I summoned the Fourth Scourge in Warhammer

Chapter 133 The Great Logic of Empire Operation
The engine of the Chimera armored personnel carrier emitted a low roar before finally coming to a stop on the rough open ground in front of the command post. The tracks rolled over gravel, kicking up a cloud of choking dust. Herbert and the other players nimbly jumped off the bumpy vehicle, their heavy military boots thumping against the ground.

The player whose vehicle had been destroyed didn't speak immediately. He first walked around to the back of the car, glancing down at the mangled, unrecognizable mass of flesh and blood mixed with the sand and gravel. A smirk played on his lips, followed by a loud, cheerful whistle. He walked back to Herbert, and without hesitation, clashed his fist heavily with the Inquisitor's, producing a dull thud as armor struck.

“I declare that I have changed my stereotypes about judges,” he grinned, revealing a set of white teeth.

"Oh?" Herbert raised one eyebrow slightly, a hint of inquisitive interest on his face. "What were your preconceived notions about me before?"

"You'd better not ask." The player shrugged, offering no further explanation, and simply turned around with a flourish, nimbly flipping himself back into the driver's seat. He gripped the control stick, and the engine roared to life once more. "See you next time."

Having said that, he drove the Chimera away at breakneck speed, seemingly determined to wear down the remaining half of the vehicle's weight. It seemed the death of his dog had indeed enraged him.

“Ha, this is the first time in the last thirty years that I’ve heard someone say ‘see you next time’ to me,” Herbert watched the receding dust, unconsciously reaching up to touch his chin, letting out a low chuckle. “Quite novel… Do the other judges even hear something like that?”

He shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh, turned to walk into the command post, and just then the heavy metal door opened. Ruan Wenbo was walking out with a figure; Herbert recognized him immediately as Father Redito of the Cult of the Machine God. The two met at the door, stopped, and exchanged a hawk salute.

"What is this?" Herbert asked.

“I’m busy, ask him,” Father Redito’s flat, mechanical voice rang out. He didn’t even linger for a second before walking past Herbert with precise, rhythmic steps and quickly leaving the place.

"Simply put, now that the war is nearing its end, I want to ask him if there's any possibility of changing the existing production order." Ruan Wenbo turned to the side, gesturing for Herbert to walk with him into the command post, explaining as they went.

Herbert followed him into the brightly lit command center, filled with data streams and communications, and asked with interest, "So what was his answer?"

“Father Redito replied, ‘Why change? If you’re not producing arms, what are you going to produce?’” A helpless yet relieved smile appeared on Nguyen Van Bo’s face. “I thought about it for a moment, and he was right. I was just being delusional.”

"It seems you have no intention of rebuilding Peditia's old civil service and aristocratic system," Herbert pointed out the underlying meaning in his words.

“Those who go to their deaths are thirsty for battle; we are not people who like to rest on our laurels.” Ruan Wenbo was telling the truth. Players come to this game to fight, not to be civil servants and serve the people.

The two walked one after the other into the depths of the command center. It was much quieter here than outside, with only the low hum of the data panels and servo skulls, and a huge holographic star map slowly rotating in the center of the room, casting a ghostly blue light that reflected on their dusty armor. Ruan Wenbo casually pulled over two cold metal chairs, gesturing for Herbert to sit down.

“Besides, as you know, Peditia is in such a state…” Ruan Wenbo sat down, interlacing his fingers on the table, leaning slightly forward, his expression more serious than ever before. “I don’t actually have much talent for internal governance. Trying to go back to the way things were before, relying on regular taxes to handle the tithes, is definitely out of the question.” “Then let’s just use blood taxes,” Herbert leaned back in his chair, his posture quite casual.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to ask you,” Ruan Wenbo’s tone grew increasingly serious as he stared intently into the judge’s eyes. “I want to know how many Astral Army soldiers Peditia should hand over each year? If they can’t raise that number, how do they negotiate with the Ministry of Military Affairs? And what is the specific handover procedure?”

“Your questions…” Herbert tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest, paused for a moment, as if organizing his thoughts so that mortals could understand the great logic of the empire, “…you don’t need to consider them.”

"What do you mean?" Ruan Wenbo frowned.

“First of all, you don’t need to think about how many soldiers to hand over, nor do you need to discuss it with the Ministry of Military Affairs. The Ministry of Military Affairs doesn’t have the time or manpower to calculate the specific output of your planet,” Herbert shrugged. “As for how to hand them over—just wait for the troop transport ships to reach orbit, and then let your soldiers board them. As many as you can fit in.”

"This is too much..." Nguyen Van Bo's lips twitched, "...wasn't there any official coming to hand over the work to me or anything like that?"

“Even if you find Holy Terra in Macragge, you won’t find an official in charge of this kind of thing,” Herbert replied decisively. “The Ministry of Military Affairs is too busy to have enough manpower to contact every world governor individually.”

"Then let me be so bold as to ask..." Ruan Wenbo felt an indescribable ache in his groin, "What exactly is the Ministry of Military Affairs so busy with?"

“Hmm…” Herbert hesitated for a moment, his deep gaze seemingly piercing through the ceiling of the command post, looking towards the endless sea of ​​stars. Finally, he answered, “I don’t know.”

This sentence seems to say nothing, yet it also seems to say everything.

“Alright…” Ruan Wenbo let out a long sigh of relief. He stood up and extended his hand to Herbert. “Then I have no further questions. Is there anything else? If not, then… see you next time.”

“No.” Herbert also stood up and shook hands with him. “This is the second time.”

"What?" Ruan Wenbo was puzzled and didn't understand what he meant.

“No, it’s nothing.” Herbert released his hand and turned to walk out. However, once his tall figure was completely out of the command post and bathed in the dim sunlight of Peditia again, a suppressed, deep, and hearty laugh finally burst from his chest, echoing over the ruins where the fighting had just ended.

(End of this chapter)