15: Chapter 15: The Judge and the Governor, Two Brothers in Misfortune (Signed, you can read with peace of mind)
"Lord Horn, the Planetary Governor's transport aircraft is about to arrive."
"What is that scapegoat doing here?" Judge Horn Chronos's face darkened, his brow furrowing deeply. "Tell him I'm busy."
"I won't see him."
What kind of place was the Adeptus Arbites?
They were both a police force and an armed military unit.
Equivalent to the ancient Embroidered Uniform Guard or the Eastern Depot, their power was boundless, spanning every Hive City world in the Empire.
If some short-sighted Governor dared to challenge the Empire's authority, he, as the head of the Adeptus Arbites, could show that Governor exactly what the Empire's order meant!
However, the subordinate did not leave. "My Lord... the Governor's people say that if you don't see him, he will formally send a letter to the Adeptus Arbites headquarters, stating that due to the local Judge's lack of cooperation, the Tithe payment process cannot be initiated."
Horn almost cursed out loud. A certain Planetary Governor was clearly throwing caution to the wind and trying to drag him down as well.
Despite Horn's arrogant facade, he had actually been worried sick lately.
With his excellent grades and impressive appearance, Horn had finally managed to marry into a wealthy family.
He hadn't expected the wealthy family to have so many problems; in the end, he became a discarded pawn in a family power struggle and was kicked to this remote planet to serve as a Judge.
Initially, Horn was quite happy. The mountains were high and the Emperor was far away; he could find a few mistresses and live out his life comfortably.
But despite all his calculations, he never expected this planet to be 300 years behind on its taxes!
Horn felt like dying.
The primary function of the Adeptus Arbites was to collect the Tithe.
Managing the Hive City and maintaining order were all ultimately for the purpose of collecting the Tithe!
Once dereliction of duty was proven, Horn was absolutely certain he would be sent to a Penitent Engine, a fate worse than death. Even his mistresses and illegitimate children would be implicated.
He had two illegitimate children; although they were kept in the dark, he loved them dearly.
Thinking of this, Horn could only compromise: "Let him in!"
"I want to see what kind of 'ivory' this short-lived ghost, who won't survive three years, can spit out!"
...
On the valkyrie transport aircraft.
Fu Haoran looked at the magnificent Fortress Precinct below, and it would be a lie to say he wasn't envious.
Fortresses were interconnected, tall and majestic, easy to defend and hard to attack.
Not only that, the system panel expanded before his eyes, listing a string of numbers that made Fu Haoran's eyes turn red with envy and his mouth water.
[Garrison: Arbitrators x1500, Armed Enforcers x5000]
[Heavy Equipment: Leman Russ Tank x12, Chimera Armored Personnel Carrier x22, Tarantula Automated Turret x38]
[Air Support: valkyrie transport aircraft x4]
"Good grief, even the police drive tanks!"
"The Adeptus Arbites is truly wealthy!"
When Fu Haoran thought of his 180,000-strong Guard Regiment veterans, equipped only with standard Laser Guns and lacking even the heavy weapons to counter Noble Private Soldiers, he felt even more unbalanced.
They had shotguns, Bolters, grenade launchers, riot shields, and Power Mauls—the whole works.
Compared to them, his Guard Regiment veterans were just a bunch of beggars.
The only navy he could rely on was still in the hands of the old nobility; they obeyed the Governor on the surface but ignored his orders in practice.
"If only I could get my hands on this fortress..."
Fu Haoran shook his head, brushing aside the impractical thought.
That would be like a local prince controlling the secret police... keep dreaming.
...
Fu Haoran waited for a full hour before Judge Horn Chronos finally appeared.
He had a thick cigar in his mouth, his uniform jacket hanging open casually to reveal a gold-plated Bolt Pistol at his waist.
Horn didn't look at Fu Haoran; he walked straight behind the desk, sat down, and propped his legs up on the table.
"Governor Fu Haoran." Horn blew a smoke ring. "I heard you threw a banquet as soon as you took office? Treating the tax officials with canned food? You certainly know how to have fun."
A system prompt appeared before Fu Haoran's eyes:
[Horn Chronos (Judge/Warden)]
[Favorability: -35 (Hostile)]
Fu Haoran ignored the way the other man's boots were almost poking him in the face.
"Judge Horn, I need some manpower, and I want to find them in the prison."
"No." Horn flicked his ash. "That's against the rules."
"Let's stop beating around the bush." Fu Haoran leaned forward, his voice low. "This planet is three hundred years behind on taxes. If I can't pay, it's treason, punishable by death."
"Your supervision has been ineffective—that's dereliction of duty. I heard the Penitent Engines have been short on volunteers lately?"
Horn's legs came off the table.
His face turned ashen.
"Are you threatening me?"
"Stating facts." Fu Haoran stared at him. "I'm all alone; at worst, I'll run off and become a space pirate. What about you? Can you escape?"
"I've heard the Penitent Engine is terrifying—strapping a person to a machine and letting mechanical tentacles peel away skin, muscle, and nerves inch by inch. The whole process lasts for days, and the victim remains conscious throughout until they become a breathing skeleton."
"If that's the case, I'd rather die."
The two men locked eyes, neither backing down.
Finally, the cigar butt burned down and scorched Horn, making him jerk his hand away.
Fu Haoran was a man with nothing to lose, but Horn had an Achilles' heel.
His two illegitimate children hidden on the Agri-World... if he were thrown into a Penitent Engine, the mother and her two sons would surely be disposed of.
This short-lived ghost had him by the throat.
"...I can only give you one."
Horn squeezed the words out from between his teeth.
"Pick them today and get out. Don't cause me any trouble."
[Horn's Favorability: -5]
Fu Haoran stood up: "Lead the way."
...
The dungeon was on the lower level.
As the elevator descended, Fu Haoran could see the entire prison through the gated doors.
A four-story circular structure, each level packed with iron cages. Harsh searchlights swept past, illuminating numb or crazed faces.
The air was thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and excrement.
"This level is for violent offenders." The Warden leading the way tapped the bars with his Power Maul.
"Robbers, murderers, and rebels are all kept here."
Fu Haoran activated the system's scouting mode.
A translucent attribute panel popped up, floating above each prisoner's head.
Most were grey:
[Strength: 12, Intelligence: 4, Skills: None]
[Strength: 8, Intelligence: 5, Skills: Basic Melee Combat]
[Strength: 15, Intelligence: 2, Skills: None]
...
"Next level," Fu Haoran said.
The second level held white-collar and political prisoners.
A former tax official who had been thrown in here for refusing to cook the books; his attribute panel showed Intelligence 11 and the skill [Intermediate Accounting].
Only intermediate and he still ended up here? Pathetic.
Fu Haoran wanted to keep looking, but he found that the further down they went, the worse the situation became.
How should he put it... there were talents here, but the problem was...
"Why are they all a bunch of brainless idiots?!"
Exactly, this was the most awkward situation; there was no shortage of prisoners here with explosive combat power.
But their intelligence was generally low.
Brawling brutes, corrupt fools, plotting madmen... there wasn't a single talent who could help him make money.
Seeing time slip away, Fu Haoran started to get anxious.
"Is that old geezer Horn intentionally stuffing me with useless trash?"
Fu Haoran could already imagine Horn's mocking face.
"This is the final level." The Warden pushed open a rusted iron door. "The worst of the worst. Sir, I suggest you just look from the outside and don't go in."
Fu Haoran didn't listen and stepped inside.
This was his last hope and his final gamble.