The Emperor’s Angel of Death

In a clean and repaired mansion in Happiness City, faint, ethereal singing drifted out. Inside the second-floor hall, a delicate, tower-shaped device emitted a rose-colored light. From the light, a group of beautifully dressed dancers emerged, their skirts swirling as they danced, leaving golden trails in the air.

In the center of the hall stood a gleaming, ornate wooden table. This table, large enough to seat a dozen or more, was laden with platters of food. There were uniquely shaped sea fish and land beasts with hooves and claws, a diverse assortment prepared in various ways: stewed, fried, boiled, baked, and raw.

Other gold and silver-threaded dishes held exquisite desserts. Servants in bronze-green uniforms, similar in color to those of the Astra Militarum, stood around the walls, awaiting orders.

Arnie, dressed in a neat officer's uniform, sat in a chair, listening to the elegant music while slowly savoring the food before him with a knife and fork. The room seemed filled with soft, hazy phantoms, swaying in the flickering light.

Through the windows, a storm raged outside. Occasional shafts of white light pierced through the tall, narrow windows, highlighting the surroundings with stark clarity, accompanied by rumbling thunder.

It wasn't that Arnie didn't want to fight "shoulder to shoulder" with his soldiers, but having grown up in the sunny, spacious upper hive, he was unaccustomed to the cramped, confined environment. It wasn't exactly claustrophobia, but his condition deteriorated in such places.

So, he had no choice but to delegate command to the front-line officers and "sit above," remotely controlling the situation.

But the time away from the battlefield had left him rather bored these days, forcing him to resort to such "uncouth" visual entertainment devices to liven up his monotonous dinner.

As the singing reached a new crescendo, Arnie put down his knife and fork and moved his right hand to an empty wine glass. Immediately, a servant holding a glass decanter approached and poured wine, so expensive that most Imperial citizens couldn't even imagine it, into the glass.

At that moment, a knock sounded on the door. Arnie cleared his throat, and a servant opened the door.

"Sir."

An officer in his fifties, with slightly graying hair but a sharp, capable demeanor, entered the hall. He showed signs of having been rained on, and he handed his hat and greatcoat to a nearby servant.

This man, named Sukhrab Ziev, was one of the retainers his father had sent to assist him and was also his most trusted advisor. Previous victories were owed to his advice.

He had been a colonel in the Astra Militarum, reaching that rank before the age of forty while serving in the Gothic Sector. However, after offending a lord commander, he was framed and pursued, forcing him to flee to the Eye of Terror with his family. He was then taken in by Arnie's father, and since then, he had served the Morales family, managing their family guard and providing basic military training to the family's youths.

After all, their family was a "military family," and they had to learn military knowledge from a young age.

So, Sukhrab was Arnie's military mentor during his childhood and adolescence, and he could be considered half a teacher.

"Uncle Sukhrab, you've worked hard. Sit down and have something to eat."

Sukhrab did not refuse, cautiously walking to Arnie's right. Servants placed a knife, fork, and plate in front of him.

However, he didn't start eating immediately. Instead, he had them pour him a glass of wine, which was his personal habit.

After taking a small sip and putting down the glass, Sukhrab had a servant take a small cloth bag from his greatcoat pocket. He opened it and poured its contents onto the table.

With a rustling sound, chunks of rose-colored crystals emitted a mesmerizing light under the lamps.

However, Arnie only glanced at them before looking away. Precious gems or crystals were not rare in his eyes, especially since these weren't particularly valuable, just some industrial raw materials.

"Sir, the quality of this batch of minerals is very high. The Red Corsairs clearly missed many veins."

"I don't understand. The family isn't short of money. Why is Father so eager to get involved in the mining here?"

Sukhrab smiled, cut a small piece of meatloaf with a knife, and put it in his mouth with a fork. After chewing and swallowing, he replied:

"Perhaps we weren't before, but now it's different."

"Hmm? Has something happened at home?"

"Nothing has happened now, but it's about the future."

"The future?"

Arnie wiped his mouth, took the napkin off his neck, and placed it on the table.

"Sir, this crusade is clearly coming to an end soon. The power concentrated because of the war is a huge cake, but it's clear that Supreme Commander Sochjan, as an Astartes, will not be able to taste the final fruits of victory. Therefore, a huge power vacuum will appear. There will be a war more intense than the crusade within the Imperium. These riches will be our ammunition. Your father is actively building a vast network of allies. To dominate the post-war Eye of Terror political landscape, we must have enough benefits to distribute and promise. Translated into practical terms, that means wealth, status, land, and even armies. Whether the Morales family can expand its influence from the Sagan System to a wider area depends on the period around the end of the crusade."

Arnie smacked his lips noncommittally.

"Why not gain more glory by fighting for the Emperor? This seems dull."

Sukhrab knew his young master's temperament, but he understood that this was only because he was still young. Arnie's talent and ability were not bad. At least his time in the military had made him grow a lot, and he wasn't just wasting his energy on women.

"Haha, Sir, glory needs to match status. Like this crusade, the greatest glory always belongs to the Astartes, because they stand at the highest point. And even within them, glory is tiered. The glory enjoyed by a Chapter Master is always higher than that of a common sergeant. And the apex of all of them must be Supreme Lord Commander Sochjan. Sir, think about those grunts digging tunnels. Even if they do more, is there any glory to speak of?"

Arnie raised an eyebrow slightly.

"At least they have collective glory."

"Isn't that yours too?"

"Ugh, never mind. There's nothing worth discussing about this. What else does Father have planned?"

"The head of the family intends to secure the position of Governor of the Badab System for you."

"Ah?"

This time, Arnie was truly surprised.

"Badab? I heard that place was scorched earth."