Ten hundred thousand High Thrones—enough to buy three Centurion suits!
Just moments ago, Saraph had been happily thinking of using the remaining Thrones to pick out a few suitable Centurion suits in the heavy armor section,
boosting the Chapter's breaching capability.
But then he abruptly discovered that his account had been debited an extra one hundred thousand High Thrones!
The suddenness of it almost stunned this battle-hardened Chapter Master senseless; a trace of panic crept in despite himself.
Not even decades ago, when he took part in an Apocalypse-class war, accepted a death-oath assault, and stood alone against a regional Chaos tide—
had he been this tense.
"Where are my Thrones—my Thrones!"
Saraph howled inside, unable to keep his usual composure.
His voice trembled as he asked:
"Have you made a mistake? We calculated our purchases several times. There was no way we spent that many High Thrones."
The Chapter Master restrained himself.
After all, this was an enterprise under His Majesty the Savior's banner—and he still owed that Majesty money.
Moreover, he believed that a concern under such a generous being would not cheat like the shameless guilds elsewhere in the Imperium.
Hearing him, the Angels Vigilant all turned their eyes to the attendants.
Even though they had resolved to spend boldly with their huge loan, they hadn't swept shelves like the Carcharodons; everything had been carefully tallied,
not a single wasted Throne.
Even the Chapter Master himself had steeled his heart and refrained from buying the five-thousand-Throne, Emperor's-Light-blessed, gilded Holy-Radiance deluxe Iron Halo.
He had lingered at the display a long time, but in the end clenched his teeth, walked away, and left those Thrones for his warriors.
So there was no way they had spent beyond what they'd budgeted—let alone by a full hundred thousand!
"Apologies, but our settlement system cannot be in error."
Even facing so many accusing gazes from the Emperor's Angels, the attendant remained neither servile nor overbearing.
He worked under the Ministry of Commerce, in service to the great Savior—there should be no fear.
Besides, the store was well fitted with alarms and defensive measures.
Should these Emperor's Angels violate contract with assault or seizure, the store's defense grid would snap online, and the patrols nearby would come running.
The attendant's words froze the air.
The Angels Vigilant clearly could not accept it; they suspected the store of swallowing their High Thrones.
Fortunately, the attendant promptly offered an explanation:
"According to the system, that one hundred thousand High Thrones were spent just now by 'Mister Gabriel' using your payment code—with your consent."
???
"That warm-hearted brother?"
Saraph went numb; his body quivered.
He thought back on all that had happened—and realized what this was.
He'd been swindled…
That "courtesy gesture" the man had made earlier seemed to have been a sign of agreement.
The man had steered the course of things, deceived both the Angels Vigilant and the attendants, and then bolted.
No wonder he started sprinting the moment he stepped out—Saraph had truly thought the fellow had urgent business!
"Weren't we agreed—battle-brothers don't cheat battle-brothers?!"
Saraph felt as if something had stabbed straight through his heart—pain without measure.
That was… a hundred thousand High Thrones!
"Is that Mister Gabriel not your companion?"
The attendant realized something was wrong and felt a little rattled.
It was a serious error on the job.
He apologized sincerely:
"By the Savior—this was our mistake. I'll report it up immediately. We will see to it, and give you an accounting!"
But the Angels Vigilant's fury was already boiling over; Saraph felt nothing but humiliation—his temper snapped red-hot.
"Bastard!!!"
"That man was a Blood Raven!"
Thinking back now—the badge on his chest had been carefully disguised, but one could still make out the base shape; it looked very like the infamous Blood Ravens.
Among Space Marines, only they would stoop to something so vile!
"Librarius, I need you to find that Blood Raven cheat."
Saraph's expression hardened; he hailed the Chief Librarian.
He wanted him to use divination and prescience to locate the Blood Raven who dared trick the Angels Vigilant.
This was nothing less than the Chapter's shame.
Even if the armory promised to handle it, he had to seize the man with his own hands and take back what was stolen—
to recover the Angels Vigilant's losses and honor!
After that, Saraph and the fully armed Angels Vigilant burst from the store to hunt the cheat.
The armory attendants also escalated the incident for action.
…
A short time before.
The ever-helpful Blood Ravens Chapter Master Gabriel hurried out of the armory, dragging a light grav-crate.
Just now, he had kindly helped the Angels Vigilant secure a large loan—and warmly helped them spend it.
The Blood Ravens' Chapter Master cast a wary glance behind, quickening his pace—then he broke into a run, grav-crate in tow.
His sprinting steps were so cheerful—almost floating.
Too good, hahahaha!
Before long he darted into a deserted alley, activated a masking field to near-invisibility, and used a proscribed relic to erase his trail.
Once that trace-scrubbing program finished, not just physical tracking—finding him would be hard even for a high-tier psyker.
When a Blood Raven goes about the underworld—cheating and swindling—without some solid tricks, he'd have been killed long ago.
How else would he still be at large?
Gabriel cheerfully inventoried his haul, then fixed a special locator on the grav-crate.
In time, the little Blood Ravens would come retrieve the spoils.
Two weeks earlier, Gabriel had led a Blood Ravens strike cadre to infiltrate this Astartes District with forged identities.
Besides their strong infiltration skills, the screening here wasn't so strict.
Most Space Marines could pass review so long as nothing major was amiss.
After all, Dawn City was the new Imperial capital—with the Emperor and three Primarchs in residence, and this zone was a gathering place of Astartes—
virtually the densest concentration of Space Marines in the galaxy.
With so many Chapters and high-tier warriors, only a madman would come here—heretic, xenos, or Chaos—to get pummeled.
So the vetting procedures weren't overly baroque.
And that gave the Blood Ravens scum their chance to slip in and ply their trade; to them this place was paradise.
The Astartes District covered an area the size of a planet—plenty of room to bolt—and everywhere were Space Marines and a sea of armor and kit; you could steal forever and never be done!
These past few days, the Blood Ravens had pulled off several operations in a row, lifting a good bit of quality stock.
"Sigh—these poor Chapters are still easier to fool… no vigilance at all…"
Gabriel patted the grav-crate at his side—slightly sentimental.
This particular swindle had been improvisation; he'd originally just come to the armory to case the place, maybe lift a little something.
But when he saw the Angels Vigilant, he changed plans at once.
He could tell they'd only just returned to the Imperium and had no idea how things worked—perfect time to strike.
So he stepped in "righteously"—and took them for a fat sum.
He felt little guilt.
He hadn't emptied them out—just helped spend "a little." That was gentlemanly already.
The Blood Ravens steal anything and everything—but they have principles.
For example, they will fight shoulder to shoulder with battle-brothers—then, when the fight is safely over, a gun will vanish from the rack without a trace.
Or they'll slip into some depot and pluck only what's "needed."
In short, the Blood Ravens steal reasonably; they don't go too far, and often the other party never even notices.
They do it all for the Chapter's growth—appropriating a bit here and there so the Blood Ravens can better defend the Imperium and render up their loyalty!
Bzzz—
Gabriel used a sprayer to dark-green his armor, swapping for unfamiliar heraldry.
He hadn't had time for disguise during the spur-of-the-moment grift.
Chances were the Angels Vigilant had realized and were looking; better to be careful.
"My brothers, alas—you'll never find me. The Lord of the Blood Ravens is not so easily caught."
Gabriel eyed his new dark-green paint with satisfaction, muttering.
He did not believe the Angels Vigilant could catch him.
A little over twenty years back, the Inquisition and the Custodians raided a black-market skyport—and still failed to seize him.
Let alone some pauper Chapter.
Unconcerned, the Blood Ravens' Chapter Master shifted his gait and strolled out of the alley.
He planned to cheat—steal—once more or twice, then duck away with the lads for a cool-down.
"Cubs, that Savior is no simple figure—we have to be wary.
In two days, we leave with the haul!"
On the street.
Gabriel quietly signaled the Blood Ravens while scouting for a new mark.
He did have a sliver of wariness about the Savior—even if the Blood Ravens had never yet botched a theft.
The Chapter Master was a creature of the shadows.
As he passed a Space Marine, his hand flicked—a relic came away from the pauldron—then he vaulted onto a large hauler and pulled out a nutrient bar.
Lifted from a shop—a high-density combat ration bar made for Space Marines—strawberry flavor, rather nice.
"The Imperium really is getting better…"
Gabriel swallowed the bar, feeling the heat surge—musing.
Beyond the steady iteration of arms and armor, every kind of Space Marine supply had changed massively.
A century and more ago, a Space Marine's field fare was mostly amino-porridge, triglyceride gel, and the like—virtually flavorless.
Aside from providing energy—no virtues at all, on par with corpse-starch.
But now, Space Marine foodstuffs were rich and varied; besides compressed ration bars there were canned foods of all kinds.
All made from high-quality ingredients—not industrial compounds.
In regular wars, there were even dedicated field-kitchen trucks to cook fresh, high-energy meals on site.
Some research outfits had already begun competing—pushing the concepts of "delicious, nutritionally balanced, ultra-high calorie," even adding more vital bio-nutrients.
They were really "sweating the details."
And not just for Space Marines—ordinary Imperial citizens' lives were changing, too.
In bright, prosperous Imperial regions, non-chemical foods and fresh produce had begun to reach common tables.
Even mid- and lower-tier citizens could afford some goods beyond mere subsistence.
This was the role of market dynamics and macro-tuning as the Savior had preached—consumption capacity unlocked, productivity fully promoted.
Gabriel, a veteran noosphere-net user, had followed the Savior's policies and economic plans—he understood.
He also knew the Savior was mustering armies to launch a grand crusade on the Umbral Sector.
The cleansing war would push from its core to its rim—virtually no cap on commitment—until total victory.
"Perhaps, the Imperium truly can climb out of the abyss."
So Gabriel thought.
After this last sweep—and after milking the Redemption Armory platform's credit—the Blood Ravens would take the Webway to the Umbral Sector and join the crusade.
Steal they might—the Blood Ravens were still loyal warriors of the Imperium!
Suddenly, Gabriel found a new target and hopped down from the hauler,
shadowing along.
But he soon stopped.
Not because another Astartes had spotted him—but because he saw a better target.
"Hiss—
Is that… an Ogryn?"
Gabriel stared at the scene in the small plaza—drawing a sharp breath.
He saw the legendary, mysterious—Ogryn Space Marines!
At the center of the little square—
"Oh!
My great, merciful, and wise Majesty the Savior—symbol of radiance;
like blazing stars, you light the darkened road;
upon Ogryn hearts a fire of loyalty burns;
We follow you—to the ends of the world…"
A rough baritone was chanting poetry in praise of the Savior.
An Ogryn Space Marine stood with eyes closed, hands moving gently, lost in his own poem—
intoxicated.
As he recited, the Ogryn musicians behind him played with growing devotion—mellifluous, sacred.
Nearby Space Marines, paused and curious, felt numb watching it all.
By the Emperor—these Ogryn were a bit too cultured; it stung their pride a little.
In Imperial slang, "Ogryn brains" are a curse—and yet here they were, seeming more refined than many of them?!
This was a set cultural activity of the Ogryn Colossi Chapter.
On worship days they would go to plazas to put on performances—
in forms including, but not limited to, poetry, music, painting, and dance—exalting the Savior's greatness.
It was one way Ogryn warriors expressed loyalty—and a way to show people that Ogryn not only fight; they aren't big dummies!
Gabriel stared at the Ogryn—eyes glazing.
It wasn't their wit that shocked him—but their gear: all top-shelf!
He could see it at a glance—although the Ogryn kit looked simple and rugged, the quality was very high—at least master-crafted,
and he even spotted not a few artisan-grade treasures.
As one of the Savior's most favored legions—and refoundry Ogryn at that—each was nearly a Dreadnought in size.
Naturally they received abundant supply—one of the most lavish Chapters in the galaxy.
"Oh, my Ogryn brothers!"
Gabriel had found his mark and swept forward, all warmth.
Beside the Ogryn choir stood the largest of them.
Keeping time with the hymn, he was painting and sketching upon a four- or five-meter board—taking the distant Savior's icon as his subject.
When the hymn ended, so did the Ogryn's painting.
"This is my best work of late. Genefather will surely praise me!"
Chapter Master Gaus of the Colossi put his brush down gently, looked at the painting, and smiled with satisfaction.
He was about to mark the canvas and send it to his Genefather—the great Majesty the Savior.
"Brother, what business have you with Gaus?"
Only after finishing did Gaus notice the Blood Ravens' Chapter Master at his side.
He lowered his head to ask.
???
"Damn Ogryn—are they truly this gifted at art?!"
The corner of Gabriel's eye twitched—swearing in his heart.
He'd just glanced at the Ogryn's work; it wasn't random scrawl but a classical, religious-style oil.
Not only had he rendered the Savior's icon—he'd added many elements: holy light, angels in flight, Ogryn kneeling below—
all to make the icon and the painting still more sacred.
He often slipped into noble vaults to "visit the collections," and had some eye for art.
What lay before him was no less than the work of certain "artists!"
For a moment, Gabriel considered retreat.
When the Ogryn named Gaus lowered his head, the sheer pressure was like facing a heavily armored monsters-dread—
but then the Blood Ravens' Chapter Master discarded the thought. He was sure he could handle Ogryn.
He sensed a bit of honest-goofy air about them.
Easy marks—step right up!
"Ogryn brother, I am a devout believer in His Majesty the Savior—an ardent fan."
Gabriel's face shone with fervor and reverence; his words were earnest:
"My friends and I love your art. Could we invite you to perform for us?"
He intended to seize on an Ogryn weakness—set an elaborate snare—and shear these Ogryn for a heavy fleece.
"Praise the Savior—do you truly mean it?"
Hearing this, Gaus smiled with a certain wisdom—delighted.
All these years, aside from the rising Nova marines of the Primarch of Extremis occasionally competing with them in the arts, no other Chapter had invited them.
This would be a breakthrough.
"But of course—we yearn to behold art of His Majesty the Savior!"
Gabriel spoke with firm conviction.
The Chapter Master then forced a critique of the painting—and coaxed the Ogryn into packing up and happily following along.
Then he signaled the Blood Ravens cubs—move now.
Prime game on the hoof!
Soon, the Blood Ravens had assembled at a certain site—ready to deploy their professional talents in full.
…
Astartes District, landing apron.
A dark-gold, luxurious craft settled—the Savior's personal transport.
"This district's layout is well done—grand scale—commendable…"
As the hatch lifted, Eden, accompanied by the district's director, surveyed the city of Space Marines from a specially built belvedere.
It was his first inspection—he was plainly pleased.
Truth be told, this viewing terrace had been built as a showcase to receive the Savior—
to leave a good first impression.
After this, they would accompany His Majesty on a tour, reviewing results and hearing precious guidance.
Suddenly, Eden received a transmission—and frowned.
He had received intelligence on an unknown enemy—and took it seriously.
Besides inspecting today, he meant to meet with the Angels Vigilant, to ask for details.
According to the latest reports—
another world in the Umbral Sector had fallen—again to an irresistible strike—beyond expectations.
Worse, the Lion still showed no sign of waking; no one could act from the Dark to counter in time.
The Webway did not yet reach every point in the Umbral; some channels were still being cleared and built.
By the time the Redemption Expeditionary Fleets set forth, it might be too late.
The idea had been that if the Lion coordinated from that side, efficiency would soar.
Ordinarily, he should have woken by now; but still—no word.
Something was off.
The galaxy had changed too much because of him.
"Perhaps… we should ask the Emperor Himself to call the Lion forth."
Eden's brows knit.
After the inspection, he would go to the Palace of the Black Throne to see the Emperor's condition.
May His Majesty not have declined to the point that He could no longer reach His sons…
(End of Chapter)
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