Chapter 256: Here Lies Barbarus
The prow of the Endurance emerged from the Barbarus Mandeville Point, scattering brilliant blooms of warp-light beneath its hull, and the true master of Barbarus received a welcome beyond imagination.
So warm a welcome, in fact, that even the Death Guard themselves could not have foreseen it.
. . . .
The system's radio waves buzzed with activity, fleets darting through the void like schools of silverfish in the warp, chattering and buzzing. Rumors sprouted like mushrooms after rain, spreading without end.
A stable star system under the firm control of a Legion.
A system where an entire Legion held political power and privilege.
A system with a forge-moon in its orbit—
This pale-green jewel, Barbarus, had already drawn the gaze of all the nearby sectors.
Free-trading wanderers of the galaxy, shrewd planetary governors, middle-tier opportunists, and humble laborers alike pushed and shoved their way onto ships, setting their course for this land of whispered opportunity.
The lenient policies once set by Death Guard commander Hades had borne fruit. Here, the upper echelons clinked glasses while whispers became bullets of profit. And with the Death Guard standing watch, political assassinations of any magnitude were unthinkable.
The Graia Mechanicus, ever sharp of scent, quickly established a massive orbital station not far from the Mandeville Point. It became a haven where itinerant traders could easily find buyers for their wares before vanishing back into the warp.
Meanwhile, those crammed into the lower decks—throngs of common folk—could just as easily find work to feed their families. After all, the native Barbarusians were too few in number to sustain the immense labor force demanded by an entire system.
In truth, within the Imperium's dominions, Barbarus lay in a relatively sparse region. This far-southern expanse of space held only a scattering of human worlds.
In its remoteness, only Macragge in the far east could be said to rival Barbarus. Yet the Macraggean cluster teemed with tightly packed planets, jostling noisily together, while around Barbarus there was only silence.
Perhaps Barbarus was never meant to be so lively.
But for the scattered human worlds of the galactic south, Barbarus blazed like a star suddenly lit in the void—giving them a hub through which to communicate with one another.
Through Barbarus they could learn of the Imperium, of their neighbors, sign treaties with forge worlds, and exchange in commerce.
Barbarus had become the link binding the far-southern worlds together.
Though sparse, the region contained riches: counting the southern hive-world of Galaspar, already conquered and reshaped by the Death Guard, there were four vast hive-worlds near Barbarus.
Any one of those colossi could amass wealth beyond reckoning, their upper classes brimming with resources to squander.
When word spread of Galaspar's capture and remaking, it stirred unease in the lords of the other hives. To probe the truth, magnates dispatched trusted envoys aboard ships bound for Barbarus.
Where the great houses led, lesser worlds rushed to follow.
So it was that while the Death Guard waged war elsewhere, Barbarus became a floodgate of incoming vessels, voices clamoring in a din that left the native Barbarusians reeling.
Yet it was the Tech-Priests of the Mint Forge-Satellite who first truly understood.
These old, cunning priests—failures exiled from Graia—had long been shackled by the rigid hierarchies of their home. Fortune had rarely smiled upon them.
But now matters were different. Far from Graia's scrutinizing gaze, facing this tide of visitors to Barbarus, the Mint Magos saw their chance to seize fortunes, to rise at last.
Praise be to the Omnissiah!
The Great Crusade had never been about sharing technology with human worlds. The Imperium did not extend such gifts freely. Thus, these planets' sciences lagged far behind the Imperial frontier, and when the tech-priests offered their machines and devices for sale, there was nothing to do but obediently pay in resources.
And—praise the Omnissiah yet again—Barbarus was tax-exempt.
A safe haven, free of Imperial tithes, with a ready-made platform of technical specialists.
Ohhhhhhhhhhh!
Even before the foolish Barbarusians themselves realized what was happening to their homeworld, Barbarus had already become a dreamland of profit in the eyes of outsiders—virgin ground, short of manpower, with no entrenched hierarchies to bar the ambitious.
Here, anyone with ability could make a name for themselves amidst the clamor of the Barbarus system!
They don't need to fear the place collapsing into lawless chaos: for though the system swarmed with rogues and fortune-seekers, the silent warriors kept their vigil. Should anyone cross the red lines laid down by the Legion, only the kiss of the scythe would await them.
And so, amid cheers and revelry, Barbarus flourished with astonishing speed—even if the native Barbarusians were slow to seize their share.
But with the influx of people from Galaspar, the Barbarusians quickly joined the feast and surged ahead, buoyed by their Death Guard patrons.
In truth, they had far more capital than any other newcomers.
Barbarus was thriving, like a vast field of corn shoots rising green across the plains.
And yet—
Before the viewing ports of the Endurance, the Lord of Death slowly lifted his gaze from a Death Guard made [Compilation of Jokes], staring in puzzlement at the civilian vessels swarming alongside his fleet, spewing smoke and light in strange tongues to hail their arrival.
…?
His Barbarus—how had it turned into this?
Beneath his hood, Mortarion narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the system.
Where once there had been only barren planets, he now saw not fewer than three sprawling city-clusters under construction. Stations of varying size floated in orbit, and shipyards brimmed with vessels of every kind.
What had once been a silent realm—traversed only by Death Guard or Mechanicum craft—was now like a tree overburdened with birds, all chirping and chattering at once.
The one small comfort Mortarion found was that none of this had disrupted the defense grid. The Mint Magos had even over-fulfilled their duties: the outermost worlds were now armed to the teeth.
But that did not mean Mortarion's mood was anything near good.
Slowly, he closed the book in his hand. His gaze lingered on the distant civilian flotillas shadowing the fleet, and he weighed whether to order them scattered with lance-fire.
Instead, he opened a vox channel.
"Hades. Come here. Explain this to me."
Before a reply could come, he cut the link. The Lord of Death sat in silence, staring out at the system before him, sinking deep into thought.
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