Chapter 113: Gilding the Master
With the primary directives issued, Kian dismissed his officers to begin the reorganization. He pulled Shiv aside before the boy could head back to the vats.
"Shiv, take the trolley. Bring one hundred cases of 'Cluck-Thump' Grox-meat from the brewery. We're cooking a massive vat-stew for the laborers.
"The old regime is ash. The Voss era has begun, and the first lesson the workers learn is that the new Boss provides real protein. Let them eat until they're sick of the taste."
Shiv grinned, already imagining the look on the workers' faces. He hopped into the cargo-trolley, and the rhythmic clack-clack of the rails echoed as he sped toward the brewery.
Kian turned his attention to Boss Iron-Eye's private quarters. The hab-unit was roughly two hundred square meters—a palatial estate by Underhive standards. It was filled with salvaged Mid-Hive furniture, several functioning glow-globes, and a retinue of ten women.
The women, seeing the change in leadership, didn't seem particularly distressed. They smoothed their rags, swayed their hips, and approached Kian with practiced, hollow smiles, intent on ensuring the new Warlord felt "at home."
Kian looked at them and felt a wave of immediate disappointment. Hive-life was not kind to the feminine form. Their faces were weathered, their skin grey from chemical exposure, and their features possessed that rugged, "square-jawed" look common in the propaganda posters of the Adepta Sororitas—or rather, like the older, uncharitable miniature sculpts from the ancient 3k hobby shops.
Kian had no interest in being a "man of the people" in that specific sense. He didn't want to be a customer; he wanted to be an owner. He ordered the women out of the room, telling them to go help Sampson move fertilizer.
Once alone, Kian began his "Tactical Loot-Sweep."
He found crates of vintage amasec, high-grade Spire-rations, and a collection of hygiene products—real soap and scented oils—that were rare even in the Mid-Hive. The total value of the "surface trash" was roughly 10,000 Agri-Scrips.
But his eyes were locked on the centerpiece of the room: a half-meter-tall safe made of blackened reinforced plasteel.
It featured a dual-locking mechanism—a heavy physical keyhole and a rotary combination dial. Kian checked Iron-Eye's body (which Sampson's crew was currently hauling to the "Recycling Vats") and found a heavy iron key on a chain.
He returned to the safe and slotted the key. Click. One half was open.
Now for the combination. Kian didn't have the code, and he didn't want to use explosives—blasting open a safe usually resulted in "Loot Damage."
He sat cross-legged on the floor and closed his eyes. He had been training his Psionics for weeks. He could lift ten kilograms now. But more importantly, he had learned the "Internal Touch."
Kian pressed his palm against the cold metal of the dial. He extended a thin, needle-like thread of Warp-energy into the lock's housing. His vision shifted. In his mind's eye, he "saw" the internal tumblers. He could feel the resistance of the gears.
He used his other hand to slowly rotate the dial. He watched the internal notches slide into place, one by one. Clack. Clack. Clack.
Kian opened his eyes and turned the master handle.
CREAK.
The heavy door swung open, and for a moment, Kian was blinded by the reflection of his own tactical flashlight.
Agri-Scrips. Stacks upon stacks of high-denomination notes. The safe was packed to the brim with the Syndicate's liquid capital. Kian performed a rapid "Audit-Scan."
Total Value: ~4,000,000 Agri-Scrips.
Kian let out a sharp, triumphant whistle. "Honest work is for losers. Asset-forfeiture is the real meta!"
He dug deeper into the money-pile and found four Gold Bullion Bars, each weighing two kilograms. In the 41st Millennium, gold was no longer a scarce resource in the galaxy, but its status as a "Noble-Metal" remained. To the Spire-Lords, gold was a way to flaunt their "Old Earth" heritage.
Finally, Kian pulled out a green data-tab. It featured a Spire-Registry code: [Sector G, Block 13, Suite 4123].
"A Spire Apartment Key-Cog?" Kian mused, pocketing the card. He suspected Iron-Eye was a "Sump-Proxy" for a minor noble. This card would give Kian a base of operations once he officially migrated to the upper tiers.
Kian spent the next cycle moving the capital and the furniture to his Sanctum via the cargo-trolley. Once the blast doors were sealed, he initiated a "Mass-Upgrade" phase.
First, he disassembled the Count's luxury spring-mattress and integrated the frame into his Sanctum's cot.
[SANCTUM UPGRADE: BED (LVL 2)]
Effects:
Respawn Cooldown reduced to 7 Hours.
Passive Stamina/Energy Recovery +15%.
Next, he turned his attention to the Imperial Shrine.
He used the Machinist Station's grinder to turn the eight kilograms of gold bullion into a fine, shimmering dust. He then applied industrial adhesive to the hand-carved wooden statue of the Emperor. With the steady hand of a master-artificer, he coated the wood in gold, using his tools to press, burnish, and re-sculpt the details until the "Golden Man" truly lived up to his name.
He placed the now-blindingly bright golden icon back into the alcove and lit a fresh votive candle.
"Master of Mankind," Kian whispered. "I've given you a fresh coat of paint. Keep the Daemons away and I'll keep the gold coming."
[DING! SANCTUM UPGRADE: IMPERIAL SHRINE (LVL 2)]
[UPGRADE EFFECTS]
Crafting Slots: Increased from 1 → 3.
Sanctified Aegis: The Emperor's power shields your Sanctum, and a faint "Aura of Purity" now extends to your immediate followers outside the door.
Divine Favor: Faithful citizens and pious clergy members will now perceive you as a "Blessed Soul." (+20 Reputation gain with Ecclesiarchy and Imperial cults).
Kian smirked. He was becoming more than a warlord. He was becoming a Patron of the Creed.
He sat back on his new spring-mattress, his eyes closing as he planned his next "Audit" of the Mid-Hive market.
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