Astartes Tell You to Stand Up

A tall, burly figure appeared on the lower deck.

In the gloom, beneath massive gears, countless workers scrubbed the steel floor.

Upon seeing Cyrus and the Salamanders behind him, they scattered with screams as though they had seen a slave master's whip. Even children under ten hid in dark corners, poking their heads out before being swiftly dragged back inside.

The entire world held nothing but the harsh grinding of gears and the clang of steel.

Before the enormous gears, beneath the only source of light, row after row of corpses hung like a forest, their hands and feet bound. The workers had just been cleaning up the blood dripping from those bodies.

Drip.

Drip.

"Catch a few fresh ones. Use their boiling blood as an offering to the Corpse Emperor."

Click!

The sound of a Bolter being chambered rang out.

Heretics!

Lord Byrne was furious, his rage making the table before him tremble.

It was one thing for the planetary governor to disregard even him, an Imperial Rogue Trader.

But now even an Astartes had dared to bully him.

And had directly killed his man without permission?

He was an Imperium-appointed planetary governor, a regional power within the Imperium. The other party was merely an Astartes—how dared he kill one of his retainers?

Was he not afraid that the Inquisition would seize his entire Chapter and put them on trial?

Was he not afraid of pressure from the High Lords upon the entire Imperium?

Was he not afraid that his crimes would provoke The Emperor's wrath?

According to The Emperor's decree, Astartes were merely tools for humanity's journey into the stars. As one of humanity's most noble aristocrats beneath only the High Lords, he was an elite among the elites of the human Imperium.

"Sir Nexius was killed by him, and he even attacked the Byrne Dynasty's guards. If I hadn't run fast enough, we would have died too. He must have colluded with that planetary governor. They want to kill us. They must be coveting your letter of appointment. Lord Byrne, quickly—have the Astropaths inform the Inquisition and put these heretics on trial."

"Those damned Astartes. Their nature is as untrustworthy as the heretics hiding within the Imperium," someone beside him said bitterly.

"Enough." Byrne clenched his fists. Rage carved racial hatred across his aged face. He rose from his throne and walked down, voicing an angry accusation. "Those inhuman races should have been wiped out during the ancient Battle of Armageddon."

"The High Lords of the Imperium are entirely right to always doubt their loyalty."

The arrogance of the aristocratic class made Lord Byrne of the Byrne Dynasty look down upon every tool they had enslaved or were enslaving. And the Astartes, who had once betrayed the Imperium and brought about the Dark Turmoil during the war, were pawns these nobles absolutely could not trust.

Have the Astropaths send the message.

Then gather my soldiers—the Death Cults hidden beneath my decks, those Battle Sisters, and the naval forces under the retainers aboard our ship—

Before Byrne could issue his orders,

a "slave master" of the Byrne Dynasty rushed into the blood-red corridor carpeted in red, crying out to Lord Byrne.

"Lord Byrne!"

"The people below the lower decks have rebelled again! Someone released those two leaders. The rebels are fighting our Navy, and the retainers who once belonged to you have opened the armories, allowing over a hundred thousand lower-class people to ravage your dynasty!"

"Betrayal!!!"

"The retainers have betrayed us!"

"Who was it? The Nexius Family? The Fenir Family?"

Those retainers were the people Byrne trusted most. They were his allies, his partners in colonizing the worlds beyond. This sudden stab in the back made Byrne even more furious.

The retainers beneath him all hurried to declare their loyalty, even beginning to attack those whose interests conflicted with their own.

"My lord, the Kesv Family is loyal to the Byrne Dynasty."

"It must be the Fenir Family. They've always wanted to rise to power."

"Bullshit! You're the ones trying to seize power! During your Logen Family's battle against Chaos this time, not a single one of you died or was wounded. All the casualties were ours! My lord lost half his soldiers!"

His retainers blamed and accused one another, shirking responsibility. More than ten minutes were wasted, yet not one of them offered a useful suggestion. Byrne felt like his head was about to explode.

Before Byrne could make a decision, someone else hurried in from outside. He glanced at the people kneeling on the floor, then quietly informed Lord Byrne.

"My lord, we received a distress signal from the surface, but it disappeared after only a few seconds. I suspect the Death Cult failed, and that planetary governor has moved against us. Should we strike this planet directly?"

"!!!"

One incident after another targeted him, and the incompetence of his retainers drove Lord Byrne nearly mad with rage. Yet he still restrained himself from venting his anger on them. He still needed these retainers. "Death Cult! You useless trash! We fed you so much flesh and so many corpses, yet none of you could accomplish anything."

"And you lot, stop arguing."

"Even a broken ship still has three thousand nails. So what if the retainers have rebelled? So what if the Death Cult is useless? Can a mere planetary governor really force us into a corner? Those Astartes must have been ordered by that planetary governor. I'll send them to the Inquisition one by one and make them face The Emperor's judgment."

"Come with me! Suppress the rebellion."

Lord Byrne shouted loudly, but no one moved.

The doors were pushed open again.

A ragged man staggered inside from beyond the doors, with a crowd of lower-class people chasing after him. He was dressed like a slave from the lower decks. Upon seeing luxury he had never seen before, his eyes filled with desire for this abundant material world. Looking at the unfamiliar food on Lord Byrne's table, he drooled with longing.

But then he seemed to remember something and crawled toward Byrne, scrambling on hands and knees.

The lower-class people who wanted to rush inside were frightened back by the blood-covered carpet and the solemn, dignified hall they had never seen before. They even recalled the shadows of being tortured again after touching things they were not supposed to touch.

He shouted excitedly:

"My lord, my lord, quickly capture those rebellious lower-class people! Their riot was all incited by several monsters wearing red iron blocks. They tempted my friends. They stormed your warehouse to seize the wealth that belongs to you. Look, I helped you take it back."

As he spoke, he pulled an exquisite box never seen on the lower decks from his clothes. Holding it out with both hands, he presented it to the noble lord whom he believed to be the most noble, most elegant, most perfect, and lofty person he had ever seen in his life.

Yet the people in the hall merely smiled disdainfully, looking at him as though he were a fool.

Among the crowd of lower-class people, a gaunt, blood-covered ordinary man stood upon the bloodstained carpet without fear or terror, with only coldness in his eyes.

His arms and palms bore marks where they had been pierced, and the blood flowing from them stained those once "sacred" aristocratic belongings.

Perhaps those untouchable things were not truly untouchable after all.

And after touching them, no "curse" had descended.

Paradox players attended the Emperor's Ascension Festival as honored guests.

Europa Universalis players: If I had the Imperium's STC Template, I could buy the entire continent!

Hearts of Iron players: If I had the Imperium's soldiers, the whole world would submit to me!

Crusader Kings players: If I had [one chapter a day], the whole world still wouldn't know about that little thing between my sister and me.