Warhammer Inquisitor

Petronila Viva is sitting in the lounge, which has gorgeous decoration with red as the main tone, soft and hard sofas, and velvet tapestries hanging from high places, and a large number of decent cabinets and furniture are placed under the dome , and a huge floor-to-ceiling window on one side, overlooking the starry sky.

There's even a decanter connected by a hose to a 10-litre wooden cask that holds the delectable wine, as well as delicious refreshments on a side table, served on silver trays , looks very good.

But none of this can change Petronilla's depressed mood. As her preacher, her life has not been very good recently. In fact, all the preachers are the same. Since they came here and came to the expedition team, they have been indifferent. Everyone in the party regards them as air, and even those who can barely talk to them are extraordinarily indifferent.

This is true for mortal soldiers, and it is even more so for those extraordinary Astartes. Ever since Petronilla was selected into the team of preachers, she has been looking forward to meeting the angels of death and learned many wonderful things from them. story.

But like most preachers, Petronila got stuck on the nose, because they came at a very bad time. Not long before their arrival, the special envoys of the Logistics Office and the Terra War Council arrived at the expedition team, bringing orders they claimed to have been delivered by Guilliman himself.

Yes, an order, not a request, Guilliman ordered the logistics office to take over all the logistical supplies of the expedition, the conquered planets, and the previously cooperating casting worlds, they verbally declared that this was to better assist the expedition, Assisting the Marshal, but in fact it is not the case at all.

The new department established by Guilliman began to hinder the expedition in all aspects, interfering in the decisions of the expeditionary force, conveying orders and demands instead of modest requests, and the entire expeditionary force was called back and forth.

This made many people very dissatisfied, especially the space warriors. Originally, as the subordinates of the Supreme Marshal Vito Constantine, they enjoyed completely independent action, combat and decision-making powers, and they could directly receive support from Mars and other foundries. The supply support of the world, but now everything has changed.

The Marshal's Expeditionary Force suddenly fell from the supremacy to the same position as the other fleets of the Indomitable Expedition. They need to wait for distribution and "wait" for the "order" of the Terra War Council

The dignified Supreme Marshal’s Expedition Council suddenly became a subordinate department of the Terra War Council, and they also became Guilliman’s subordinates. Although this is nothing strange, and no one expressed any objection in public, but Opposition within the expeditionary force also naturally spread like wildfire.

From among the Astartes, it quickly spread to mortals, and the preachers became targets. As the people sent by Guilliman and the War Council, they immediately became ostracized outsiders. The request to follow the fleet into battle, witness the battle and record it with one's own eyes has been denied.

Four of the five Astartes battle groups under the expeditionary force explicitly rejected them. Lancelot refused the preacher to board any of his battleships, Loken very tactfully refused, and Eisenstein said Encumbered with military affairs, he simply rejected the request to meet with the preachers, and all the applications submitted for joining the army fell to nothing.

The most direct one is Ragnar. The Lord of Wild Wolves publicly stated, well, I think it is more appropriate to quote his original words, that is what he said.

"It's better to send guns to those guys, so that they can at least help a little bit besides composing poems and troubling us."

His words reflected the opinion of most people in the expeditionary force. The preachers are outsiders here, and they are not valued or accepted. This sense of hostility can only be overcome when the tax collector sent by the administrative office arrives. transfer.

Therefore, like most preachers, Petronilla can only stay on the core flagship of the fleet, stay on the Emperor Mirage, or go to the only fleet that is willing to accept them. He accepted the existence of the preacher, but this was more because Bell, as the heir of Guilliman, was only fulfilling the orders of his primarch, and he definitely did not like them.

So most of the time, Petronilla has no chance to go to the fleet of truth fighters. Even if their ship is just outside the window, hovering in the starry sky outside the French window, it seems close at hand, but she can't make it through, all boarding Requests were ignored.

So Petronila Viva could only do nothing like most preachers, wandering around the battleship all day, looking for anything worth writing and recording, but it was often meaningless.

Petronila slapped the paper off the notebook in her hand, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it directly into the garbage basket in the distance, which was already full of garbage.

At the same time as the ball of paper fell into the frame, the automatic door on one side opened, and a man wearing loose breeches and a fancy coat on his upper body walked in from the outside. The buttons on his coat were all buttoned up. At the neckline is a small hummingbird pin, the emblem of the Droyal family.

"What's the matter? Petronila, everyone is eating in the cafeteria below, but you are here alone?" Droy walked in as he spoke. Poured a glass of wine.

He was still holding a bag in his hand, which contained some packaged food. Only then did Petronila realize that it was already noon, and most of the speakers were currently enjoying lunch in the canteen specially prepared for them.

"Then why did you come here? Droy." Petronilla didn't even look at him, and continued to write and draw in her hands, but she didn't have a clue, the book was a mess.

"Huh, what do you think? I don't want to have lunch among a bunch of egomaniacs and braggarts, there's no interest there, so I'm here, but you don't look like you're in a good mood, do you?"

"What do you think? Druva, we are locked up here, away from any epic battlefield, no, anything, for a month, a full month!"

Petronilla complained loudly, while Droy walked into the lounge with the camera hanging on his chest. He sat on the sofa opposite Petronilla and began to fiddle with his delicate camera. It was custom-made by the famous Mechanician Master, and the price of Petronilla is said to be quite expensive.

Only a nobleman like Droy can afford it. In fact, among the speakers, there are quite a few descendants of imperial nobles like him. Jun looks for excitement to make his lackluster life interesting.

Petronila is also one of them, but they are far away from the excitement they are looking for until now, or even a little further.

"I submitted more than a dozen applications to join the army, but none of them responded. We are locked up here! Droy, on this boat, and will be locked up forever!" Petronilla said angrily, he Druva on the opposite side raised his head to look at her, with a slight smile on the corner of his mouth.

"There's nothing wrong with that. I've taken a lot of good photos recently. There are a lot of beautiful places worth taking pictures, such as here now."

He looked at Petronilla's figure, which was like a marble statue made by a master, with short gray hair hanging down her ears, not too long, just like most female officers in the imperial army, Dressing is about the same.

Petronella was wearing a small crimson coat that only covered her navel, which looked like it would be worn by a motorcyclist, paired with a pair of roomy wool breeches and an exposed waist The corset, which made Petronilla look heroic, or, more to Droy's appetite.

"What a beautiful scene, I can create a masterpiece for you." "Come on, Droy, I'm not in the mood to listen to your trash flirting now."

Since meeting Droy, Petronila, accustomed to his constant attentions, flirtations, and invitations to bed, has no interest in Droy, not at all.

"You're not my type, Droy, so save yourself." Petronila said mercilessly, but Droy seemed to have not heard, he carefully removed the lens on the camera, and then put the It was handed to a machine servant who was standing by in the corner behind him.

"Take it for maintenance. It needs to replace the focusing ring. It's 2.65 inches. Don't make a mistake." "Yes, sir." Up, he looks good for a servitor, at least there are no exposed pipes, and no annoying smell.

Instead, he was wearing a red robe, which was well-built. This is a servo machine servant, which can usually be seen in noble mansions that value privacy and secrecy. After all, ordinary servants may leak secrets and betrayal, but the machine servant , Absolutely not, so these nobles who hold a lot of secrets are keen on these service servants.

It is also rare for the Mechanicus to think more about comfort. They have made a lot of modifications to this kind of machine servants. Those mechanical parts that make people uncomfortable are covered under the robes, and the arms and body don’t look so much. Dry and pale, his face is more like a human face, in other words, it looks more like a person, you won't recognize him as a machine servant at first glance, like a slightly dull servant.

But this is not absolute, you can still get a glimpse of his real body from his clumsy reactions and synthesized voices, and the flashes on his mechanical eyeballs cannot be hidden. Avoid such servitors as assassination tools, and spies used by Chaos traitors, who in turn quietly infiltrated the noble classes of the Empire.

The servitor took the camera away, and Droy took out a loaf of bread from his pocket, put the jam on the table, and took a sip of the wine he had just poured, with a subtle expression on his face, savoring the wine in his mouth, After drinking, he opened his mouth slowly.

"Each of us has our own wine-tasting habits, but sometimes, it's just that some wines have never been drunk before. You don't know whether it is delicious or not. You only know if you drink it."

"But there are some wines that smell bad when you smell them, such as poisonous wine." Petronila mercilessly turned Droy's flirting back again. She was used to it and didn't even want to look at him glance.

She tore off the page of the note book in her hand again, crushed it and threw it into the trash can, she threw it high up, as if she was having fun, the ball of paper flew through the air, precisely fell into the paper box.

Droy glanced at the falling paper ball, then turned to look at her, "Then what kind of fine wine do you like? Or, what kind of man? Who would make the cold Petronilla Are you interested?"

There was still provocative meaning in his tone, but Petronilla didn't have the bitter irony this time, he wrote and muttered, "Marshal Vito Constantine, I've heard of him, his story Interesting, I've always wanted to meet him, after all we're on his boat, aren't we?"

"I didn't expect that the lover of your dreams would be so noble." "What kind of woman in the empire would not regard the marshal as the lover of her dreams? Listen to his story, a mysterious, ancient, and powerful man, just Like the Primarch, even better, it is fascinating." "Just like you? Petronilla Viva, a mysterious and aloof lady?"

Petronila wrote in her notebook, but there was nothing to write about in her memory spiral except for some trivial things. Consciously wrote it up.

She looked at the line of writing and sighed angrily, tore it off, crumpled it up and threw it out, then leaned on the sofa and snapped her fingers at the service servant beside her, "Servant, I'm eating here." Get me something to eat and drink for lunch." "Yes, ma'am."

Deluire looked at the machine servant who passed by and smiled. He leaned on the sofa with one hand on the top of the backrest, "Are you really so interested in the marshal? Are you in a hurry to see him?"

"As you heard, Droy, but I guess you don't have the ability to introduce me, right? So keep your mouth shut and don't try to get any of my attention, it's a waste of time."

Droy smiled again, he leaned on the back of the sofa and shrugged slightly, "I can't introduce the Marshal, but I can introduce Mr. Olga to you."

"Olga? What's his use? He's just a boring old man. I passed by the restaurant before and saw him bragging in it. That's why I came here. Stay away from him."

Petronila commented so bitterly, but her words are not wrong, Mr. Olga is the leader of the preachers, at least in theory, he was once a state missionary, with enthusiasm and ability Known for his eloquence, he once preached on many planets that did not believe in the emperor, and converted them to the state religion.

Some people commented on him that the star warriors used the bolt gun as a weapon, and he used the holy book as a weapon to shoot him at the chaos demon. The content in the record is respected.

It is said that Guilliman admired him very much. Although he did not agree with his religious beliefs, in fact there have been rumors about Guilliman opposing the state religion of the empire and quarreling with the bishop, but those were strictly regarded as a trick of chaos and division. Prohibition, even among preachers who have always advocated the innocence of speaking freely.

But regardless of whether he had disputes with the state church or not, Olga was indeed very trusted and appreciated by Guilliman, so he appointed him as the leader of the preachers to hold this important position.

But the preacher organization is not an army after all, and there is no sense of hierarchy and discipline, so his title of leader of the preacher, more often than not, can only be exchanged for a new compliment of a salary increase from everyone, and he is not taken seriously. .

After all, Olga is just like most missionaries of the State Church, enthusiastic but stupid. In Petronila's view, they are like a group of fanatical fools who are always babbling about their holy scriptures and asking for help. Everyone could hear it, so she turned away when she heard his voice as she passed the restaurant.

"Olga is now in the dining room, preaching the greatness of the Emperor again, right? Is this the first time he has recited the entire Holy Word?"

"Don't be so mean, Petronella, old Olga is still useful." "For example?" "For example, I suggest you go to the restaurant now, because Olga will go to the throne room after lunch to be summoned by the Marshal , maybe squeeze in if you want? Then you can meet the man of your dreams."

Petronila jumped up from the sofa when she heard that, and she stood there staring at Droy with her big green eyes. That was the longest time she ever looked at herself.

"Really?" "Really, I promise." "Damn, I hope he hasn't left."

Petronila said that she immediately grabbed the bag at hand and was ready to go. She walked over behind the sofa, and Droy leaned on it and raised her head to glance in her direction, "But the delegation is full, so I didn't Your place."

She paused, as Droy wanted, who leaned back on the couch with a smile and raised a hand, seemingly examining his nails, "But I know one of my friends, Innera, I think I can talk her out of it, too, and go on a little date with me in the afternoon."

Petronila stopped at the door and looked back at Droy. After a moment of silence, she sighed, "What about your conditions? You won't help me in vain, right?"

"There is indeed a condition, but it is easy to achieve, and you will not lose." "I will know if there is any loss." Droy smiled silently, he leaned on the sofa and shrugged, " I made an appointment in the officer's dining room tonight, prepared a delicious meal and a candlelight dinner, I haven't found a female partner yet, maybe you will be interested?"

"The officer's dining room? How did you get an appointment there?" Petronila was a little surprised, but Droy still smiled. He leaned on the sofa and took a sip of wine, "I have my own way , I can do many things, and the corresponding remuneration conditions are not too high.”

"Yes, including sleeping with you." Petronilla muttered. She didn't know if Deluva behind her heard it, but the latter shrugged briskly, "So, where is your answer? Accept?"

Petronila sighed, she straddled her bag on her shoulders, and stuffed a yellow book protruding from the mouth of the bag. Droy noticed the book, it was not a book of the state religion, nor was it Any document he knew, he seemed to see a circle on it, and the name on the case.

The fifth evil god or what?

But before Druva could see it clearly, Petronilla stuffed the book into the bag and covered the canvas. She turned around and pressed the button beside the door, and the door opened immediately, and she Standing at the door and turning his head slightly towards him, "Okay, go ahead and contact your "Date No. 1", I will come tonight."

"Do you have the right clothes? You can't wear this to the officers' mess, can you? If you don't have one, I can lend you one." "No thanks, no."

After saying that, Petronilla walked out, and the door behind him immediately fell down. When the hatch was closed, only Druva and the service servant who moved behind him were left. Nila's lunch arrived.

Droy looked at the food on the tray and smiled softly, now he knew that Petronilla was of noble birth, "Put it here, she will come to eat another meal with me in the evening."