A Roasted Battle Sister

A few days later, it was time for the banquet hosted by Governor Valen.

Huron led Corian and his 1st Company Terminators, riding in a Rhino Transport, driving toward the Watt Family noble estate located in the Spire.

Along the way, Corian was unusually quiet. He wore a brand-new set of Cataphractii Terminator armor, sitting upright in his seat with both hands tightly gripping the hilt of his Power Sword.

Inside the transport, there was only the faint buzzing sound of the Terminator servo-motors.

Chapter Master. Corian spoke up suddenly, I don't like this banquet.

Huron leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes to rest. I don't like it either.

Corian was stunned for a moment. Then why go to it?

Because I don't want to start killing immediately, and I hope these people know what's good for them.

This was also his consistent train of thought; to punish without prior warning was tyranny, and to demand results without admonition was cruelty.

Just as he had announced the new legal code in advance and let the registrars make prior remonstrations, he also wanted to give these nobles a chance.

What if these people actually knew what was good for them? Right. Warhammer wasn't devoid of those imaginative nobles who faithfully performed their duties.

Corian fell silent for a moment. Understood. I will remain vigilant.

The transport passed through the Upper Hive checkpoint and slowly entered the Spire region.

The air here was completely different from the Underhive. There was no pungent industrial exhaust or rotting stench, only artificially synthesized floral scents and the faint aroma of incense.

On both sides of the wide streets, noble servants dressed in magnificent attire bowed their heads, their eyes filled with awe and curiosity. They rarely got to see the legendary angels of the Emperor this close.

The Watt Family estate was situated at the highest point of the Spire, a behemoth that fused Gothic spires with baroque elaborate decorations. The exterior walls of the estate were inlaid with gold leaf and stained glass, shimmering with brilliant light under the lights of the hive city.

The estate gates stood wide open, and Valen Watt stood at the entrance to welcome them in person. He wore a brilliantly golden outfit, his chest covered in sashes and medals, resembling an upstart.

Yet the just-right, deferential smile on his face indicated that this was the mainstream attire of the Imperium of Man.

"Lord Chapter Master." He bowed in salute, "Thank you for your arrival."

Huron stepped out of the transport, followed closely by Corian and four Terminator veterans, while the rest of the 1st Company members stayed behind in the transport on standby.

"Governor Valen." He glanced at Valen with a hint of playfulness. "I heard you invited me here to discuss how to deal with those restless nobles?"

"Precisely so." Valen's expression was solemn. "They do not understand the greatness of the God-Emperor, nor do they know the might of the angels, and they are still attempting to put up a stubborn resistance."

Had he not read the relevant materials, based solely on this expression and these words, Huron would have thought he was an Ecclesiarchy believer.

While speaking, Valen led Huron into the banquet hall.

The banquet hall was set on the top floor of the estate. The huge arched dome was covered with murals depicting the ascension of the Emperor, and the surrounding walls were hung with portraits of past patriarchs of the Watt Family. The long dining table was covered with snow-white tablecloths, set with silver cutlery and crystal wine glasses.

After the few of them took their seats, Valen signaled the servants to begin serving the dishes.

As for himself, he began chattering endlessly to Huron about how honest he was, how he had poured his heart and soul into holding back the other nobles, and other such nonsense.

Huron let his mind go blank and his thoughts wander, letting Valen's words go in one ear and out the other.

Not until the servants served the dishes did Huron gain any interest.

Pigs, cows, sheep, chickens, and other animals passed down from Terra, raised in enclosed pure natural ecosystems and paired with precious spices also grown in a pure natural ecosystem, made Huron's mouth water.

As a typical Astartes chapter, the Astral Claws' only advantage when it came to food was that their "ingredients were solid." As for flavor or texture, those were never taken into consideration.

Even the alien fruit he had sneaked a couple of bites of in the lounge earlier had been gifts Odinson received while dealing with the nobles.

Now, although these dishes inherited the "advantage" of British cuisine of blindly wasting food, they were at least natural foods sprinkled with spices. To Huron, who could only chew on bricks, they were naturally delicacies.

Disregarding noble etiquette, the moment the dishes were placed on the table, he began to eat directly.

Pepper, chili, salt, star anise, sour, sweet, bitter... A whole mess of flavors mixed together. If it were an ordinary person, they would probably be overwhelmed to the point of vomiting by this taste, but for Huron, it was just right.

His superhuman organs allowed him to carefully distinguish every single flavor, then examine them closely without interference from other flavors, and even arrange and combine the different tastes, which inevitably made him speed up his eating pace.

Seeing this, the corners of Valen's eyes twitched slightly, believing this to be a show of force from Huron, but he still barely maintained his smile. "I wonder what the Chapter Master thinks of my just-proposed suggestion?"

Huron forked a piece of steak and shoved it into his mouth, saying vaguely, "Fine. Once we clear out those nobles, we'll split it seventy-thirty. Wealth and luxury goods go to you, while factories, mechanical equipment, and the like go to me."

Only then did Valen breathe a sigh of relief. Never mind a thirty percent share; even without it, the shares vacated by those bastards' deaths alone would be enough for the Watt Family to stuff themselves full.

It looked like the Astral Claws had long been dissatisfied with the nobles. Fortunately, he jumped ship quickly, otherwise the one kept in the dark and inexplicably exterminated would have been himself.

At the thought of the terrified expressions on his old rivals' faces when that time came, Valen felt physically and mentally refreshed.

Those idiots either had their interests harmed and wanted to retaliate against the Astral Claws Chapter, or they felt indispensable to the chapter because they had signed quite a few commercial agreements with the Astral Claws, and thus deludedly tried to maintain the status quo. They were simply more stupid than the last.

Taking advantage of the currently wonderful atmosphere, Valen also signaled the servants to bring out the gifts prepared earlier to deepen his relationship with Huron.

He smiled at Huron, "I heard that the Badab Ecclesiarchy actually came into conflict with you, My Lord, down in the Underhive. Simply utterly foolish; they have no idea what the angels of the God-Emperor are."

Huron was somewhat surprised, even stopping the knife and fork in his hand. "What, do you want to rebel against the Ecclesiarchy?"

"No, no, no." Valen hurriedly expressed his denial. "I merely look down upon those bumpkins of Badab. A bunch of wastes, practically treating themselves to be the Terran Ecclesiarchy, utterly courting death."

Right at that moment, several maids slowly walked up carrying a huge covered platter. The tray was covered with master-depicted images of the God-Emperor, qualifying it as a work of art.

Huron suddenly froze. The extraordinary sense of smell granted by his superhuman organs allowed him to catch a scent.

The smell of a human being roasted.

Valen stood up and lifted the lid himself, revealing the contents within.

A Battle Sister wearing Ecclesiarchy vestments.