Good Children Don't Lie

Sappho walked through the Fortress Monastery in a light purple Pepros Garment, her hair coiled up with a ribbon, an emerald necklace hanging at her throat, and pearl earrings dangling from her ears.

Purple was originally a color reserved for high-ranking male nobles in the city-state, because the dye was the most precious. In the past, producing purple dye required workers called "Sponge Divers" to grip rocks and dive to the seabed to collect a type of sea snail, extracting the dye from them.

But dyeing a single purple garment consumed thousands or even tens of thousands of sea snails, and the workers' repeated dives gave them decompression sickness, drastically shortening their lifespans. Thus, every purple garment was dyed at the cost of several or even a dozen workers' lives.

Although the Tech-Priests from the sky had now brought cheap dye production techniques, the Planetary Governor still legislated that only male nobles could wear purple clothing.

But Sappho was an exception, because she was the recorder for the head of the Forged Steel Angels, his mouthpiece. Her father's communication with the Angel relied almost entirely on her to relay, which also made her a noble above the Planetary Governor.

She clutched her Dataslate, her leather sandals slapping against the solid floor as she walked under the watchful eyes of armed guards to the front of Peter's office.

She reached up to brush the hair behind her ear, trying to hide the wound from the implanted cochlear implant, even though she had already tidied up in front of the mirror.

She extended her palm to verify her biometrics, and the automatic door slid open. When she saw the reception area inside, her body gave a slight tremor, then immediately returned to calm.

"Greetings, Lord Anthony. Greetings, Lord Filon."

Sappho bowed deeply.

Two armored Forged Steel Angels were sitting in the reception area eating. On their table were some nut bread, seafood soup, and cognac.

Anthony completely ignored her, while Filon nodded at her. Sappho grew even more frightened, because Lord Anthony only had half his face scarred, but her father had personally told her that Lord Filon had once eaten her distant cousin alive.

They naturally wouldn't trouble her. Anthony asked Filon about today's dishes:

"How's the taste?"

Filon wiped his mouth with a napkin and replied:

"Not bad, I guess. But how do mortals eat these Calcium Biscuits? They're a bit rough on the mouth."

Anthony was instantly puzzled?

"Biscuits? There are no biscuits in today's meal?"

Anthony looked down at his plate in confusion, scanning it, and finally spotted the shellfish that needed to be pried open to eat.

"This is a shell..."

Filon pretended to have a sudden realization:

"So it's a shell! Thanks for telling me, brother, or I'd have been kept in the dark."

Filon then burst into loud laughter at his own joke, which wasn't all that funny.

Sappho didn't dare get involved in the Angels' banter. She hurried into the office with quick steps to give her report.

Once inside, she saw the unarmored Forged Steel Lord Peter, who was using a quill to approve documents. On the table beside him were the same bread, soup, and cognac as outside, except there was an extra plate of fresh figs, half-eaten.

"My lord, I..."

Peter didn't look up:

"Just say it directly."

Sappho obeyed:

"According to our census, including slaves, Limnos III has a total population of 11.2334 million. Of these, males account for 51.24%, females for 48.76%. The population under 15 makes up 19.9% of the total, those aged 15-64 account for 72.49%, and those 65 and older account for 7.64%. Among them..."

Peter wasn't really listening to the later data; he had already mentally calculated the population figures for each age group—his math scores had always been top of the class:

"What about other aspects?"

Sappho fumbled with her Dataslate:

"In terms of food, overall production is in surplus. We've stored most of the Protein Bars and Corpse Starch. But some newly cultivated farmland is a bit short on rainfall, and the soil is somewhat barren."

Peter replied without concern, head still down:

"No need to worry about that. The Dark Mechanicus will alter this planet's climate, increase rainfall, and fertilize the land with chemicals."

Peter kept writing as he spoke; he trusted the Dark Mechanicus to keep their promises on this. Restricting him from building tanks and void fighters was one thing, but the promised terraforming was another.

He continued reviewing documents and said:

"One of the projects involves hauling some asteroids from the asteroid belt and sending them into the planet's orbit, letting them collide and merge into a moon to enhance tidal effects."

Sappho gasped:

"You mean changing the positions of the stars! Is that possible?"

She didn't dare question the Angel, but her education made it hard to imagine stars being moved.

Peter answered the girl's doubt:

"It's not too difficult. There's no resistance in the void, so dragging them is easy. The hard part is keeping debris from damaging the planet."

Sappho looked at the Angel who worried over their lives, and mustered the courage to ask:

"Then, my lord Angel, is everything you do for us by the will of the God-Emperor?"

Peter stopped his quill. He realized this girl still harbored unrealistic fantasies.

He lifted his head and stared straight into her eyes, answering coldly:

"No. I do all of this only for myself. You are my slaves, my livestock. I make you eat better, live better, live longer, breed more, so you can forge armor and weapons for me, arm yourselves, and fight for me."

Sensing the disappointment in the girl, Peter gestured for her to come closer. He reached out his thick hand and placed it on top of Sappho's head.

Peter spoke in the most sincere tone he could muster:

"Remember, Little Olive, aside from tactical deception, I never tell lies, and I certainly won't deceive you."

Sappho was somewhat surprised—only her parents called her Little Olive. She hadn't expected the Forged Steel Lord to have overheard and picked it up:

"My Lord, have you truly never told a lie?"

Peter shook his head with a grave expression:

"No, I have lied before. When I was a child, I stole, I swindled, and I lied as naturally as breathing."

Sappho asked curiously:

"Then what made you decide to stop lying?"

A flicker of barely perceptible sorrow passed through Peter's eyes:

"Because my mother told me that good children don't lie."

Peter gave Sappho no chance to press further. He simply withdrew his hand and told her:

"Leave the Dataslate. I'll look at it later."

Sappho turned to leave, but Peter's gene-modified ears caught something. Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump... That was a heartbeat. A third person's.

Peter called out to Sappho:

"Wait."

Sappho quickly turned back, bowing her head respectfully:

"My Lord, what are your orders?"

Peter rose from behind the desk and walked over to the young woman. He knelt on one knee to match her height, then reached up and lifted her chin with his hand. His gene-modified brown eyes met her green ones once more.

"You're pregnant."

And as Peter looked at Sappho's face, he suddenly realized that the woman before him was no longer the budding girl of seven or eight years ago. In just seven short years, she had gone from a maiden to a married woman.

Peter lowered his gaze to Sappho's belly, hidden beneath her clothes, and said:

"May I listen?"

Sappho trembled slightly. She hadn't expected the Angel to make such a request. With a hint of nervousness, she reached down to lift her skirt.

Peter stopped her, shaking his head to indicate she didn't need to. He lowered his other knee, kneeling on both feet, then turned his head and pressed his ear against Sappho's belly, listening intently.