The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Having grown accustomed to the attitude of these dignitaries, who completely disregarded ordinary people, Bakhram patiently explained:

"Gentlemen, the important thing is the energy shortfall, not where it's being used."

With that, Bakhram turned to another Hearth Born.

"Does your company have any freighters departing from Giovanni IX in the near future?"

Giovanni IX was a frozen planet where the Hearth Born had discovered a highly concentrated solid crystal that could serve as a high-quality substitute for promethium.

The other party didn't answer immediately but glanced at their companion, and only after receiving a nod did they say:

"There is one."

"How much is in the cargo hold?"

"This is an important shipment scheduled for near-term delivery, if there’s a breach of contract”

Bakhram stated decisively:

"I'll pay the penalty for breach of contract. Please lend it to us to relieve the immediate crisis."

The two Hearth Born exchanged another look before finally replying:

"Very well."

Just then, the door was suddenly thrown open, its overburdened hinges groaning in grating protest.

Everyone turned to see who was so bold, but they quickly shrank back. It was a group of people in neat black uniforms, wearing distinctive pointed tricorn hats, their boots clicking as they walked, their faces somber. The leader carried a black sword-shaped board on his shoulder, inscribed with the words "In the Name of Holy Fire" in red letters. The others carried black longswords and silver pistols.

The appearance of this group instantly dropped the atmosphere to freezing, as their reputation in the Grand Diocese was almost as fearsome as the Tyranids.

Their organization was originally called the Special Affairs Department Eleventh Bureau of the Holy Fire Order, also known as Bureau 11. It was initially established to investigate corruption and disloyalty within the Order, possessing extremely high law enforcement powers. To ensure its independence, when the Holy Mother was not in control, they would report directly to the highest-ranking Astartes. And Ustad, as the commander appointed by Solzhenitsyn, naturally had direct jurisdiction over Bureau 11.

To enhance control and deterrence within the Diocese, Ustad granted Bureau 11 extremely high operational powers, even parallel to the war zone command, and expanded their size. Apart from the Space Marines, almost no one in the entire Grand Diocese was beyond their reach.

Seeing Bureau 11 barge in, Bakhram frowned. Jacob, standing beside him, shouted:

"What are you doing! Don't you know this is a war zone meeting!"

The leader merely bowed slightly.

"I apologize, Commander Bakhram, but we received an urgent tip-off. To prevent the escape of criminals, we have no choice but to take this action."

"What criminals! Who gave you the authority to arrest people here! Get out now—"

Suddenly, Bakhram pressed down on Jacob's raised arm. His gaze turned to the outside, where a towering figure seemed to stand in the dim light of the evening street lamps.

"By the Throne and the Holy Fire, this is an important military and political meeting! You can't just barge in here so rashly!"

A man suddenly stood up and exclaimed sharply. He was a broad-shouldered man with a full beard, even in the council, wearing a splendid military uniform but lacking any military bearing. He was here because he and his family were the largest traders in the system, though even this scale was tiny compared to the outside world. However, he was the only one who understood the rules of system transport and trade, and due to a lack of personnel, Bakhram had gritted his teeth and put him in charge of logistics and transport, despite knowing his many flaws.

"How dare you act so presumptuously here! Be careful, or you'll regret it!"

Faced with the man's threat, the adjudicator of Bureau 11 showed no expression, merely stating calmly:

"Although it is very impolite, some things need to be done. In fact, I have obtained enough evidence to prove that at least four of you are deeply sinful."

As the enforcers spread out and moved toward the conference room, the crowd began to panic.

"No violence is allowed in the conference hall!"

The surroundings immediately descended into chaos, with some people rising and clamoring in the commotion. Guards hurried over but were stopped outside. The Mechanicus priests sat still, seemingly unconcerned about what was happening.

Jacob tried to act several times but was restrained by Bakhram, who didn't even look at the scene but kept his eyes on the door.

"No violence is allowed?"

The adjudicator shouted above the din.

"Why didn't you think about that when you secretly used transport ships meant for other war zones for your personal smuggling operations, so that you and your family could enrich yourselves?"

"This—"

The man took a step back but was already locked down by the enforcers on either side.

"This isn't legal!"

Another person said tremulously, fainting in fright as he saw the enforcers approaching him.

"Legal? Why didn't you think about whether it was legal when you resold military supplies and tried to corrupt members of the Order with wealth and beauty?"

At this moment, another person stood up with a livid face, wearing the robes of a mid-level cleric of the Holy Fire Order, and drew a finger-thick pistol from his sleeve, aiming it at the adjudicator's head.

But before he could pull the trigger, a gust of wind blew in from outside, instantly severing his throat. Even his head retained its last expression, flying high with the arterial blood.

The adjudicator bowed to the newcomer to express his thanks.

"Thank you very much, Lord Robin."

Robin, who wore a black robe over his armor, said nothing, merely flicking the blood from his sword onto the ground.

The adjudicator turned to the last person.

"Attempting to use power that doesn't belong to you to undermine the purity of the Order, and trying to preserve your power through dark and cruel schemes, it's time to pay the price for this."

The man stuttered and trembled, finally collapsing to his knees. As the enforcers went to lift him up, he turned and shouted:

"Commander Bakhram, save me! Save me! I know I was wrong! All my sons are fighting on the front lines! Our family has sacrificed dozens of people to fight the Tyranids! Give me one more chance!"

Bakhram's expression changed slightly as he looked at Robin.

"Can you make an exception?"

Robin replied coldly:

"Bakhram, although you are quite talented in political affairs, don't forget that you are an Astartes. Don't easily bestow your mercy. Look at how many maggots have grown around you."

"What do you mean by that?"

The young Jacob immediately rebuked, his eyes seeming to flash with electricity as he slammed his fist on the conference table.

"Put away your baby teeth, young man."

Robin didn't pay much attention to Jacob, perhaps seeing him as just a recruit.

By now, Bureau 11 had taken away all the living prisoners, and the rest either stood by the wall or sat silently in their seats, not saying a word. The air was filled with the smell of blood.