In the withered, dim, and boundless sea of stars, the frontier of Ultramar marked the farthest reach of the radiant beacon's light.
A pale yellow planet drifted through the silent cosmos, as beautiful and captivating as a yellow gem set upon black velvet.
Its name was Masali, an agri-world that supplied precious foodstuffs to other worlds of the Imperium of Man.
It also had another special name.
One of the Five Hundred Worlds.
On its central continent, a vast and luxurious palace complex stood atop the highest mountain range, looming above the clouds in commanding splendor.
At this moment, as the planet slowly turned, the gentle light of its star bathed the palace.
Inside an enormous and extravagantly decorated chamber on the highest floor, warm sunlight streamed in through exquisitely carved floor-to-ceiling windows, filtering through pale violet wool curtains and falling upon a young boy peacefully sleeping in a soft crimson velvet bed.
Feeling that spring-like warmth, the boy's long eyelashes trembled slightly before he slowly opened his eyes, revealing pale blue irises as beautiful as blue crystal.
He lazily stretched out a hand and rang the bell at his bedside. The servants who had long been waiting outside the door immediately entered the room with utmost respect, draping him in comfortable silk garments and carefully combing out his smooth golden hair.
Surrounded by servants and the butler, the boy arrived at a magnificent dining hall adorned with gold and carved jade, where he began enjoying today's breakfast to the sound of elegant music played by court musicians.
"Hmm, let me see... ant-beast steak, seafood from the neighboring ocean world, salad made from fruit that was just harvested here..."
"Why is it always this stuff? I'm sick of eating it..."
The boy shook his head helplessly.
Fortunately, he was not a picky eater, so this food was still barely acceptable.
With light music playing around him, the boy suppressed his urge to devour everything in huge bites and instead ate slowly with knife and fork.
He hated all this pointless ceremony. Eating should be about inhaling the food as fast as possible. Why did there have to be so much nonsense?
But there was no helping it.
After all, he was the eldest son of the current head of House Manroida.
Sterling. That was the boy's name, and in High Gothic it meant star.
His family held considerable status on this planet.
They were the hereditary planetary governors.
And by the Emperor's grace, the agri-world their family had ruled had not suffered any major disaster in nearly three thousand years, so things had been steadily improving the entire time.
The only truly serious incident had happened five hundred years ago, when a swarm of space locusts arrived.
Those locusts were enormous, large enough to rival combine harvesters, and they ate everything. Every settlement in their path was gnawed clean, and even the land itself seemed stripped bare.
Fortunately, a passing force of Astartes had solved the problem for them.
To show their gratitude, House Manroida not only built statues of those blue-armored demigod warriors inside the palace, but also promised to send the most outstanding child of each generation to their homeworld for training.
And as the eldest of his generation, Sterling would set out for Macragge Military Academy as soon as his twelfth birthday was over.
His younger brother had expressed envy over this more than once.
Because his older brother had the chance to see, and perhaps even become, one of the noble Ultramarines, while he himself could only inherit the title of planetary governor.
How was that fair?
To that, Sterling's personal reaction was:
"What a hellish start! No, thank you!"
At the thought of it, tears nearly welled up in Sterling's eyes.
The truth was, he was not a native soul of this world.
He was a Warhammer fan who had transmigrated here while painting miniatures with his best friend.
Damn it, why did he have to get sent to the Warhammer universe?
And why was he being fast-tracked all the way to Macragge?
Wasn't this basically forcing him to become power-armored canned meat?
And according to the precise timelines of the Imperium, before long the Imperium of Man would be playing one big game of self-destruction with itself...
He instantly felt as if his life were as fragile and uncertain as a drifting flower on water.
"Waaah... bro, I hope your luck isn't as awful as mine..."
Seeing Sterling suddenly cry like a grot whose toe had been stomped on, the servants could only look at one another in total confusion...
(End of Chapter)
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