Chapter 1090: The Imperial Fist's Response
At dawn, the judgment hall in the sector capital was already full. The stained glass on the towering Gothic dome filtered the morning light into a blood-colored color.
The old patriarch of the Casimir family was leaning on a lion-headed scepter, his gaze piercing the dock like a sword.
Inquisitor Strucker presented the evidence piece by piece on the anti-gravity projector, including but not limited to:
Holographic scans of the three seized modified transport ships
A detailed inventory of property worth 370 million Throne Coins
Twelve Secret Letters in Collusion with the Rogue Trader
Plasma and melta weapons smuggled from the armory, as well as mechanical creations that have undergone special modifications.
…………
"According to Article 1174 of the Imperial Code and the Special Wartime Law, the Veselan family is guilty of..."
The Inquisitor's voice sounded like a death knell: "Treason, desertion, theft of military supplies, blasphemy against the Emperor's will, reselling of important military resources..."
Every time a charge was read out, there was a suppressed exclamation from the gallery.
Count Veselan's silk shirt had long been soaked with sweat and exuded a foul smell. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
When the noon bell struck twelve, the sentence was carried out in the central square.
Twelve atonement priests in black robes chanted an ancient requiem, and the incense burners in their hands emitted a pungent smell.
Lord Weserland was stripped of all his finery except for a dirty linen shirt.
His fat body was tied with metal chains to a stake carved with the Imperial Eagle, and at his feet were piled pages of the Divine Word soaked in incendiary gas.
“Please… please…”
The Earl's teeth were chattering and saliva was dripping from his thick lips.
"I can donate all...my private soldiers...my..."
Inquisitor Stark took the torch burning with blue flames from the servant and said: "Your private soldiers are already on the transport ship heading to the front line. As for your property..."
He threw the torch onto the pyre and continued, "It will be used to comfort the families of those whose cowardice has expended the Emperor's coin."
The flames fueled by the alien grease instantly shot up three meters high, engulfing the traitor. Amid the horrifying screams, the Inquisitor turned to the other family members:
The eldest son, Edmund Witheran, was put in a noose soaked in salt water and slowly suffocated for twenty minutes.
The family butler Klaus was sentenced to "flaying" and the mechanical priest carried out the punishment with precision.
Seven adult male relatives in the family will be enlisted in the Penal Corps and sent to the most dangerous front lines.
The women were sent to the Monastery of Atonement in the extremely cold world and then joined the Penal Legion.
The three youngest children were transformed by the Mechanical Sage into Cherubim, who continue to live in the name of the Emperor.
When the last wisp of smoke dissipated into the air, Inquisitor Straker turned to the silent crowd. His voice spread throughout the administrative district through the array of thinkers in the square:
“Remember every minute of today!”
His mailed finger pointed to the gallows, which was still shaking slightly.
"When the Swarm arrives, you will have only two choices: die in the glory of the Emperor, or burn as cowards!"
........................
Amanda Galaxy
The outline of Shanzhen gradually took shape in the huge galactic rift, like a steel mountain range walking out of a myth.
This behemoth, which is hundreds of kilometers long, is painted in a dull imperial yellow, and the densely packed defensive turrets on its armored hull are like jagged rocks on a mountain.
The huge ram on the bow was engraved with the Imperial Fists' battle honors over the past ten thousand years, and every scratch recorded a glorious battle.
The most striking feature of the battleship is the fortress standing on its back, which is a giant building complex that is exactly the same size as the imperial palace fortress.
Seven layers of superimposed void shield generators formed golden energy ripples on the periphery of the fortress, and the barrels of thousands of macro cannons stretched out from the battlements like the fangs of a sleeping behemoth.
When the Shanzhen completely left the galaxy, the space ripples caused by its gravitational field even caused nearby frigates to deviate.
From the giant hatch that slowly opened at the belly of the battleship, dozens of Sword-class frigates swarmed out like a swarm of bees and immediately began to form a defensive formation.
In the command hall on the top floor of the fortress, Rogal Dorn was staring at the holographic star map.
The Primarch's body seemed to be carved from the hardest granite in the Empire, and every muscle line exuded indestructible strength.
His short light white hair stood up like steel needles, and there was no emotion on his resolute face. Only his amber eyes flashed with a cold light.
At this moment, the bridge of the Shanzhen was shrouded in a special silence, with only the low hum of the Thinker Array and the sound of the flowing light beams of the holographic projector.
Rogal Dorn stood like a mountain in front of the tactical holographic table, his pale golden eyelashes looking like they were coated with a layer of frost under the projected blue light.
The distress signal from the Emperor's Children was still playing on loop, and Fulgrim's elegant voice seemed out of place in the steel bridge.
"The size of the Hive Fleet exceeds expectations by 47%...Requesting support from the Seventh Legion..."
Dorn's knuckles tapped three times on the adamantium table. This subtle sound was like thunder in the silent bridge, and the thirty tactical officers immediately straightened their backs.
The Primarch's facial muscles did not twitch at all. His amber eyes scanned every data point marked on the star map, and his pupils contracted slightly as he took into account hundreds of tactical parameters at the same time.
On his left temple, an almost invisible vein bulged slightly. This was the limit of Rog Dorn's emotional fluctuations.
"The Imperial Fists will respond to the Emperor's Children's call for aid."
"Correct course, set new coordinates, target the star system where the Emperor's Children Legion is located."
"Begin Webway movement, my lord primarch."
The navigation spire of the Shanzhen suddenly lit up with an eerie purple light, dyeing the entire bridge an unnatural color.
Rogal Dorn's granite face looked particularly grim in the light as he stared at the runes flashing on the main screen of the bridge, the ancient symbol of the entrance to the webway.
The Emperor created a webway connecting the two worlds, so Imperial fleets may occasionally share a webway with the Eldar.
"The entire ship has entered silent mode and all non-essential systems have been shut down."
The Shanzhen's hundreds of kilometers long steel body began to slowly enter the entrance of the webway. Humanity's largest war machine was sliding into the huge webway.
The defensive runes on the battleship's surface lit up with golden light one after another, repelling the psychic light on the webway wall and emitting a teeth-grinding scream.
"We have completed the entry and are expected to reach the target location within 1 day."
