"Yes, sir." The Tech-Priest nodded.
"This aligns with the lifestyle and production characteristics of the indigenous people of the Brevis Ice Plain."
"Although the savages and the Hive City some trade relations, the tribe is not lacking in modern technology."
"But they still largely retain Stone Age production methods, living by hunting and enjoying wearing crystal and animal bone ornaments."
Dominic stood up and looked around at the empty ice valley.
Six months ago, a wild man came here.
Moreover, the quantity was definitely not small; otherwise, so many scattered remnants wouldn't have been left in such a widely separated area.
But when he visited the surrounding area yesterday, he didn't encounter a single savage tribe along the way; all living things were deliberately avoiding this area.
The fact that the savages who have lived on the ice plains for generations consider this place a forbidden zone suggests that what happened here six months ago was absolutely beyond imagination.
"Walk."
Dominic made a quick decision and turned to leave.
"Let's go find the savage camp."
The ice plains are vast, and finding a savage tribe that is deliberately hiding is not easy.
But Dominic was prepared.
He deployed a Valkyrie Transport to conduct a low-altitude search along the water sources and hunting grounds surrounding the valley.
In just two hours, they found three savage camps hidden in the crevices of ice and rock.
The first camp was small, with only a few dozen households. Dyed animal hide tents were crammed together, and dried voles meat was drying outside the tents.
Several thin, pale-faced children huddled in the gaps of the tent, timidly watching the transport planes overhead.
Dominic disembarked from the plane with two guards and had his accompanying interpreter explain his purpose.
He didn't put on airs as an Imperium Major General; he simply had two boxes of nutritional paste, a box of water purification tablets, and several bundles of thermal fabric brought out.
For starving savages, these things were more precious than gold.
The old clan chief walked out shakily, his gaunt face covered with wrinkles. Looking at the supplies on the ground, a glimmer of longing flashed in his cloudy eyes, but it was quickly suppressed by fear.
"We... know nothing."
He spoke in broken Low Gothic, his gaze sweeping across the valley before he quickly made a strange hand gesture, as if in prayer or exorcism.
"That place... I can't say."
"I just want answers." Dominic's voice was deep, carrying the imposing presence characteristic of a soldier.
Explain clearly what happened in the valley six months ago; all these things are yours.
"I can give you another transport plane's worth of food, enough to last you through three harsh winters!"
Food for a transport plane.
This was undoubtedly a tremendous temptation for a small tribe on the verge of starvation.
The old patriarch's lips trembled, and his fingers gripped his cane so tightly that they turned bluish-purple.
The tribesmen behind him held their breath, their eyes darting back and forth between the food and the old chieftain.
But in the end, the old man slowly shook his head.
"Divine punishment will follow."
His voice trembled, but his tone was unusually firm. "He will be angry."
No matter how much the translator tried to persuade him, the old clan chief refused to say another word, keeping his head down and not daring to look in the direction of the valley.
Dominic stared into the old man's eyes.
There was no cunning, no scheming, only a deep-seated awe, and the fear hidden beneath that awe.
That look in his eyes...
He suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity.
A little over a month ago, when he first arrived in Brevis, he heard his officers talk about local legends, saying that a group of ancient Dragon of Frost lived deep in the ice plains and were the guardians of the snowfields.
Having nothing better to do at the time, he took a group of people to the ice plains to search for the so-called Dragon of Frost, wanting to see if it was a native creature or a folk tale.
On that occasion, he asked a savage tribe.
The look in the eyes of those savages when they mentioned the words " Dragon of Frost " was exactly the same as that of the old chieftain before them.
Awe, fear, and a refusal to profane.
I asked several tribes of wild people, and the responses were all pretty much the same.
Out of reverence, I dared not say more.
An absurd yet perfectly logical thought suddenly crashed into Dominic's mind.
Was what happened in the valley six months ago related to the Dragon of Frost?
Is there really a connection between Kerry Von and that legendary creature?
There have always been rumors that this young governor's prowess is due to the Dragon of Frost's approval, haven't there?
Dominic's heart inexplicably quickened.
If the Genestealer of the Plague Cleansing Cult could be explained as "a temporary expedient, used covertly," then...
That giant Xenos creature that could command the winds and rains on the ice plains was definitely not something that could be simply "used".
The fact that a creature from local mythology could gain the approval of a great beast signifies something far more profound than it seems.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart.
If the soft approach doesn't work, then the hard approach will.
He's not some pushover, and he doesn't have that much time to waste on savages.
"Take away."
Dominic uttered two words coldly.
The guards immediately stepped forward and helped the old clan chief up.
The young men of the tribe roared angrily, raising their stone spears to charge forward, but were frozen in place by the cold glint of the Boltgun in the guards' hands.
"Don't worry, I won't kill him." Dominic said calmly, looking at the savages who dared not speak out.
"Once we've found out the details, we'll release him. The supplies will remain; consider it compensation."
After saying that, he turned and boarded the transport plane, taking the prisoners straight to the next camp.
Using the same method, he captured the chiefs of two other medium-sized tribes.
Three tribes, one old, one middle-aged, and one young, and three leaders—enough to piece together the whole story.
It was already late at night when I got back to Star Harbor.
In the interrogation room of the Gemstone, the stark white light illuminated three terrified faces.
Dominic didn't do it himself; instead, he brought in two Psyker from the fleet who specialized in mind interrogation.
There was no torture, but it was even more agonizing.
All it takes is for Psychic Power to pierce the depths of consciousness, and all the hidden memories can be unearthed, bit by bit.
The process was brutal and could cause irreversible psychological damage to the person being interrogated, but Dominic didn't care.
Faced with the truth, whether the mental health of a few savages is mediocre is insignificant.
The interrogation ended three hours later.
The Psyker walked out of the interrogation room, his face pale, and handed the compiled intelligence to Dominic.
"Major General, the information has been compiled."
Dominic took the Dataslate and looked at it line by line under the light, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.
The Ice Savages of Brevis are rooted in the miners abandoned during the industrialization of the Hive City.
Centuries ago, Brevis transformed from Industrial World into Hive World.
A large number of mutated miners from the lower classes, abandoned on the Arctic ice fields because of their appearance, struggle to survive with the remaining tools and resources of the ice fields.
Over the course of a century, they gradually evolved into two main clans.
One of the gentler tribes lives by hunting and gathering, occasionally trading with the Hive City, but unwilling to be enemies of Hive City, and calls themselves the Ice Fang Clan.
Another group, known as the Snow Claw Clan, is aggressive, hates all Hive City people, and frequently raids border caravans and outposts.