The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Just as he got in line, Roquim heard some commotion ahead. He craned his neck to see a woman holding a child and a man at the very front of the line, both leaning over and trying to talk to a weary-looking worker behind a thick pane of bulletproof glass.

The two appeared to be a married couple, dressed respectably, but the woman looked anxious, constantly trying to soothe the two- or three-year-old child in her arms. The man was sweating profusely.

“How can this be—”

“Fake.”

The worker held up a magnetic card with his fingers, his tone utterly nonchalant.

“Impossible! Please, look again. All our assets are—”

The man was nearly crying, his face flushed red, his hand gripping the railing so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Fake. I won’t say it a third time.”

With that, the worker tossed the magnetic card into a nearby shredder, turning it into a pile of fragments before the man’s despairing eyes.

“Move along, don’t block the people behind you.”

When a servo-skull wielding a shock baton approached, the man had no choice but to lead his weeping wife away.

A dozen minutes later, it was finally Roquim’s turn. Without a word, he tossed a silver aquila emblem into the slot under the glass. The worker’s eyes widened. He quickly retrieved it and scanned it with a machine.

“Sir, how much would you like to exchange?”

The worker’s sleepy attitude vanished instantly, as if he had transformed into a diligent servant. The scan revealed the emblem bearer to be a high-ranking attendant of the Adeptus Astartes.

This wasn't something Roquim had begged for; it was something he already possessed. The battle团 also issued wages, in the form of merits, though only to mid- and high-ranking attendants. With the arrival of the Star Knights on Terra, they had gained a privilege: battle团 attendants could directly exchange their merits for Throne Gelt at a fixed ratio, though everyone had a limit.

“Uh… 100,000 Throne Gelt, and exchange another 2,000 in cash.”

Roquim's limit was 150,000, the highest for battle团 attendants.

“Very well, sir. One moment.”

Soon, a brand-new magnetic card was handed to Roquim. These cards incorporated advanced identification technology from the Adeptus Mechanicus, making them difficult to counterfeit—though not impossible. Counterfeiters faced relentless pursuit by Mechanicus Inquisitors, mechanical assassins who would hunt their target day and night, regardless of their identity.

Then, the worker handed over a stack of hundred-Gelt notes, bound with tape.

After taking the money, Roquim and the other two left the queue. As they headed for the transit station, he saw the couple huddled under a large picture window. Above them was a promotional poster of a bishop with open arms, a grand cathedral in the background. The poster bore the words:

“The God-Emperor loves all! The Savior’s Cathedral welcomes all devout believers. To book a viewing of holy relics or make a donation, please call XXXXXXX.”

“It’s all your fault! What are we going to do? Waaah—”

The woman sobbed quietly, clutching her child. The man sat on the ground, head bowed, wiping away tears.

“How are we going to find your—”

Suddenly, the woman realized someone was standing before her. As she looked up, Roquim placed the stack of money on the ground.

“Be careful out there.”

With that, he stood up and left.

“Sir! Sir!”

The couple tried to call him back, but Roquim had already disappeared into the crowd.

“Boss, didn’t think you had such a kind heart.”

As they rode the descending lift, Roquim smirked at Isvin’s words.

“What, do I mistreat you normally?”

“No, no, it’s just, Boss, aren’t you afraid they’re con artists? I heard there are a lot of them.”

“Ha, maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. This is Terra, under the Emperor’s watchful gaze. It doesn’t hurt to do a good deed. If you saw it and did nothing, you’d feel uneasy. It’s not much, just buying some peace of mind.”

Dogo grunted.

“I think you’re just making up for all your bad deeds.”

“Boss, I’m a bit hungry.”

Hearing Isvin say that, Roquim felt a pang of hunger himself. He glanced at the electronic signs around the lift.

“The food court is on Level 3. Let’s grab some breakfast before we go.”

When the lift stopped at Level 3, Roquim and the others followed the crowd out.

As soon as they entered the area, the strong smells assaulted Roquim's senses. Having worked with kitchens before, his interest was immediately piqued.

It was a large, circular area. Various shops lined the walls, with huge viewing platforms and floor-to-ceiling windows forming a circle. The center was dominated by a huge information pillar consisting of twenty giant display screens and various media playback devices. These information pillars were a major feature of Terra. Compared to many hive worlds in the Imperium, Terra had a well-developed media landscape. Many media outlets and newspapers traced their history back to the Great Crusade, such as the famous Expeditionary Society, an important mouthpiece of the Imperial government, and ancient media outlets like Terra Today and the Citizen’s Daily.

To manage the numerous media outlets, the Imperial government had established these giant information pillars in important public places.

[The Great Maelstrom Expeditionary Force delegation arrived on Terra yesterday and will hold a victory parade in three days]

[The Air and Geological Administration will conduct atmospheric cleansing activities for the victory parade. Some airspace will be subject to flight restrictions]

[To all residents of Eternal City: The 114514th City Appearance and Sanitation Rectification will begin soon. Commercial and entertainment activities are prohibited on major roads]

[The Department of Justice is about to launch a cleanup operation targeting vagrants, beggars, and illegal overstayers]

Amid the bustling crowd, Roquim followed his nose and found a seemingly popular restaurant. Its layout was unique: the kitchen was directly exposed, with half the restaurant being the kitchen and the other half the customer area, separated only by glass and cabinets. Dozens of chefs could be seen working busily inside.

They seemed to be making a kind of stew. A pot as wide as a person was filled with boiling, thick broth, with various animal organs and other miscellaneous things visible inside.

“Boss, what’s this called?”

The owner, busy collecting money, glanced at Roquim.

“First time on Terra?”

“Yes.”

“This is Haggis, a Terran delicacy. Try it. You can say you’ve been to Old Terra, and brag about it when you go back to your backwater.”

Roquim pointed to the pot from a distance.

“What’s all in it?”

“Organs, lungs, intestines, liver, that sort of thing, plus flatbread and bean curd. You’ll know when you eat it.”

“How much?”

“Small bowl thirty, large bowl forty, extra toppings are extra.”

Roquim looked at Isvin and Dogo.

“You guys want some?”

Isvin nodded, Dogo shook his head.

“Smells like a toilet!”

Dogo’s words immediately drew a rebuke from the owner.

“Don’t talk nonsense if you don’t know! Gnome bumpkin! What do you know?”

As he spoke, the owner stood up from his stool, pointing at an information board and beginning to expound.