How can a retired savior be considered retired if his price drops to 40,000?

Chapter 334: Extremely Deceptive

Frequent failures to meet one's wishes always make people angry, and even the Grey Knights are no exception: Brother Captain Stern has already used up more than half of the sacrifices brought on board the ship in the same psychic ritual, but this ritual just doesn't give him the answer he wants, which really makes him very angry.

At this point, even the most stubborn people have to admit reality. Either the Tzeentch demons have made some technical iterations without the attention of the watchers, and figured out how to circumvent this forced summoning based on the true name of the Unborn; or what Inquisitor Hastings wrote in the report is true.

Do not add entities unless necessary. Captain Stern was inclined to the latter rationally - even though he was more inclined to believe the former conclusion emotionally. Perhaps he was too nervous, but in the military organization of the Empire, it was almost politically correct to be lenient with the enemy. He spent a few seconds indecisive, and immediately realized in anger and regret that this was unnecessary.

He chose to turn to the Emperor's will, hoping that the mysterious hints would point him in the right direction. The Shapers were not the most skilled in reading the Emperor's Tarot among the Grey Knights, but that did not mean they knew nothing about it. After a simple prayer and ritual, Stern asked if his continuous failures in the summoning ritual would have any impact, and the cards revealed to him a situation that was both worrying and stable.

Considering the hidden dangers in the empire today, this is almost the best outcome. It is basically telling them that the fantasy literature written in the report is indeed true.

Emotionally, Captain Stern still didn't want to believe this result. Everything Hastings wrote in the report, as well as the ridiculous "death" of the demon, was a mockery of his long service career. Perhaps after a while, as the gatekeeper of the reality curtain, he would calm down and realize that "humans have found a way to face the will of the evil god" or "the lifeless can be easily killed" is a technological advancement and iteration, and feel relieved about it. But now, he only felt strongly offended by this, and was angry because of this strong offense.

——He could not question the significance of his and his colleagues' existence, could not question why the Empire had not put this technology into use, could not question the Emperor. His position was so demanding and forged him, and the Grey Knights' genes that were special among the Astartes were also stripped away from them. Under the accumulation of various factors, feeling angry was his only choice at this time.

When the servitor came to inform him and led him to a reception room on the Fortitude and Power, Captain Stern was still angry. This anger did not affect his judgment: as soon as he entered the room, the captain immediately realized that the owner of the Inquisition's black ship, Selina Maran, was going to have a secret talk.

The furnishings around him, the reminder given by the power armor that the anti-espionage device was taking effect, and the service personnel who were dismissed to the point that only the mindless servitors necessary to maintain operation were all proof of this. After a brief consideration that was almost imperceptible to ordinary people, he stepped into this "fully armed" reception room and let the door with the highest level of security defense measures closed behind him.

Confidence in both his martial arts and psychic powers made the Grey Knight Captain-Brother allow himself to be in the same room with the other two Inquisitors in this enclosed space.

One of them was of course the owner of the ship, Inquisitor Lord Maran. As an ally of the same camp, she was obviously not the main target of Stern's vigilance. What made the Grey Knight feel that he needed to be vigilant was another person in the room, Inquisitor Sibylla Hastings, who was already sitting on the other side holding a glass of wine and obviously killing time.

But the current atmosphere made him feel a little confused: Judge Malan sat on a chair, covering her face, with an empty cup beside her. From the lingering smell in the air, it can be known that the cup was filled with Amaze, which was of poor quality and quite strong. It is said that this will make mortals feel like they were hit hard on the head with a mask on. When Malan heard the sound of the door closing and raised her head, Stern felt that she seemed to have been hit on the head by someone with a mask on.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your work, Captain Brother." She said haggardly, "but I really need some reference opinions from professionals right now."

Compared with Inquisitor Maran's poor mental state, Hastings seemed... He didn't show it on his face, but it couldn't be hidden from the psychic perspective of a Grey Knight: beneath Hastings's calm and steady appearance, there was a sense of complacency that was almost like a triumphant victory, as well as a little bit of gloating that was almost not carefully hidden.

Brother Captain Stern might have had a little comradeship with Inquisitor Hastings, but that weak connection from forty years ago had been shattered and burned to ashes after he submitted that report. The Grey Knight secretly decided that if this man chose to say something provocative at this time, he would twist his head off.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Hastings did not give Stern this opportunity. It was Judge Maran who spoke next. She took out a small cloth bag with a lanyard from her body - this was obviously not something that the Resolute Power or she originally had - and handed it to Stern: "I want to know what you think of this."

What do you think? My opinion is that the Emperor is above all else.

This was the instinctive reaction that popped into Stern's mind the moment he reached out his hand to take the object.

The thing he took was tiny in size. Without the lanyard, it was only big enough to cover the palm of the Grey Knight's hand. The workmanship was nothing special. The color matching was indeed appropriate and the stitching was regular and fine, but the whole thing was very plain and simple, far from being a luxury item. From the bright fabric and the broken ends that were not hidden well and even had no loose threads, it was obvious that this thing had no history and was at most something from last week - but it was indeed a holy relic.

Without psychic powers, one can clearly feel the warmth of the Emperor when touching this small bag; and for a psychic like Stern, he can clearly see the golden sacred energy being fixed around the bag, swirling gently in a delicate trajectory, and finally being gathered into a certain core inside the bag, and then setting off again, over and over again.

Stern did not attempt to open the bag, fearing that his prying would desecrate the contents. "In my opinion, this is a holy relic that protects against evil energy. The protection it can provide is not infallible, but it is also very powerful, and it definitely contains the power of the Emperor. Where did you get this?"

"Chaldea," Maran answered. "This is Chaldea's."

Perhaps it was the expression on her face after facing the impact of ancient history that entertained Cleopatra so much that the last female pharaoh took off the amulet from her body before leaving and gave it to - or rather casually sent it to - Judge Maran.

Cleopatra seemed to be calm and composed when she did this, as if she had just done it on impulse, but no one could say that this was the truth: precisely because this amulet had some special features that could be easily understood without the need for psychic potential, it successfully blocked a series of questions from the Lord Inquisitor, such as "What the hell are you talking about?", forcing Maran to quietly let the other party leave.

She really didn't want to believe that "any random member" of a suspicious airborne organization like Chaldea could give out such a high-level item "at random" - it's not that similar things are rare in the Empire, at least not rare for people of Malan's level. But as a holy object, it should theoretically be similar to weapons and equipment such as soul-destroying missiles or saints' ashes that cannot be mass-produced by the Mechanicus due to some special restrictions, and it shouldn't be handled so casually.

Apparently, Stern had similar thoughts: "This can indeed provide good protection against chaos. Did they put forward any conditions after sending this holy object?" "No." Malan replied dejectedly, "She didn't say anything, as if giving it to me was just a matter of courtesy."

Inquisitor Hastings, who had been baptized time and again on the Storm's Edge, had long been numb to this kind of logic that seemed particularly out of place in the Empire. But he was still an Imperial Inquisitor in essence, so after a brief confusion, he successfully followed the thoughts of the other two people in the room: "Let me explain, this thing is not as valuable as you think in Chaldea, at best it is a consumable with a slightly lower production."

Captain Stern's eyes moved over: "Explain it in detail."

"To be specific, the process of making this kind of amulet is essentially just like a saint copying a sutra. The bag outside is just a decoration for easy carrying. Fujimaru Ritsuka can make one in an average of 20 minutes." Hastings' response made the matter more specific than necessary. "By the way, after practicing, Kylia has almost reached this level of proficiency."

The words "I don't believe it" were written all over the Grey Knight's body, but Maran, who had been bombarded with too much information that day, was obviously defeated.

As the Lord Inquisitor frantically reached for the bottle, Captain Stern turned his suspicious gaze to her amid the noise of the cups and plates colliding: "Lord Inquisitor Marlan, what happened to you?"

"I don't know. I may have been hit in the face by thirty or forty thousand years of history." Inquisitor Marlan said tiredly in the smell of inferior alcohol escaping from the cup, "Since some things can coexist with the Emperor's protection for a long time, then my reason tells me that there should be no Chaos pollution in these things. But some knowledge or truth is still too difficult for mortal minds to bear."

Inexplicably, Hastings showed a sympathetic expression here:

"I understand. I was in this state almost every day during the first two or three months on the Storm's Edge," he said. "I prayed to Lord Guilliman many times in my cabin, asking the Society of Rational History to make Fujimaru Ritsuka withdraw his magical powers. Of course, this was just wishful thinking due to my weak nerves. It would be foolish to do so."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Stern said angrily.

He was already angry, and this emotional reaction was even more terrifying after being superimposed. However, Hastings did not show fear, shrinking or any other corresponding emotions. Instead, under the calm appearance, he once again felt a sense of gloating:

"Are you sure you want us to tell you the whole story?"
-
"It's over, everything is ruined!" The missionary grabbed his hair, which had become naturally thinner after he shaved it into the shape of an eagle, and cried in the reflection confinement room used inside the Baal Cathedral. "Everything is different from what we predicted in our discussion! And I messed up the whole thing!"

"This is not your fault, Brother Leacock." Another man dressed as an Anglican priest comforted him. "Chaldea suddenly sent someone who had never appeared before to participate. This was something no one could have expected."

The door was closed, and the room was as dark as usual, with only a small window for ventilation casting a little dim light. But the two people in the room could still open the door and walk out at any time, which proved that they were not imprisoned here, but just looking for a place to talk. However, the missionary who spoke at the meeting, known as Brother Leacock, seemed to be in an extremely unstable mental state and should be imprisoned for a while:
"Yes, that's right. We are just mortals with low abilities, as insignificant as sand and as insignificant as dust!" He grasped his upper arm tightly in extreme tension, causing his carefully trimmed nails to dig into his flesh through the thin fabric. "Can people like us achieve anything great? Are we really capable of doing such a job?"

"Come on, brother, calm down!" Another priest patiently advised, and tried to pry open the other's fingers before he really started to bleed. "The situation is not as bad as it could be. They want to leave us to the Vatican. No matter why they do this, we still have time to make up for these mistakes before the Vatican's ship arrives."

This obviously did not convince Brother Leacock. Although he obeyed the other party's strength and took his hands off his upper arms, his expression was still obviously nervous: "No, I can't do it! We can't even see the saint now! And-"

"——Come on, you are just a little scared. I guess a glass of good wine will definitely cure your bad habit." The pastor interrupted the missionary and took out a cup and a bottle of wine from an inconspicuous crate on the side. "The Lord sent us here because He trusts us. We should not disappoint Him!"

The missionary still looked uneasy, but these words did comfort him somewhat: "Maybe you are right, brother."

After a few dozen seconds, the aroma of the wine from Quartis began to waft around the room - this was not the best wine produced by Quartis, and the rough and hasty way of drinking it also prevented it from fully bringing out its flavor, but for the missionary who lived a life exposed to the wind and sun, this was still an enjoyment that was far beyond his own level.

As the red wine flowed down Brother Leacock's throat, the smell of the wine itself and the spices added to it seemed to calm him. The missionary's face almost broke into a smug smile, but the pressure of reality prevented him from fully immersing himself in the enjoyment of the taste.

"Brother Mills." In the dim light, Leacock frowned and tried to smooth out his tangled tongue. "Of course I have no doubts about what we are going to do, but please, please tell me--"

The appearance of the Chaldean envoy appeared before his eyes again. Of course, he would be deeply impressed by such a naturally noble and beautiful woman appearing in front of him. If the atmosphere was more relaxed, he might have some more thoughts in his mind - but at this time, what made Leacock hesitate was not Cleopatra's beauty itself.

"——Please tell me." There was no one else here, but he still lowered his voice meaninglessly and confirmed with his colleagues, "Prince Ji Le is indeed on our side in this matter, right?"

(End of this chapter)