward.

He wore a silver sash, a designation adopted after the conservative military reforms to distinguish him from the gold sashes worn by aristocratic soldiers, symbolizing his status as a commoner soldier with property.

His small eyes warily scrutinized the rank insignia on the female officer's body.

“You don’t look like Imperial Navy personnel. I’ve seen armed sailors and naval officers on orbit who wear completely different uniforms than you. Well… okay, only the bulletproof armor is the same.”

"This is the newly formed naval rail landing force. We are here to investigate heretical activities in this area."

As soon as he finished speaking, Horatio rode out slowly from the back of the truck on a tall black warhorse.

The warhorse, gifted to him by the Duke of Wellington during the expedition to Falstar, was now oblivious to its surroundings, holding a bloody piece of raw meat in its mouth. With a sudden flick of its head, it tossed the meat into its mouth and began to chew it heartily.

Fresh blood dripped "plop plop" from the corner of its mouth onto the sand.

Its nostrils spewed out hot, scalding breath, as if what beat within it was not a heart, but a blazing steam furnace.

This warhorse was kept tall and strong at the Hood family's official horse farm, its size comparable to a small rhinoceros. Riding such a warhorse was extremely intimidating.

He pulled the replica of the rose knot from the inside of his breastplate, held it high, and it seemed that the seriousness of the matter had spiraled out of control from that moment on.

Upon hearing the words "heresy" and seeing the rose knot symbolizing the supreme authority of the Inquisition, many soldiers in the flintlock regiment no longer needed to think; many had already begun to prepare to remain indifferent.

Given their limited authority, none of them knew the connection between this tall naval officer and the court, but his series of undeniable actions clearly indicated that he was a powerful figure they absolutely could not afford to offend, someone who could easily bring them to their doom. Moreover, given his menacing demeanor, there was no need to provoke him.

“Sir, we are fully cooperating with your investigation! Please come in!” The sergeant’s small eyes quickly scanned the situation. “We are just ordinary soldiers, and there are many things we don’t know. The officers here are all nobles of Sintira. They usually live in the space capsule barracks in orbit and rarely come here. Please allow us to call them down.”

"That's all. From now on, we are taking over this place. You have two hours to pack your things and leave this camp," Horatio issued his ultimatum.

The sergeant immediately nodded and bowed, saying, "Yes! Could you please show us a copy of the military order so we can keep a record and report to our superiors?"

“I will have my adjutant issue you the documents. Now, have your men pack their things and prepare to leave.”

"Yes, sir!" The sergeant immediately turned around and shouted to his men, "You heard him! Remove the roadblocks immediately!"

The garrison soldiers immediately began frantically moving the roadblocks while simultaneously pushing open the heavy gates to allow Horatio and his troops to pass. [So easy?]
Horatio found the level of cooperation from these civilian soldiers of the flintlock regiment somewhat incredible.

Compared to the nobles who loved to wield power and treated human life as worthless, these commoner soldiers seemed less confident and more likely to accept orders from their superiors.

"Reporting, sir!" The veteran sergeant trotted to Horatio's horse, stood at attention, and saluted. "We have compiled all the information for this camp, and I will send someone to hand over the data board to you shortly."

From the actual received supplies to the camp's overview, everything is included! We already discovered a significant discrepancy between the delivered and planned supplies. Since you've come to investigate, we'd like to truthfully report all the anomalies we've found!

“Very good. Do you need us to send you back to Starport in landing craft?” Horatio asked, riding past the group of soldiers, in an almost joking tone.

"That would be too much trouble for you, sir!" The veteran sergeant saluted with delight.

Horatio led the convoy forward slowly. Things were going much more smoothly than he had expected; there was no conflict, no bloodshed, and with a simple order, he took control of this hell on earth without firing a shot.

"Is this... really okay?" The recruit stood behind the sergeant, nervously watching the white armored vehicles drive past them, and asked in a low voice.

"They are the Empire's armed forces, right?" the veteran asked without turning his head.

"Yes. But it's from the Navy."

"He took out the rose knot, didn't he?"

"Yes. Only people in the courtroom have that."

"He said he would issue us a sealing wax order for forced takeover, right?"

"Yes, he is a high-ranking officer and has that authority."

"That settles it!" The veteran patted the recruit on the shoulder. "We don't even have a second lieutenant, how could we possibly get involved? Report to your superior right away, this is none of our business."

He cleared his throat, a knowing smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, packing up, getting ready to head back to the Starport base. Ah, I can't wait to leave this damn desert. For that little bit of pay, is it worth risking my life? In this sweltering heat, I'm off!"

The new recruit suddenly understood.

Connecting this with what the veteran sergeant had told him before, he suddenly realized—wasn't this also a kind of "balancing of accounts"?

A larger, unforeseen event disrupted their original plans. Now, they can leave the scorching desert ahead of schedule and return to enjoy air conditioning and comfortable beds.

Moreover, what kind of shocking secrets these people uncovered here later, and what does that have to do with them, these ordinary soldiers who were ordered to guard the gate? They couldn't afford to offend either side, so they might as well lower their stance and take the opportunity to slip away.

In any case, they kept a complete inventory list and managed to extricate themselves before the headcount was used to "balance the books".

There are no noble officers here. As long as everyone colludes on their testimonies, they can easily extricate themselves from this mess and "settle accounts" effortlessly.

After tomorrow, no one will remember what happened today.

But they were able to truly escape their misery and return to the barracks to enjoy excellent meals, clean barracks, and comfortable bathrooms.

This is the most tangible blessing and benefit for ordinary, hardworking people like them.

Thank you, Navy!

(End of this chapter)