Cogboy didn't even check the chat channel. He sprinted straight toward the subterranean bunker beneath the central headquarters.
The sixth-floor conference room was merely a decoy. The true command center had long since been relocated fifteen meters underground.
The bunker was reinforced with a three-meter-thick layer of specialized stealth-alloy plating purchased from the System Shop, capable of blocking the vast majority of active scans.
Paul, Schrödinger Bro, Tax Bro, White Scars, Blood Angel, The Most Incorruptible Logistics King of the Imperium... every single senior core member was present.
"Do you all know the situation?" Cogboy asked the moment he burst through the door.
"We know." Paul sat at the head of the table, a wide grin plastered across his face. "The Kent Hive is genuinely a phenomenal choice. A population of just over ninety million. Given our current numbers and administrative structure, managing them is more than well within our capabilities. It's not overly bloated, and it perfectly aligns with our immediate strategic goals."
Tax Bro flashed a wicked grin. "Who would've guessed that the hyper-logical Iron Hands Primarch, Ferrus Manus, is actually a massive chain-smoker? His Fourth Company Captain, too."
"Cigarette Diplomacy. Absolutely brilliant!"
White Scars chuckled darkly. "I told you all from the start. The tough guys of the Warhammer universe cannot resist three fundamental things: tobacco, alcohol, and bolters."
"We've firmly grasped the first two, which means we've effectively seized their stomachs." Blood Angels' Second Emperor remained highly analytical. "But this also means we are officially chained to the Iron Hands' war chariot. From this moment on, every single move we make will be under their direct scrutiny."
"Let them scrutinize." Paul stood up, his towering three-meter frame nearly scraping the bunker ceiling. "In this golden era of the Imperium, we were always going to have to develop within the Imperial framework. Having a Primarch's direct backing and securing an official legal identity is an unimaginable opportunity. We cannot stop the overarching schemes of the Ruinous Powers. Warmaster Horus will inevitably fall to corruption and launch his grand Heresy. Therefore, we must violently accelerate our growth during this brief window of relative peace."
He looked directly at Cogboy. "The requests made by Captain Karon and the Primarch—we accept them with absolute pleasure. Go prepare yourself and head out to process the paperwork. Take ten cartons of tobacco and two crates of alcohol with you. Didn't you see our esteemed Captain brought an entirely new storage pouch today?"
The sharp observation drew a collective roar of laughter from the Crimson Dawn high command.
Paul's eyes flashed with fierce calculation. "Tell Captain Karon that we are absolutely loyal to the Imperium. Assure him that we will redouble our efforts to provide even more high-quality tobacco and alcohol for the Legion and the Imperium as a whole. Make him realize that Crimson Dawn isn't just an exceptionally capable administrative body. We are also... a premium supplier."
Everyone in the room shared a deeply knowing smile.
Twenty minutes later, Cogboy had changed into a much more presentable mechanic's uniform. It was still made of coarse fabric, but it was spotlessly clean and meticulously ironed.
His mechanical right arm had been specially polished. The blue luminescent glow of the hydraulic conduits stood out starkly in the dim lighting.
He carried two heavy crates of alcohol and ten cartons of tobacco as he marched out of the base.
The crates were solid wood, the words "Crimson Dawn Special Supply" branded into the surface with high Gothic lettering—the rushed result of the logistics department pulling an all-nighter.
Beside the gunship, Karon was already growing slightly impatient. He was currently conversing with three other Iron Hands Astartes.
Seeing Cogboy arrive, the Fourth Company Captain waved him over.
"Hurry up. The arrangements at the City of the Holy Anthem have already been finalized."
"Yes, yes, right away."
Cogboy jogged forward, hastily loading the two crates of alcohol and the tobacco into the Thunderhawk's cargo bay before scrambling up the boarding ramp.
The absolute second the heavy hatch sealed shut, the whine of the plasma thrusters spiked violently. The sheer G-force of the immediate liftoff nearly slammed Cogboy to his knees.
A split second later, the gunship pulled its nose up aggressively, rocketing straight into the sky at a brutal seventy-degree angle.
"First time flying in a gunship?"
The Iron Hands warrior in the pilot's seat glanced back over his shoulder at Cogboy.
He wasn't wearing a helmet. He had a remarkably young face, looking no older than thirty. Of course, attempting to judge an Astartes' actual age by their physical appearance was a completely futile endeavor.
"Y-Yes, my Lord."
Cogboy desperately braced himself against the bulkheads. The gunship was currently executing rapid tactical evasions. The fluctuating G-forces were violently churning his stomach.
"Don't call me Lord."
A warrior sitting nearby flashed a wide grin, exposing perfectly white teeth. "I am Wulson, Sergeant of the Fourth Company's Third Tactical Squad. I managed to snag one of those cigarettes you provided yesterday. The flavor was absolutely incredible."
Another warrior sitting next to him leaned in eagerly. "I am Calvin. Do you have any more of that alcohol from yesterday? I only got to take a single sip before the Captain snatched the entire bottle away."
The third warrior remained completely silent, simply staring intently at Cogboy with wide, expectant eyes.
Karon, sitting in the co-pilot seat, coughed loudly. "Maintain military decorum."
But his tone lacked any real reprimand.
The Space Marines of this era were not the dogmatic, ultra-rigid zealots of the 40k millennium. Though heavily augmented, they were still fundamentally human beings with distinct, independent personalities.
Cogboy instantly grasped the situation.
He plastered a bright, deeply respectful smile across his face and swiftly, tactfully moved the ten cartons of tobacco directly to Karon's side.
Karon maintained his stern facade, but offered a very subtle, approving nod.
Cogboy then rapidly pried open the two wooden crates of alcohol he had brought aboard.
"Honored Sergeants, this is our newly distilled, heavily aged variant of vodka! To properly express our immense gratitude for your efforts in purging Warp heresy and fighting to secure the lives of everyone on Aurelian IV, I specifically brought this batch up for all of you to sample!"
The bottles were thick glass. The amber liquid within refracted the gunship's interior lighting with an incredibly alluring glow.
Wulson's Adam's apple bobbed aggressively. He looked pleadingly at Karon. "Captain..."
Karon kept his face completely blank, remaining utterly silent for three agonizing seconds.
Finally, he gave a curt nod. "Since Mr. Cage explicitly brought it for everyone to sample, then sample it. But do not overindulge. We have critical duties to perform."
"Understood!"
The three warriors instantly lit up with unbridled joy.
Cogboy handed each of them a bottle and popped one open for himself, raising it first toward Karon.
"Captain, allow me to toast you first. Thank you, and thank the Primarch, for granting Crimson Dawn this incredible opportunity!"
With that, he tilted his head back and took a massive swig.
The alcohol was premium vodka redeemed directly from the System Shop. At a staggering 65% ABV, it burned like a plasma cutter down his throat, but the aftertaste was profoundly rich and lingering.
Seeing Cogboy's sheer enthusiasm, Karon grabbed a bottle for himself.
He took a heavy swig, closed his eyes to savor the burn for several seconds, and then slowly exhaled a long, deeply satisfied breath.
"Excellent vintage."
The Fourth Company Captain gave his final verdict, a look of pure contentment washing over his heavily scarred face. "It is even richer than yesterday's."
Wulson and Calvin were already thoroughly enjoying themselves. They clinked their massive bottles together and chugged half the contents in a single, uninterrupted go.
"Incredible!"
Wulson wiped his mouth with the back of his gauntlet. "How in the Emperor's name do you brew this? Compared to this, the watered-down swill our Legion's logistics department issues us is basically radioactive bilge water."
Cogboy had rehearsed this specific lie dozens of times. "We use a highly radiation-resistant grain native exclusively to the wastelands, combined with an ancient distillation technique we managed to extract from civilizational ruins."
"The fermentation cycle must be absolutely precise, the temperatures tightly controlled. We even infuse it with several specific medicinal herbs to enhance the aroma, followed by multiple exhaustive purification cycles... It's an incredibly tedious process. That's precisely why our production volume has remained so painfully low. But for the sake of the Legion, no matter how tedious the process, we will absolutely find a way to scale it up!"
It was a brilliantly delivered line.
Karon looked at him, genuine appreciation bleeding into his piercing gray eyes.
"That base of yours... it is truly exceptional."
He paused, unusually talkative. "I have served alongside my Father for over a century. I have fought in hundreds, perhaps thousands of campaigns, and I have witnessed countless worlds. I've seen worlds transformed into living hells by corrupt politicians. I've seen worlds strip-mined into dead rocks by the Mechanicus. I've seen worlds fractured into bloody splinters by warring local factions but to see ordinary humans like yourselves, relying entirely on your own two hands to build a thriving sanctuary in a blasted wasteland, while maintaining such flawless order and genuine hope..."
The Fourth Company Captain slowly shook his head. "It is exceedingly rare."
Wulson chimed in immediately. "It truly is. We all saw it with our own eyes. The Imperial citizens living within your sanctuary seemed genuinely happy. They weren't suffering under oppressive tyranny. Every single person earned their keep through honest labor."
"We have seen far too much darkness in this galaxy." Calvin's voice dropped significantly. "There are planetary governors who treat their own citizens worse than livestock. There are psyker dynasties that use commoners for grotesque experiments. There are warlords who have transformed their entire worlds into massive, bloody gladiatorial arenas..."
He took another heavy swig of alcohol. "But we sincerely hope that people like you—people who still harbor genuine light in their hearts—continue to multiply. Only then will the Imperium truly become a better place."
Cogboy's heart shuddered violently.
These Iron Hands Astartes were completely fundamentally different from the deeply ingrained stereotype of hyper-logical cyborgs endlessly chanting the flesh is weak.
They still retained their humanity. They still possessed complex emotions. They still felt genuine sorrow over the tragic fates of ordinary people.
It finally clicked in his mind. This was the tail end of the M30 era. The Horus Heresy had not yet exploded into a galaxy-spanning nightmare.
Ferrus Manus was still alive.
The Iron Hands Legion had not yet suffered the unfathomable despair of watching their beloved Primarch Father beheaded, nor had they experienced the sheer indignity of his severed hands being taken as macabre trophies by the Warmaster. They had not yet plummeted into the depths of unyielding, mechanized paranoia.
Right now, they were still the Emperor's Angels of Death. They were Angels, not unfeeling machines.
"Honored Lords."
Cogboy raised his bottle once more, his voice significantly more earnest. "I, Cage Lawrence, had no grand, sweeping ambitions. Back when I led my fellow people to escape the Underhive, we simply wanted to survive but after we survived, I couldn't stop asking myself; Why must we be forced to hide in the dark like rats? Why are ordinary people entirely forbidden from living with basic dignity? So, we built our Sanctuary. We reclaimed the wasteland, we reverse-engineered technology, and we trained our own militia. We never intended to oppose the Imperium. On the contrary... we have always desperately hoped that the Imperium would finally look down and see us. That they would grant us a single opportunity to definitively prove that ordinary humans can actively contribute to the grand renaissance of humanity."
He looked directly at Karon. "And now, that exact opportunity has arrived."
"The Kent Hive holds over ninety million people. I fully intend to govern it using the exact same principles I used to build the Crimson Dawn. Labor guarantees survival. Genuine effort earns respect. Children receive an education, and the elderly are cared for in their final years. I am going to transform that Hive into a shining model for Aurelian IV. A model for the entire Imperium... A place where everyone can actually enjoy their lives."
Karon listened in absolute silence.
He slowly raised his massive bottle and clinked it firmly against Cogboy's.
"Do it well. I believe in you."
Wulson threw his heavy arm around Cogboy's shoulder. The sheer weight of the power armor nearly crushed the player's spine.
"Why so serious! We are all fighting for the future of the Imperium of Man, which makes us brothers! You've done an incredible job! We have seen it with our own eyes! From here on out, if you ever run into trouble on Aurelian IV, drop the name of the Iron Hands Fourth Company! I'd like to see which blind fool dares to touch one of our brothers!"
Calvin eagerly leaned in. "Exactly! We're relying entirely on you for our tobacco and alcohol supply from now on! Don't worry, we will absolutely pay market value. We won't take your hard work for free! Alternatively, if you ever need heavy gear, just let us know! The Legion's armories are packed with obsolete, decommissioned models. A few minor modifications and they'll be perfectly usable!"
Cogboy was so genuinely moved he almost shed a tear.
He nodded repeatedly. "Absolutely! Absolutely!"
The group toasted several more rounds, and the two crates of alcohol were rapidly emptied.
The Astartes piloting the Thunderhawk hadn't spoken a single word, but he kept glancing backward, his eyes filled with profound, unspoken grievance.
Karon noticed the pilot's expression and shouted with a laugh. "What are you looking at! Focus on flying! We saved a bottle for you when we get back!"
"Thank you, Captain!" The pilot instantly beamed.
The gunship tore through the cloud layer.
Through the armaglass observation window, Cogboy watched the terrain below shift rapidly from barren wasteland to sprawling mining sectors, then to massive industrial zones. Finally, a colossal Hive City breached the horizon.
The City of the Holy Anthem.
The seat of Aurelian IV's Planetary Governor, and the largest Hive City on the entire planet.
The Thunderhawk began its descent, vectoring toward a landing pad in the upper spires explicitly marked with the Imperial Aquila.
Karon stowed his empty bottle away and adjusted his power armor, instantly reverting back into the stern, unyielding Captain of the Fourth Company.
"We have arrived."
He looked at Cogboy. "Remember this well. When we meet the bureaucrats, speak little and nod often. I have already processed all the preliminary documentation. All you need to do is sign and stamp."
"Understood." Cogboy quickly smoothed out his uniform.
The gunship touched down perfectly on the landing pad.
The assault ramp lowered. Waiting outside were three officials dressed in the crisp uniforms of the Departmento Munitorum, flanked by two Tech-priests of the Mechanicus.
The lead official was a slightly balding middle-aged man. His chest was adorned with medals, but his eyes were as ruthlessly calculating as a seasoned merchant's.
"Captain Karon!"
He practically jogged forward, his face plastered with a wide, obsequious smile. "All the legal documents you requested are fully prepared. And this must be Mr. Cage Lawrence?"
"I am."
Cogboy stepped forward, offering a polite but distinctly un-subservient salute.
"Excellent, excellent. So young and yet so capable."
The official handed over a thick stack of heavy parchment. "This is the formal proxy mandate for the administration of the Kent Mining Hive, and this is the official legal authentication for the Crimson Dawn Sanctuary. Please review them. If everything is in order, simply sign at the bottom."
Cogboy took the documents and scanned them rapidly.
The terms were exactly as Karon had stated. There were absolutely no hidden traps.
He took the provided auto-quill and signed "Cage Lawrence" on every single designated line.
"Perfect."
The official gathered the documents, his smile widening significantly. "Effective immediately, the Crimson Dawn Sanctuary is a legally recognized civilian organization of the Imperium, and Mr. Cage Lawrence is the acting Hive Lord of the Kent Hive. The official appointment mandates will be fully distributed to all administrative departments within the Kent Hive within three working days."
"Additionally..." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "The Sector Command of the Departmento Munitorum explicitly asked me to pass along a message: Work hard, and do not disappoint the Imperium."
Cogboy nodded heavily. "Please relay to the Sector Command that Crimson Dawn remains absolutely loyal to the Imperium. We will redouble our efforts to serve both the Legion and the Imperium!"
The official departed, thoroughly satisfied.
One of the Mechanicus Tech-priests stepped forward, handing Cogboy a heavy data-slate. "This contains the comprehensive logistical data for the Kent Hive. It includes population distribution metrics, industrial sector layouts, and all currently pending systemic issues. You have exactly half a month to prepare. You will formally assume administrative control in fifteen days."
"Thank you."
Cogboy took the data-slate; its physical weight matched its administrative burden.
Karon clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go. I will escort you back. You are going to be incredibly busy for the next half month."
The two men boarded the gunship once more.
As the Thunderhawk lifted off, Cogboy looked down at the sprawling City of the Holy Anthem through the observation window.
The Hive was vastly larger and infinitely more complex than he had ever imagined, but it was also... overflowing with unimaginable opportunity.
The gunship breached the upper atmosphere, banking hard toward the Redblaze Wasteland.
Karon sat in the co-pilot seat and lit another cigarette.
This time, he smoked it incredibly slowly, savoring every single drag.
"Cage."
Karon suddenly broke the silence. "I must make one thing absolutely clear. The Primarch granted you this opportunity because you possess genuine value. But he also did it because he wishes to see exactly what ordinary humans are truly capable of achieving."
Karon slowly exhaled a plume of smoke. "But if you botch this... or if I discover that you harbor treasonous intent..."
He turned his head, his piercing gray eyes radiating absolute zero.
"I will personally deploy the entire Fourth Company and wipe Crimson Dawn off the galactic map."
Cogboy met his intense gaze head-on, an unshakeable light of absolute confidence burning in his eyes.
"Captain."
He replied, his voice perfectly steady. "Trust me. You will never get that opportunity. Because we at Crimson Dawn will do it better than anyone else in the galaxy."
Karon stared at him for three agonizingly long seconds.
And then, a genuine smile cracked across his heavily scarred face.
"You'd better."