Chapter 132: Uninvited Guests
"Right, remember to contact Warsmith Dan for the briefing." Romulus added as a reminder.
Helbrecht nodded, then turned and left. Pedro and the Chaplain followed close behind, their steps so quick that their figures vanished at the end of the corridor in an instant.
After seeing Helbrecht off, Romulus turned and walked back towards the Dawnlight.
His mind was already calculating the next plan. He needed to have a quick meeting with his partners to discuss the details of their next move.
"These Rogue Traders are really well-informed," Romulus mused, his gaze casually sweeping over the parish school below as he walked through the Dawnlight's internal corridors. Through the massive observation window, he could see a group of plainly robed apprentices, set apart from the others, piously chanting scriptures under the guidance of a leader. The sound drifted up faintly, carrying a solemn rhythm.
These Rogue Traders could even find Blanks.
From the very beginning of the crusade, they had sent communication requests before any other Imperial institution. Their fleets usually tailed the crusade fleet, like a pack of opportunistic hounds, ready to lick up the scraps after a battle. The military power possessed by these dynasties had, to a certain extent, ensured the security of the local regions and had helped to preserve the fruits of the crusade.
At the same time, thanks to the highly timely intelligence they possessed, the crusade fleet's offensive had gained a great deal of convenience. Many of their victories were owed to the Rogue Traders' all-pervasive information channels.
One could say that the power of the Rogue Traders was far more reliable than that of most Imperial factions.
Of course, one should not imagine these Rogue Traders to be too benevolent.
You could think of them as the privateer fleets of the Victorian era, who had received a letter of marque from the queen, or as the colonial corporations. They were effective, at least more so than the Imperium, but for the local populace, their arrival often meant disaster.
The planets along their route could only pray that they didn't have any rare and abundant special resources. Otherwise, the entire planet would be instantly converted into a mining world, and everyone would be turned into indentured laborers. That would be the light punishment.
"Did you hear the conversation just now?" Romulus asked, pushing open the door to a private room. His gaze lingered for a moment on a Callidus Assassin who was imprisoned in a psychic stasis field. The assassin's figure was hazy in the pale blue energy field, like a frozen statue.
In the room, Arthur and Ramesses were already busy. Karna was still with the Angels, leading the post-battle artistic creation activities to commemorate their heroic deeds. And these two were assisting in the consolidation of a series of documents. The room was filled with various files and data-slates, the air a mixture of a faint, fragrant incense and the cold smell of metal.
"We heard," Arthur said. He was standing in front of a fairly large open space, organizing stacks of trade warrants. These warrants were from various Rogue Trader dynasties, including versions signed by Primarchs and the Emperor Himself—there were also ones signed by the High Lords, but they clearly weren't interested in those.
Under the transmigrators' psycho-materialization ability, these rubbings were almost indistinguishable from the real thing.
VMMM—
Arthur held up his sword. The blade glowed faintly, casting a soft halo on the warrants. He carefully adjusted the angle, ensuring that the light and shadow on each warrant were identical to the original. Just being identical wasn't enough. These blood-stained warrants also involved some level of occult connection. Fortunately, they could borrow the Emperor's power to complete this step.
"I must say, these Rogue Traders are more reliable than most Imperial institutions," Arthur said with a hint of emotion. To be honest, after two years of high-intensity crusading, he was beginning to feel that there was a reason why the commanders of this universe were so headstrong. False intelligence was rampant. You couldn't even tell if the intelligence was a threat from Chaos, a political struggle, or just some Imperial noble playing with an astropath out of boredom.
The transmigrators had multiple ways to identify the truth. A typical example was to have daemons make a prophecy as a sacrifice, which was usually very accurate. But the locals didn't have this luxury. In such a situation, trusting oneself was far more reliable than trusting the so-called intelligence of the Imperial institutions.
"But the trouble is also obvious," Ramesses's voice came from the side. He was gently poking the immobilized Callidus Assassin with his finger, as if inspecting a delicate piece of craftsmanship. The assassin's body was motionless in the psychic stasis field, only her cold eyes remained, frozen from before her capture.
"The frequent exchanges have let in a few too many uninvited guests," Ramesses said with a cheerful laugh, showing no signs of being troubled.
These female Callidus Assassins could, through drugs and natural talent, gain an ability similar to the shapeshifters in fantasy works. They could even bypass genetic-level detection and infiltrate groups that had abandoned or did not possess psychic talent, such as the Drukhari and the T'au. Of course, when faced with psykers, their performance was a bit lacking, and they were often toyed with by the various Farseers of the Craftworld Eldar.
"All four of the great constables have arrived," Arthur replied without looking up, his movements not pausing for a second.
"I've already hung the Vindicare Assassin on the armored prow. I don't like people aiming at us with sniper scopes."
"The Culexus Assassin is with the Blanks gifted by the Rogue Traders. After learning that we are not affected by the Blanks, they have remained silent. I've temporarily put them in charge of educating the Blanks of their own kind."
Blanks. These humans whose Warp-presence was like a black hole were usually called soulless. They had been brought here mainly to test whether the protagonists' abilities would be affected by them. It turned out that these Blanks couldn't even suppress the soul-projections Ramesses had whipped up. So they had taken it upon themselves to take care of these Blanks. After all, these humans with special souls were naturally disliked by others and usually didn't have a good life. And the Culexus Temple usually recruited its members from these groups.
"As for the Eversor Assassins, which require special containment, I've thrown their stasis-pods into space." Arthur's tone was cold. The partners had tacitly allowed these members of the Assassinorum to pass on intelligence, but that didn't mean they could act with impunity.
The Eversor Assassins, who had undergone various modifications without regard for cost or side effects, could, in a short time, erupt with a combat power that far exceeded that of an ordinary Astartes. In addition, the drugs they used were from the Dark Age of Technology. It was unclear if there was a problem with the production process or if it was just their nature, but they were extremely unstable. The whole person was a walking time bomb.
"Let's hope their colleagues are reliable," Romulus said after listening, nodding slightly. His gaze swept around the room. It finally landed on the imprisoned Callidus Assassin, a faint smile on his lips. "It seems we have quite a few 'guests'." The composition of this fleet was getting more and more complicated.
"Of course. And they've brought quite a few gifts," Ramesses said with a grin, then picked up the C'tan phase sword and the neural shredder from a storage box. "The Necron tech is in hand. We can have our tireless laborers begin the analysis."
"..."
On the distant Throne World of Terra, the Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum was scratching his head, looking at a report that had been delivered to his hand through some kind of Warp-ritual.
How is there only one left?
(End of Chapter)