Fuel Is Food

Rovi quickly flipped through the dossiers.

Found it.

The Seventh District's biomass fuel output had been abnormally high for the past three months.

Combustion efficiency had increased by forty percent.

Rovi's heart sank.

Straw couldn't produce such a high calorific value.

Unless something else was mixed in.

For example, those twenty-seven thousand tons of "lost" wheat.

Kais and his people hadn't sold the grain.

With Warp Storms frequent now, smuggling ships had a hard time getting in.

They were burning the stolen grain as fuel.

No, not burning it.

Rovi examined the data further.

The fuel plant's export records showed that these "high-energy fuels" were being shipped to the black market in the lower levels of the Hive City.

They disguised the wheat as waste blocks, shipped it out of the Granary, and sold it to the gangs in the lower levels.

This was more covert and safer than selling the grain directly.

Rovi closed the dossier.

The chain of evidence was complete.

But he couldn't use this to report them.

Before his report could even reach the Governor, Kais would kill him.

Besides, who knew if Kais had people in the Governor's Mansion?

The newly appointed Governor, Alicia Van Valerius.

Rumor had it she was only twenty, having just taken the scepter from her deceased father.

The entire Executive Council was waiting to see her fail.

Rovi couldn't count on her.

He had to solve this himself.

He picked up his pen and began filling out a new form.

He didn't fill in the real data.

In the "Loss" column, he wrote "Three Percent."

Then, in the "Servitor Maintenance Expenses" column, he added a zero.

Next, in the "Holy Defense Facilities Repair" column, he added another zero.

He spread the missing twenty-seven thousand tons of grain across thousands of untraceable, minor items:

"Consumables for the Rite of Appeasement of Machine Spirit #734: Five Hundred Tons."

"Repair of Anti-Seepage Coating for East District Irrigation Canal: Eight Thousand Tons."

"Transportation Fees for Incense and Candles Used in Prayer Rites to the Emperor: Twelve Thousand Tons."

Rovi's hand was steady.

He was creating a false ledger.

But his false ledger was ten thousand times more sophisticated than Kais'.

Kais' false ledger was a simple, crude "loss."

Rovi's false ledger was "reasonable expenditure."

In this religiously fanatical Imperium, no one dared to investigate how many consumables were used in a "Rite of Appeasement of Machine Spirit."

That would be disrespectful to the Machine God Omegus Messiah.

Nor would any tax official dig up an irrigation canal to verify how many layers of sealant were laid beneath.

Two hours later.

Rovi put down his pen.

The books balanced.

On paper, Granary Seven not only had no deficit but had also laid the foundation for next year's increased production through "substantial investment in infrastructure maintenance."

It was a perfect report.

But it wasn't enough.

This was just a stopgap measure.

Kais would be happy to see this report, because Rovi had covered his tracks.

Afterward, Kais would kill him.

Because Rovi had shown this capability, it meant Rovi knew the truth.

Only the dead can keep secrets.

Rovi needed a talisman.

He pulled a small knife from his pocket.

This was what he used for sharpening pencils.

He picked up the perfect report and, in the most inconspicuous spot at the bottom of the page, gently scraped it a few times with the tip of the knife.

The paper frayed.

It looked like a natural flaw in the paper.

But if you held it up to the light, you could see the frayed fibers formed a line of tiny High Gothic code.

Only someone trained in cryptography could understand it:

"Fuel is Food."

Having done all this, Rovi felt a pang of emotion.

As a veteran Warhammer fan, before his transmigration, he had studied High Gothic vocabulary and grammar, combining it with Latin. Now it was finally proving useful.

Then he stood up.

His legs had gone numb.

Clutching the thick ledger, he walked toward the Supervisor's office at the end of the hall.

The office door was ajar.

The sounds of chewing and a woman's laughter came from inside.

Rovi knocked on the door.

"Come in," Kais's voice was muffled.

Rovi pushed the door open.

Kais was sitting behind a large mahogany desk, with a scantily clad maid in his arms.

Roasted meat and wine were laid out on the table.

On this planet, these things were worth far, far, far more than human lives...

Rovi walked to the table without looking aside, and handed over the ledger with both hands.

"Sir, the accounting is complete."

Kais pushed the maid away and grabbed the ledger with his greasy hands.

He flipped through it quickly, only looking at the final results.

"Surplus... forty thousand tons?" Kais narrowed his eyes. "And the losses?"

"Three percent, sir."

Hearing this, Kais looked up, a hint of killing intent flashing in his eyes.

"Three percent? What about the remaining ninety-seven percent? Did you conjure it out of thin air?"

"It's on pages fourteen through forty, sir," Rovi replied calmly.

"I've categorized them as 'Necessary Religious Ritual Expenditures' and 'Preventative Infrastructure Maintenance'."

"These items don't require physical inventory; only the Priest's records of prayers and the construction team's signatures are needed."

Kais froze.

He flipped to page fourteen.

The entries were dense, yet he couldn't find any fault with them.

"Machine Spirit appeasement fees..." Kais muttered to himself.

He looked up, scrutinizing the slender Clerk for the first time.

"You're very clever, Rovi," Kais said, his voice devoid of praise, only vigilance. "You've covered the holes."

"I'm just trying to survive, sir," Rovi lowered his head. "If the tax inspector finds a problem, I'll die too. I don't want to die."

This statement dispelled half of Kais's doubts.

People who feared death were the easiest to control.

"How did you get the construction team's signatures?" Kais asked.

"I imitated their handwriting." Rovi lied.

He hadn't imitated them at all; he had used faded ink. The signatures would blur tomorrow, making them look like old accounts from years ago.

Kais closed the ledger, a ferocious smile spreading across his face.

"Very good. Excellent."

Kais stood up, walked over to Rovi, and clapped him on the shoulder.

Rovi caught the nauseating stench of alcohol on him.

"You've been a great help, Rovi. The tax collector will be pleased. The Governor will be pleased too."

"It is my honor, sir."

"You can go back now," Kais waved his hand. "Go collect two extra portions of Corpse Starch. This is a reward for you."

"Thank you, sir."

Rovi performed the Aquila Salute and turned, retreating from the office.

The moment the door closed, Rovi heard laughter from inside.

"This kid is a genius, haha! We'll throw all these messy accounts to him from now on!"

Rovi stood in the hallway, his expressionless.

He knew he was safe for now.

Kais wouldn't kill a goose that lays golden eggs, at least not until he had squeezed out all its value.

And the contingency he had left behind:

The line of code he had scraped out with the tip of his knife was the real killing blow.

The report would be submitted to the tax collector tomorrow. After review, the tax collector would file a copy with the Governor's Mansion.

If the new Governor was truly, as rumored, a descendant of a Rogue Trader, well-educated, and meticulous, then she would surely understand this kind of cipher.

This was the bait Rovi had cast.

He was gambling.

Gambling that the new female Governor wasn't content to be a mere Puppet.

Gambling that she was looking for a sharp knife that could pierce through layers of darkness.