Imperial Calendar 976.M30. The 976th year of the Great Crusade. Late autumn, bordering on the harsh winter.
It had been exactly three days since Cogboy returned from the City of the Holy Anthem. Currently, they were traveling down the primary transit artery connecting the Crimson Wasteland to the Kent Mining Hive.
At 11:00 AM, a massive convoy of sixty-four heavy transport vehicles tore across the wasteland, kicking up a colossal, miles-long trail of dust.
Leading the vanguard were three heavily modified civilian off-road rovers. The chassis had been reinforced with welded armor plating, and the doors proudly bore the brilliant crimson sun insignia of Crimson Dawn.
Behind them trailed sixty heavy troop transports, each one carrying over a dozen players.
The players were universally clad in standardized gray combat fatigues. Lasguns were slung tightly across their backs, and crude, homemade fragmentation grenades dangled securely from their tactical belts.
Their faces were flushed with adrenaline, and the [Regional Channel] was blurring with rapid-fire messages.
[Tax Bro]: "We're actually going to be government officials! A Hive City of over ninety million people! If this were reality, we'd be running a megacity on par with New York or London!"
[Did White Scars Speed Today?]: "New York or London my ass. With that population scale, we're basically running an entire state! And it's a state sitting on a literal mountain of highly valuable ore!"
[God-Tier Mechanic]: "To be strictly accurate, the Kent Hive's population sits at 98,740,000. Based on pre-war data, its annual promethium output is roughly eighty million metric tons. According to standard Imperial exchange rates, one ton of refined promethium crystal sells for one thousand, two hundred Imperial Coins..."
[Execute War Criminal Yellow Weasel]: "Holy shit! Doesn't that mean their annual gross is... ninety-six billion Imperial Coins?!"
[Have You Been Loyal Today?]: "Calm down, calm down. The Legion takes eighty percent for the first year. We only get twenty percent of that."
"But even twenty percent is nineteen billion, two hundred million! Brothers, we are insanely rich!"
[God-Tier Mechanic]: "According to my calculations, 19.2 billion Imperial Coins is enough to fully outfit and supply exactly 3,200 Space Marines..."
"Wtf"
[Slaanesh's Chosen Failed the Selection Again]: "Money is irrelevant. I simply wish to wholeheartedly serve the people. (Serious Face)"
The chat erupted in collective laughter.
Cogboy, sitting in the lead rover, wasn't laughing. Today, he was wearing a meticulously tailored, dark gray formal suit. It was the logistics department's finest work, sewn from premium fabric redeemed from the System Shop and styled directly after the standard attire of mid-level Imperial bureaucrats.
He had explicitly ordered them to remove all the gaudy, impractical gold-trim decorations, leaving only the Crimson Dawn insignia pinned securely over his left breast.
Three other men sat in the cabin with him.
Kannis Brown, Senior Inspector of the Departmento Munitorum at the Planetary Governor's Estate in the City of the Holy Anthem. He was forty-five, slightly balding, with a perfectly round face and tiny, ruthlessly calculating eyes.
He wore the standard deep blue uniform of the Departmento Munitorum. A silver double-headed eagle badge rested on his chest, and a heavily gold-plated laspistol hung at his waist—a weapon clearly intended more for status than actual combat.
The other two were his direct subordinates:
Mason, a tall, excruciatingly thin archivist who perpetually looked like he had just swallowed a lemon.
And Todd, a short, heavily overweight auditor with three gaudy gemstone rings squeezed onto his fat fingers.
These three bureaucrats had been explicitly assigned by the Munitorum to "assist" Cogboy in assuming his new post. Nominally, it was administrative support. Practically, it was strict supervision. But politically, their presence served as a glaring, undeniable declaration to all local factions: This new Hive Lord was officially appointed by the Imperium.
"Governor Cage."
Kannis puffed lazily on a cigarette. It was the Cigarette that Cogboy had tactfully handed him the moment he stepped into the vehicle. He narrowed his eyes, blowing a ring of smoke, his voice carrying the drawn-out, arrogant drawl typical of career bureaucrats.
"The situation within the Kent Hive is... rather complex."
Cogboy leaned in slightly, his posture perfectly respectful without being overly subservient. "I humbly ask for the Senior Inspector's guidance."
"I wouldn't call it guidance."
Kannis flicked the ash. The rover's suspension system was phenomenal; the ash fell perfectly into the onboard ashtray.
"The Kent Hive was originally one of the absolute core assets of the Hysman Merchant Guild. The previous Hive Lord, Adela Hysman, is the Guildmaster's cousin. He ruled the spire for twenty-five consecutive years. Because the four major factions completely failed in their regulatory duties and allowed a Warp outbreak to occur, the Primarch forcefully confiscated sixty percent of their total assets. The Kent Hive was among the seized properties."
He paused, his tiny eyes locking onto Cogboy. "But you must understand, Governor... the Primarch confiscated physical assets, not the loyalty of the people. Adela spent twenty-five years heavily fortifying his influence in the Kent Hive. From the upper-spire magistrates, the nobility, and the local Mechanicus enclave, all the way down to the PDF commanders, the union bosses, and even the Underhive gang leaders... every single one of them is on his payroll. You are parachuting blindly into incredibly hostile territory."
Cogboy nodded grimly. "I understand."
"You absolutely do not."
Kannis shook his head dismissively, taking another deep drag. The cigarette was nearly down to the filter. He took one final, desperate hit before reluctantly crushing it out in the ashtray.
"Governing a Hive City is not remotely as simple as managing twenty thousand refugees out in the irradiated wastelands. There are deeply entrenched chains of absolute profit. There are violent factional rivalries. There are unspoken rules of engagement that have been cementing for decades. If you accidentally step on the wrong person's cheese, they will ensure you die an incredibly mysterious death."
He looked at Cogboy, his gaze dripping with profound implication. "That is precisely why the Munitorum dispatched us. Firstly, to legitimize your authority. And secondly... to teach you the actual rules of the game."
Cogboy smiled warmly.
He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved three brand-new packs of cigarettes, handing one directly to each man. The packaging was significantly more exquisite than the standard issue. The words "Crimson Dawn Special Reserve Cigarette" were hot-stamped onto the boxes in elegant Gothic script.
"You three Lords have endured a long and exhausting journey on my behalf. Please, accept this small token of my immense gratitude."
Kannis took his pack, expertly tearing off the plastic wrap. He pulled out a single stick, rolled it under his nose, and his eyes instantly widened. "This aroma... it's even richer than the last one."
"This is our heavily modified variant."
Cogboy lowered his voice conspiratorially. "It is infused with the extract of a highly rare plant native exclusively to the Redblaze Wasteland. It massively stimulates the mind and completely erases physical fatigue. We rarely ever smoke these ourselves. The production yield is agonizingly low."
It was a half-truth.
The cigarettes were indeed premium variants redeemed from the System Shop, perfectly balanced for maximum effect.
Kannis eagerly lit the cigarette, took a massive drag, and closed his eyes to savor the sensation. After a long moment, he exhaled a thick plume of smoke. "Incredible!"
Mason and Todd quickly lit theirs as well. The three bureaucrats puffed away contentedly, rapidly filling the armored cabin with dense, incredibly fragrant smoke.
"Governor Cage."
A greasy smile spread across Todd's fat face, his gemstone rings glittering through the haze. "Is the production yield of this tobacco truly that low?"
"Agonizingly so."
Cogboy's face twisted into an expression of deep logistical pain. "The raw materials are incredibly scarce, and the extraction process is brutally complex."
"To be completely honest with you three Lords, this specific blend is so exquisite that even the Space Marine Lords of the Iron Hands demand it. We are currently funneling over half of our total production directly to the Legion."
He paused slightly before dropping the hammer. "Even the Primarch himself smoked it. He explicitly praised the quality, though his only complaint was that it was too short. We are currently researching an extended variant exclusively for his personal use."
"The Primarch smokes it?!"
Kannis's hand jerked violently, nearly dropping the precious cigarette.
"He does."
Cogboy nodded, his expression completely natural. "Captain Karon personally demanded several cartons specifically to present to the Primarch. How could we possibly dare to delay? We practically emptied our entire strategic reserve."
That single statement instantly shattered the bureaucrats' condescension. A look of profound, terrified respect washed over their faces.
Before this, they simply thought Cage Lawrence was a lucky wasteland warlord who had somehow managed to curry enough favor to get appointed as a Hive Lord. They had absolutely zero idea that his ties to the Legion ran this incredibly deep—deep enough that he was personally supplying the Primarch's vices!
In the labyrinthine bureaucracy of the Imperium, what did that actually mean?
It meant this man wasn't just some random parachuted official. He had serious backing from the very top!
Kannis instantly shifted his entire demeanor, his greasy smile transforming into one of genuine, enthusiastic camaraderie. "Governor Cage, if you ever run into any administrative friction in the Kent Hive, please do not hesitate to contact me. The Munitorum still carries significant weight on Aurelian IV."
Mason chimed in immediately. "I am intimately familiar with the Hive's archives. I will personally compile a comprehensive dossier on the underlying backgrounds of every single high-ranking official in the spire for you."
Todd thumped his massive chest. "Leave the auditing to me! If anyone is skimming off the top or cooking the books, I will gut them like a fish!"
Cogboy thanked them profusely, but his mind was perfectly clear.
This was exactly how Imperial bureaucrats operated. They wouldn't lift a single finger unless they saw the absolute profit.
A standard pack of cigarettes might not have been enough to buy their loyalty. But a pack of cigarettes explicitly favored by a Primarch? That carried more than enough political weight to buy a small army.
The convoy pressed onward across the wasteland.
The wasteland gradually receded, entirely replaced by a horrific landscape violently ravaged by centuries of unchecked industrial mining.
Exposed strip mines scarred the earth like gaping wounds. Massive, abandoned refineries loomed over the scorched ground like skeletal titans. Streams of rusty, viscous runoff radiated the sharp, pungent stench of raw promethium waste.
The Kent Mining Hive soon came into full view.
From a distance, the Hive City looked exactly like a colossal, inverted mountain of steel.
Its sprawling base possessed a diameter exceeding fifty kilometers, heavily tapering upward until its central spire pierced the sky three thousand meters above the ground.
The Hive's exterior was suffocatingly dense, thickly clustered with massive pipeline conduits, gargantuan atmospheric vents, landing pads, and heavy defense turrets—though the vast majority of the turrets currently sat completely empty.
The outer perimeter of the Hive should have been ringed by comprehensive fortification networks and sprawling PDF garrisons, but it was practically abandoned.
During the desperate struggle against the demonic incursion, the four major factions had ruthlessly drafted every single deployable soldier and thrown them directly into the meat grinder of the industrial zone. The Kent Hive's garrison was no exception. Three full PDF divisions—forty-eight thousand men in total—had deployed. Almost none of them had returned.
The convoy ground to a halt before the primary entrance of the Hive City.
A massive, twenty-meter-tall alloy blast gate and a comprehensive security checkpoint dominated the approach. However, the gate currently hung half-open, and only a miserable handful of highly unmotivated guards manned the checkpoint.
Tsk.
Kannis clicked his tongue, his brow furrowing in deep disgust. "It has deteriorated this badly?"
Cogboy remained silent, closely observing everything through the armored window.
The immediate streets past the entrance were somewhat orderly, but gazing deeper into the Hive revealed a much grimmer reality. Countless buildings sported shattered windows, and the vast majority of pedestrians shuffling through the streets were distinctly emaciated and sickly-looking.
"Let's go."
Kannis pushed the rover door open and straightened his crisp uniform. "Adela and the others should already be waiting."
Sure enough, not long after the group passed through the blast gates, the synchronized echo of approaching footsteps rang out.
A welcoming committee marched toward them.
Leading the procession was an elderly man in his sixties. He wore the deep purple robes highly typical of Imperial nobility, his chest adorned with numerous commendations.
However, his complexion was utterly ashen, and his eyes were dull and defeated. This was the former Hive Lord, Adela Hysman.
Trailing closely behind him were over twenty individuals, neatly divided into two distinct flanks.
The left flank consisted of the Hive's primary magistrates—seven senior officials directly responsible for civil affairs, finance, planetary security, education, and various other administrative branches.
These men were mostly in their forties and fifties. They were impeccably dressed, but they couldn't mask their profound anxiety. Their eyes darted nervously, clearly sizing up Cogboy, their new overlord.
The right flank was a much more eclectic mix.
Five Mechanicus Tech-priests, boasting varying degrees of cybernetic augmentation. The lead priest, possessing only a single organic eye, wore the distinct cogwheel insignia of the Order of the Omnissian Mind on his chest.
Three grim-faced Arbitrators deployed from the City of the Holy Anthem, clad in stark dark-blue carapace armor with heavy Enforcer bolt pistols resting securely at their hips.
Alongside them stood roughly seven or eight local nobles, dressed in incredibly opulent but laughably outdated fashions. These were clearly the entrenched local aristocrats.
Bringing up the extreme rear was an honor guard of about a hundred PDF troopers. They wore drab khaki uniforms and carried horribly obsolete Mark I lasguns.
"Senior Inspector."
Adela approached Kannis and forced a pained, incredibly strained smile. "Welcome to the Kent Hive."
He then turned his gaze toward Cogboy, his eyes swirling with deep complexity. "And this must be... Hive Lord Cage Lawrence?"
"It is I."
Cogboy stepped forward and delivered a flawless sign of the Aquila—striking his right fist cleanly against his left breast in the universal Imperial salute.
"Lord Adela, I have heard much about you."
Adela's lips trembled slightly. He clearly wanted to say something else, but ultimately just gave a stiff nod.
"The Governor's Estate has already prepared a welcoming banquet. Please, this way."
The massive entourage proceeded deeper into the Hive.
The interior of the Kent Hive was in drastically worse shape than its exterior suggested.
The primary transit artery was reasonably wide, but well over half the storefronts lining it were permanently shuttered, their display windows caked in thick grime.
Whenever pedestrians spotted the approaching procession, the vast majority immediately lowered their heads, quickened their pace, and scrambled out of sight, their eyes filled with deep apprehension.
Occasional PDF patrols could be seen, but their formations were highly undisciplined and their morale was visibly abysmal.
"The situation is far worse than I originally anticipated," Cogboy muttered under his breath to Kannis.
Kannis scoffed coldly. "For the past twenty-five years, Adela's mind has been focused entirely on embezzling as much profit from the mines as humanly possible. The Hive's basic infrastructure hasn't been updated in a decade. The PDF's equipment are thirty-year-old antiques. And the livelihood of the citizens? Hah. So long as they aren't dropping dead in the streets, he considers it a resounding success. If only he hadn't been heavily backed by the Hysman Merchant Guild..."
He paused, lowering his voice slightly. "However, do not underestimate him. The man is incredibly greedy, but his political grip is absolute iron. Every single faction in this Hive is firmly under his thumb. Taking over... will not be easy for you."
Cogboy silently noted the crucial intelligence.
After walking for roughly half an hour, they finally arrived at the Hive Lord's Estate.
It was an incredibly sprawling, palatial complex, blatantly boasting the distinct architectural style of the Blaec House: towering spires, highly intricate relief sculptures, and massive marble colonnades.
The interior was spotlessly clean.
A massive, sweeping banquet table dominated the grand dining hall. It was draped in a pristine white tablecloth, and heavy silver cutlery gleamed brilliantly under the massive crystal chandeliers.
The feast had already been served: roasted rock-ram leg, baked escargot, creamy mushroom bisque, and a vibrant platter of assorted local fruits... While it certainly couldn't compare to the decadent feasts of the true upper-spire nobility, in the post-war ruins of the Kent Hive, this was the absolute peak of luxury.
"Please, sit."
Adela took the seat at the absolute head of the table—the designated seat of the Hive Lord. For now, he was still the nominal master of the estate.
Kannis did not stand on ceremony, immediately claiming the first seat on the left. Cogboy sat directly beside him.
The rest of the entourage took their respective seats.
The banquet formally began.
The initial atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. The only sounds were the scraping of silver cutlery against porcelain and the quiet, nervous chewing of food.
But after a few rounds of the highly refined variant vodka Cogboy had brought, the atmosphere gradually began to thaw.
"Incredible!" One of the local nobles raised his glass in sheer delight. "Hive Lord Cage, where exactly... did this come from?"
"We distilled it ourselves after years of meticulous research." Cogboy raised his own glass to return the toast. "Distilled from grain native exclusively to the wastelands, utilizing ancient, recovered techniques. I am deeply gratified that you enjoy it."
"Enjoy it?! That's an understatement!" The noble downed the entire glass in a single gulp, his fat face flushing a deep, satisfied red. "I have tasted premium vintage imported directly from Mars, and compared to this, that stuff tastes like grox piss!"
The table erupted in genuine laughter.
Adela's complexion worsened significantly.
He had ruled the Kent Hive for twenty-five years and had never once produced a vintage of this caliber to entertain his guests.
This new Hive Lord brings this out the absolute second he arrives... Is this a deliberate show of dominance?
After three full rounds of drinks, Kannis cleared his throat loudly.
The entire dining hall instantly fell dead silent.
The Senior Inspector set his glass down and drew a formal document from his coat. It was heavy parchment, heavily gilded along the edges, and sealed tightly with crimson wax stamped with the double-headed eagle of the Imperium.
"I will now read the formal decree of the Departmento Munitorum."
He stood up, his voice booming with absolute, unchallengeable authority. "Imperial Calendar 976.M30. Planet Aurelian IV. Regarding the transfer of administrative authority of the Kent Mining Hive. Following the direct proposal of His Excellency, Ferrus Manus, Primarch of the Iron Hands Legion, and subsequent review by the Sector Command of the Departmento Munitorum, it is hereby decreed:
Article One. Adela Hysman is formally stripped of his title as Hive Lord of the Kent Hive. He and his immediate family are mandated to evacuate the Hive City within exactly fifteen days.
Article Two. Cage Lawrence is hereby officially appointed as the Hive Lord of the Kent Hive, granted absolute authority over all civil administration and the extensive promethium mining operations.
Article Three. The existing administrative hierarchy of the Hive shall temporarily remain in place. However, officials of all ranks are required to formally debrief the new Hive Lord within thirty days. The new Hive Lord retains absolute authority over their continued employment or termination.
Article Four. Regarding the Hive's annual mineral output: For the first operational year, eighty percent shall be tithed directly to the Iron Hands Legion, while twenty percent shall be retained strictly for the Hive's operating expenses. Beginning the second year, the revenue split will be subject to adjustment based on managerial performance.
Article Five. This appointment is effective immediately."
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Next Goal = 250 Powerstones.
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