- Throne! said Philipus 4th rank scribe of the Departamento Mercatura who oversee intergalactic trade.
- What is it? said Danila 1st rank elder of Departamento Alimentum that handles food supplies.
- It's already been an hour. You'd think someone would have shown up by now. Said Philipus pointing at the row of 12 empty seats surrounding a white table in a small conference room. In front of each seat, scrolls and data slates about galactic trade were carefully aligned.
- It still gives you time to check if the holo-projector is functioning, if our data slates are up to date or if our scrolls are written in the appropriate Gothic.
- I already did it. Three times. The slates are up to date, the holo-projector is as good as it could be. Said Philipus patting the small rusted floating cubes. As for the scrolls, I personally wrote it with the best techno quill available. You've reviewed it three times and confirmed each time that my imperial Gothic is impeccable.
- It's true that your Gothic is much better than most in the Administratum. You could be a prop novelist if you wanted too.
- Why would I waste my time on such an eccentric pursuit? I have data slates to review.
- How boring. Do you not wish to shake things up from time to time?
- That's madness! The world around us is chaos. Only routine can keep order in this madness especially after the last few years. We need order.
- Why would change be bad?
- You're asking me this after the last four years? Do you think those changes were good? Xenos everywhere getting us ready to be eaten by a giant space bug looking for a new diner?
- Why are you saying this? I'm just saying you know trying a different spice with the food paste or going to a different church. Nothing this horrible. How could you say this? You know what happened to me during…
- Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ... I … It's just the warp ripped through the galaxy, I'm not getting any message from anywhere, the galaxy is silent and I'm … scared. The only thing keeping me sane is following a really clear routine. Makes me feel like I have a bit of control over this mad world. I shouldn't have said what I said. I apologize.
- Thanks. You know, after the Xenos took over, I was also scared. You know they made … that weird noise when they walked close to us. Inspecting us with their yellow eyes. Asking me the status of our supply while eyeing me like I was diner. I was so scared. I started carrying a nano-blade on me in case they tried to infect me like they did to the others. Not for them so much as for me. I didn't want to be like them. After they left, I still needed the blade. Just to feel safe at night or…
- Danila! Interrupted Philipus. I get what you mean. I live with the same … but … please don't speak of this here.
- Sorry I didn't want to…
- It's fine … just … be careful…
- Ok.
Afterwards, a heavy silence started weighing down the room. Crushing Philipus under his guilt. To alleviate the atmosphere a bit, Philipus pretended for 5 minutes that he was reviewing his data slate. The silence in the room was mercifully broken when the door finally opened. Philipus smiled a bit thinking this small hell was over. He was disappointed to see a simple guardsman entering to ask if their guest needed anything. Danila and Philipus asked for water. The guards indicated he will bring it soon, but did give a suspicious look at the holo-projector.
The guard came back 10 minutes later with an officer who inspected the holo-projector methodically, then looked through the slates and scrolls that Philipus had perfectly set up to find anything that could look suspicious.
He stopped his inspection after 10 minutes, visibly satisfied and indicated the water would be coming soon. The water was indeed delivered 5 minutes later by another guard who didn't answer Philipus' queries about the time it would take to finally see the governor. The guard did take the time to inspect the holo-projector.
After the guard left, Danila asked Philipus:
- You think the whole imperial guard will inspect the holo-projector before we finally see the governor?
- Hahaha! And the Ecclesiarchy. They have to make sure it is not tainted.
- As Philipus said this, the door opened. A large man walked in donned in the traditional clothes of the church and carrying a large incense dispenser to ward off evil.
- What are you doing here? asked Danila a bit confused.
- Order of the governor, all rooms he visits need to be freed from any evil presence.
- I've never heard of this policy before.
- It was put in place today.
- Interesting, I never thought their Excellency was this pious.
The priest simply shrugged then proceeded to recite holy prayers to the glory of the emperor in a broken high Gothic. Philipus and Danila dutifully repeated the prayers they didn't understand more out of habit than faith. Even in the Administratum, high Gothic was largely ignored. Only the Ecclesiarchy still bothered with this antique language and even they didn't really understand it.
Once the room was properly filled with the smell of incense and the discordant sounds of prayers, the priest left the room, after covering the holo-projector in a cloud of burned incense.
- When Danila and Philipus were alone again, Philipus immediately said:
- Who's next after this? I feel like every branch of the imperium is going to look at this holo-projector before we finally see the Governor.
- I think it's the Mechanicus who will come to inspect it next. Said Danila. They will want a detailed binary report on the state of the machine spirit.
- The Minitorum will also want a report about the State of the holo-projector. To make sure we followed the appropriate regulations on handling this important war gear.
- In triple copies. So they can pass it around.
- I would definitely like to take a look at one of those copies myself, said a man in military uniform.
- We'll forward them to you in a nice package. said Danila, unbothered by the interruption.
- Looking forward to reading your awful Imperial Gothic Danila. replied the military man visibly used to talking to Danila.
- It's not my fault you can't appreciate my genius Stobb. You imperial guards are just too obsessed with tradition. You don't appreciate the poetry of my rich weekly report. My talent is wasted on people like you.
- Haven't you heard? I'm retired now. Just a humble security guard for Their Excellency.
- You don't have the look of a retired guard. said Danila pointing at Stobb Amez uniform.
- Pure ceremony for their Excellency.
- Their Excellency will grace us with their presence soon?
- Very soon. I'm just conducting a last-minute inspection before their Excellency comes in.
- Please go ahead.
- Apologies, Mr. Stobb, why so many guards insist on inspecting my holo-projector. It's an old model, but there's nothing off about it. said Philipus.
- Nothing to worry about. said Stobb inspecting the holo-projector. Just making sure no one hid a small Krak grenade in an innocent-looking holo-projector again.
- What do you mean again? asked Philipus worried.
- Has I said, nothing to worry about.
- Philipus only started to worry more.
- So, you're going to present us your thing about what again? Asked distractingly Stobb Hamez while he was turning on and off repeatedly the holo-projector.
- A simple summary of our supply chain. Answered Danila. Philipus will cover the trade part and me the food one. Then we'll conclude with how this whole warp thing is affecting it.
- Throne sounds dreadfully boring. Said Stobb pushing up and down the floating holo-projector.
- And important. added Philipus.
- I suppose if you can survive staring at data slates for more than two minutes.
- We'll make sure to keep the data slates to a minimum. said Danila.
- Thank you! said Stobb, visibly relieved by Danila's lie. As for your holo-projector, it seems to be Krak grenade free. I'll call their Excellency. Get ready for the swarm.
- The what? asked Philipus, confused.
- Stobb simply chuckled and left the room.
Before Danila could answer Philipus' questioning eyes, the door of the conference room burst open open and an unending swarm of servants wearing impeccable golden tunics invaded the office. This army of domestics was moving at an inhuman speed. Cleaning up dust here, aligning Philipus scrolls and data slates there. Covering a dark wall with painting of their Excellency. Flooding the floor with exquisite rugs made of Arachnid Ultimus silks. Transforming the simple office room into a luxurious gathering place. The servant's activities were interrupted by the voice of Varnik Veralt, master of ceremonies who ordered the servant to vacate the room at once. The servants disappeared immediately as fast as they appeared. Then three servants wearing a red uniform came in carrying food and wine. Philipus and Danila had to argue fervently with the master of ceremony to ensure they put all this food on the side table so the holo-projector wouldn't be endangered by someone spilling wine over its delicate mechanism. Once all the food was set up, the master of ceremony ordered them to leave. Then two servants dressed in white entered the room as the master of ceremony finally left the room. One white clad servant closed the door behind his master, then stood by the door. The other servant stood by her food table. Both stayed motionless.
Philipus and Danila exhaled for a brief moment, relieved that this invasion of their small workplace was temporarily ended.
- It really was a swarm. said Danila.
- Bloody warp I could not follow their movements at all. said Philipus.
- I know, absolute madness.
- They even messed with my data slates and scrolls! They organized them by date instead of subject!
- Unacceptable!
- Absolutely. Even the priest didn't mess up that badly.
- And you saw the food.
- I know! Next to my poor holo-projector! Those things are hard to replace. I'd have to place an order to the planet Seluca. It would take 5 years to deliver if we're lucky. If it's not affected by the warp storm. Emperor, I have to reorganize all those slates and scrolls right away.
- Hey young squire! Are more of you coming to spread chaos? Asked Danila to the young girl in white next to the food.
The girl stayed silent, not even glancing at Danila.
- Can I at least have a bite? I'm starving. said Danila, eyeing a very juicy Millian crustacean.
The girl gave a very dark look at Danila.
- Never mind. How about you, young man! Any way you could tell us what we should expect next? Twenty servants dressed in turquoise robes spraying perfume everywhere while dancing the imperial quartet?
- The servant didn't even look at Danila, apparently fascinated by the wall he was staring at.
- They don't show that in the romantic holo-film you love so much? said Philipus.
- No, they are usually much more focused on the noble quest for love and honour than the servants.
- Yeah, that does sound a bit more interesting than whatever this is.
- Agreed, I would never watch such a story.
- Have we ever seen a holo-film with an ordinary citi…
- PLEASE WELCOME THEIR EXCELLENCY LORD HIBNAR! SAVIOUR OF SIERRA SEGUNDUS AND KILLER OF XENOS! Yelled the young man at the door.
Danila and Philipus immediately rose and bowed their heads awaiting the wise words of their governor as they entered the room last. Their Excellency emerges wearing a simple green tunic with the 14th insignia sewn onto his suit. He was followed by a few nobles, ecclesiarchs and administrators. Philipus didn't know any of them, though he supposed they were important since the white-clad servants were making sure to give food to all the followers of their Excellency and fill their cup with wine. Everything about them looked expensive: their clothes, their entrancing perfume, their glistening white teeth or their perfectly smooth skin.
Even their names and titles, recited by the young white clad servant, seemed to highlight their importance. The Red Cardinal Jeremias Kharpastian who was wearing a red robe covered in an intricate assortment of rings and jewels that made his being glow red like the sun. The general Nathorn von Storm whose whole uniform was covered in medals. The Red Baron Ishmael Ruby who was dressed in spotless white from head to toe. The headmaster of the Sanguine guard Vyrna Rossini wearing a golden armor covered in precious pink jewels. Philipus was unable to keep up with these names and titles who seemed to lack meaning.
Strangely, this excessive display of luxury gave greater dignity to their Excellency. Every wrinkle on their face and scars elevated the image of a frugal man surrounded by excess. Philipus thought the Governor looked much more impressive in person than on the holo-feed. That illusion was quickly shattered when the governor opened his mouth.
- So, hum … is this the meeting for the new sceptre right?
- No, my lord, it's about our supply situation. answered Danila.
- Ah right! Very well, it is dreadfully important, if always boring. Please give us a clear explanation of the situation. said Lord Hibnar moving toward the end of the conference table where the young squire who held his door made sure to help him be seated. The servant seemed particularly proud of having picked that chair.
- Thank you, my lord. Philipus, they are all yours, said.
- She must be intimidated by all those important people assumed wrongly Philipus. This thought suddenly opened Philipus' eyes to the situation. He was standing in front of a person able to turn him into an empty servo-skull if he did as little as be boring. Philipus swallowed a bit of saliva and proceeded to speak:
- Welcome your most gracious Excellency to this humble presentation on our supply chain. As we all know, we are now facing a dire situation. A strong Warp Storm of a size we've never seen before has separated us from the light of Holy Terra. To understand the cataclysmic disaster this is, I will try first to explain to us how our economy currently operates and how it needs to change. For that, I'd like first to start with a question.
Philipus made a quick sign to Danila to start the holo-projector. Danila immediately followed the appropriate prayer to awake the machine spirit of the projector which Swallowed the room in a red mist with a simple question:
WHAT DRIVES IMPERIAL TRADE?
- Any answer? asked Philipus.
- The greed of the merchants! They are never delivering enough gear to my troop and they keep on asking for more coins. said the Red Baron Ishmael, whose white apparel didn't seem to get dirty even if he was spilling red wine all over himself.
- How do they know what is needed where? asked Philipus. The Galaxy is vast.
- I suppose the Administratum tells them where to go.
- Though powerful, the Administratum has no direct control over traders, we are an important client, but far from the only one.
- I knew the Admistratum couldn't be any good! It's the Astropaths isn't it? said the Red Cardinal Jeremiah.
- Are Astropath in charge of supplying planets? Don't they simply deliver messages. asked Philipus.
- I suppose so.
- So, it's the governors who drive all trade! They are the ones managing all of the empire planets. said a young noblewoman clad in a turquoise dress.
- I'm going to suppose none of those answers are good? Just tell us instead of keeping up this charade. said Lord Hibnar.
- Very well. said Philipus visibly satisfied to see his little trick works as well with the Upper nobility as with the humblest scribes.
- He quickly signified to Danila to go to the next image. She again followed the appropriate prayer and the image changed for those two words.
THE TITHE
- Bold claim. Care to explain, I thought the tithe was consuming the majority of any planet treasury. said Lord Hibnar.
- That's what makes the tithe so central to trading you Excellency. Every governor has to pay it or face the consequence. However, as we know, even in the best case, the data for the tithe are often century old and do not conform to the reality of any world economy. So, it's a near-universal reality that most governors will find themselves at one point or another unable to service the tithe fully. For example! said Philipus, while indicating to Danila to activate the holo-projector again. Danila followed his order and the picture of two large planets swallowed the room.
- Here's planet A and B. As part of its tithe, planet A needs to provide 40 000 fully armed guards to the Imperium. All The necessary gear was acquired to arm this force. Unfortunately, a violent Servilian pox ravaged the planet. Only 12 000 guards are ready to serve. Planet B is also in a terrible situation. Their Promethium wells have gone dry. Only eight billion tons was extracted instead of the usual twelve billion, thousands of workers are sitting idle doing nothing. Lucky for them Planet A just found a miraculous amount of promethium. Four billion tons can easily be produced to make up for the shortfall. So, both planets enter into an agreement: one provides the troop and the other the promethium to service the other tithe. These agreements are officially called Pactum Planetaris, though most people refer to them simply as tithe credit.
- So, they simply ship the goods to each other planets? asked a well-dressed administrator.
- Sometimes, though the process can be expensive and also, it's possible both planets are thousands of light years away. Rather what usually happens is that a governor representative will present their agreements to the Administratum stating that a certain number of their taxes are covered by this other planet and that in exchange, they will provide these goods for this other planet.
- Why would the Administratum accept this piece of paper? asked general Nathorn von Storm.
- Ah! You're asking the right question! Why indeed? The answer is simple, because the Administratum somehow thinks that the parties in the agreement are trustworthy. That's why they usually have ledgers of most governors' tax records and can see if according to those the planets are known to honour their tithe and contracts. Already getting on that ledger is a challenge some governors spent centuries getting in as our ever-expanding empire colonized every year's new solar system. Once on the ledger, you're ranked by how old and reliable you have been over the centuries at paying the tithe. The higher ranked you are the more your credit is desirable because it's much more likely the Administratum will accept your tithe credit. On the other hand, being unreliable means the Administratum may refuse entirely to accept the tithe credit and demand the goods be delivered directly.
- So lower ranked planets are inevitably at a disadvantage since no one wants their tithe credits?
- Precisely! This means that they are often forced either to offer to cover a much larger share of someone else's tithe or give a very important guarantee. In the worst case, they had to ship the specified goods to the other person's planet before any contract was signed. There's even a rumour that a poorly ranked planet covered the entirety of a well-ranked planet tithe in exchange for a small bag of worthless spices.
- Why would the badly ranked planet agree to such a deal? Wouldn't it be simpler to fend for themselves? asked headmaster of the Sanguine guard Vyrna.
- Again because of the tithe credit. An agreement with a mid rank or even top rank planet even at a dramatically disadvantageous price can raise the rank of a planet drastically. If you accept to take on the tithe of a highly ranked planet, you may owe a full year tithe, but your credit becomes suddenly much more valuable. They can also sell part of that tithe credit to someone else who is seeking a high value tithe credit. This way, a shrewd negotiator will transform an unbearable tax into a tool to multiply by 5 their trade network. The tithe credit is as such the closest thing to a currency we have in the galaxy. As long as you can pay the tithe, of course.
- This is all fine and all, but what's the rank of our planet? asked Lord Hibnar.
- Ah! I was just going to arrive at it. We have reliably paid the tithe for the last ten millennium. As such, our tithe rank is one of the highest in the galaxy. Even Holy Terra accepts our tithe credit without conditions. We have been able to reliably negotiate every year to obtain all the goods needed to expand our economy while servicing without fails the tithe.
- Even when the Xenos ruled this planet? asked Lord Hibnar.
- Hum … yes. They used tithe credit to buy special military gear to arm their troops against you, governor. This planet doesn't produce much outside of Lasguns and Autoguns.
- You're telling me all the Leman russes and Chimeras they threw at the 14th mechanized were from other planets! The Imperium armed its own enemy! said Lord Hibnar outraged.
- Well … hum … that's always how our world operated. Our industry largely exists to service the basic civilian needs, research departments and make semi-finished products to trade to other more industrialized world. We rely on the tithe credit to cover most of our functioning needs, because we can obtain 10 times what we could produce three times cheaper. By and large we are a trade hub leveraging our rank to obtain goods we need to survive.
- Did you help them acquire guns and food like you are doing now?
- I…
- It was the traitor Xenophon, head of supply, who arranged for the transfer of weapons. said Danila.
- And where is he? asked Lord Hibnar
- He was executed after the governor's palace fell.
- How convenient! A dead traitor is responsible! Anyone else under that Xenophon can vouch for that?
- No, your Excellency, they were all shot as per your order.
- You mean no one higher than this scribe is left to manage intergalactic trade?
- That was their Excellency wishes when they rightfully uprooted all Xenos from the Administratum. Humble emperors fearing scribes like Philipus were not involved in such evil acts.
-I see, this does make sense. I was pretty determined at cleaning up this nest of Xenos filth.
- Well, you were very wise in not going further down since Philipus here can provide us with great insight about our current situation.
- If you say so. Dear Philipus, if I understand correctly our credits are worthless since we can't pay the tithe?
- You're … correct my lord. The Administratum may be understanding of our situation, but no governor in our sector would accept it now.
- Likewise, our industry doesn't produce enough goods for itself since what little industry we have is dedicated to servicing the tithe of the legion of galactic partners we have?
- That is correct.
- Who do we contact to obtain anything of worth that could help us weather this storm and what can we offer them that they would possibly accept?
- For whom to contact, the answer is fairly simple. Sierra Primerus and Sierra Quinta are also in our solar system. One has a rich Agri world which could provide some goods we may need and the other his a large moon with a decent mining operations, which can give us the raw resources to keep alive some of our vital industry. We've largely neglected them before because their production rates are unimpressive compared to some of our galactic partners.
- I suppose they won't accept to trade with us for free?
- Indeed, but we do have a resource they both crave.
- Which is?
- Your citizens, we are 50 billion on this world. These two worlds hardly exceed a few millions. They need people to till the land, dig their mines and fight their wars.
- Wars?
- That's why they are not trading with us. Sierra Primerus is in the throes of a century-long medieval war for control of good land and Sierra Quinta is shaken by a worldwide class war. In both cases they will need slaves to till the land and replace the workers.
- You're asking me to sell my people to these backwater places?
- Not all of them, our fleet is small, but I'm sure you have a few thousand traitors that you haven't killed yet who could be sent to either planet.
- Hum and that would solve our industrial needs?
- Absolutely not. It would give us just enough to maintain our core operations going, nothing more. We will have to shut down 50% of our industry to focus on the five things that matter air filtration, water processing, food production, energy production and transportation. Maybe a tiny bit too for the army, but that is all.
- And what if we took over those worlds? Can't we easily crush those backwater worlds? asked general Von Storm suddenly puffing his chest causing all his medals to shake lightly.
- I am not a military man, but that would actually make our situation worse. We don't know those planets' economics or their military. Furthermore, our fleet is small and not made for such a campaign. We don't want to make the situation worse for now. Because if we attack them, what stops them from burning their food store or blowing up their mines? Even if we could win, it would take time to bear fruit. Time, we do not have.
- What do you mean we do not have time? asked the Red Baron Ishmael.
- Well, I think Danila is better equipped to answer this question.
- Indeed, since I think this set us neatly to talk about our food supply. Thank you Philipus.
- They're all yours. replied Philipus who ran quickly behind the holo-projector to turn it off.
- Excellent! So, as Philipus said, by and large, our planet relies on our large trade network and our constant connection to the rest of the empire to survive and thrive. Our food industry is largely the same. We do produce some basic products to leverage the tithe and to feed our population, but we largely depend on a hundred thousand trading partners every day to feed our people.
- So do you mean we are doomed to die of starvation? asked Lord Hibnar.
- Not exactly, we can in theory produce enough food paste to feed us thanks to the large number of dead Xenos servants we still have in reserve, but we can't produce all the little things that make this food paste viable in the long run.
- Such has?
- Well, spice for one. I know you won't believe me, but we import 17 different spice flavours every year just so our workers accept eating the awful food paste we make. Ten solar years ago, one ingredient was missing and we had food riots across the lower Habs.
- I've had the bloody thing; it tastes like nothing!
- A very expensive nothing that's needed to make sure all imperial citizens are satisfied eating the same standard food paste. replied Danila.
- Could we find a substitute?
- In theory, yes, but our machines are calibrated to operate with those specific spices. When one is missing, it's the whole system that needs to change. Which means lower production of food paste. Which means rising food prices, dead hungry people and this is not even the most challenging part.
- Oh emperor, there's worse? groaned the Red Baron Ishmael.
- Indeed, even if we can solve the spice issue reasonably fast, how do we provide all the vtaminh needed to make sure our citizens do not get diseases?
- Disease! trembled a very fat nobleman who seemed to have never considered it possible for their well-preserved body to suffer anything as base as a cold.
- Yes, lack of vtaminh or the industrial substitute we put in every food paste can lead to: a shifting mood in our workers, decrease quality of sleep, the loss of teeth and generally weaken them to deadly diseases that thrive in our Habs. This would lead to a drop in productivity and less food paste with the same result I already talked about.
- Can't our vaccines and medicae cure those diseases? asked Headmaster of the Sanguine guard Vyrna Rossini.
- Most workers do not have access to such medicae and again we cannot produce more of it. We need to prevent the plague, because we couldn't survive it.
- Emperor saves us! prayed the Red Cardinal Jeremiah.
- Do you have any solution to offer me for this? asked Lord Hibnar.
- Well, nothing is perfect. Our best hope would be that we could acquire seeds from Sierra Primerus backward agro-industry. Then bring them back here to plant them so we can grow and harvest them to obtain primitive sources of vtaminh. It wouldn't be perfect, but would definitely stave off the worst in the long run.
- Growing plant on Sierra Segundus! How could that be possible? I've crossed the land on my Chimera and nothing grows out there! The land is dead! The river has dried millenias ago. The only rain that falls is acidic.
- Yes, that's the unfortunate cost of civilization. However, we can remedy this situation by moving our operations to the lower level of our Hive Cities. They are actually connected to a large pool of underground water and reasonably good land we could use.
- Hmmmm, how long would it take to get all of this going?
Daniela took a minute to think carefully of her answer. Their Excellency seemed more receptive than Daniela feared. She didn't want him to give up with an honest answer, but she didn't want to lie to him too much either.
- 6 months if everything goes well.
- Everything never goes well. What's your most pessimistic prognostic?
- 9 solar months to a year.
- How much substitute and vthamin do you have in reserve.
- About 3 months.
- So even if everything goes well, many would die.
- Much less than if we do nothing.
- You do realize that 3 months of starvation and disease is enough for the heretic to turn the people against me.
- Yes, but..
- I think I have a solution. said Stobb Hamez, speaking out for the first time during the meeting.
- You do? said incredulous Danila.
- Are you serious major? asked Lord Hibnar.
- Just Stobb your Excellency. I retired.
- Ah yes, yes. So, what do you have?
- It's in the Underhive Tuar your Excellency. During our retreat from Tuar I was separated from the 247th battalion and forced to go underground. I managed to hide in one of those under hivers house. The woman and her two mutant children were impressed by my imposing figure and let me in without complaint. The fact I was pointing a plasma gun at their door may have also helped them make the right decision. Either way they let me in and as graceful hosts they brought me food and enough amasec to drink away my worries. I was expecting some third-rate amasec and contraband food paste. Instead, they brought me… I think they called it a saald. A dish made of comestible leaves with weird mashed fungi, some very good grox meat and exquisite alcohol I've never tasted anywhere else on the planet.
- Why have I never heard of this before?
- Apologies, your Excellency, but I didn't think you'd care about my culinary activities in the Underhive. Plus, you keep on bragging on and on about the fine food you eat every day. Didn't want to be rude by pointing out Underhivers eat better than at your own table.
- I thought you loved chef Tyviam cooking! You praised him many times! I had him come from the paradise world of Serini.
- Apologies my lord. He puts too much spice in everything. Doesn't let the food speak for itself.
To Philipus, Lord Hibnar looked more shocked by this declaration than by the fact that the sky had gotten shredded by unknown demonic forces that could be coming to eat them at any time.
- Sorry to interrupt this fascinating conversation, said Danila uninvited. If I am to understand. You could lead us to this Underhive?
- I think so. I remember the place, though it must be said that the Underhive is a constant mess of shifting dirt, bodies and toxic waste. So, it would be good to have someone who knows the place better than I do.
- And someone who knows what plants we can eat. said Danila.
- That would be useful indeed. Am I to understand you're volunteering for the mission? asked Stobb.
- Yes. I think my expertise would be best served there. Philipus can take over the administration while I'm gone.
-I do not think that is a good idea. I am not letting that scribe run a department of trade and food when there's no trade or food to be obtained on this planet. I'd rather give you a job much more suited for your sets of skills. said, Lord Hibnar.
- What would that be Excellency? asked Philipus.
- I need someone to negotiate with Sierra Primus and Quinta. You'll go to each planet and ensure they agree to a trade deal with us in exchange for a regular flow of labour force.
- My lord, you honour me, but I am a scribe. I write down the contracts, I don't negotiate them. I wouldn't reall…
- Well, you'd better learn fast because all your superiors are dead. If you do not bring me a deal, I find satisfactory, I will ask members of the Arbites to look again at your files and find any hint of heresy or fabricate it. Then I will have you stripped naked and tied to the toxic waste land of Termula, where your skin will slowly melt under the acidic rain for days. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME SCRIBE!
That last word was spewed at Philipus with profound disdain for the title as if no worse insult could be hurled at a person. As if Philipus was the embodiment of every members of the Administratum who displeased Lord Hibnar.
- Yes … yes … your excellen … most gracious of you to honour with such…
Philipus was shaking, struggling to find his word, terrified and distraught.
- Excellent! Stobb, please assign a security cadre to this scribe that you have absolute trust in, so he doesn't get stabbed by those Off-world barbarians.
- Of course, Excellency.
- Oh, and if what you say about the Underhivers cooking is true. Please bring back one to me as my personal cook. Preferably someone who's good looking. You know my type.
-As you wish, bowed humbly Stobb.
He knew how to serve the emperor's chosen.