Having said that, Dominic turned and walked toward the side door of the bridge.
Ralph remained in his black Vatin armor, his visor obscuring his face. Like a silent shadow, he followed closely behind Dominic. Crossing a corridor lined with red carpeting, they arrived at Dominic's private dining hall. The sheer luxury of the room once again expanded Raynor's understanding of wealth.
A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, composed of hundreds of perfectly cut diamonds. The light it emitted reflected off the midnight-black ceiling like a dazzling sea of stars. The floor was covered in precious mink-fur rugs from an unknown origin, so soft it felt like walking on clouds. Golden reliefs were embedded in the walls, depicting the heroic deeds of the Ventrillia ancestors.
A ten-meter-long solid silver dining table sat in the center of the room, draped in a snow-white linen tablecloth and set with exquisite silver cutlery and crystal wine glasses. Every piece of silverware was engraved with the Ventrillia family crest, with small diamonds inlaid along the edges.
Despite such opulence, Dominic usually dined alone. At the long table, there was only one set of seats. Ralph stood silently in the corner of the room like an emotionless statue.
Looking at everything before him, Raynor felt a wave of emotion. He had seen the dining halls used by Geth and Isuld on the Canticle. At the time, he thought they were luxurious enough, but compared to the dining hall on the Gemstone, those were practically slums.
Yet, he felt no envy. He knew that behind this luxury lay endless constraint and solitude. The lives of Imperial nobles were planned out from the moment they were born. Some spent over ten hours a day listening to ancestral glories, reciting Ecclesiarchy scriptures, and learning various complex etiquettes. They had no hobbies, no personal thoughts, and could not even marry for love. Their entire lives were lived for the glory of the family and the interests of the Imperium.
Many nobles could only sleep one or two hours a day. The rest of their time was filled with meaningless rituals and lessons. They truly prioritized "ceremonial weight" above all else. In a sense, they lived more miserably than the commoners of the Underhive. Commoners suffered physically, but nobles were essentially imprisoned mentally for life.
Thus, whenever an opportunity arose to go to the battlefield and escape this suffocating lifestyle, many nobles became exceptionally aggressive. Looking at Dominic's back, Raynor began to understand the root cause. This young Ventrillian noble was so war-hungry perhaps not just because he worshipped strength, but because he wanted to find his own version of freedom on the battlefield—a freedom away from his family.
"Sit," Dominic pointed to the seat opposite the table.
"Thank you," Raynor sat down.
Soon, maids entered carrying exquisite dishes. Golden-brown roasted lamb chops drizzled with rich black pepper sauce, deep-sea lobster served with translucent caviar, and precious fruits and aged wines from garden worlds. Every dish was made with incredible precision, perfect in color, aroma, and taste. This was the most sumptuous meal Raynor had eaten since transmigrating into the Warhammer universe.
"Try it," Dominic picked up his knife and fork, cut a piece of lamb chop, and put it in his mouth. "This is Reca Lamb, a Ventrillia specialty. The meat is tender and famous across the galaxy."
Raynor also picked up his knife and fork and cut a piece. The lamb melted in his mouth with a faint milky fragrance; it lived up to its reputation.
"The taste is excellent," Raynor nodded, praising it sincerely. At the same time, he wondered if he could pack some to go—Sarah probably hadn't tasted anything this delicious yet.
Dominic smiled but said nothing. After the two had eaten in silence for a while, Dominic put down his utensils, wiped his mouth, and spoke:
"Governor Caelin, how much do you know about the Greenskins on Dorido?"
Finally, they reached the main topic. Raynor put down his utensils, sat up straight, and said seriously:
"I have dealt with the Greenskins on Dorido quite a bit, though I haven't personally faced the Big Boss yet. Their leader, Ragnar Great-Belly, is the most powerful Greenskin Warlord in the Calixis Sector. It is said he can increase his strength by devouring other Warbosses. His power is unfathomable."
This was information gathered by Tooth-Dodo after returning to Dorido. Almost none of the Ork bosses defeated by Ragnar were left with a whole corpse. The Boyz said that Boss Ragnar possessed the ability to grow stronger by eating other bosses. If it were any other alien, such a physiological anomaly could be ignored, but these were Orks...
"Growth through devouring?" Dominic showed a look of surprise for the first time.
"The source isn't entirely reliable, but it's good to be mentally prepared."
"True," Dominic nodded. "I've seen his files. After he took Dorido over a year ago, he didn't rush to expand. Instead, he stayed on Dorido to develop. That doesn't sound like an ordinary Greenskin at all."
"Exactly," Raynor said. "Ragnar is not only powerful but also highly intelligent. Unlike other Orks who only know reckless aggression, he is skilled in tactics and understands the importance of uniting clans to develop power."
"I once served near Armageddon in the Segmentum Solar," a flash of memory crossed Dominic's eyes. "It was against some remnant Greenskin forces left behind after Ghazghkull Thraka's second siege of Armageddon. I followed my elders in the purge operations back then. Although I didn't face Ghazghkull directly and was only a minor captain, I witnessed the terror of the Greenskins. I know they are divided into different clans based on combat styles and beliefs. The Goffs are brutal and love frontal charges, the Evil Sunz are fast and excel at raids, the Blood Axes are cunning and love ambushes..."
"However, when I was reading the records on Brevis just now, I noticed a new clan has appeared among the Greenskins of Dorido." Dominic looked at Raynor. "The Truetaste Clan. How much do you know about them?"
Raynor silently acknowledged the professionalism of this Navy Rear Admiral. Dominic had indeed done his homework. He didn't hide anything and spoke truthfully:
"The Truetaste Clan is a direct lineage clan derived from Ragnar's own abilities. They are the strongest fighting force among all the Greenskins on Dorido. Their uniqueness lies in their ability to craft a food called 'Braised Stew'."
"Braised Stew?" Dominic frowned, clearly hearing the name for the first time.
"Yes," Raynor nodded. "Braised Stew is a food made by boiling Squigs with mushrooms and any kind of meat. Ordinary Braised Stew is just Ork rations, but the version cooked by the Truetaste Clan has a special effect. After Orks eat it, their combat power increases significantly—strength and speed are enhanced, and they become more frenzied and fearless of death."
"But this specific Braised Stew can only be cooked by Orks of the Truetaste Clan. Even if Orks from other clans get the recipe, they can't produce the effect. Furthermore, it cannot be stored long-term; it lasts three days at most. Since the Truetaste Clan is small in scale, the Orks outside of Dorido cannot exert their true strength."
Dominic rubbed his chin, pondering for a few seconds before blurting out:
"Then, is it possible to poison their food?"
Raynor looked at Dominic, a flash of surprise crossing his eyes.
He hadn't expected that Dominic's first reaction would be identical to his own when he first heard about the "Braised Stew."
Noticing Raynor's expression, Dominic arched an eyebrow. "What? Is the idea that strange?"
"No, it's not strange at all," Raynor shook his head with a wry smile. "Because when I first heard about the Braised Stew, the first thing I thought of was poisoning as well."
"Oh?" Dominic grew interested. "Does that mean you've tried it?"
"I have," Raynor nodded. "And it was successful."
"Tell me about it," Dominic's gaze grew even more curious.
Raynor organized his thoughts and began:
"Early in my tenure, Brevis was hit by a massive Greenskin invasion. The leader at the time was 'Mountain-Fat' Guga, one of Ragnar's high-ranking generals. He led hundreds of millions of Greenskins, encamping in the ice fields beyond the Forbidden Wall, putting significant pressure on the Hive Cities of Brevis. I could only mobilize a force of less than twenty million. The disparity in strength was vast; in a straight fight, we would have been annihilated. So, after hearing about the stew, I thought of the trick of poisoning."
"However, due to their physiological structure, Greenskins are extremely difficult to target with bio-technology. I used a biological virus that the local Mechanicus on Brevis had spent years developing. It was designed to sabotage the Greenskin digestive system, causing them to temporarily lose combat effectiveness."
"Only temporarily?" Dominic was somewhat puzzled. Years of research by the Mechanicus only yielded such a result?
"Yes, and it had heavy limitations. It took twelve hours to take effect after ingestion, and the window lasted only half an hour. I had to use taunts and a feigned retreat to lure them into a trap, holding them there until the virus kicked in before I could personally slay Mountain-Fat Guga."
Dominic listened with keen interest, his eyes filled with appreciation.
"Not bad. A very clean victory," Dominic praised sincerely. "To devise such a scheme under such disparity and execute it successfully—you are indeed different from those corrupt and incompetent governors."
"You flatter me," Raynor smiled humbly. "However, that success relied heavily on luck. First, that was a ground war where the Greenskin forces were concentrated in the deep ice fields. At the time, Mountain-Fat Guga had fewer than ten thousand 'True Taste' Boyz. Their stew was cooked in several fixed large pots, so distribution was centralized, making it easy for the toxin to spread. Most importantly, Greenskin genetics are unpredictable; the virus I used only worked on the Greenskins of Brevis. The ones on Karl-2 are likely immune."
Raynor continued, "This time, we are facing Ragnar's main fleet. They have millions of True Taste Boyz scattered across hundreds of warships. The Braised Stew is cooked independently on every vessel. It's impossible for us to poison every single pot. Therefore, poisoning won't work this time."
Dominic nodded as his smile faded into contemplation. Raynor made sense. Space warfare was entirely different from ground warfare. The Ork fleet was scattered across the vastness of the void; centralized poisoning was impossible.
It seemed they would have to fight a head-on battle. This, however, suited Dominic just fine. He came here to wage war. If a clever scheme could win easily, that was great, but if not, he would win this war with honor and strength.
Raynor didn't disturb Dominic's silence. He picked up his wine glass and took a small sip. Through this exchange, his impression of Dominic had shifted again. He originally thought Dominic was just a rich boy who rose through family connections—belligerent but lacking true skill. He was wrong. Dominic had combat experience, a clear head, and quick reflexes. Thinking of unconventional tactics like poisoning right away showed he wasn't just a brute who only knew frontal charges. He was a true warrior—a capable commander with both courage and wit.
Raynor set down his glass and looked out at the dark universe. Ahead, the silhouette of Karl-2 was becoming visible. Ragnar's fleet was also drawing near. This battle was becoming more interesting by the second.
Raynor's lips curled into a smile of anticipation. Simultaneously, he instinctively pulled up the system interface to check Dominic's Favorability. He found it had risen from -10 at their first meeting to -1, nearly reaching positive territory. However, Lady Ralph remained at -20, maintaining a significant level of hostility.
Raynor was confused. He hadn't interacted with Dominic that much; how did the favorability go up?
When the massive hull of the Gemstone appeared at the edge of the Karl-2 system, a chaotic battlefield greeted Raynor and Dominic. Countless small red warships circled Karl-2 like flies. Every so often, several fighters broke through the defensive lines, spitting out bursts of green laser fire. They struck the orbital defenses of the planet, sending showers of sparks flying.
That was the Speed Freak fleet of the Evil Sunz Clan. As the clan most obsessed with speed, their ships lacked heavy armor and powerful main cannons, but possessed staggering maneuverability. These ships, painted bright red, constantly tested the limits of speed in the void. They struck and fled, never lingering for a slugfest, harassing Karl-2's defenses like a swarm of annoying wasps.
"The Evil Sunz vanguard arrived a day ago," Raynor said calmly while standing on the bridge of the Gemstone. "There are about two hundred ships, but they are mostly destroyers and fighters."
Dominic crossed his arms, his red eyes fixed on the battlefield, though his brow furrowed slightly. "Strange," he muttered. "Why is there no movement from Karl-2's primary orbital fortifications?"
By Imperial standards, as a vital resource hub, Karl-2 should have at least twelve orbital platforms and hundreds of macro-cannons. Yet now, those platforms were dark—silent steel tombs. Only sporadic laser fire shot from the planet's surface, doing little to deter the enemy.
As Dominic wondered, he noticed something off. In the asteroid belt surrounding Karl-2, countless faint points of light were flickering. They were small and easy to miss if one wasn't looking closely. They were distributed evenly, forming a massive web that enveloped the entire planet.
"What are those?" Dominic pointed.
"Temporary bastions," Raynor explained. "This was the countermeasure devised by my subordinate, General Geth Griffiths. He chose not to waste resources repairing the orbital platforms the Greenskins had already destroyed. Instead, he sent all engineering units to the asteroid belt to build bastions on the larger asteroids."
Dominic's eyes lit up. He used the magnification equipment to study the bastions. Each was small, only a few meters high. They used the asteroid's own rock as cover, revealing only a few lascannon muzzles. The bastions reported target data to one another, creating a deadly web of interlocking fire.
Just then, an impatient squadron of Evil Sunz fighters attempted to bypass the line to strike Karl-2. As they entered the belt, the nearby bastions didn't fire immediately. But once they reached the kill zone where a dozen bastions could overlap their fire, they all opened up at once.
The crossfire formed a net of death. Although the Evil Sunz were fast, they couldn't maneuver in the tight confines of the asteroid belt. Several fighters were hit instantly, erupting into fireballs. The survivors turned to flee in a panic, but they couldn't escape the dense fire. The losses were heavy.
"Beautiful!" Dominic couldn't help but praise.