Five hours after the surrender of Gardinaal's Crown, Captain Diana of the flagship Shadow's Sovereignity set foot on the planet's surface.
Her golden hair was not neatly tied up as before, but fell loosely over her shoulders. The deep eyes beneath her service cap were also somewhat softer than usual.
Diana looked up at the large screen ahead. A High Lord in ornate robes was delivering a speech to the worker-caste.
Ismael's voice vibrated like metal. Standing beside him was the Primarch's attendant, Arsena Dunn.
"Consuls, Vice-Consuls, and all people of Gardinaal."
"As you know, we have surrendered to the Shadows of Order and will become territory under Lord Nareth's governance."
"..."
Diana had prepared thoroughly for her task. She had learned the local language from Gardinaal prisoners and understood the High Lord's speech.
'The Primarch's aide's plan has succeeded. He used the Osirian Psyrid Staff to dominate the High Lord's will.'
'Ismael's influence over the worker-caste, built over millennia, will ensure the industrial facilities of Gardinaal's Crown resume operation swiftly.'
Diana's blue-green eyes shone. She would flawlessly complete the task assigned to her by the Primarch.
The Gardinaal had abandoned Warp travel, so their fleets, despite formidable industrial output, never expanded beyond their star system. She hadn't contributed much in the prior battles.
Now, it was finally time for her, the "Psychiatrist," to play her part.
Diana then scrutinized the Worker Caste. Since becoming the "Psychiatrist," her vision had further improved; she could clearly see the gray-white figures standing even beyond the range of the lumen lights.
The "Psychiatrist" smelled the scent emanating from their biochemical bodies. From it, she savored complex emotions: relief, but also bewilderment.
The "Psychiatrist" gazed for a long time, until the screen's footage began to repeat. Then she began to act.
The "Psychiatrist" pointed, selecting individuals from the worker-caste whom she judged needed conversation. Among them were those who had tightly gripped their tools, showing resistance, as well as those appearing lost and helpless.
Diana instructed her attendants: "The one with thick hair. The one with the injured arm..."
Shortly after, Diana sat within a worker-caste dormitory. The odor of sweat mingled with mildew made her frown slightly, but she decided to proceed in the familiar environment of her subject.
The "Psychiatrist" pulled a prepared essence from her pocket. This was a joint creation with Hathor Maat, developed from experiments on thousands of substances before he returned to the Thousand Sons.
Its main component was the Brot flower, a hibiscus-like herb that emitted an aromatic fragrance.
This scent had a strong inhibitory effect on the human central nervous system, capable of relieving tension and inducing drowsiness.
The worker-caste member who entered the dormitory had thick hair. From the moment Gardinaal's Crown was first attacked, he had begun violating the ban, letting his hair grow.
Now, he wanted to obey no one's orders, not even those of the "Order of Shadows" who had supposedly liberated them.
Seeing the graceful figure seated on the folding chair, his eyes lit up.
In the next instant, his body froze. He stared at the woman before him with terror, as if she were a great beast.
The "Psychiatrist" used "Dragon's Might" to dispel the vile thoughts in the gray-skinned man's mind. Then she asked in a "Placating" tone.
"What is your name?"
"I am Rafa of the Kadona." The gray-skinned man's fear subsided, and he stood somewhat dazedly.
"Rafa, sit." Rafa sat on the stone-slab bed. worker-caste beds were made from local materials, using granite from Gardinaal's Crown's surface.
The manufacturing process was simple: merely grinding down the sharp edges. Sitting on his blanket, Rafa still felt the bed's hardness.
"Rafa, let's first talk about your experiences."
"I am the 105th generation of the Kadona caste..."
The "Psychiatrist" patiently listened to the gray-skinned man's story. As she expected, Rafa's life had been in service to Gardinaal's industry from the very beginning.
When the candle had burned down by a third, the "Psychiatrist" finally spoke.
"Rafa, are you willing to serve Gardinaal's new master, Lord Nareth?"
"I am not willing," Rafa answered without hesitation, revealing his inner thoughts.
"I don't want to sleep on a hard bed anymore. I also want to sleep in a habitation tower..."
Diana felt a slight sense of dissolution within her, similar to the feeling after drinking coffee during her office work.
She gently stroked the fur of her strong-brain cat, her mind rapidly processing, systematically organizing the key points of the other's speech.
'More comfortable living conditions, living in hab-towers like the lower castes within the city. ...'
Diana knew she couldn't speak with every single Gardinaal individual. Not even one-tenth of them.
There were still at least tens of billions of people on Gardinaal's Crown.
As the "Psychiatrist," she had set herself two tasks.
One was to negotiate with representative figures from different castes, excavate their inner desires, and provide feedback to the Primarch's attendant to facilitate future governance.
After listening to Rafa, the "Psychiatrist" began her other task: to mold her conversation subjects into standards for the new era, to make more Gardinaal take them as examples and serve the Primarch.
Her tone was soothing and magnetic.
"From now on, you must work diligently and serve Lord Nareth."
"You will soon find your life undergoing changes."
The "Psychiatrist's" words echoed in Rafa's mind. As he walked out the door, only one thought remained:
Work diligently!
Diana pulled out her data-slate, recording the key points of the conversation before the next subject arrived.
She had witnessed many worlds become Lord Nareth's territory. Regardless of which Chapter managed the future Gardinaal, the demands of worker-caste members like Rafa would be met.
While Diana spoke with her second worker-caste subject, in High Lord Matiss' estate within the capital, the Primarch's aide was holding a data-slate and began his report.
"My Lord, the industrial facilities of Gardinaal's Crown have been preserved almost entirely."
"Due to the control based on the caste system, we have a grasp on the status of the majority of the population. Over 75.2 billion individuals are now adapting to the new era."
Nareth nodded with a smile, thinking to himself.
'Ferrus Manus, while fulfilling the Emperor's demand not to destroy the industrial facilities, still turned Gardinaal's Crown into a dead world.'
'The forbidden weapons he used killed most of Gardinaal's Crown's population. Post-war, the planet was completely uninhabitable for centuries. Roboute Guilliman, who took over, likely spent a great deal of time restoring Gardinaal's former production capacity.'
'After all, besides industrial facilities, people are also the foundation of Gardinaal's industry.'
Nareth felt pleased with his strategy. He had acquired both major assets: industrial facilities and population.
His black eyes grew profound. He issued an order.
"When reporting the Gardinaal situation to the War Council, state that Gardinaal possesses only one habitable world, with a population of merely ten million."
Arsena was taken aback, his eyes filled with astonishment.
"My Lord, this would make your brilliant achievement seem insignificant."
"Moreover, you previously mentioned that the Emperor has begun considering retreating to Terra and selecting one among the Primarchs to act as Warmaster in his stead."
"Your approach would diminish your chances of succeeding as the Warmaster of the Great Crusade."
Arsena spoke with confusion. Although Horus Lupercal's achievements had held a slight lead, they were not insurmountable.
Gardinaal was a weighty counterbalance. Its production capacity surpassed many Forge Worlds, its population was vast, capable of injecting new momentum into the Great Crusade.
This was a monumental triumph enough to delight the Emperor and the entire War Council, a glorious achievement that could turn the tide.
.....
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