Agricultural Special Advisor

Twenty percent.

Rovi calculated in his mind.

Current output was already at its limit.

Adding another twenty percent would require either working the farm workers to death or turning seeds into gold.

"The soil fertility isn't enough right now," Rovi said. "And we're severely short on labor."

"That's your problem," Alicia said coldly. "I'm giving you one month. If you can't produce a plan to increase output, this appointment letter will be your death notice."

"I need authority," Rovi said. "Beyond this advisor title, I also need the authority to mobilize the Adeptus Mechanicus and the Defense Force."

"You've already handled the Mechanicus yourself. As for the Defense Force..."

Alicia unclasped a necklace from her neck.

A black ring hung from the chain.

She tossed the ring to Rovi.

"This is my personal token. It can only be used once. Use it at the most critical moment."

Rovi caught the ring.

It still carried her gentle warmth.

And, of course, a faint trace of her scent.

"Understood."

"Get out," Alicia waved her hand. "Don't disappoint me."

Rovi bowed, turned, and left.

When he reached the door, Alicia called him back.

"Rovi."

Rovi stopped.

"If you ever betray me..." Alicia's voice sounded behind him. "I'll cut you into pieces with my own hands. That's not a metaphor."

"I remember, Your Excellency."

Rovi pushed open the door and walked out.

By the time he returned to Granary Seven, it was already the dead of night.

Rovi didn't go to his dormitory.

He went straight to the Repair Workshop.

That M36 Harvester was fully repaired now.

Several Tech-Priests were gathered around it, looking at it as if it were their own child.

When they saw Rovi enter, the lead priest—a guy named Alpha—immediately came forward.

"Esteemed Advisor." Alpha's tone was much more respectful than before.

News traveled fast.

The fact that Rovi had been picked up and brought back by the Governor's personal shuttle couldn't be hidden from those who paid attention.

"How's the machine?" Rovi asked.

"Running perfectly, efficiency improved by fifteen percent," Alpha pointed at a pile of scrap metal nearby. "We're modifying two more units according to your blueprints."

"Good." Rovi pulled a sketch from his chest and slapped it on the table. "Now, I need you to build something new."

Alpha leaned in for a look.

The drawing showed a strange device.

It looked something like a mixer, with a complex system of pipes connected to its base.

"What is this?"

"A Deep Fermentation Tank," Rovi said.

"Ferment what?"

"Corpses."

Alpha's optical lens flickered.

"Fermenting Corpse Starch again?"

"No. It's for the parts that can't be made into starch." Rovi pointed at the core component on the drawing. "Bones, organs, and the carcasses of those mutant creatures. The current method is to burn them directly—too wasteful."

"I want you to crush them, add acid and special bacterial cultures, and ferment them into a high-concentration liquid fertilizer."

This was a technique Rovi had seen in an agricultural magazine in his past life—"Bio-Liquid Fertilizer."

In this world, calling it "Heretical Alchemy" wouldn't be an overstatement.

"Does this... conform to the doctrine?" Alpha hesitated.

"It's to make the land more fertile, to grow more grain to offer to the Emperor," Rovi explained. "Would the Emperor refuse such an offering?"

Alpha thought for a second.

"Logic holds," he said. "We need materials."

"I have the materials," Rovi said. "The morgue in the Lower Sector is piled with unclaimed corpses, plus the mutant rats from the bottom of the Hive City. I want you to build ten of these tanks, finished within three days."

"Three days is too tight."

"I have the Governor's ring." Rovi raised the black ring in his hand and gave it a shake. "I can mobilize the Defense Force to help you haul materials, and I can also pull servitors from other workshops."

Seeing the ring, Alpha's attitude shifted immediately.

"Three days, no problem."

Over the next three days, Granary Seven turned into a construction site.

Rovi didn't rest.

He took that appointment letter for "Special Agricultural Advisor" and turned the entire granary upside down.

He drove out all the overseers who only chanted scriptures and replaced them with skilled workers who knew some technique.

He re-planned the flow of the irrigation canals.

He even personally led a team into the sewers to catch mutant rats.

As for Kais, he never showed his face.

He holed up in his office like a startled fat pig.

He knew Rovi was now the Governor's favorite and didn't dare make a move openly.

But he wasn't idle either.

He was waiting.

Waiting for Rovi to make a mistake.

If Rovi screwed up, the Governor would kill him without Kais lifting a finger.

Day four.

Ten massive metal tanks stood upright in the open space behind the granary.

Inside the tanks, a nauseating green liquid churned, its stench even stronger than Corpse Starch.

Rovi stood before the tanks, holding a testing rod.

He dipped the rod into the liquid, stirred it, and pulled it out.

The rod turned deep purple.

Nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium content were extremely high.

It worked.

"Start spraying," Rovi ordered.

Dozens of modified sprinkler trucks drove into the wheat fields.

The green liquid sprayed onto the barren soil.

The wheat, which had been somewhat withered and yellow, seemed to tremble upon contact with the liquid fertilizer.

Of course, the effect wouldn't be immediate.

This was just the first step.

Rovi had a second step.

He turned his gaze toward the distant depths of the Hive City's lower levels.

Millions of "useless people" lived there.

They had no jobs, no food, surviving only by scavenging trash and eating rats.

In the Empire's eyes, they were burdens.

But in Rovi's eyes, they were labor.

"Alpha," Rovi called out.

"Here."

"I need you to make a batch of simple tools." Rovi drew a diagram on the ground. "Long-Handled Scythes, extended versions, and these backpack-style harvesting baskets."

"For the servitors?"

"For human consumption."

Rovi turned and walked toward the Defense Force garrison.

He needed to recruit an army.

An army that would fight only for food.

Defense Force garrison.

The commander here was a one-eyed man named Barker.

He sat on an ammunition crate, cleaning his gun.

When he saw Rovi enter, he didn't even lift his eyelids.

"Agricultural Special Advisor?" Barker snorted. "This is a military camp. Not a place for scribes like you to run wild."

Rovi slapped the Governor's ring onto the ammunition crate.

Barker's hand stopped.

His gaze immediately turned serious.

"The Governor sent you?"

"I need to borrow troops," Rovi said.

"How many?"

"Two companies. Armed. Follow me to the Lower Sector."

"For what? Suppressing a riot?"

"To recruit workers."

Barker froze for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Recruit workers? Recruit workers with guns? Are you afraid those lowlifes won't want to work?"

"I'm afraid they'll tear each other apart for the chance." Rovi pocketed the ring.

"I'm going to recruit fifty thousand temporary farm workers, but I have no food to give them. I only have this."

Rovi pointed behind him.

Several servitors carried in a batch of barrels.

Filled to the brim with green, diluted liquid fertilizer.

"What's that?" Barker frowned.

"This is hope," Rovi said. "Tell them, if they're willing to work, they get two pieces of Corpse Starch a day. Those who perform well get this 'Nutrient Paste.'"