Warhammer, I'm a nanny, not your father!

In the dark reality of the Warhammer universe, the stability of authoritarian rule is more feasible than democratic governance because humanity has near-perfect rulers like the Primarchs.

These superhuman leaders, forged by the Emperor himself, transcend the shackles of mortal desires, and are genetically encoded with a natural resistance to corruption. Their superhuman wisdom and combat talents make them natural centers of power.

As the greatest dictator in the history of human civilization, the Lord of Mankind's authoritarian will has long become an instinctive reaction engraved into the genes of the original body.

Under the paradigm of absolute power, the practice of authoritarianism by most Primarchs has gone beyond hesitation.

"What should I do?" Angron looked at his father pleadingly like a lost child.

"I've taught you this before." Wop pointed to his heart. "Follow your heart."

Angron pulled a bitter smile at the corner of his mouth. He was conflicted because he followed his heart.

Wop: "In your view, authoritarianism and democracy are incompatible?"

Angron raised his head, silent as if listening to a sermon.

"You hesitate because you are the Primarch." Wop's voice was particularly clear in the silence. "You choose authoritarianism not out of a thirst for power, but because you understand better than anyone that only a Primarch can ensure that power is not corrupted by itself."

"Then let's change our perspective. If we were to stand in the shoes of an ordinary person and face the same choice, what would we choose?"

"Human nature is often greedy, and this greed often leads to contradictions. For example, we desire the openness and vitality brought by democratic systems, but we also yearn for the efficiency and decisiveness displayed by authoritarian systems."

"We are concerned about the tyranny of the majority that democracy may lead to, and we are also wary of the corruption that unchecked power can cause in authoritarian systems."

“So we often choose to compromise and build a hybrid political system with self-correcting capabilities, which not only retains the core values ​​of checks and balances and citizen participation in democratic systems, but also absorbs the efficiency of decision-making and execution in authoritarian systems.”

"The key lies in establishing an institutionalized error-correction mechanism, constraining power through the legal framework, and cultivating citizen rationality through cultural traditions, so that the advantages of the two governance models can complement each other and their disadvantages can be mutually restrained."

"Compromise," Angron murmured, the word turning over and over between his lips and teeth, savoring it like a fine vintage wine.

"My advice," Wop leaned forward slightly, "is not to rush into decisions, nor to be bound by any single political paradigm. As a Primarch, you possess a margin of error unmatched by ordinary humans. Across this vast galaxy, countless worlds can serve as testing grounds for your political ideals. Through constant practice, you will eventually find the path that best suits humanity's future."

"I understand." Angron nodded slightly, his brow gradually relaxing. He understood completely.

The word "compromise" may seem ordinary, but it actually hides the simple philosophy of life of ordinary people.

It is neither an unprincipled concession nor a smooth compromise, but the wisdom of seeking balance in the complex world.

It's not that the Primarchs don't know how to compromise, but their inherent strength often enforces their will, making compromise unnecessary.

However, for Angron, compromise is precisely the perfect balance he seeks.

……

When the flames of revolution swept through Desia, all the magnificent palaces of the high-ranking knights were confiscated, with the exception of Octavia's family.

In order to prevent anyone from attacking the palace, Onomamos had to personally lead the rebels to stand guard at the palace gate.

It was not to protect the property of Octavia's family, but to prevent those reckless intruders from losing their lives in vain.

"Octavia!" Onomamos stared at the bronze snake ornaments coiled on the palace spire with deep fear in his eyes.

Not long ago, the rebels saw with their own eyes several high-ranking knights wearing gorgeous armor leading thousands of elite guards into the palace, and then they disappeared.

There was no gunfire, no flashing of swords, not even a cry of the dying. The entire palace was eerily silent.

Oenomamos was born in the slums of Desia and was branded a slave because of his innate 'beast gene'.

"Oenomamus." Crest flew in front of Onomamus on her spear. "I just looked through the slave list of the arena. Do you want to see it?"

Onomamos: "Just tell me the result."

Crest: "As you might have guessed, no slaves have belonged to the Octavian family in the past few decades. Those currently registered are the survivors of the duels with Angron in recent months."

Oenomamos was not surprised by this result, but his fear deepened.

The nobles took pleasure in the blood of the gladiators, and every gladiator had a master, either bought or won.

Oenomamus's former master was the Tark family, Ryan's master was the Crassus family, and Crest also had a master, but there was not a single slave in the arena who belonged to the Octavian family!

"Maybe they are really good people?" Kleist asked in a low voice.

"Why do you think she is a good person?" Onomamos was helpless about Kleist's naivety.

Oenomamus had met Claudia before and was deeply impressed by her.

Although the adamantine mask concealed her features, the arrogance revealed in her every move far surpassed that of other high-ranking knights. It was not the pride of bloodline, but the arrogance of an ancient god looking down on ants - she did not even bother to hide her indifference in treating all living beings as ants.

Precisely because Onomamos was a slave, he was extremely sensitive to this kind of arrogance!

Just like the fact that Octavia's family had no slaves, this was not out of mercy or restraint, but a kind of arrogance that overrides the morals of mortals!

Just as a dragon does not care about the survival of the anthill under its feet, she is too lazy to even enslave mortal desires.

If we must investigate the slavery practices of Octavia's family, perhaps it was only the maids in the palace.

"Still no one has come to register?" asked Onomamos.

"No." Mira shook her head slightly.

The rebels have announced to the whole city that all families can retrieve their children who served high-ranking knights and avoid being tried together with the families of high-ranking knights. However, so far no civilians have come to Octavia's family to claim their daughters.

Octavia's family had at least hundreds of maids, which meant that hundreds of families lost their daughters, but not a single family came to look for their daughters.

There are only two explanations for this: either the maids' original families have been murdered, or they are not Dessias at all.

Either way, it's creepy enough.

Oenomamos is more inclined to the latter, a judgment based on his experience.

Those maids would not be of slave or noble descent. Slaves were not qualified to be maids, and nobles would not be maids for other nobles.

But Onomamos was convinced that they were not ordinary people, meaning that they were not of common origin.

Every inch of their skin seemed to be carefully crafted by the Creator, and their faces made the most arrogant high-ranking knights' wives pale in comparison. That kind of breathtaking beauty could never be nurtured by the air of the slums.

The rhythm revealed in their gestures is far more elegant than those of high-ranking knights who have been tempered by dozens of generations of noble blood.

They walked silently, their breathing seemed precisely calibrated, and even the curve of their lowered eyelashes had the same thrilling, otherworldly perfection as Claudia's.

Rather than being enslaved servants, they are more like domesticated exquisite works of art.

Even though they came from outside of Desia, the city-states of Nucera were no different from Desia.

There were no such people in Desia, nor in any other city-state.

If they were not slaves, not nobles, and not commoners, then where did they come from?

Oenomamos felt a chill down his spine just standing in the doorway, not even realizing when Wop and Angron arrived.

Wop: "Did they ever leave?"

"No." Onomamos shook his head. He was sure that no one had left the palace.

Chapter 95 Wooden Man (5K)

"So, what did I do wrong?"

Claudia blinked, looking at Wop and Angron, who stood before her with serious expressions, as if they were interrogating a criminal.

Wop: "There are thirty-five high-ranking knight families in this city. Twelve went to the arena, five entered your palace, and where did the remaining seventeen go? Claudia, do you have any idea?"

Due to long-term inbreeding, the fertility rate of high-ranking knight families was extremely low. Some families were left with only a single heir, while others had no chance of thriving.

But it was not the case that there was no one left when the rebels rushed into the palace. Not only the high-ranking knights, but even their personal guards were nowhere to be seen. It was as if these people had evaporated from the face of the earth.

Although the rebels were able to capture Desia with great success, they still had to find out where the missing people went, right?

"I don't know." Claudia shook her head slowly. "Maybe they're hiding?"

Angron nodded imperceptibly, confirming that Claudia was not lying.

Wop: "You never left the palace?"

"I didn't even leave the hall."

Angron nodded. This was also true.

Wop: "It's been two days since the uprising. You haven't left in the past two days?"

"No, I swear." Claudia held up four slender fingers.

"I'm not doubting you, I'm just curious."

"What are you curious about?" Claudia asked doubtfully.

"Curious about how you go to the bathroom."

Claudia's smile suddenly froze. "Dear, asking a girl this kind of question is very rude of you right now."

"Are you a girl?"

"I'm still a virgin."

Wop had no power to refute, and it made sense.

Wop took a half step back. "Angron, talk to her."

He knew he couldn't get anything out of it, but he deliberately stopped at that point. After all, everyone has secrets.

He just needed to confirm that Claudia had no bad intentions; it would be really rude to ask any more.

Angron: "Sister Claudia, the assets of the other high-ranking knights have been seized. Now only the Octavian family remains."

"Of course." Claudia leaned lazily on the gilded throne. "Everything in the Octavian family, every gold coin, and even this palace will be yours. Except me, because I belonged exclusively to your father!"

Wop: "You're not."

"I think I could be."

Angron: "You misunderstood, Sister Claudia. You are also one of the revolutionaries. I will not take all your wealth. The Octavian family's property and this palace still belong to you. I am asking about Sister Aenor and the other maids."

Claudia's eyes were filled with a hint of amusement: "You want to give them freedom?"

Angron shook his head. "It's the power of choice."

If Angron is to liberate the world, he must treat everyone equally.

Claudia is a member of the ruling class, but she is also a revolutionary in rebellion.

Although she never wholeheartedly supported the revolution, her actual contribution to the uprising was greater than anyone else.

No matter what her purpose was, this contribution cannot be simply erased, and it is her right to retain the Octavia family's property.

But those maids are not, they are living people and they have the right to choose their lives.

Everyone has his or her own set of standards, including Angron.

He knew that his request was a bit unreasonable, but wasn't revolution also unreasonable for high-ranking knights?

If Claudia refused, Angron would never force her, as that would be ungrateful.

He would privately ask the maids what they thought, and then try to convince Claudia to set them free.

But if he doesn't even have the courage to speak, what's the point of talking about liberation?

"Well, my child, if this is what you want." Claudia's voice was soft and sighed. "Enor, go and bring the children here. I will give them the right to choose."

The maid lowered her eyes, folded her hands in front of her skirt, and silently left the magnificent hall.

In a moment, thousands of maids, dressed in uniform black and white dresses, poured into the hall like a silent tide, their footsteps as light as feathers brushing the ground. The only sound was the rustling of skirts as they marched in a neat procession, demonstrating an astonishing sense of discipline and grace.

Each face is like a meticulously crafted work of art, every detail meeting the most stringent aesthetic standards of the upper class. Their beauty is so exquisite that it doesn't resemble that of an ordinary person, but more like a perfect doll.

Their temperaments are distinct and eye-catching, some are bright and gorgeous, some are pure and elegant, and some are cold as ice, just like the stars twinkling in the night, each of them is brilliant yet harmonious and unified.

But without exception, they all lowered their heads, their long eyelashes trembling slightly, casting shadows on their porcelain-white skin, and tightly locking the fear surging in their eyes under perfect demeanor.

"How could there be so many?" Wop couldn't help but be surprised. He originally thought there were only a few hundred people at most.

"A lot?" A hint of confusion flashed in Claudia's eyes. She had clearly strictly controlled the number of servants. Compared with other high-ranking knights who had tens of thousands of servants, she only had a few thousand maids, which was quite frugal.

Wop: "The quantity is secondary, but the quality is much higher than other high-ranking knights."

"Oh, I've been discovered." Claudia raised her chin lazily, as if finally answering the long-awaited question. "Even during the Dark Age of Technology, the Octavian family was the most powerful family in Nucera, possessing unique genetic optimization technology."

Wop: "You too?"

Claudia chuckled softly and stroked her flawless face with her fingertips. "I'm different. Mine is all-natural, zero additives. Want to give it a try?"

Is plastic surgery at the genetic level considered plastic surgery?

It's hard to judge Wop, but this technology is certainly not uncommon in the Warhammer universe.

People in the Dark Age of Technology were even able to elevate humans into a psychic race, and their achievements in genetic engineering were absolutely extraordinary.