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Chapter 217 - Chapter 213: Galaspar’s Secondary and Tertiary Foundry Affairs

Chapter 213: Galaspar's Secondary and Tertiary Foundry Affairs

The good news was that Galaspar, as a hive city, was not yet fully "typical."

Its former rulers—the Order—had forbidden even the possibility of dissent taking root under their rule. So even though its underhive was as filthy and crowded as any other Imperial hive, it was never chaotic.

Every street had been labeled. Every person was tagged with a number. Every soul had a meticulously detailed archive. Although many had vanished during the Death Guard's initial takeover—causing a degree of disorder—the previous administration's thoroughness now offered the Death Guard a surprising amount of convenience.

Galaspar's reconstruction continued. The Tech-Priests and their Skitarii took up residence in the nearby wastelands outside the hive's core. Preliminary environmental engineering was underway.

Of course, calling it "environmental engineering" was generous—what the Magos had actually done was deploy ready-made assembly line templates for habitation areas. Once laborers moved in, work could begin immediately.

Hades had also granted the Adeptus Mechanicus full recruitment rights over the population of Galaspar. If a Tech-Priest found someone they liked, they could—with the recruit's consent—take them away for training. Who knows? Some lucky soul might even become a Tech-Acolyte.

Tech-Priests are prone to whims from time to time.

Meanwhile, production for previously delayed orders from nearby star systems had already begun. Galaspar's current output was only at half its original capacity, but even that was formidable. A hive city's manufacturing power was never something to underestimate.

The crimson-robed delegation from Graia Forge World arrived singing sacred hymns, their incense trailing like vapor from the swinging mechadendrites on their backs. Their processional surged through the jagged gaps between hive towers, spilling into forgotten outer districts. There, they would install Galaspar's industrial kidneys—systems to process and purge the accumulated poisons of a thousand years.

From this point onward, these "oil monks" would toil like tireless ants for decades to come, cleansing the clogged arteries of this bloated hive-city giant and erecting a livable, maintainable infrastructure for its future.

To the Mechanicus, transforming a hive wasn't so much difficult as it was annoying.

After all, if a hive's environment wasn't so bad as to disrupt productivity, then the Mechanicus typically wouldn't bother with it.

But since the Death Guard had made a formal request—well, a Forge World obeys.

The Tech-Priests generally didn't make moral judgments about such projects. There was no need to waste processing power on emotion. Compared to the more outrageous demands of some Imperial officials who acted out of selfishness, this was a straightforward ask. So long as the payment was right, the "oil monks" would deliver.

The Death Guard were Graia's primary military partner. According to the treaty, the Legion offered the Forge World protection, influence, and resources—in return, the Forge World provided them with their due hospitality.

Like now—

"Lord Hades, the primary hive's initial water purification circuit has been completed. We'll complete the testing within one hundred standard Terran days."

The bent figure of a Tech-Magos emerged from the darkness and gave a deep bow to Hades. The thick scent of holy machine-oil wafted from the frayed hem of his crimson robe. Hades recognized him—he'd been the one who hosted him on Mint for that ridiculous ceremony.

Hades nodded.

"Thank you for your efforts, Magos."

The Magos across from Hades didn't respond immediately. There was a faint click from within his body—Hades recognized the sound of internal actuators locking up. 

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

What was this guy doing?

Yet the Tech-Priest continued to speak in a calm and refined tone,

"We thank you, my lord, for your recognition. There's no need for further words. Serving you is our honor."

…Wait a second. Did this guy lock himself up because he was too excited?

Hades really hoped that wasn't the case—but based on his past interactions with these grease-monks from Graia, he knew one thing for certain: most of the ones who ever talked to him had a bit of a… twitch.

At first, Hades thought this was some quirky cultural trait of Graia.

Later, he realized—nah. It was just wetware instability.

'Come on,' he thought. 'Don't go into wetware shock just from seeing me.' 

It made Hades feel like some kind of strange... phenomenon.

He blinked, deciding not to dwell on that bizarre possibility any further.

Seeing his silence, the Magos rushed to continue speaking:

"Lord Hades, with your permission, we're ready to begin the second wave of material transfers immediately. The good news is, thanks to your inspiration, the Mint Forge-Satellite has maintained high production enthusiasm for your requested materials—they've even exceeded the original quota by 20%."

The first Mechanicus fleet to arrive at Galaspar had been an emergency deployment at the Death Guard's request. It had dragged along all kinds of purification equipment previously used on Barbarus, racing here with sparks flying to answer the call for Galaspar's reconstruction.

Graia's original plan, however, was to wait before assembling a full-scale logistical fleet specifically for Death Guard supply runs. Supplying a full Space Marine Legion required utmost caution—so Graia intended to assign a dedicated escort fleet for the job.

'Not bad. That was fast,' Hades thought, nodding to himself. 

The Death Guard had just finished with Drune, and the official imperial decrees couldn't possibly have reached this fast.

"Thanks for your effort," Hades said.

No sooner had he finished the sentence than a faint pop rang out. He sighed—yep, the Magos had entered tremble-mode again.

Sigh...

"Oh, right. Do me a favor and pick up a few people from the Barbarus orbital ring while you're out. I'll write you a letter."

Hades added, reaching out to gently steady the trembling Tech-Priest.

"Are you alright?"

He realized too late that he shouldn't have asked that—this particular Magos had clearly already begun rebooting. Well, at least he wasn't shaking anymore.

Hades stared at the frozen Magos and suddenly realized—

Crap! He forgot something.

He was supposed to assign the next batch of Trainee Techmarines to Mars!

The Death Guard's first major requisition of military supplies had already arrived—and he was still the only Techmarine of the new generation?!

Damn, with everything going on, it just completely slipped his mind!

He hadn't even brought it up, but Enrique was probably already drafting up contingency plans… right? He had to be. Right?

'Please be.'

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