Agridina

Magos Magellan extended a precision mechanical claw and picked up the atlas.

His optical sensors rapidly scanned every line and every forged ancient seal on its pages.

It was crude.

In some places, it did not meet the aesthetic standards of Mars.

And yet the core principle of "self-repair using environmental biomass" truly bore the mark of Golden Age technology: "simple and brutally effective."

Greed stirred within the Magos's logic core.

If this really was a lost STC variant...

If he could bring this technology back to Mars...

His standing within the sect would rise dramatically.

He might even earn the right to establish his own Forge World.

However, the Warp energy radiating from this wall was far too intense.

"Logical conflict."

The Magos returned the atlas to Rovi and spoke coldly.

"Even with blueprints as evidence, the Warp thermal response remains above acceptable limits. To ensure its purity, I must cut open its core, conduct a physical inspection, and take a core sample."

Rovi's heart gave a sudden jolt.

If the Melta Cutter sliced through the Metal Casing on the wall's surface—

What the Magos would find would certainly not be the precision gears, servo motors, or hydraulic pistons that represented the wisdom of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Beneath the cold steel skin, there was no mechanical logic left.

There was only purplish-red granulation, long since fused with the Ceramite, still throbbing wildly.

And a tangled network of blood vessels, oozing murky pus.

This was no "adaptive mechanical structure." It was Warp flesh that still breathed.

The moment those blasphemous purple innards were exposed to the air—

The moment the stench of sulfur and decay spilled out—

Every lie about the "STC blueprints" would instantly fall apart.

And then, they would all be executed on the spot.

The Faith Militant advanced again.

Just as the Melta Cutter's nozzle was about to unleash its lethal heat—

The Black Ring on Rovi's hand suddenly lit up.

A ghostly blue holographic projection appeared. Along with a forced-access protocol, it tore straight through Magos Magellan's private data link.

"I am Alicia van Valantius."

Her metallic voice echoed across the rain-soaked plaza.

Though she was only a phantom hologram, the pressure of her ancient bloodline instantly stilled the restless air around them.

"Legitimate ruler of this planet, and the twelfth-generation holder of Holy Terra's Pioneer's Charter."

At that final title, the Magos's otherwise motionless mechanical body visibly stiffened.

To the accompanying Adeptus Mechanicus personnel, this was an extremely rare reaction.

He slowly turned his head.

Several optical sensors focused at once on the Family Crest hovering before the projection's chest.

If she had been merely an ordinary planetary Governor, then even if she held the power of life and death over an entire star system, in the eyes of Mars's emissaries she would still have been nothing more than a foreman managing human cattle.

She would have had no right to interfere with the Adeptus Mechanicus's sacred inspection.

But a Rogue Trader was different.

They were an ancient nobility, armed with charters personally signed by the Emperor.

They had the right to explore, trade, and even wage war freely beyond the borders of the Imperium.

In their family vaults, there often slept alien technological relics brought back from the fringes of the galaxy, or star charts from the long-lost Golden Age.

Even the Fabricator General of Mars coveted such things.

For a Magos hungry for knowledge, offending a Rogue Trader's descendant was more than a political headache.

It also meant possibly being placed on the "Tech Blacklist" forever, losing all chance of access to priceless treasures.

It was a potential loss beyond measure.

The Magos stopped what he was doing.

A note of caution, born of calculated self-interest, entered his otherwise cold electronic voice.

"Heir of House Valantius, this unit has confirmed your authority codes."

"Governor, I am carrying out the Adeptus Mechanicus's sacred inspection. There is serious suspicion of heresy here—"

"What exists here is a 'Wartime Special Agricultural Experiment' that I approved." Alicia's tone was utterly firm as she cut him off.

"Granary Seven currently accounts for more than seventy percent of this planet's Imperial Tithe."

"Every technical modification made by Advisor Rovi has been authorized and guaranteed by the Governor's Mansion."

An electronic authorization document bearing the Governor's seal and intricate anti-counterfeiting patterns was transmitted directly to the Magos's retinal display.

"Magos, you may cut open that wall. But I must warn you: if your 'inspection' causes the defenses to collapse, allows the plague forces to break through, or prevents the next quarter's Imperial Tithe from being paid on time..."

Alicia paused, then threatened him.

"I will submit a formal report to the Ministry of the Interior and the Department of Munitions, accusing the Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars of sabotaging a vital Imperial agricultural facility and causing the Imperial Tithe to go unpaid."

"I doubt the Fabricator General would enjoy being left holding the bag for someone else."

It was a fatal blow.

Within the Imperium's vast and bloated bureaucracy, no one wanted to bear responsibility for an "unpaid Imperial Tithe."

That meant endless audits, purges, and utter ruin.

Magos Magellan's logic core churned furiously.

On one side was "suspected heresy, but possibly a valuable STC technology."

On the other was "enormous political risk and responsibility for the Imperial Tithe."

As a high-ranking Magos who had survived for hundreds of years, he knew how to calculate the balance of costs and benefits.

After a few seconds of silence, the Servo-skulls behind the Magos stopped shrieking.

The Faith Militant lowered their Melta Cutters as well.

"Logical reconstruction complete."

Magos Magellan turned away from the wall and addressed Rovi instead.

"Based on the Governor's guarantee and the data provided by the Priest Alpha, this unit has determined that the facility is in a 'special wartime state.'"

He extended a mechanical arm.

On the atlas forged by Rovi, he stamped a bright red sacred seal of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

"This mechanical structure is provisionally designated the 'Agripinna-VII Adaptive Biomass Harvester.'"

"Its technical blueprints will be taken to the Mars Forge Hall for a prolonged purity review."

"Until the review is complete, this may take two centuries."

"During that time, the facility may continue operating as a 'field-test prototype.'"

Rovi's back was soaked with cold sweat.

"A review lasting two centuries" was standard procedure for the Adeptus Mechanicus.

That meant—

As long as he did not die—

This wall was legal.

"Praise the Omnissiah's mercy." Rovi bowed deeply, his posture impeccable.

The Magos said nothing more.

To the Adeptus Mechanicus, as long as they had the data—even data merely suspected of being STC—and had avoided responsibility, their objective was achieved.

As for whether the wall was heretical...

As long as it continued to resist Chaos—

As long as the Governor was willing to vouch for it, its status was simply "deferred judgment."

The gray drizzle continued to fall.

It carried the smell of volcanic ash as it pattered against the battered plaza of Granary Seven.

Magos Magellan's Arx-class Heavy Transport did not take off at once, as Rovi had hoped.

Its Anti-gravity Engines were on standby.

A low-frequency hum sounded repeatedly.

The mud on the ground quivered faintly with each vibration.

The cargo bay doors stood open.

A squad of red-robed Faith Militant marched in disciplined silence between the granary's supply depot and the ship.

Their movements were precise and cold. They exchanged no unnecessary words; the only sound was the faint electrical whir of their Servo-limbs.

Rovi stood some distance away, watching box after box of supplies stamped "REQUISITIONED" disappear into the Cargo Hold.

He could only think: it hurt.

Three hundred High-energy Fuel Rods!

Five tons of Double-filtered Purified Water!

And two whole crates of High-purity Machine Oil, originally meant for the Defense Force!

"These are necessary supplies, Advisor."

Magos Magellan's explanation came from behind his cold metal mask, without the slightest hint of apology.

As if it were only natural.

"To reach our destination before the Warp Storm completely seals off this region, this unit's engines made three Overload Warp Jumps. Fuel consumption exceeded the standard by 42%."

Rovi nodded without expression.

He folded his hands before his abdomen, maintaining a humble yet professional posture.

"It is Granary Seven's honor, Magos. Providing power to the Omnissiah's emissary is the finest purpose these supplies could serve."

He was lying.

In his mind, he had already calculated the value of the goods very clearly:

They were worth enough to buy half a company of mercenaries on the Black Market.

Or enough to buy a week's worth of rations to keep the entire Refugee Camp running.

But this "protection fee" had to be paid.

It was not just to keep the Adeptus Mechanicus quiet. It was also to make them leave as soon as possible.

As long as those red robes stayed here for even one more second, the risk of the Metal Wall—still secretly digesting Ogryn Flesh—increased.

"You responded with suspicious speed."

Rovi tentatively steered the conversation elsewhere.

He tried to draw the Magos's attention away from the Metal Wall.

"I assumed that during a season when the Warp Routes were shattered, a fleet from Mars would need at least half a year, perhaps several standard Terran years, to arrive."

At that, Magos Magellan turned around.

His optical sensors flickered.

He gazed toward the distant, gloomy horizon.

"Because we were nearby," the Magos replied.

"For the past three standard Terran years, the Recovery Team has been patrolling the edge of the Gothic Sector. We have been carrying out a sacred Data Archaeology mission."

"Archaeology?"

Rovi showed a touch of curiosity at the appropriate moment.

"Searching for lost STC templates." The Magos seemed not to mind revealing this to a mere mortal.

Perhaps to him, it was like explaining calculus to an ant.

"Intelligence suggests that during the Dark Age of Technology, the Gothic Sector was an important Agricultural Colony hub."

"We hoped to find fragments related to the Atmospheric Terraforming Engine."

At that, a current-like noise resembling a sigh crackled from the Magos's mechanical voice box.

"Unfortunately, we found very little."

"Most of the valuable data had been damaged over the long ages."

"And some of it had been reforged into hoes by those ignorant savages, who mistook it for scrap metal..."