Necessary Procedures

Rovi walked at the front.

He wasn't wearing the robe of a Rank 4 Scribe.

Instead, he had changed into a spare Defense Force coat, collar turned up, covering half his face.

He walked steadily.

Every step seemed precisely calculated.

"Esteemed Advisor."

Barker followed at his side.

This one-eyed commander kept his finger resting outside the trigger guard of his Boltgun, his bionic eye flashing with a red warning light.

"Aren't we being a bit too conspicuous? The Executive Council has heavy bolter turrets."

"Conspicuous?"

Rovi didn't turn around.

His voice came muffled through the coat's collar, sounding somewhat dull yet eerily calm. "Barker, what do you think we're doing?"

"Uh, mutiny?" Barker swallowed hard.

He was a rough man, but he knew what crime it was to lead fifty thousand people in storming an administrative institution.

"Wrong."

Rovi stopped and turned around.

There was no fanaticism in his deep brown eyes, only a calm like an icy lake.

"We're following procedure."

He pulled out a sealed bag from his chest pocket, the charred Amulet Fragment wrapped in layers within.

Even through the bag, the nauseating distortion was palpable.

"When an administrative supervisor is suspected of colluding with heretics, attempting to destroy the Empire's source of the Imperial Tithe.

According to Article 44, Clause 7 of the Ministry of the Interior's Wartime Emergency Regulations, any loyal Imperial citizen has the duty to assist in controlling the situation until the Ordo intervenes."

Finished speaking, Rovi tucked the amulet back into the inner pocket close to his chest.

There were several layers of lead lining inside.

"We're not thugs, Barker. We're accusers, witnesses, the foundation upholding Imperial law."

Rovi adjusted his collar.

"These fifty thousand people aren't going to fight. They're going to 'observe.' A few more people, and they'll hear more clearly."

Barker froze for a moment, then grinned, revealing crooked yellow teeth.

"Damn, I like you bookish types. You make killing sound like filling out forms."

"There's no difference in essence," Rovi said flatly. "Both are about eliminating erroneous data."

He raised his hand and glanced at the Brass Pocket Watch.

The second hand ticked, ticked, ticked.

"Let's go. Supervisor Kase should be getting impatient."

The Executive Council building.

This Gothic structure stood in the middle of the Slums.

The outer walls were carved with suffering saints and roaring Imperial aquilas.

Under years of acid rain erosion, the saints' faces had blurred.

The aquila's wings were also stained with black grease.

In the top-floor office, Kase was trembling.

It was a shudder from the depths of his soul, more piercing than any cold.

He clutched a glass of Amasec Wine.

The expensive liquid spilled onto the velvet carpet, but he didn't notice.

Outside the window, that gray sea was approaching.

Fifty thousand people.

Fifty thousand!

If it were a mob, Kase wouldn't be afraid.

He had autocannons, a private guard, and poison gas sprayers.

Just press a button, and those wretches would fall like Maze's wheat.

But these people were different.

They were too quiet.

Their uniform silence and disciplined obedience reminded Kase of the Imperial Guard's parade ground.

What terrified him more was the young man leading the procession.

Rovi—the same Rovi who once cowered before him, head bowed, copying ledgers.

"Those useless bastards! Those useless bastards!"

Kase hurled his wine glass against the wall. Shards of glass scattered everywhere.

"Didn't they say it was foolproof? Didn't they say it was the Pious Father's blessing? Then why did a broken harvester burn it all to ash?!"

"Supervisor."

The Black Robe Cultist's voice came from the shadows, tinged with panic.

"We underestimated him. His understanding of machinery borders on heresy. A normal harvester couldn't possibly have that kind of destructive power."

"What use is that now?!" Kase roared, his jowls trembling violently. "He's coming, with an army. He must have found something!"

"We still have a chance," the Black Robe Cultist said darkly. "Kill him, and this rabble will scatter. You can claim he incited a riot and was shot dead on the spot."

"Right... right, kill him."

Kase nodded frantically, lunged for his desk, and slammed the red button on the communicator.

"All guards, attention. All guards, attention. Target: Rovi. Once he's in range, shoot on sight! Repeat: shoot on sight!"

Only static hissed from the communicator.

No response.

"Hello? Hello! This is Kase!"

Still nothing.

"Impossible..." Kase slumped into his chair, cold sweat soaking through his silk shirt.

"Nothing is impossible."

The heavy oak office door swung open.

There was no violent breach, no hail of gunfire.

The hinges groaned as the door turned.

Rovi walked in.

Behind him was no great army.

Only Barker and two fully armed Defense Force soldiers.

Rovi shrugged off his dust-covered coat and handed it casually to a nearby soldier, revealing the badge pinned to his chest—the symbol of a Special Advisor.

The motion was natural, as if he were returning home.

"Good morning, Supervisor Kase."

Rovi walked to the desk, pulled out the hardwood chair, and sat down.

It was the seat reserved for those reporting to Kase.

His posture was upright, hands folded on his knees, calmly watching the mountain of flesh curled up in the oversized executive chair.

"You... you..."

Kase pointed at Rovi, his finger trembling like a Parkinson's patient's. "The guard? Where's my guard?"

"They're downstairs, keeping order."

Rovi's tone was flat.

"Fifty thousand agitated Farm Workers have gathered downstairs. To prevent a stampede, I had Commander Barker take command of your guard to assist with crowd control. Your captain was very reasonable—after reviewing a document regarding the Transfer of Wartime Command, he cooperated fully."

Barker had shoved a boltgun in the captain's face to make him "review" it.

Of course, that detail didn't need to be mentioned.

"Are you trying to rebel, Rovi?!"

Kase screamed, trying to drown his fear with volume.

"I am an Executive Council-appointed Supervisor! I am a noble! You're nothing but a lowly Scribe!"

"Correction."

Rovi pulled a document from his coat and set it gently on the desk.

"I am the Governor's Mansion's Special Agricultural Advisor, concurrently serving as the Honorary Tech-Priest of the Seventh Diocese."

He paused, his gaze shifting past Kase to the figure lurking in the shadows.

"Furthermore, I am the witness and handler of this severe heretical incursion."

At the word "heresy," Kase's face turned deathly gray.

The figure in the shadows moved.

The tide had turned, but he did not want to die.