Night fell. There was no moon in the sky, only a brilliant sea of stars and The Great Rift, which emitted an eerie glow.
Towering buildings stood densely packed atop the spire. Their black walls, once magnificent under brilliant illumination, now resembled an endless, silent graveyard.
Only from the boundless, dark hive districts below the spire did occasional, strange, and unsettling screeches emanate.
The entire spire top was plunged into darkness, with only searchlights ceaselessly sweeping across this world.
The lights persistently lingered over the passages leading to the hive districts. Most passages had been blown collapsed, and the few remaining ones were heavily fortified from behind.
Now, gazing at the gate deformed by successive explosions and hearing the dull thuds that had echoed from behind it not long ago, the soldiers behind it merely huddled behind sandbags, tightened their grip on the rifles in their arms, and couldn't even be bothered to lift their eyelids.
On this cold night, soldiers lacking sufficient supplies even exhaled thinner wisps of warm breath.
At this moment, beneath the entire Hive City's towering black spire, only some key intersections remained brightly lit.
Sandbags and plast-steel plates formed ring-shaped checkpoints, filled with black-clad soldiers armed with guns and ammunition. On a high point nearby, two machine guns aimed their dark muzzles outward.
Refugees huddled together within the building clusters, their trembling bodies sharing what little warmth they had.
In these times of scarce clothing and food, for refugees, venturing outside at night was no different from suicide besides huddling indoors for warmth.
Yet, while the refugees silently hoped to survive this night, several figures appeared at the checkpoint beneath the buildings.
After an exchange of documents and some fawning, the obstacles were moved aside, allowing the figures to enter the deeper area.
Now, in the heavily guarded core area, a prayer room that once belonged to a bishop in an Ecclesiarchy cathedral served as Sith's office.
The lights were off. To concentrate all energy on the military, even Sith only lit a single candle at night.
In the darkness, the outside world was quiet. Only Sith's veteran guards, seasoned by a thousand battles, remained vigilant around his office.
The entire night seemed as if all activity had ceased. Only the searchlights swept by occasionally, passing through the glass on the side of Sith's room and illuminating the entire space.
The sound of footsteps echoed outside the door.
Tap, tap, tap~
A light knock on the door, followed by a soft creak, and the door facing Sith slowly opened.
"Sir, two nobles request an audience."
Bruno stood at the doorway, reporting softly before stepping aside. Two tall, slender nobles, dressed in ornate clothing, entered.
The candlelight illuminated a short distance. As their faces entered the light, the expression they showed Sith was one of fawning, something they would never have dared imagine before.
After all, one was a high-and-mighty noble from the spire top, and the other was little more than expendable cannon fodder from below. Not only fawning, but even deigning to grant Sith an audience would have been considered a great 'favor' from the nobles.
Yet now, the scene was Sith seated ahead, while the two great nobles fawned with smiles, cautiously observing the de facto ruler of the spire top before them.
Bruno followed them in and stood behind the two nobles. Sith did not respond, so he also remained silent.
The room fell into silence. The two nobles almost instinctively began to scrutinize Sith and his surroundings.
They hoped to glean as much as they could about the kind of person this 'Lord' they were about to face was.
But as their eyes darted around, the vast majority of the huge prayer room remained hidden in the darkness.
Looking around, they could only make out the faint, looming image of the great God-Emperor behind Sith and the young face half-illuminated by the candlelight, half-buried in shadow.
At this moment, the entire space was quiet, save for the soft'scratching' of Sith's pen constantly moving across various reports.
Helplessly withdrawing their gaze, the two nobles exchanged looks. Finally, the higher-ranking one mustered the courage to speak:
"Commander Sith, according to the orders of the Noble Council, Imperial forces everywhere should immediately escort nobles to safe zones."
"Now that the traitorous governor has been executed and Lord Calgar has arrived at Alert Star, I would like to ask, sir, when you will arrange an escort force to see us away from this place?"
With the high-ranking noble having spoken, the other noble also found courage and hurriedly added:
"Please be sure to assign your most elite forces. We have a large number of accompanying personnel and property that require protection."
The two nobles were anxious. After all, they knew the situation was nowhere near as rosy as the Departmento Munitorum propaganda claimed—it could even be described as dire.
If they didn't seize the chance to flee now, they might truly die out there.
However, as soon as they finished speaking, Bruno, standing behind them, immediately furrowed his brow, showing undisguised disgust as he looked at the two.
Because not only did they show no intention of protecting the commoners who had once created immense wealth for them, they also wanted Sith to divert his most elite forces to escort them away.
Even putting that aside, what Bruno found most unacceptable was that these nobles still intended to take their 'property' with them.
If it were truly their property, that would be one thing. But who knew how much of it was forcibly plundered supplies?
Taking supplies away at this juncture would surely cripple the already strained logistics, wouldn't it?
Bruno's eyes were full of displeasure. Ahead, Sith, who had been Bury head handling official business, finally stopped his pen.
The scratching sound instantly vanished from the room. At that very moment, another searchlight beam swept by. Sith looked up, his face briefly Clear in the passing white light.
There was none of the dissatisfaction or opportunity-seeking greed the nobles might have imagined. In the brief white light, Sith's face held only calm.
After glancing at the two, Sith lowered his head again, and the recently paused scratching resumed its echo:
"No."
Two simple words, yet the noble before him instantly paled. He wanted to say more, but Bruno had already stepped forward, positioning himself between the two.
Staring at Bruno's imposing physique and the sidearm at his waist, the two nobles dry-swallowed, could only bow their heads to hide their faces in the darkness, and turned to leave.
After the sound of footsteps, the huge room fell quiet again. Only after a moment did Ana, hidden in the darkness beside Sith, voice some confusion:
"You dislike these nobles?"
Nobles, the Ecclesiarchy, the Adeptus Mechanicus, even the Astartes—there were always various conflicts of interest among these factions.
So Ana was curious if Sith, like her, felt hatred towards the nobles'large amount senseless waste.
However, faced with the question, Sith didn't even lift his head, continuing to Bury head handle official business.
Only after looking over the finally allocated supplies before him did Sith, while checking the report, speak plainly:
"starch, is never enough."
Having said that, Sith finally signed his name at the end of the list and handed the report to Ana in the darkness.
"Your blue starch is to be provided to the nobles first. Distribute the remaining starch to the soldiers and refugees according to this list."
Ana looked at Sith's list, even more puzzled.
She couldn't understand why Sith, who clearly didn't like these nobles, would still prioritize providing his great invention to them.
Shouldn't good things be used by oneself first?