Chapter 275: Why Don't You Sit Down and Help Me with My Paperwork?
"Silence."
Cawl was analyzing a technology in front of a giant facility. The local Magi Biologis had all been "invited" away. With the technical templates provided by Lord Karna, his speed in deciphering these rejuvenation technologies was very fast.
"It references the technology of the Haemonculi. Those early-awakening Necron dynasties often sought out these individuals in their quest for a physical resurrection," Trazyn explained flatly.
Truly heretical technology. But then he remembered that the Magos Biologis here was from Stygies VIII, and it all made sense. Stygies VIII, a famous tech-heretic, had extremely close ties with all sorts of xenos, and had even established a friendship with an Aeldari Craftworld. They even dared to paint the Aeldari's sigil on their planet's emblem. If not for their sufficient strength, they would have been dealt with by Mars long ago.
After verifying the technology and confirming that it could be replicated, Cawl pulled out the data-line with a distinct lack of interest. It wasn't that he looked down on the technology. This kind of rejuvenation technology from Vigilus, which could allow a person to live for nearly five hundred years without any mechanical modification, would have been highly sought after by him ten thousand years ago. After all, to go any further would require mechanical modification, or some more heretical methods, which would undoubtedly cross the red line for most people.
Cawl had only, out of necessity, turned himself into a man of iron. But the Primarchs had already given him the answer. Cawl, who was now purely responsible for technical verification without the joy of discovery, was not very interested. As the creator of the Primaris Space Marines, and even the "Primaris-Prime," which had fused the bloodlines of twenty legions, including his own, his authority in the biological field was beyond doubt. He had only come this time, at the request of the Primarchs, to give a safety endorsement to this technology.
The Primarchs...
His gaze fell on the empty culture tank before him. Sometimes, Cawl truly found it difficult to understand why a being like a Primarch would exist in the world—especially these four who had recently appeared. Aside from their superhuman physical qualities, those incredible abilities had far surpassed all the knowledge Cawl had accumulated over ten thousand years.
"To be honest, have you ever tried to clone a Primarch?" Trazyn suddenly asked.
Cawl's electronic eye flickered. He thought for a long while before replying, "I have tried, but I failed. The technology the Omnissiah used to create the Primarchs has long been lost. And I do not possess the wisdom of the Omnissiah."
Trazyn tilted his head, his metal mask reflecting the cold light. "What if you solved the warp-part?"
"The study of the warp is not as controllable as the laws of the physical universe. I do not believe I can obtain the desired results," Cawl replied flatly, a hint of a warning in his tone. "So, a long time ago, I stopped conducting meaningless research."
"Alright then," Trazyn's tone sounded a little regretful. "I have tried to clone Fabius Bile's brain, wanting to clone other collections. But it is clear that that brain did not inherit Fabius Bile's own talent."
"Mm," Cawl nodded noncommittally. He knew that a clone of Fulgrim was lying in Trazyn's collection cabinet, and he knew that this ancient Necron Overlord was never satisfied. If not for the fact that he couldn't beat the First Founding Chapters, he would have packed up and taken all the Primarchs' remains, including Guilliman's. And now he seemed to be planning something new.
"I advise you not to try. The four lords are not as simple as you think," Cawl said. He had a premonition that the essence of these four was not something he could understand.
Cawl was very curious, but he did not intend to probe deeper. It was a little impolite, and very dangerous. So he had always suppressed his curiosity, and did not dwell on what they were, and had satisfied the Primarchs' reasonable requests.
Trazyn's mask tilted, making a thoughtful, metallic scraping sound, but in the end, he did not continue this topic.
A standard Imperial hive world.
Through the exquisite eco-dome, looking at the storms and acid rain on the wasteland, Romulus made his judgment. He was currently sitting in the planetary governor's office, dealing with a mountain of official documents.
The "Great Castellan," Dornos Agamemnus, was dead. The universe, full of suffering, had one less scourge. For Vigilus, Romulus had directly chosen the quickest and most decisive solution. He had stabilized the still-mining Stygies VIII, had communicated with the Imperial Cult, and then had purged all the sector's nobles, directly taking over the rule of Mortwald Hive.
In the past, he hadn't had the extra manpower to handle governance, and had to be more cautious. Now, the Dawnlight Sector's five-year plans were in their second phase. There were a large number of civil servants waiting for work in the Dawnlight Fleet's rest areas. Political games? What are those?
This was not the critical moment of the Great Rift's opening. Romulus did not need to be cautious and hold his nose to use those insects like Guilliman had. After all, if he had made another move on the Imperium's interior at that time, it might have completely exploded.
Now, the Imperium had just welcomed back four Primarchs. The great victory of the Dawn Crusade had laid the foundation for the relatively stable environment of the Ultima Segmentum that continued to this day. The special zone reforms had also begun to show results. The financial transfers from the Maelstrom Sector to the Segmentum Solar had shut the High Lords' mouths. The situation was excellent, aside from a few small troubles in the Sol Sector.
If I don't get rid of you now, am I supposed to wait two hundred years for you to come and disgust me?
Of course, it wasn't as if he hadn't given these nobles a way out. Look at the former planetary governor who had run away with her liquid assets. She was living very well. In the interstellar age, Romulus wasn't going to be bothered by your little bit of money. And he felt that this Cyraene Agamemnus was not bad. To be able to climb to this position and then give it up... she was not an ordinary person. There was an old saying on Terra: "He who understands the times is a wise man." To be able to be sensible at a critical moment was a kind of talent. He would see her performance in the Administratum. If she was truly reliable, she could be promoted.
As for this "Great Castellan," he was purely a heavyweight. He had been away from the galaxy for ten thousand years and had forgotten the strength of a a politico-military-religious dictator. Of course, he hadn't experienced it. He had been taken down by an Inquisitor. The Primarch had only made the result of this matter very ordinary. An Imperial noble who couldn't see the situation clearly... if he died, he died.
Click—
The metal door of the office made a soft sound and slid open to the sides.
Romulus looked up from the mountain of data-slates, his deep red eyes sweeping over the newcomer, and then indifferently dropped them, continuing to review the documents.
"We can support the continued application of the rejuvenation technology, and we can promote it," Karna said, handing the report from Cawl's side to Drakus. "Then there is the communication with Stygies VIII. Since the other party did not have a direct conflict with us in the handover of the genetic research institute, we plan to trade Blackstone application technology with them, and provide a world with Blackstone deposits, in exchange for Stygies VIII's technology and military support, and to use the Oteck forge-city under Stygies VIII's rule for production. The specific process will be handled by Fabricator-General Trazyn, with off-site assistance from Archmagos Dominus Belisarius Cawl..."
Cawl was always the type to be afraid of trouble. If not necessary, he would not participate in academic exchanges with other tech-priests. But Trazyn was purely a fun-seeker. Now that he was with the Dawnbreakers, he was openly swaggering around inside the Imperium. Who knew how many things he had secretly stolen. But there were also advantages to having him in sight. At least the head of Saint Sebastian Thor had been returned by Trazyn, and was now placed as a relic in the giant art installation outside the Dawnstar ring orbit.
At first, everyone had been thinking of burying him in peace, of sending him to Terra to be placed in a sarcophagus with his body. But the Saint himself had manifested and had said he wanted to contribute to the Primarchs' cause. Everyone could only complain about the Emperor and then respect the other's opinion.
"The process may produce a certain amount of academic exchange. Please do not worry, my Lords," Karna said, having finished reading Trazyn's report with a difficult expression. He then looked around. The office was still solemn and deserted, with only the few Iron Hands who stood like statues in the corners. It had to be said, these battle-hardened warriors had not made a move since the battle of Pierdra's hive defense.
"By the way, where are Ramesses and Arthur?" Karna suddenly asked. "I haven't seen them in a few days."
"Of course you haven't seen them," Romulus's steel pen clicked on the desk. He looked up, his sharp gaze like a blade. The Regent issued a stern criticism to the Third Imperium's biggest slacker. "Not everyone has the free time to wander around like you. Why don't you sit down and help me with my paperwork?"
Karna was silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the stack of documents that was almost touching the ceiling. His throat moved. "..."
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