Chapter 11: Build It Bigger, Make It Stronger
To get to the bottom of his questions, Omega—a cog-head of considerable means—decided to host a dinner party.
The guest list was tentatively set: Aedus, the "Effort Denied" one; Louis, the "Animal Lover"; Rhea, the "My Dad's a Magos" one; and Jacob, the "Master of Kowtowing." For the menu, he chose a Warhammer delicacy: "Ant-Grox," along with fresh, natural fruits imported via a void-faring merchant vessel.
As it turned out, money well spent was never wasted. A payment equivalent to two months of a senior priest's salary was transferred, and less than half an hour later, a Valkyrie assault carrier was hovering over their factory.
"They're delivering with a gunship!" Omega exclaimed in surprise.
Aedus, standing beside him, examined it closely with his augmetic eye. "It has the insignia of the Skitarii."
Louis, on the other side, was also looking up. "The Skitarii? Is this another one of the Archmagos's side businesses?!"
"Don't ask me, I've never ordered from them!" Aedus retorted.
"What are you looking at me for? This is my first time too, you know," Louis added.
The three men, standing in the dust kicked up by the transport's thrusters, all turned to look at the woman who had wisely taken cover in the distance.
Three simultaneous, disdainful "Hmph"s.
"That's enough, you three! I can hear you on the comms," Rhea's roar came through their bead-voxes.
"Well, is it the Archmagos's business or not?" Louis pressed.
"I don't know! I've never ordered from them either!" Rhea yelled back.
The voice of Jacob, the eldest among them, crackled over the comms. "It probably is."
"Magos Jacob, are you finished with your work yet? Eat first, work later. The work will never end!" Omega called out.
"Haha, almost done," Jacob replied over the comms. "Just this last bit, then I can enjoy the meal with a clear conscience."
Aedus then asked a pertinent question. "Aren't the Skitarii's aerial vehicles supposed to be Archaeopters?"
"That's right!" Louis chimed in.
Jacob patiently explained, "Think about the weapons the Skitarii use."
"Ah! Of course!"
The weapons of the Adeptus Mechanicus Skitarii legions have only one requirement: to bring ruin to all enemies of the Omnissiah. Power is the primary consideration; user safety is never a factor. A sufficiently lucky Skitarii will eventually be killed by the slow poisoning of their own, or their comrades', wargear.
"That Archmagos really knows how to make money," Omega sighed in admiration.
"He certainly does," Rhea added. "He's quite famous for it throughout the entire Imperium." She and her father were truly two cogs in the same machine when it came to criticizing the Archmagos.
The transport landed, and three figures who were clearly master chefs disembarked, followed by several servitors pushing carts of ingredients and cooking utensils.
Omega had to say it again: Money well spent! Look at the handcrafted tablecloths and cutlery. Look at the multi-talented servitor off to the side, playing a variety of musical instruments. And finally, amidst the music, watch the chef—clad in a helmet and armor, wielding a riot shield in one hand and a flamer in the other—go to war with a side of Ant-Grox beef.
All five of them agreed: this was worth every Gear.
[INQUISITORIAL NOTE: ANT-GROX]
The Ant-Grox originates from the dangerous, searing rock deserts of Luther McIntyre IX. They can survive for long periods in extreme heat. Their pectoral muscles are highly developed, giving them an ape-like posture when standing. Their limbs and jaws are equipped with iron-hard claws and massive fangs. They are extremely adept at digging and are omnivorous. Their vitality is among the highest in the galaxy, and their meat is delicious, widely praised by everyone from high-ranking nobles to the common citizenry of the Imperium.
However, their method of reproduction is unique: the Ant-Grox's reproductive glands are spread throughout its body. The eggs hatch internally, and the immature larvae travel through the mother's body, growing by consuming her flesh and blood. When they mature and are about to hatch, they become patches on the mother's skin—ready to burst out at any moment, and are extremely aggressive.
Mature Ant-Grox larvae are known as Flesh-borer Swarms. They are carnivorous pack animals, no less dangerous than an adult Groxodon. WARNING: Ant-Grox eggs are extremely difficult to deactivate by conventional means. For your own safety, do not consume Ant-Grox meat unless it has been prepared by a professional. When a can of Ant-Grox expires, it's not because the meat has spoiled, but because the can can no longer contain what's inside. If you pick up a can and find it surprisingly light, then turn it over and see a hole in the bottom, it is recommended that you pray to the Emperor immediately. May He have mercy on your soul.
During the meal, the four guests raised their glasses to thank Omega. They assured him they would answer any questions he had about his newfound wealth, while also subtly probing for the source of it.
Omega had already decided that there was little point in hiding the truth. He didn't have a "Magos" for a father to cover for him. Being secretive would only invite suspicion. So, he laid it all out, explaining the whole story and then posing his question.
Hearing his explanation, the four of them practically beat their chests in despair. The delicious Ant-Grox meat in their mouths suddenly lost its flavor.
"Oh, Omnissiah! Why did you not enlighten me?!" Rhea wailed, pulling at her hair.
Even the usually calm and collected Magos Jacob was muttering to himself, "How many kowtows is that worth? How many kowtows?"
Magos Aedus was a bit more alarming. He said nothing, but his face screamed, "Let it all burn! This unfair world!"
"Hahaha, Omega, the first time I saw you, I knew you were destined for great things..."
"Stop right there," Omega held up a hand, cutting off Louis's flattery. "No loans. I'll help in an emergency, but I don't fund poverty."
"Ahem, can you really call it 'borrowing' between priests? It's 'sponsorship'!" Louis countered, clearly trying to get something for nothing.
"Stop, stop! You still haven't answered my question," Omega said, tapping the table to get their attention.
"Aaargh! It's so infuriating!" Rhea cried out in frustration. "You don't even know how you're making this money! It's too much!"
"Rhea, please, stop! My organic heart wants to last a few more years, and a new one is expensive!" Jacob clutched his chest with one hand while waving at Rhea with the other to stop twisting the knife.
Aedus just laughed. "Heh heh... Burn... Let the galaxy burn!"
Hello, Inquisition? Yes, I have a heretek renegade here.
After a good deal of chaos, during which Omega repeatedly reminded them that their behavior violated the Omnissiah's sacred decrees of "logic" and "rationality," the four responded with a series of insulting hand gestures. But he finally got the answers he was looking for.
"So, you're saying that in recent years, a large number of children from noble and merchant families have become aspirants," Omega summarized.
"Yes, a very large number!" Rhea confirmed.
"How come we don't have any here?"
"My father doesn't have those kinds of connections," Rhea admitted sheepishly. "The families behind these aspirants come with massive orders for the Forge World!"
Suddenly, I'm feeling a bit disappointed in Magos Laust.
Jacob, who had been at the temple the longest, helped explain. "Magos Laust served in the Astra Militarum for a long time. He was transferred here from the Departmento Munitorum twenty-three years ago."
So he's an outsider! Even more disappointing!
"Don't they all have tutors?" Omega asked.
"A Magos with that kind of capital doesn't have the time or inclination to teach aspirants," Rhea said.
"Their families are so rich, why don't they just hire a priest?" Omega asked, with the air of someone who believed there was nothing money couldn't solve.
The four of them winced at his tone. Louis took over the explanation. "First, the ones sent here are usually those without inheritance rights—illegitimate children, distant relatives. Second, you have to understand that the connections and orders are the main point. These 'aspirants' are more like servants sent as 'dowry,' tools and spies for their families to maintain their relationships with the Magi."
"It's all so complicated."
Aedus added with a sour tone, "They have funding from their families, so they live much better than us locals. They're just stupid! But they have time. If they can't make it in five years, they'll take ten. Ten years, fifteen, twenty... no one will kick them out unless they decide to leave or their family replaces them."
"Oh..."
Omega rubbed his small chin with his small hand, his brow furrowed in thought. Rhea giggled at his little-adult expression, but Omega was too deep in thought to notice.
They have money, so they can afford to pay. They have no inheritance, so they have the pressure and motivation to become priests. They're not very smart, so they need tutoring. They have time, so they can repeat years. And there are a lot of them, so there's a market! This isn't just a market; it's a blue ocean! A BLUE OCEAN!
"I'm going to be rich! I'm going to be filthy rich!" Omega muttered to himself.
Jacob, Aedus, Louis, and Rhea all heard him. They exchanged glances, each understanding the others' thoughts: Even if the factory explodes today, we are not leaving this dinner table.
Omega's mind was racing, diving into his blue ocean, considering several problems at once.
Write another textbook? No, no, that's too dangerous. In the Adeptus Mechanicus, writing a textbook is like writing scripture. If someone writes it, someone else will debate it. Victory means you're orthodox; defeat means you're a heretic. I can't afford to get into that, and I can't win.
Without a textbook, I have to focus on the teachers. But that's too expensive. The aspirants can't afford it, and they wouldn't pay anyway. They're under pressure, but they're not facing a life of slavery in the factories. And if the price is too low, the priests won't do it; their status demands a certain level of compensation. It's a headache! Where can I find cheap priests?!
At this thought, Omega's spirits fell. He raised his hands to slap his cheeks and wake himself from his daydream of wealth. But as his hands came up, his eyes lit up, and he stared at his own small hands.
"Heaven has blessed me with this talent; it must be put to use! I knew we still had potential!"
Oh, my 1,299 'batch'-mates, how I've missed you!
The other four exchanged another glance, each suddenly feeling that the other three were in the way and hoping they would take the hint and leave.
The price of tutoring must be lowered, the market must be penetrated from the bottom up. I need high, middle, and low-tier options. I need to capture the market as quickly as possible. Otherwise, if some powerful, wealthy, high-ranking Magos or even an 'Archmagos' discovers this and imitates it, I won't be able to compete.
I must get my hands on my 1,299 brothers and sisters. I have to give them a share of the profits. No, not a share! I have to give them ALL of it! I have to give them what no one else would be willing to give. Only then can I keep them, scare off anyone who tries to poach them, and make sure that any latecomers find the market unprofitable, allowing me to establish a monopoly.
With a monopoly, I can create an ecosystem. I can make money from the equipment. I don't even have to make money from the equipment!