After finishing refitting the Mk.II Crusades, Romulus narrowed his eyes slightly. A string of questions flashed through his mind, and combined with the Black Templars Chaplain's words, he seemed to understand what could make an Archmagos so meticulous about the production capacity of a Mechanicus Ark.
He turned his head.
Hmm—
The four exchanged glances, each wearing a meaningful expression. They all understood what was aboard this ship.
No wonder the Archmagos had been so cautious.
"Brother Tyberos."
After arguing with the Inquisitor, Marshal Orlando, who had decided to make one more attempt at the Chaplain's urging, came looking for him.
Though he dearly wished to stuff that damned witch into an Adamantium coffin like the Deathwatch brothers would, without conclusive evidence, even the Black Templars could do nothing to an Inquisitor.
If they truly executed an Order of Origin Inquisitor on some baseless charge, then before long, countless rumors unfavorable to the Chapter would likely spread across the Imperium worlds visited by this Expeditionary Fleet.
Eventually, those rumors would become fact under the passage of time. Within less than a century, inquiries from Terra's High Lords and inspection fleets from the Adeptus Arbites would come one after another.
For the vast majority of Astartes Chapters, that would be a devastating blow.
"Speak."
Tyberos spoke coldly, looking down at the Marshal before him.
"Eliminating the Aeldari requires the Carcharodons' assistance. The Archmagos has given us only five minutes of combat time. Otherwise, there is nothing to discuss."
With his head held high, the Marshal retained his proper solemnity.
Tyberos looked toward Archmagos Cawl, who had yet to depart.
The Archmagos nodded lightly, confirming that the demand was genuine.
"Heavy weapons are also prohibited. Every unnecessary explosion could inflict major losses upon the assets carried by this vessel."
"How many Xenos are there?"
"About five hundred. The exact number is unknown."
"How are they distributed?"
"They are in the aft compartments. The passages are labyrinthine. Our probing attacks suffered heavy losses, with a casualty ratio approaching three to one, and we have no idea of the enemy's precise deployment."
Being blunt had its benefits. It spared them meaningless embellishment, leaving only the most truthful information.
Moreover, Orlando seemed unconcerned by Tyberos's frosty attitude. After spending some time, he recounted all the detailed intelligence they possessed.
"These terms are harsh."
Tyberos's intention to refuse was obvious.
Even though the Carcharodons were now well supplied with both manpower and equipment, and he truly wanted to cut down some Xenos while capturing an Archon to force out clues about Void Glass, he would not disregard casualties to complete an Archmagos's absurd task.
"My lord!"
Before Tyberos could turn away, Akia, the Third Company Captain, approached him and relayed the Transmigrators' request through internal comms.
"..."
After hearing Akia's report, Tyberos looked toward the Transmigrators, who were still standing with the Black Templars Chaplain.
Romulus, his head covered in condensation, raised a thumb and pointed behind him at the thirty-seven warriors who had already equipped their Las-muskets, showing that he was quite confident.
He had already tested them in the compartment assigned to him by the Sharks. They were solid.
Hmm. Then it was settled.
"Kahurangi."
Tyberos called for his Chief Librarian.
"Have First Company send another thirty men."
He used the external speakers.
"Brother?"
Marshal Orlando looked surprised. He did not understand why Tyberos was deploying troops to the Ark after expressing his refusal.
"Plans have changed."
Tyberos flexed the claws in his hand. His Chainfist threw off sparks as its gears turned.
"Have Lord Romulus explain."
Before Romulus could react, he directly yielded the center of the conversation to him.
Tyberos had never valued so-called honor. As descendants of the Forgotten Ones, the Space Sharks had never possessed such a thing to begin with.
As for beyond the Imperium's borders, it mattered even less. Most people who tried to deal with the Carcharodons became very polite after meeting him in person.
He knew why Romulus acted as he did, which was precisely why these old men should be allowed to take the stage.
Just as Romulus and the others respected his position as Chapter Master, thereby preserving his authority, the respect of a Chapter Master could likewise greatly elevate their standing.
Status was extremely useful within the Imperium.
After all, unlike the Carcharodons, who had always drifted along the Imperium's fringes, Romulus and his group's objective was clearly to return to the Imperium. What awaited them would be endless probing and scrutiny from every Imperial faction.
When that time came, having a complete Chapter backing them versus having none at all would make all the difference.
"..."
Romulus naturally walked over to Cawl and exchanged a glance with Tyberos at his side.
Tyberos nodded lightly, signaling that he was yielding control.
The Sharks silently maintained their formation, with no objection to supporting the Ancient Warriors.
Setting aside their generosity, there was also their attitude: even after learning that the Imperium had become something unfamiliar, they still intended to fight for humanity.
If not for the oath to the Void Forefather, which drove the Carcharodons to battle all manner of monsters beyond the frontier that might threaten Imperial territory, they would have long since abandoned their legacy and vanished completely into the void. Why else would they have to periodically collect the Red Tithe to replenish their ranks, disgusting both themselves and the Imperium?
These Ancient Warriors had observed the Imperium's current state and still wished to return. That was true loyalty beyond words.
"My lord?"
Now everyone present was baffled.
Other than revered veterans interred within Dreadnoughts, who else could make a Chapter Master address him as "my lord"?
When Marshal Orlando's gaze fell upon those Deathwatch members, the questions in his mind multiplied several times over.
Wait, did the Deathwatch have this many Imperial Fists?
They had deployed so many to a single Kill Team. Were they not defending Terra anymore?
"The Carcharodons fleet is towing a Strike Cruiser whose main hull is intact but which has lost its combat capability, along with an Ork warship of the same class."
Romulus did not mince words. He said directly to the Archmagos, "I hope to exchange them for ownership of a frigate."
By rights, this was a terrible bargain. If those two ships were towed to a Forge World and the Ork warship used as payment, they could obtain a brand-new Strike Cruiser in less than two years. But Romulus did not believe they could remain in one place for two years.
"Not enough."
The Archmagos replied decisively.
"Then what about adding that Aeldari cruiser?"
The Archmagos stared coldly at Romulus.
Romulus calmly met the Archmagos's gaze.
There was not a trace of forced composure, arrogance, conceit, religious fervor, or the desperate resolve of a final gamble when all other paths had been exhausted on his face.
He was calm, as though he were stating a fact—presenting the conclusion reached after a rigorous analysis of the matter.
Cawl had not seen such an expression in a very long time...
So long that it seemed to have been ten thousand years.
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