Ork Assault

"Execute me, Baron Horace?"

"Then tell me before you do! Where did our artillery regiment's one million heavy shells go?"

"Where did five hundred standard loads of ammunition for our antiaircraft guns go?"

"Where did our soldiers' food go?"

"Tell me, Baron Horace! Why is the new armor meant for our Imperial Army on your private guards?"

Baron Horace's face went deathly pale. He opened his mouth, seemingly about to argue, but Bernardo gave him no chance. His gaze swept toward Miles, the finance officer.

"And what happened to the Imperium's military funds? Where did the tens of millions of Throne Gelt allocated to us go?"

General Bernardo's questions cracked through the lavish, dishonest council chamber like thunder.

The truth pierced straight through the dignity the nobles had so carefully maintained.

Baron Horace's face went from white to a furious, panicked purple.

The accusations he had so carefully woven had backfired, setting him and his accomplices ablaze instead.

"Lies! Vicious lies!"

Baron Horace shrieked hysterically, his thick finger trembling as he pointed it at Bernardo's face.

"You... you're a defeated general, and you dare slander the nobility! You're trying to evade responsibility! You're dragging us down out of desperation!"

He wheeled toward his fellow nobles, whose faces showed varying degrees of shock and doubt, and tried to win their support. "You heard him! This madman couldn't hold the Hive City, so now he wants to drag us down with him! He wants to destroy the foundation of Jungle Hive City's rule!"

Miles's face had darkened like a storm cloud. He stopped turning his gold coin between his fingers and quietly rested a hand at his waist, where a small, ornate but undoubtedly lethal Laspistol seemed to be hidden.

Countess Della hid her face entirely behind her fan, leaving only her eyes visible, full of fear and disgust. She looked as though she were witnessing not a matter of life and death, but an undignified farce.

"You know better than anyone whether I'm making desperate accusations, Baron Horace!" Bernardo refused to yield. He stepped forward, alone, yet the presence forged through years of military service briefly overwhelmed the powerful figures before him.

"Soldiers are dying for nothing on the front lines because of the shoddy equipment you supplied! The bullets that should have been fired at Orks have become Throne Gelt and luxuries in your pockets!"

As they listened to Bernardo, some of the nobles abandoned Horace and chose to believe the general instead.

"I think you owe us an explanation, Horace. Otherwise, I won't hesitate to call in professionals to settle this." One noble moved away from Horace, then spoke with a faint sneer.

"Traitors! All of you!" Baron Horace dropped all pretense and roared toward the council chamber doors.

"Guards! My guards! Seize this traitor for disrupting order, slandering the nobility, and plotting treachery!"

Heavy footsteps sounded at once. They were not the uniform tread of Imperial Army boots, but a ragged march unmistakably belonging to a private force.

Eight soldiers rushed in, wearing the scarlet, gold-trimmed uniforms unique to House Horace. Their armor was plainly superior to standard Imperial Army Carapace Armor.

Bernardo looked at the Lasguns in their hands. The weapons gleamed, brand-new—a stark contrast to the badly worn Guns carried by soldiers at the front.

Bernardo gave a bitter, self-mocking smile. The irony was almost too much.

"Seize him!" Baron Horace pointed at Bernardo, his face twisted into a triumphant grin.

"Execute him on the spot! For betraying the Emperor!"

The private soldiers raised their Guns at General Bernardo without hesitation.

The general's Adjutant whipped out his pistol and stepped in front of him, but against the better-armed soldiers who outnumbered them, that resistance looked painfully feeble.

Bernardo looked at the muzzles trained on him, then at Baron Horace's face, contorted with triumph. Grief and disbelief washed over him.

The Imperium's soldiers were fighting Xenos to the death below, while at the top of the Hive City, private soldiers protecting parasites aimed their Guns at the Commander who had poured everything into defending it.

"Do you see now, Bernardo?" Baron Horace said smugly.

"Here, power and bloodline are the only truth! Your cries for the common soldiers are worth nothing!"

But just as the private soldiers were about to seize Bernardo, with Baron Horace's boast still echoing through the Hall—

BOOM!!!

A tremendous crash came from the enormous stained-glass window depicting the deeds of the Imperium's saints!

Something hard had struck it at high speed and shattered it!

Then came more impacts in rapid succession, followed by the deafening crash of breaking glass!

CRASH!!

The costly stained-glass window burst apart in a glittering, deadly storm.

Shards flew everywhere, slicing through expensive silk curtains and striking the polished floor and the nobles' finery.

Through the rain of glass, dozens of hulking green figures trailing black smoke and flame smashed into the highest level of the Hive City with savage force!

Orks! Stormboyz wearing crude, thunderously loud Rokkit Packs!

Like invaders from hell, they shattered the chamber's false calm.

One especially large Ork had a Rokkit Pack that still smoked and crackled on his back. His small eyes, brimming with a primal urge to destroy, instantly fixed on the finely dressed, panic-stricken "runts" in the Hall.

The Shoota in his hands looked like a few iron pipes bound together, but its enormous muzzle immediately unleashed its signature roar: wildly inaccurate, yet dense with fire!

DA-DA-DA-DA-DA!!!

Deafening gunfire filled the Hall, drowning out the arguments and accusations.

Heavy, scorching bullets swept across the crowd in the Hall like death's scythe.

The first to be hit were the House Horace soldiers preparing to arrest Bernardo.

Their pristine scarlet uniforms meant nothing against the Orks' brutal firepower.

Bullets tore through armor and flesh with ease, spraying blood and chunks of meat across the polished Obsidian floor and walls.

Screams erupted on every side. Half the soldiers who had been so menacing moments ago fell at once. The rest scrambled for cover in panic, their orders forgotten.

The nobles fared even worse. Their screams and sobs replaced their earlier arrogance and accusations.

The triumphant grin froze on Baron Horace's face, then gave way to utter terror. He tried to squeeze his fat body beneath the heavy conference table, flailing in a ridiculous, desperate scramble.

Countess Della let out a piercing shriek, oblivious to the jeweled fan falling from her hand.

Miles tried to draw his Gun and fire, but his hands shook so badly he nearly dropped his Laspistol.

In the chaos, General Bernardo and his Adjutant reacted first.

The instant the glass shattered, the general yanked his Adjutant behind a massive decorative stone pillar.

Ork bullets struck the pillar, throwing off showers of sparks and stone chips.

Bernardo pressed his back against the cold stone, gasping for breath. He stared at the hell that had erupted before him.

The Orks rampaged through the Hall, spraying gunfire and hacking at every living thing they saw. The nobles scattered like headless flies, their wealth and power dissolving before sheer violence. Baron Horace's private soldiers were being slaughtered, their fine equipment offering no safety at all.

"Quick! Get the guards outside in here! I'll stay here!"

As he spoke, Bernardo raised his Gun and fired. Two Orks dropped before his muzzle.

(Monarchia coordinates: 730952330)