Following the guidance of Sister Fulinna, Sanks Squad finally arrived at the most magnificent building in the Hive City spire district—the Planetary Governor's Mansion. This mansion was less a residence and more a small palace. Constructed entirely from pristine white colossal stones, its design blended the pointed spires of Imperial Gothic architecture with the geometric aesthetics of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Above its towering dome fluttered the Imperial Aquila banner and the cog-wheel rose banner representing Dracomyndas.
"Lord Angel, we have arrived at the Governor's Mansion," Fulinna stopped before the mansion's massive, gold-inlaid black iron gate and bowed slightly. "According to custom, we Sisters are not permitted to enter the residence of a secular Governor. We will wait outside the gate. Should you require anything, please do not hesitate to command."
Gaius nodded, glancing at her through his helmet's optical display. "Understood."
After Fulinna and her two companions retreated to stand at attention, Gaius immediately issued an order over the squad's private encrypted communication channel: "Dorian, open the door. Luna, scan the internal structure and life signs, maintain vigilance. We're going in."
"Understood, Sergeant," Luna responded calmly, the red glow from the bionic eye on her helmet subtly brightening as more powerful scanning beams silently radiated outwards.
"On it!" Dorian rumbled in response, stepping forward with heavy strides. His Saturnine Terminator armor made his already burly frame appear even more enormous, like a moving miniature fortress. The elegantly uniformed but pale-faced butler and a group of well-equipped but flustered private security guards at the mansion's entrance, seeing the three steel giants radiating cold killing intent walk directly towards them, especially the leading behemoth clearly heading for the gate, dared not offer the slightest resistance. They instinctively retreated, clearing a path, not even daring to meet the Astartes' helmet visors.
Dorian didn't even use his hands to push. He simply raised his massive Power Fist on his left arm, rested it against the obviously heavy black iron gate, and applied a slight force.
"Creak—"
A grating metallic screech echoed as the ornately decorated gate was forcibly pushed open by his brute strength, revealing the interior.
Everything inside the door instantly assaulted the three's senses.
If the exterior symbolized solemnity and power, then the interior was the ultimate display of unrestrained, extravagant indulgence.
The floor was entirely paved with colossal Golden bricks, polished to a mirror-like sheen, reflecting the dazzling light from above. The walls were carved from warm, flawless white jade, inlaid with gemstones of various colors, forming bas-reliefs depicting the Empire's glorious achievements and the Governor's family's "honorable" history. From the towering dome hung an enormous, breathtaking crystal chandelier, with tens of thousands of crystal prisms refracting a dazzling spectrum of colors under an unknown light source. The air was filled with a cloying scent, a blend of expensive spices, aged fine wine, and a certain languid, decadent aroma.
Furniture crafted from rare woods, carpets made from the pelts of unknown giant beasts, and exotic treasures from every corner of the galaxy adorned the space. The level of luxury here surpassed even the residences of many noble families on Macragge, the Ultramarines' homeworld.
"Damn it..." Dorian gasped in the squad channel, his voice filled with incredulous fury. "Those brothers down there work day and night, barely getting a decent meal, just to fatten up this pig living in a Golden coffin?! Living in such a grand place, and he can't even pay his damn taxes?! How much has this bastard embezzled?!"
The shocking opulence before them, contrasted with the subsistence-level existence of the workers below, created a hellish disparity that made Dorian's rage almost burst through his helmet. The twin-linked storm Bolter on his right arm even involuntarily lifted slightly, as if it would purify this vile place in the next second.
"Dorian, control your emotions," Gaius's calm voice resounded in the channel, carrying an undeniable tone of command. "Remember our mission. Anger won't solve the problem."
Luna's scan data was also shared in real-time within the channel, her voice remaining steady: "Internal structure is complex, life signs are concentrated in the upper areas. No large-scale weapon energy signatures or obvious Chaos psychic fluctuations detected. However... energy redundancy is extremely high, mostly used to maintain this meaningless environmental control and decorative lighting."
Gaius ignored the nauseating extravagance. He strode forward, his heavy boots echoing with a dull, oppressive sound on the Golden floor, heading directly into the depths of the mansion. Dorian and Luna followed closely, like two loyal guardians.
They passed through a corridor hung with valuable paintings and arrived at a living room even more spacious than an Ultramarines company mess hall. The luxury here was even more extreme; the sofas were made of some exotic alien creature's leather emitting a faint fragrance, the coffee table was carved from a single block of amethyst, and even the potted plants in the corner were extremely rare species emitting a faint psychic glow.
Just then, a flurry of hurried, heavy footsteps came from the spiral staircase in one corner of the living room. A corpulent, bloated figure was seen tumbling down the stairs.
It was the Planetary Governor himself.
He had evidently just been roused from sleep or some hedonistic activity, haphazardly wrapped in a silk pajama embroidered with gold thread and smooth as water, his ample belly stretching the pajamas taut. His oily face wore a pair of Golden spectacles with frames inlaid with tiny diamonds, and when he opened his mouth, several dazzling gold front teeth and gold fillings gleamed. His face was plastered with a fawning and terrified smile, his eyes darting, unwilling to meet Gaius's cold gaze.
"Your... Your Excellency, Lord Angel! Wel... welcome!" Gain said, his voice breathless from his corpulence and nervousness, and clearly tinged with guilt. He tried to bow as he spoke, but his bloated physique made the gesture appear quite comical. "I... I wonder why Lord Angel has suddenly deigned to visit my humble abode?"
Gaius lowered his head, scrutinizing the Governor, who looked as if he had stepped out of an embodiment of greed. He ignored the man's insincere pleasantries and asked directly, his voice metallic through his helmet's vox-caster: "Tell me your name."
"Re... Reporting to Lord Angel," Gain wiped the cold sweat from his brow. "I am Cage Gain, Governor of the Dracomyndas Industrial World, dedicated to serving the Imperium... May I ask, Your Excellency... is there some important instruction for your presence here?"
Gaius raised his arm, glanced at the information about Cage Gain on his internal data-slate, and after confirming its accuracy, spoke in a voice so cold it lacked any trace of emotion, like reading a verdict:
"Cage Gain, according to Imperial Decree and the records of the Departmento Munitorum on Terra, the Imperial tithe owed by the Dracomyndas Industrial World officially exceeded its final submission deadline the day before yesterday. And you, as the Planetary Governor, failed to complete the tax submission within the stipulated time."
He paused, the red glow of his optical display seeming to intensify, locking onto Gain's constantly trembling, fleshy face.
"Furthermore, during this period, the Departmento Munitorum on Terra repeatedly attempted to contact you through official channels, but you never responded. Now, answer me, why?"
Gain trembled all over, frightened by Gaius's powerful aura and his direct, probing question, the fat on his face jiggling. He immediately began the evasions he had clearly prepared, speaking rapidly, attempting to shift the blame:
"Lo... Lord Angel, please understand! This... this was absolutely not my intention! It's all... all those incompetent officials under me! They're corrupt! They've embezzled funds! Yes! It must be them who siphoned off the money meant for taxes! And... and there have been problems with the transport routes recently, data collection from a few tax points has been delayed... I... I was just about to thoroughly investigate this matter and severely punish those derelict bastards! Please, you must believe me, I am absolutely loyal to the Imperium! To the Emperor!"
He threw out every possible excuse, avoiding his own culpability, his eyes darting, unwilling to meet Gaius's gaze.
"Enough."
Gaius's emotionless voice resounded again, cutting off Gain's weak and pale excuses. Just two words, yet they carried a suffocating pressure that instantly silenced Gain, who looked at him in terror.
"Corrupt officials? Transport delays?" Gaius's voice held a hint of sarcasm. "These may exist. But I ask you, why did you not respond to the Departmento Munitorum's communications? Was it simply a guilty conscience, a fear of taking responsibility? Or..." His voice suddenly turned cold, like ice, "Is there some unspeakable secret that prevents you from communicating directly with Terra?"
Gain's face instantly turned ashen, his lips trembling as he tried to argue, but was momentarily speechless.
Gaius gave him no chance to think, continuing to apply pressure, delivering the most crucial information: "Before we departed, Chapter Master, Lord Marius Calgar, personally authorized us. Should it be confirmed that this tithe delinquency was due to the Planetary Governor's personal dereliction of duty, corruption, or deliberate tax evasion..."
He leaned forward slightly, his massive shadow completely engulfing Gain, and stated word by word:
"We have the authority to arrest you on the spot and escort you to Ultramar for trial."
The word "arrest" exploded in Gain's ears like thunder! He seemed to envision himself stripped of his fine clothes, shackled, and thrown into a dark prison cart. Immense fear instantly overwhelmed everything!
"No! Don't! Lord Angel! Please! Give me another chance!" Gain could no longer maintain his false composure, collapsing to his knees on the Golden floor, heedless of his expensive silk pajamas getting dirty. He clasped his hands together, pleading tearfully, "Three days! Just three days! I swear to the Emperor! Within three days, I will! I will gather all the tax funds and personally escort them for submission! Not a single coin less! Please, grant me three days! Just three days!"
He kowtowed repeatedly, his corpulent body trembling violently from fear.
Gaius watched his pathetic display coldly, not responding immediately. He contacted Captain Cassius, who was aboard the Macragge's Honour far away, via encrypted communication, concisely reporting the situation, including Gain's buck-passing and his desperate plea for a three-day extension.
A moment of silence passed on the other end of the communication, as if Cassius was weighing his options. After a while, the Captain's voice came through: "Very well, give him three days. I will communicate with the Departmento Munitorum and explain the situation. Tell him, if the taxes are still not in place after three days... then what awaits him will no longer be an Astartes arrest warrant, but the 'warm welcome' of the Inquisition."
Having received authorization from the Captain, Gaius turned his gaze back to Gain, who looked as if he were awaiting his final judgment.
"Cage Gain," Gaius's voice remained cold, "The Captain has agreed to give you three more days."
Upon hearing this, Gain looked as if he had heard the Emperor's pardon, suddenly lifting his head, his face showing wild joy and relief at having escaped a terrible fate.
"However," Gaius's tone shifted, relaying the Captain's warning verbatim, "After three days, if the taxes are still not submitted on time and in full. Then, it will no longer be us who come to 'visit' you. The Inquisition will be very pleased to 'receive' a Planetary Governor who dares to challenge the Imperial tax law."
The Inquisition! That name was even more terrifying than an Astartes arrest warrant! The color instantly drained from Gain's face, his body shaking like a sieve.
Gaius looked at him, adding finally, his tone carrying a businesslike indifference: "Remember, we are merely following orders. The tithe, in essence, does not directly concern the Adeptus Astartes. Paying your taxes promptly is beneficial for you and for us."
"Yes, yes, yes! I understand! I understand! Thank you, Lord Angel! Thank you, Chapter Master, for your mercy!" Gain kowtowed repeatedly, agreeing profusely, as if fearing Gaius would change his mind. He even tried to ingratiate himself, saying, "Lord Angel, you must be tired from your journey. I will immediately arrange the best accommodation and food for you and your retinue, please, you must..."
"No need," Gaius cut him off decisively. "We have our own arrangements. You will not see us within these three days. At the appointed time, we will appear."
With that, Gaius no longer spared a glance for the Governor, who was a crumpled mess on the floor. He turned decisively and walked with heavy strides in the direction they had come from. Luna and Dorian followed closely, remaining silent as stones throughout, never making any unnecessary sound.
In the Golden living room, only Cage Gain remained, sprawled on the floor, still trembling with lingering fear, amidst the room's lavish yet utterly hollow decorations.
The three of them exited the Governor's Mansion. After briefly explaining to Sister Fulinna, who was waiting outside, that the Governor had been granted a three-day extension, they ignored her hesitant expressions and walked directly towards the lift, preparing to return to the lower levels first, then find a suitable hiding spot for surveillance.
However, they did not know.
Shortly after they left, several tall, slender figures cloaked in heavy robes, like phantoms, quietly emerged onto a shaded terrace on the second floor of the luxurious mansion.
Their wide hoods turned slightly, their gaze seemingly penetrating space, fixed firmly on the direction the Sanks Squad had departed. Beneath the shadow of the hoods, cold and sharp eyes seemed to flicker silently.
Leaving the nauseating Golden mansion, Gaius led his squad and three Sisters of Battle, returning the way they came, along the luxurious street towards the elevator. The curious, scrutinizing, and even subtly distant gazes of the surrounding nobles still followed them, but Gaius paid no heed, his thoughts completely immersed in reviewing and analyzing the mission.
The heavy Power Boots clanked against the polished floor, producing a rhythmic and oppressive sound. Dorian was clearly still thinking about that tavern, muttering in the squad's private channel with a hint of reluctance, "Gaius, are we done then? Are we really going to wait three days for that fat pig? It looks pretty peaceful up here, probably won't find anything. Before we go down... can I go have a drink there? Just one! I promise it won't delay anything! That hellhole down below, I probably won't even find a decent place to drink, it'll be boring as hell!"
His thinking was direct and simple; relaxing between missions was only natural.
Gaius's gaze swept over the seemingly prosperous but, in his eyes, flawed shops and buildings lining the street. Beneath his helmet, his brow furrowed slightly. He responded through the communicator, his voice steady and calm: "Dorian, the mission is not over yet. I always feel like something isn't right, a… an indescribable sense of incongruity."
As he walked, he continued to analyze in the channel, both to convince Dorian and to clarify his own thoughts: "The upper sector is directly monitored by the Adeptus Mechanicus and Sisters of Battle, and these nobles maintain a good superficial order for their own enjoyment. Even if there is darkness, it must be hidden very deeply. What I'm worried about is the lower sector."
His voice carried the weight of experience: "That place has a mixed population, a chaotic environment, and relatively loose management. It's the most fertile ground for the whispers of Chaos, heretical conspiracies, or… something else to breed. Obvious Bolters are indeed dangerous, but often, what's truly fatal are those poisoned throwing knives from the shadows."
Gaius's judgment was based on the intuition accumulated from countless battlefields and reconnaissance missions. Surface calm often presaged turbulent undercurrents.
Dorian listened to Gaius's analysis. Although he was somewhat dismissive of the idea of "throwing knives from the shadows" – he was more accustomed to smashing enemies, whether in plain sight or hidden, with his Power Fist – he understood that Gaius had a point. He huffed dismissively, as if resignedly compromising: "Alright, alright, I'll listen to you, Gaius. We're stuck here for three days anyway."
Just then, Gaius operated the data-slate built into his arm, activating another encrypted communication channel. This channel connected directly to a specific cabin on the Macragge's Honour.
After a brief waiting tone, the communication connected, and a soft voice, tinged with a hint of surprise, like a clear spring in a secluded valley, came from the other end, sounding directly in the squad channel: "Gaius? Is that you? Are you alright?"
It was Kolesa.
Hearing her voice, a corner of Gaius's heart, which might not even waver when facing a Primarch, instantly softened. He slowed his pace and, through his helmet, responded in the gentlest possible tone: "It's me, Kolesa. I'm fine, the mission is safe, no need to worry."
He briefly explained the situation: "We're just here to deal with a Planetary Governor who defaulted on his tithes. We've given him a deadline. We expect to return in three days."
He knew she would miss him and worry, so he added a few extra instructions: "You take care of yourself on the battleship these next few days. Remember to wear your shoes, no running barefoot in the cabins, the floor is cold." He remembered her habit of sometimes secretly going barefoot because she disliked boots. "Also, eat on time. I know you might not be used to the battleship's food, but if you really can't eat it, you can go find Lieutenant Golden, he'll help you get something you want to eat, understood?"
His instructions were meticulous, filled with a concern that was uncharacteristic of her usual cool demeanor.
Kolesa, on the other end of the communication, listened to his steady voice and meticulous care. The unease in her heart, caused by their separation, gradually gave way to warmth. She responded obediently: "Mm, I understand, Gaius. I will. You… you be careful too. I'll wait for you to come back."
Almost simultaneously, Luna, who was walking behind Gaius, also activated her communication channel, connecting with someone on the battleship.
After the channel connected, a slightly hoarse voice, still a bit nasal, as if she had just cried or woken up, came through: "…Lord Luna?"
It was Airas.
Luna's usually unruffled electronic synthetic voice now seemed to soften a little. She was concise, yet equally full of meticulous care: "Airas, listen. If you really can't eat the nutrient paste, go to the kitchen area, find a clean bowl, break up some synthetic bread, and soak it in some synthetic milk. It will be easier to swallow. You've looked thinner lately."
She paused, then added, with a hint of helplessness in her tone: "Also, remember to wash your uniform and clean yourself. Don't always be so dirty, like a kitten rolling in engine oil."
She knew Airas often neglected personal hygiene when engrossed in her inventions, forgetting to eat and sleep.
Airas on the other end of the communication seemed to sniffle, quietly saying "Oh," with a hint of being cared for and a touch of coquetry: "I know… Lord Luna, when are you coming back…?"
Dorian watched his two brothers, who were communicating with their loved ones, listening to what he considered to be their "fussy" instructions. An indescribable sense of loss suddenly welled up in his heart. Gaius had his loving Kolesa, Luna had her cared-for little sprout, and even that Golden guy seemed to be exchanging glances with the choir girls… Only he was still alone, a rough man, and besides fighting and annoying Captain Cassius, it seemed no one cared about him.
This sudden loneliness made him somewhat irritable. On a whim, he also raised his arm, attempting to initiate a communication request with the person he most "cared about" at the moment—First Company Captain Cassius.
However, less than two seconds after the request signal was sent, it was immediately and unceremoniously cut off by the other party. All that came from the communicator was a cold busy signal.
Dorian: "…"
He lowered his arm, and beneath his heavy helmet, his rugged face showed a complex expression mixed with embarrassment, helplessness, and "I knew it," finally turning into a heavy, unheard sigh.
Three standard hours of elevator travel passed again in silence and individual thoughts. When the elevator vibrated slightly and came to a complete stop, and the heavy iron door silently slid open to both sides, the familiar, murky air, mixed with engine oil, sweat, and industrial exhaust, instantly surged in.
They had returned to the lower levels of the Hive City.
Unlike when they left, a figure stood silently on the platform outside the elevator, seemingly having been waiting there for a long time.
It was a woman.
Her appearance was exceptionally striking, even breathtakingly beautiful, enough to rival Kolesa's ethereal, non-mundane Eldar beauty, yet it was a completely different kind of human, fiery and enchanting charm. Her wavy Golden hair, like woven sunlight, reached her waist, swaying slightly with her breathing. She wore a perfectly tailored, vibrant red dress, the fabric soft and lustrous, outlining her curvaceous, almost perfect figure. On her feet were matching stiletto heels, making her already tall stature appear even more statuesque.
She held a data-slate in her arms, standing ramrod straight, her expression calm, yet her eyes held an indescribable focus. Seeing Gaius and the others emerge from the elevator, she immediately approached with elegant and precise steps, a perfectly appropriate smile, both respectful and charming, gracing her face.
"I have been awaiting your arrival, esteemed Lord Angel." Her voice was clear and pleasant, like jade beads falling onto a plate. As she spoke, her gaze quickly and keenly swept over the honorific laurels on Gaius's and Dorian's helmets, symbolizing their exceptional military achievements. A subtle ripple of emotion flashed in her eyes, then she lowered her head slightly, her posture extremely deferential.
She continued, "I am Laiya, tasked with attending to all the daily needs of the Lord Angels during your stay here, and fulfilling your every request."
Gaius stopped, the red glow of his optical sensors focusing on the woman who called herself Laiya. Her timing, location, and overly perfect and deliberate demeanor instantly raised his vigilance to the highest level.
He did not respond to her rhetoric but instead stepped forward, closing in on Laiya, the shadow cast by his towering frame almost completely engulfing her. With a cold tone, processed by his vox-caster and devoid of any emotion, he questioned her directly, as if interrogating:
"Laiya, answer me. How did you know we would return to the lower sector at this time? Whose orders are you following?"
His questions went straight to the core, without hesitation, and the powerful pressure made the three young Sisters of Battle following behind feel a pang of trepidation.
Laiya seemed prepared for Gaius's direct and hostile questioning. Her smile remained unchanged, and she maintained her respectful posture, bowing slightly as she replied: "Reporting to Lord Angel, Governor Gain ordered me to wait here. He commanded me to do my utmost to attend to all the Lord Angels' needs and fulfill all your requirements during your stay, to express his apology for his previous oversight and his immense reverence for the Emperor's Angels."
Her answer was watertight, pushing everything onto the Planetary Governor they had just warned.
Gaius's eyes beneath his helmet instantly sharpened. Sent by Gain? What was the purpose? To express apology and reverence? He didn't believe a word of that nonsense. The most likely possibility was that this woman was sent to monitor their every move and track their whereabouts in the lower sector.
But… what if he knew their location? In this vast, densely populated lower Hive City, if three Astartes Brothers wanted to hide or investigate secretly, how much surveillance could a mortal woman provide? Or was this Laiya herself not so simple?
In a flash of lightning, several thoughts raced through Gaius's mind. Refusing her might alert Gain, making him realize they were wary and prompting him to take more covert actions. Accepting her, while meaning their whereabouts might be exposed, also meant they could turn the tables and perhaps dig up some information from this woman.
Weighing the pros and cons, Gaius quickly made a decision.
He reined in his imposing aura, his voice still flat, but no longer so chillingly cold: "I see. Governor Gain is quite thoughtful."
He paused, as if accepting the arrangement, and directly stated his requirements: "Since that is the case, then it would be disrespectful not to comply, Laiya. We now require a relatively quiet residence. Additionally, we need to remove our Power Armor for basic maintenance, which will require reliable servitors and appropriate mechanical facilities."
He deliberately made specific demands, observing her reaction.
Laiya's perfect smile seemed to brighten even further upon hearing Gaius accept. She bowed again, her tone utterly compliant: "As you wish, Lord Angel. Everything has been prepared for you. Please follow me."
She turned to gesture, her posture elegant and impeccable. However, the moment she turned, a complex and elusive expression, entirely different from her respectful facade, flashed in the depths of her blue pupils as she looked at Gaius and the others.
In her eyes, there seemed to be a mix of curiosity, scrutiny, and… an extremely subtle, cold glint, like a hunter seeing prey caught in a net.
Gaius took it all in, a cold sneer forming in his mind.
The canary had been placed nearby; now, it remained to be seen what play the canary's owner intended to stage.
After a brief farewell to the three Sisters of Battle on the elevator platform, Fulinna and her companions returned to the solemn monastery, while Sanks Squad followed Laiya, traversing the intricate, industrially roaring, and foul-aired passages of the Hive City's lower levels.
Laiya's steps were elegant and precise; her high heels trod on the oil-stained ground without a hint of clumsiness, as if an invisible barrier existed between her and this squalid environment. She led the three not deeper into the more chaotic areas, but rather through several relatively clean passages, some even patrolled by Adeptus Mechanicus forces, arriving at the middle levels of the Hive City.
Finally, they stopped before a building that was equally magnificent in appearance but strikingly different in style from the Governor's Mansion. This residence employed more dark-toned metal and reinforced glass, with hard lines, full of the utilitarian aesthetics of the Adeptus Mechanicus, yet its scale and grandeur were in no way inferior to the Governor's Mansion at the top.
"Lord Angel, this is a residence prepared for the esteemed Tech-Priest during his visits, fully equipped and relatively quiet. I hope it meets your requirements," Laiya explained with a smile, simultaneously signaling two guards in dark red uniforms with dull eyes at the door to open it.
The sight inside once again made Dorian let out a silent whistle in the squad channel.
The interior's luxury, unlike the gold and jade style of the Governor's Mansion, leaned towards a kind of "technological luxury." The floor was polished black alloy, smooth as a mirror, and the walls were metal panels with built-in programmable light sources, casting shifting, geometrically beautiful light and shadow. The furniture was not made of wood or leather, but of rare polymers and polished metal, with flowing lines and ergonomic design. The air was filled with a faint, fresh scent of ozone and high-grade lubricant, replacing the foulness of the lower levels. Everything here appeared efficient, precise, and incredibly valuable.
"My Emperor..." Dorian muttered, "These guys are really rich! A guesthouse like this? How many layers of fat did they scrape off the brothers below?"
What pleased them even more was that Laiya directly led them to a specially designed room. It was a spacious area, equipped with professional mounts, mechanical arms, power interfaces, and various maintenance tools, clearly a small workshop tailor-made for Power Armor and Terminator Armor.
"It seems they were indeed 'well-prepared,'" Gaius calmly remarked in the channel.
Without further ado, the three began to disarm. In the absence of a Tech-Priest, they relied on their own training and Luna's Tech-Sergeant knowledge, skillfully operating the mechanical arms to remove the heavy armor plates one by one.
When Gaius and Dorian's massive bodies finally broke free from the confines of their Power Armor, a flicker of irrepressible shock flashed in Laiya's eyes.
This was her first time witnessing an Astartes Brother, and a Primaris Astartes at that, out of his Power Armor.
Gaius stood there, nearly three meters tall, like a steady mountain. He wore only a dark blue, tight-fitting sweat-wicking suit, the fabric stretched taut by the bulging muscles beneath. His chest was broad and thick, his abdominal muscles like carved steel plates, and the muscle fibers of his arms were clearly visible, containing explosive power. Beneath his skin, thick blood vessels pulsed slightly like coiling dragons and snakes, demonstrating a vitality far beyond that of ordinary humans. At his shoulders, back, and limb joints, the neural interfaces and reinforced skeletal nodes connected to the Power Armor reflected a cold metallic glint under the indoor lighting, reminding observers that he was not a pure biological entity, but a modified warrior born for war.
Dorian was even more exaggerated. He stood a full three meters tall, his physique even more imposing than Gaius's, his entire body's muscles bulging like granite blocks, filled with a pure, savage sense of power. The contours of his thick thigh muscles were distinct, their circumference even exceeding Laiya's slender waist. On his bronzed skin, crisscrossing scars, like badges of honor, stretched from his shoulder blades to his lower abdomen; one even diagonally cleaved from his left temple, cutting across his tightly closed left eye, adding an unparalleled ferocity to his demeanor.
Laiya's gaze lingered on Dorian's gruesome scars for a moment, her delicate body trembling imperceptibly. She instinctively took half a step back, and the perfect smile on her face stiffened for a moment, revealing an instinctive fear. These two "Lord Angels," stripped of their sacred armor, revealed a more direct, more chilling, primal sense of oppression.
Luna, meanwhile, quietly walked to the side and began to use the workshop's equipment to perform basic cleaning, lubrication, and energy circuit checks on her own and Gaius's Mark X Power Armor. Her movements were precise and efficient, like a finely tuned machine.
Gaius stretched his somewhat stiff neck, a faint crunching sound emanating from his bones. He whispered a few words to Dorian, the content audible only to the two of them. Dorian listened, his fierce eyes flickered, then he bared a wide, cruel smile and nodded heavily.
Once arrangements were made, Gaius strode towards Laiya, who was directing several servants to move boxes labeled "High-Grade Synthetic Food," "Purified Water," and "Daily Necessities" into the residence.
His footsteps were light, but the shadow cast by his massive body instantly put Laiya on alert. She turned around, her face quickly resuming that impeccable smile tinged with reverence: "Lord Angel, do you have any commands?"
Gaius did not beat around the bush, speaking directly, his voice deeper and more resonant without the helmet's speakers, carrying an undeniable authority: "Laiya, are there any taverns nearby?"
This question clearly caught Laiya off guard. She froze for a moment, a trace of bewilderment flashing in her beautiful blue eyes, seemingly unable to connect the concepts of "Emperor's Angel" and "low-level tavern." But she quickly regained her composure and replied with a smile: "Lord Angel, if you wish to enjoy fine wine, I will immediately have the best vintages of the Hive City delivered, with every variety imaginable. Those taverns in the lower levels... the environment is chaotic, the air is foul, I fear it would offend your noble senses."
She attempted to sidestep the question with elegant service.
But Gaius did not follow her lead. His gaze, sharp as an eagle's, fixed on Laiya. He abruptly changed the subject, his tone commanding: "Do you drink?"
He leaned forward slightly, and that invisible sense of oppression once again enveloped Laiya: "Answer me."
Laiya was startled again by this sudden, almost impolite, interrogation. Her rosy lips parted slightly, appearing somewhat surprised and flustered. But she quickly lowered her head and respectfully replied: "Reporting to Lord Angel... I do."
"Good." Gaius straightened up, his face unreadable, but his eyes held an unyielding forcefulness. "I wonder, would you be willing to come out with me and my brother for a drink?"
Though his words were phrased as a question, his tone and gaze clearly conveyed one message—this was not an invitation, but an order. You would go whether you wanted to or not.
Laiya looked up, meeting Gaius's deep and oppressive eyes, then glanced at Dorian, who, like a human beast, was scrutinizing her with his scarred, ill-intentioned gaze. She fell silent for a few seconds, her professional smile gradually fading, replaced by a more complex, almost resigned calmness.
She respectfully curtsied to Gaius, her voice still soft, but with less of the previous artificiality: "As you wish, Lord Angel."
Gaius and Dorian exchanged glances, nodding to each other. The first step of the plan was successful.
"Lead the way, Laiya," Gaius said, his tone unequivocal. "We're going to the lower levels."
His and Dorian's purpose in going to the tavern was by no means simply to satisfy their appetites. Taverns, as one of the few gathering places and information exchange centers for lower-level workers and various fringe figures, were often where rumors, secret dealings, and potential seeds of rebellion first emerged. Whispers of Chaos, heretical incitements, and even covert communications from Genestealers could all fester in such mixed environments. At the same time, it would also be an opportunity to investigate whether illicit goods were being traded and to observe the true state of the lower-level populace.
Gaius and Dorian did not re-don their Power Armor; that would make them too conspicuous and risk alarming their targets. They simply changed into black, tight-fitting t-shirts and combat trousers that allowed for ease of movement. The tight clothing perfectly accentuated their inhuman, steel-forged muscle contours, every ripple of muscle brimming with explosive power.
As they walked out of the residence, one on each side, following Laiya, and once again stepped onto the dim, noisy streets of the lower levels, they immediately drew the astonished gazes of all passersby.
Two Astartes Brothers without Power Armor! This sight was even rarer for these lower-level citizens than seeing the Emperor manifest! Their massive physiques, terrifying muscles, and the cold aura emanating from them, born of countless battles and bloodshed, caused the surrounding noisy environment to unconsciously quiet down. People respectfully made way, their eyes filled with curiosity, fear, and an inexplicable... fervor.
Gaius ignored these gazes. As he walked, he began to question Laiya as if casually chatting, his voice calm but with an interrogative undertone.
"Tell me your age, your position, Laiya."
Laiya walked ahead, without turning her head, her voice clearly audible: "Esteemed Lord Angel, I have just turned nineteen this year, and currently serve as Planetary Governor Gain's personal secretary, responsible for assisting him with daily affairs and... reception duties." Her answer remained flawless.
Gaius's gaze swept over the gray, dilapidated buildings on both sides of the street, watching the passersby in their dirty work clothes with numb, empty eyes, then looked at Laiya, who walked ahead, exquisitely made up, impeccably dressed, and utterly out of place in her surroundings. His tone carried a hint of cold sarcasm as he said:
"Miss Laiya, the squalor and despair of the lower levels seem to be at odds with your exquisite appearance. It's as if we've inadvertently brought a precious canary into this dirty, broken wilderness."
His words were like needles, attempting to pierce her perfect facade.
Laiya's footsteps paused slightly but quickly resumed their normal pace. She did not turn around, merely chuckled softly, her laughter remarkably clear amidst the noisy environment. Her reply, however, surprised Gaius:
"Not at all, Lord Angel. You may not know, but in my youth, for a long time, I lived in the lower levels. The smells here, the sights here... they are actually very familiar to me."
Her tone was calm, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, as if stating a fact unrelated to herself.
But this answer caused Gaius's brow to furrow deeply.
Lived in the lower levels in her youth? A nineteen-year-old woman, now the personal secretary to the Planetary Governor, as exquisite as a work of art?
The origins of this "canary" seemed far more complex than they had imagined.
Led by Laiya, the three passed through several narrow passages reeking of pungent chemicals and metal dust, finally stopping before an inconspicuous, even somewhat dilapidated, metal door. A blurry wine glass symbol was crudely spray-painted on the door, next to a flickering neon sign spelling out "Miner's Respite." From within, faint sounds of boisterous voices, distorted music from a low-quality speaker, and clinking glasses could be heard.
Laiya stopped, turning to look at Gaius, her beautiful blue eyes holding a trace of disbelief and a final confirmation: "Lord Angel, do you really... want to come here? The environment here, I fear..."
Gaius looked down at her, his deep gaze unwavering, and he simply nodded.
Dorian, on the other hand, shot her a fierce glance, the meaning in his eyes unmistakable—less talk, lead the way.
Laiya took a deep breath, as if making a decision, and without another word, she reached out and pushed open the heavy metal door, walking in first.
The scene inside the door instantly rushed forward.
The interior of the tavern was a bit larger than it appeared from the outside, but it still felt cramped.
The air was so thick it was almost tangible, a mix of body odor, cheap tobacco, fermented malt, and the pungent residue left after cleaning vomit.
Under the dim lights, rough wooden tables and chairs were packed with lower-class workers in dirty work clothes, their faces etched with fatigue and numbness.
Most of them silently drank the murky liquid in their cups, while a few loudly discussed breakdowns on the assembly line or the foreman's bullying.
When Laiya—a beauty who seemed to have stepped out of a magazine, exquisitely out of place in her surroundings—walked in, she instantly drew the gaze of almost everyone.
Those gazes were filled with surprise, curiosity, and some less-than-friendly scrutiny.
However, this brief staring was immediately replaced by utter shock and awe the next second.
Gaius and Dorian's massive bodies followed Laiya, bending to pass through the low doorframe, like two mountains suddenly squeezing into this small space.
Although they weren't wearing their iconic Power Armor, their terrifying height, far exceeding that of ordinary people, their steel-like bulging muscles, and the clear Power Armor interfaces and gruesome scars on their skin, all proclaimed their extraordinary identity—Astartes Brothers! The Emperor's Angels!
The noisy tavern instantly fell into a dead silence, as if even the distorted music had been choked off.
All the workers, whether they were drinking, chatting, or daydreaming before, now froze in place as if under a spell.
Then, a sense of awe, stemming from instinct and years of Imperial education, compelled them to almost simultaneously and clumsily stand up from their seats, placing their hands on their chests in a devout aquila salute, their eyes filled with fear and excitement.
They had never imagined in their lives that they would see the legendary Angels up close in a place like this!
Gaius's gaze calmly swept over these fearful mortals.
He raised his hand and pressed it down, saying in a not-so-serious, even somewhat comforting tone, "Do what you need to do; don't mind us.
We're just here for a drink."
His voice wasn't loud, yet it clearly resonated throughout the entire tavern, carrying a convincing, steady power.
The workers exchanged glances, hesitated for a moment, and then, under Gaius's calm gaze, cautiously sat back down.
But the previous hubbub had vanished, and everyone became extremely reserved, secretly eyeing the three "uninvited guests" in the corner.
Laiya seemed a bit uncomfortable with the scene, but she maintained her composure and walked to the wooden bar.
The bartender, a middle-aged man with a mechanical prosthetic arm and a scarred face, was nervously wiping an apparently clean glass with a dirty rag.
"Three… your best beer, the largest mugs," Laiya said, her voice particularly clear in the silent tavern.
The bartender nodded profusely, took out three relatively clean large glass mugs from under the counter, and filled them with murky, faintly bubbling synthetic beer.
This was already the highest-grade offering the tavern could provide, but for Astartes accustomed to Macragge's finest brews or at least standard-issue rations, the taste of this industrial synthetic beer was likely far from good.
Laiya paid and gestured for the bartender to bring the drinks to the relatively quiet spot in the corner, where there was a worn leather sofa.
Gaius and Dorian walked to the sofa and sat down, and the seemingly sturdy leather sofa immediately let out a grating, groaning sound under the strain, as if it would fall apart any second.
Laiya chose to sit on a seemingly sturdier wooden chair opposite them.
The bartender cautiously placed the three almost overflowing mugs of beer on the low table in front of them, then quickly retreated as if fleeing a plague.
Gaius and Dorian almost simultaneously reached for their mugs.
The large mugs of beer, which would require two hands for an ordinary person, appeared tiny in their giant, fan-like hands, like toys.
Laiya, with some effort, held her mug of beer with both hands, gestured to Gaius and Dorian, and forced a perfect smile: "To… the Emperor's Angels."
With that, she tilted her head and carefully took a small sip.
The next moment, her delicate little face instantly crumpled.
The poor quality, strange sourness, and throat-stinging bubbles of the industrial synthetic beer almost made her spit it out directly.
She suppressed the discomfort in her throat, forcing that small sip of beer down, feeling her entire esophagus protest.
However, when she looked at the two Angels opposite her, she was surprised to find that Gaius had simply taken a sip, his face devoid of any expression, as if he were drinking plain water.
Dorian, on the other hand, was even more unrestrained; he directly tilted his head back, and with a few "gulp, gulp" sounds, he chugged the entire large mug of beer as if pouring water!
Then, with a "bang," he slammed the empty mug onto the table and bellowed with his characteristic loud voice:
"Another! Who can drink this little bit of stuff? Bring me your biggest barrel!"
His voice was like thunder, shaking the entire tavern.
The bartender, startled, scrambled to the back to get more beer.
Gaius did not stop Dorian.
His gaze, like the most precise scanner, slowly swept across the entire tavern.
Most of the drinking workers kept their heads down, not daring to meet his eyes; cleaning staff were tidying up stains in the corners; everything seemed normal, and the noisy human chatter gradually resumed, but the topics still revolved around tedious work, meager wages, and the hardships of life.
His enhanced hearing caught every conversation, filtering out any information that might involve heresy, chaos, or anomalies.
Currently, everything was normal.
This truly seemed to be just an ordinary place where lower-class workers vented their fatigue and sought temporary numbness after work, with no even common illicit transactions discovered.
The air was filled only with desperate exhaustion, not the scent of conspiracy.
Gaius leaned back slightly against the creaking sofa backrest, holding the mug of beer that tasted like plain water to him.
He uncharacteristically relaxed his taut nerves, experiencing this noisy and real "peace" of the mundane world.
This was completely different from the eternal state of readiness on a battleship, or the deafening explosions on the battlefield; it was a… vibrant life force, full of the smell of human activity, even if this life force was so heavy and bleak.
Laiya looked at the two distinctly different Astartes opposite her, her heart filled with confusion.
Gaius was as steady as a mountain, his gaze sharp, as if scrutinizing everything; Dorian was unrestrained and wild, like a beast let out of its cage.
She truly couldn't understand why these esteemed and powerful Angels would condescend to come to such a dirty and dilapidated place, drinking such low-quality beer that even she found hard to swallow, and… they seemed to have no reaction at all.
Maintaining her somewhat stiff smile, she hesitated, then turned her gaze to Dorian, who was waiting for the next barrel of beer, and asked in as gentle and curious a tone as possible, "Lord Angel… I… I have a presumptuous request… May I… touch your muscles?"
Her words made Gaius, who had been maintaining his vigilance, turn his head slightly.
Dorian, in high spirits from drinking, heard the request and, without thinking, waved his large hand and roared carelessly, "Touch! Touch as much as you like! These muscles of mine are built through real training and fighting!
You think a little girl like you can damage them?"
He had clearly somewhat forgotten their "secondary" purpose for being there, immersed in the beer and the feeling of being admired.
Laiya seemed a bit surprised.
She carefully extended her hand, her slender, fair fingers gently touching Dorian's left biceps, which was as hard as rock and covered in gruesome scars.
The touch was cold and tough, as if touching a piece of alloy steel forged through countless trials, completely different from the warm flesh and blood she had imagined.
A strange glint flashed in her eyes, but she quickly hid it, withdrew her hand, and praised sincerely, "Truly… it's incredible…"
Time passed minute by minute in this somewhat peculiar atmosphere.
Dorian began to vividly describe to Laiya the "spectacular" scene when he had the honor of meeting Primarch Lion King Lion El'Jonson, his tone exaggerated and spittle flying.
Laiya, in turn, played the perfect listener, exclaiming at appropriate moments and encouraging Dorian to say more.
Gaius listened to Dorian's loose-tongued bragging, which was almost revealing the internal affairs of the First Legion, and felt a surge of speechlessness.
This fellow, truly… He shook his head inwardly, putting more attention on observing his surroundings.
Just as Gaius thought there might be no discoveries tonight and was about to signal Dorian to stop, his gaze was suddenly drawn to a figure who had just entered the tavern door.
It was a man who appeared to be around thirty, with a haggard face, sallow complexion, sunken eyes, looking like someone suffering from long-term malnutrition and lack of sleep.
His eyes darted around nervously and anxiously, constantly looking around, as if wary of potential threats.
He carried a large, seemingly very heavy package on his back, apparently stuffed with various foods, which made his spine slightly bent.
He walked quickly to the bar, hurriedly ordered the cheapest beer, and his fingers trembled slightly as he paid.
While sipping the cheap beer, he continued to scan the interior of the tavern, his eyes like a startled rabbit.
When his gaze inadvertently swept across the corner and saw the two massive Astartes Brothers, his pupils suddenly constricted, his face instantly lost its last trace of color, and an unconcealed, almost desperate terror erupted in his eyes!
He recoiled as if burned, abruptly withdrew his gaze, no longer caring about the beer he had only sipped, and like someone fleeing a plague, he frantically turned, pushed through the crowd, and rushed out of the tavern at top speed, disappearing into the dim corridor outside the door.
All his actions seemed like those of an ordinary worker who had gone out to buy a large amount of food and was stopping for a relaxing drink on his way back.
However, his excessive panic, the far-beyond-normal terror that erupted when he saw the Astartes, and that faint, subtle, unsettling aura emanating from him, like a firefly in the dark, clearly leaped into Gaius's honed, keen senses.
Gaius's eyes instantly sharpened like blades.
He glanced at Dorian, who was still spitting and fully engrossed in his storytelling, and at Laiya, who was smiling and listening, but with a thoughtful look in her eyes.
He sighed inwardly, this loose-lipped fellow, truly daring to say anything… almost messed up the important business.
That man who left in such a hurry… there must be something wrong with him.