As Qin Mo laid out his terms, a tall, dignified noblewoman stepped forward from the gathered crowd, her movements graceful yet heavy with purpose, a living remnant of the once-proud courtly traditions of Talon II. She bowed respectfully, her voice steady, though edged with deep sincerity and the weariness of long years of loss.
"Forgive my bluntness, Lord Qin Mo, but we no longer possess any status or wealth to retain."
She turned toward a rotund, middle-aged nobleman seated nearby, his once-opulent brocade coat now patched in places where the fine fabric had worn thin.
"Sir Laurenell was once the wealthiest noble of Talon II. He poured every throne he had into the war effort, offering bounties and paying soldiers' wages to keep them fighting through the darkest days of the war. When the tithes ran dry, he ransomed his estates, his heirlooms, even his family's sacred relics to feed and arm the loyalists."
She then gestured to another noble, a gaunt man with hollow cheeks and weary eyes, his tattered uniform still proudly adorned with medals whose luster had long since dulled.
"His bloodline birthed many warriors of renown, generals whose names are etched into the annals of the Astra Militarum. Now, he alone remains, the last of his kin, all others slain in the Emperor's service."
One by one, she recounted the sacrifices made by the Loyalist nobility. Those who had once lived in grandeur now stood as paupers, their wealth, their honor, their very futures burned away in service to the Emperor.
It was clear that the loyalist nobility of Talon II weren't just paying lip service to their loyalty, they had bled for it, given everything they had in the name of Imperium.
....
Qin Mo listened in silence until she had finished speaking. His expression betrayed no emotion, his gaze unreadable as he weighed her words. Then, at last, he spoke.
"Your devotion to the Emperor and humanity is commendable. When I say I will restore your wealth and status, I mean exactly that. I will return to you everything you possessed before the heretics took control of your world."
Murmurs spread among the nobles, the sound a mix of disbelief and cautious hope.
It was as if they had been met with cold indifference, only to be granted a great boon moments later.
"I will conduct a fair and thorough assessment," Qin Mo continued. "Whatever wealth you possessed before the heretics seized power, you shall receive in full. But that wealth will not come from my coffers, it will come from the traitors who sided with the heretics. As for those who lost their titles and honors, they too will be restored."
He let the silence hang for a breath before continuing.
"However…" Qin Mo's voice grew solemn. "The dead cannot be brought back. They have given their lives in service to the Emperor and mankind, and they will be honored alongside all those who perished in this war."
This was no whim, it was a policy long prepared.
The remaining nobility on Talon II no longer held much political influence. They had once been wealthy, yes, but before the war they had commanded neither large armies nor great swathes of territory.
Had the more powerful noble houses not been purged by the heretics, or had they held greater military strength, the Resistance might never have been driven into the sewers, fighting a desperate guerrilla war in the dark.
Even Donna and her father had been forced to wade through filth in their Knight suits to survive.
Restoring their titles and fortunes would not grant them the means to rebel, it would merely grant them stability.
The elderly Resistance commander, the last living descendant of Talon II's final Imperial Governor, rose to his feet and bowed deeply.
"You shall have our loyalty, Lord of Talon."
Qin Mo nodded.
"Your service in this war will not go unrewarded. The same applies to all who stood against the heretics. If I am to rule your world directly, then I must also take responsibility for its well-being. That is my duty."
A faint smile crossed his face.
And with that, the question of Talon II's governance was settled.
With that matter resolved, Qin Mo outlined his next orders:
- Eradicate the remaining heretic forces on Talon II.
- Conduct an impartial economic audit, restoring the Loyalist nobles' wealth and titles using assets seized from traitors.
- Reorganize the Resistance Army into a formal Planetary Defense Force.
And then came greater plans:
- The Mandeville Point of the Talon System would be fortified, transformed into an astronomical-scale stronghold to serve as the system's primary defensive bastion.
- Construct massive teleportation arrays in stellar orbit, ensuring dimensional travel could be used system-wide, on every planet, and aboard every ship.
- The First Legion Fleet would be expanded with new shipbuilding programs.
The Talon System was finally stabilizing.
....
Later that night, Qin Mo sat at his desk, drafting the decrees to officially recognize the nobility and restore their honors.
Navigating the intricate laws of Imperial nobility was headache-inducing, an endless web of ancient decrees, hereditary rights, and convoluted legal precedents that had survived since the earliest days of the Imperium. But at least the nobles had anticipated this and provided detailed written guides on how to properly draft such decrees.
Once finished, he would have the First Legion's officers, most of whom were of noble birth review them. They were familiar with these bureaucratic traps and loopholes, the hidden clauses and veiled language designed to secure additional privileges or subtly shift power. Their scrutiny would ensure that no noble schemer had woven ambitions into the fine print.
Still, Qin Mo had no interest in the aristocratic games of the Imperium. The titles, the pageantry, the endless games of influence, it all seemed hollow in a galaxy where war was the only true currency. Let them have their restored names and gilded crests; it changed nothing of real consequence.
And since High Gothic was a language he had only learned a year ago, writing these decrees was mentally exhausting. The language of the Throne was precise, rigid in its structure, yet deliberately opaque in matters of governance. A single misplaced word could alter the meaning of an entire document, and the thought of a misstep leading to unintended consequences gnawed at him.
"This is so damn tedious…" he muttered, setting his quill down and gazing out the window.
The city of New Kato looked no different at night than it did during the day.
After all, in the underhive, there was no sun.
Yet the cityscape was alive, a steel jungle illuminated by countless holo-screens and glowing lights, giving the metropolis an almost warm appearance.
And yet, Qin Mo found it lacking.
In this world, people only ate synthetic food, their every movement was monitored by patrol drones, and they were required to undergo regular psychological evaluations. Even recreational activities had to be approved by an overseer AI, with Drones dispatched to ensure compliance.
And in truth, this was the future of all cities in the Talon System.
The other two worlds in the system would soon resemble this one. A future where every life was quantified, measured, and reduced to its function within the grand machine.
It was no paradise, but for now, it was the safest way to grant his citizens a tolerable life in a galaxy as dangerous as the 41st Millennium.
....
〈"Well done."〉
A voice echoed in Qin Mo's mind.
〈"Until you regain your full power, let these humans serve as your vanguard, lest you fall prey to the Deceiver, or some other malignancy spawned from the depths of the Empyrean."〉
The voice belonged to the Shapeshifter transmitting its message through the fabric of the cosmos, using the magnetic fields of distant stars as its conduit.
"Do not interrupt my work."
Qin Mo ignored the voice and resumed writing.
〈"Do you consider yourself human… or one of us?"〉
The Shapeshifter pressed, its words laden with the weight of something far older than mortal comprehension.
Qin Mo knew what it truly asked. The C'tan, the Star Gods.
For a moment, he considered his existence.
Had he changed when he arrived in this universe?
His body, his appearance, as far as he knew, nothing was different.
It would be a lie to say his mind had not shifted, he was more detached now, colder, more calculated. But in a galaxy like this, was that not inevitable?
He thought of himself as still human.
But then… there was the dreams.
A vision of himself drifting among the stars, devouring suns and mortal souls alike.
And then… something with unfathomable power struck him.
Shattered his consciousness.
Qin Mo hesitated, then at last chose to trust the Shapeshifter enough to describe his dream.
After a brief silence, the Shapeshifter offered its analysis.
〈"That must have been your past self, your memories as the Forgemaster. It seems some great force shattered you, merging your essence with your current form… hence the black markings upon your flesh."〉
Qin Mo nodded, recalling the dark sigils carved into his skin since his awakening, as if etched by unseen hands in his sleep.
〈"You are still the Forgemaster."〉 The Shapeshifter continued.
〈"C'tan do not ponder where they come from or where they are going, they simply are. The only question worth asking is, what is a C'tan? What defines us?〉
"Tell me, then."
Qin Mo set down his quill, intrigued by Shapeshifter philosophy of the Star Gods.
〈"A C'tan is power. A force that shapes the laws of existence. If you wield the might of a Star God, bend the immutable principles of reality, embody a fundamental aspect of the cosmos, then you are C'tan. We are the laws incarnate. The more dominion one holds over them, the closer one comes to what we are."〉
"So what am I?" Qin Mo asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
For a long moment, there was only silence. Then, at last, the Shapeshifter spoke.
〈"Perhaps… something new."〉
Qin Mo fell into thought.
The Shapeshifter, however, was not yet finished.
〈"But you are still the Forgemaster. If you were to truly die, a fate that has never occurred our kind since the dawn of creation, the very Laws of Creation, Industry, Metallurgy, and Weaponcrafting would vanish from the material realm. Your existence sustains them, just as they sustain you. However i must warn you, we can be shattered, dispersed, and consumed, which is the closest thing to 'death' we can experience. Yet still, you remain the Forgemaster. You should begin acting as one of us, recovering and reassembling the shattered fragments of your kin. Not that I want you to free me, of course."〉
"Of course," Qin Mo smirked.
〈"Naturally, some C'tan should never be restored. The Nightbringer, for example, should be destroyed outright. In its hunger for death, it turned on its own kind, devouring the essence of fellow C'tan until none were left strong enough to oppose it. Even now, its fragmented shards seek to consume what little remains of us. And if you ever encounter a shard of the Deceiver, shatter it before it speaks a single word. Otherwise, you'll soon understand why even our kind despise it."〉
The Shapeshifter prattled on for a while before pausing. Then, almost reluctantly, it added.
〈"If, someday, you help me escape my prison, I will... serve you."〉
"Very well," Qin Mo agreed. "But for now, you must aid me, provide prophecies, and allow me to observe distant corners of the galaxy."
〈"That is acceptable,"〉 the Shapeshifter affirmed.
Qin Mo returned to writing, listening to tales of the Star Gods as he worked.
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