While Ron was lost in thought, a tense voice interrupted him. "By the God-Emperor of Mankind, my lord, are you unharmed?"
Bayev Cotton, the Grant family's senior steward, hurried in with worry written across his face. As Ron's trusted aide, he managed the many affairs and personnel of the palace district and even handled parts of governance. His eyes caught a trace of frost left on the floor, and he frowned slightly.
"Sir?"
Bayev Cotton looked at Ron with some doubt. After the Psychic Awakening, Ron's senses had become much sharper, and he immediately noticed the change in the steward's expression. This chief steward had clearly sensed something.
"My body is fine," Ron said directly, laying out the truth. "If I had not awakened psychic power, I would have died at the hands of the heretics."
Although the memories he inherited were incomplete, he at least retained those related to this steward and the Adeptus Custodes. Their only mission was to protect Ron, the last bloodline of the Grant Family, and their loyalty was absolute. These people were his final safeguard, so there was no need to deceive them.
Hearing Ron's answer, Bayev Cotton instead let out a breath of relief. "May the God-Emperor of Mankind bless us, as long as you are unharmed." He then continued, his tone turning serious. "Tonight's attack was planned. Someone used heretical monsters to draw away the Adeptus Custodes, which is how you were put in danger."
Was it internal strife, or an assassination by a hostile faction? The haze in his memories left Ron with no clues at all, and that made the situation clearly dangerous. He looked at Bayev Cotton and asked, "Who do you think it was?"
"I have already sent people to investigate," Bayev Cotton replied. "It must have been those damned members of the Homan Family." He spoke with clear anger. "A bunch of treacherous bastards. The God-Emperor of Mankind will punish them."
Ron tried to recall information about the Homan Family but still remembered nothing, so he decided to learn it later. He nodded along and said, "The God-Emperor of Mankind will punish them." After an examination by the apothecaries, the conclusion was that aside from some weakness, there were no serious problems.
Once it was confirmed that the governor was safe, Bayev Cotton and the others finally felt at ease and took their leave. That room was no longer suitable for sleep, so under the guidance of the maids, Ron moved to another equally spacious bedroom. The transition was quiet and orderly, as if nothing unusual had happened.
Ron pushed open the glass doors and stepped onto the balcony, gazing at the pale red moon hanging in space as he let out a long sigh. This was no longer Terra, nor even the universe he once knew. The moon of this world seemed to have been struck by some weapon, missing a small chunk, with fragments forming a narrow asteroid belt around it.
The scene before him plainly reminded Ron of the cruelty of the Warhammer world. Whether fighting xenos, Chaos gods, or even internal wars, every conflict meant countless deaths, sometimes the destruction of entire planets. Even as the Planetary Governor, he could not guarantee lasting safety.
Yet as the Planetary Governor and the most exalted person on this planet, his life was still far better than that of the workers in the lower hive or the scavengers who crawled through garbage and pollution. He lived in Upper Hive of the Palace District, within Spire Manor, enjoying the best resources while looking down on the masses. This privilege was impossible to ignore.
Ron looked toward the nearby Palace Grand Plaza. The plaza lights were dim, the ground uneven, and the towering statue of the God-Emperor of Mankind seemed to be missing a piece. Farther away, large sections of the residential area were dark, with only scattered points of light visible.
He was somewhat surprised by how poor the infrastructure looked, thinking it needed renovation when there was a chance. As the face of the planet, the Palace District could not be allowed to look this bad. Just then, faint flashes appeared in the distant residential blocks, and with a psyker's instinct, Ron realized they were muzzle flashes from bolt weapons.
Someone was fighting. "Is security in the upper hive this bad?" Ron muttered in confusion. As the district where nobles and officials lived, it should not have been like this at all.
Were the enforcers completely useless? "The enforcer corps needs serious discipline," he said quietly.
Since he had inherited everything of Ron Grant, his fate was now bound to this planet, and he needed to maintain and develop it properly. At the very least, upper hive security had to be strengthened to prevent Chaos cultists or heretics from storming the Palace District and killing him one day.
Ron felt that something here was off, though he could not say exactly what. Perhaps it was discomfort caused by missing memories. As he pondered this, he sensed the strange presence from the Warp calling to him more strongly than before.
At the same time, a deep exhaustion washed over him. He clearly needed rest, since mental fatigue made one more vulnerable to Chaos corruption. Turning back into the bedroom, he saw that the head maid, Linda, had already led the others in preparing the room.
These maids in black stockings had all been trained from childhood and carefully selected by the Grant Family, with top-tier figures and looks. They lined up and bowed to Ron. "Sir, you may rest now."
"Mm, you have worked hard," Ron said, nodding as he waved his hand for them to leave. To his surprise, the maids' eyes lit up as they crowded around him, quickly stripping him and wiping his body with warm, comfortable towels. He wondered if this was really part of the process.
He did not quite understand it, and he did not dare resist, afraid of revealing anything strange. These maids gazed at him with open desire, their hands wandering, making the situation hard to endure. It was almost getting out of control, but Ron was not an ordinary man.
He had made it through the Palace of Slaanesh, so this small scene was still something he could resist. After the maids helped him change into sleepwear, Ron finally let out a breath. For some reason, he felt their enthusiasm was a bit excessive.
The head maid Linda stared at Ron, her heart racing as her legs pressed together. "Sir feels different. So charming." Ron's charm really had increased, a lingering effect of having been targeted by Slaanesh.
After falling under Slaanesh's gaze, a person's personal allure would rise, especially toward the opposite sex. This was one of the temptations offered by Slaanesh. Though he had resisted corruption and escaped alive, that allure remained.
With his current looks and presence, few women could withstand it, and Linda was one of them. Seeing the head maid stare at him, Ron asked in surprise, "What is it?"
Under his gaze, Linda squeezed her legs tighter, her eyes shimmering. "Sir, I usually accompany you while you rest. You said you sleep better that way."
"Is that so?" he asked. "Yes. You said I smell nice, and you can only fall asleep holding me."
Ron looked her over and swallowed. Sleep better? Who could sleep with this lying in the bed? Seeing him silent, Linda hugged her chest, stammering with a flushed face. She glanced at the other maids. "If you think there are too few people, we can call everyone to join…"
The maids nearby were red-faced, staring at Ron with wide, watery eyes. So the governor's night life was really this rich. No wonder Ron Grant had been dragged to Slaanesh.
Unfortunately, he was not Ron Grant. He was a proper gentleman. Besides, having just escaped a den of depravity, he did not dare mess around.
"Go, go, all of you get out," Ron said firmly. "Yes, sir," they replied. Rejected, Linda lowered her head deeply as she bowed, her mood clearly falling.