This Is Our Warhammer Journey

"So, what exactly is the Source Retrieval Order?"

Arthur exchanged glances with Rameses.

"Don't know."

Rameses looked at Garna.

Garna looked confused.

"I only know about the Holy Hammer, suppressing rebellion, and defending against foreign invaders."

These three refer to dealing with demons, heretics, and xenos.

"Actually, this order is quite powerful. Although it’s not as strong as the mainstream three, it definitely has something."

Romulus, who had been chatting with Aglaea, suddenly spoke up in their private four-person communication.

Everyone became curious.

"Let me put it this way: these people’s duty is to attempt to restore the history that has been mythologized since the founding of the Imperium, through reviewing records, conducting field investigations, and making deals with entities from the Warp."

"And then?"

"Then—naturally, the mythological history of the Imperium will inevitably tie in with the Primarchs, and that includes the histories of the homeworlds of each Primarch."

Romulus emphasized again.

"Including the homeworld of Primarch Leon Johnson, Caliban."

"Oh."

The three immediately understood, their eyes flashing with the kind of shock that came from the realization that Aglaea, who was standing before them, was still alive.

She's still alive?

How rare.

Just the fact that the Source Retrieval Order still exists is considered a miracle by the transmigrants.

"?!"

Aglaea, still trying to probe the Kill Team Captain’s character, furrowed her brow.

She didn’t understand the way these mighty warriors were looking at her.

That kind of astonishment—it was like seeing a terminally ill patient still walking around and lively.

Aglaea thought of herself as relatively healthy, and her stable biological psychic power had granted her an unusually long lifespan.

Even though she had a natural foresight ability, she never dabbled in demonology and only quietly used the fleet and heavy guns to collect history from various planets.

Aglaea sincerely believed that she would outlive her gradually insane mentor.

Or maybe these Deathwatch warriors had sensed something about her?

Could it be that her mentor really cast some Warp spell on her?

The young Judicator quickly fell into a self-reflective state, but couldn’t find any issue.

Cold sweat began to bead at Aglaea’s temples.

As expected, I knew that old man had some kind of scheme on Piedre.

"Lord Romulus."

Aglaea's tone became full of sincerity and politeness.

"I hope the Deathwatch can assist me in clearing the Dark Eldar aboard this Ark, in the name of the Court of Judgement."

Romulus, who had been listening to her reiterate the request to eliminate the Dark Eldar, instinctively sensed the trouble in it.

But before he could begin probing for more, a metal scraping sound echoed from the elevator shaft.

Everyone's gaze converged toward it.

Aglaea could only helplessly swallow back her words of persuasion.

Clang—

With the tightening of the chains, the rapidly descending elevator came to a steady stop in the vacant chamber.

On the mechanical platform, a massive mechanical entity began to move its limbs.

As it approached, the transmigrants finally realized why this great sage was classified as a behemoth unit on the table.

Compared to the culturally sophisticated title of 'Great Sage', this massive creature should more aptly be called an Iron Behemoth.

"Is the armor okay?"

"Don't worry, everything’s fine. Except for Rameses, who’s still afraid of death and is wearing Ironclad, the rest of you are all in my carefully compared and verified Hellfire armor, and the paint job is definitely flawless."

Romulus reassured the group.

"I can psychically teleport; what do I need Hellfire armor for?"

Rameses muttered, justifying his outlier status.

"As for the height, there’s no need to worry. The average height of the Primarchs' Astartes is rare among the Firstborn, but not to the extent of being unique. Tyberos is bigger than us, and even if we wanted to wear Terminator armor, we would have to modify it with a Warden."

The group watched the massive Great Sage up close, but to their surprise, Caul didn’t even glance at them and naturally approached Tyberos.

"Goods."

He said, his body, covered in machinery, vibrating harmoniously.

Tyberos nodded at the Squad Leader, Achia, and the latter led several Devouring Sharks to drag out a massive black box from the transport ship.

Pff!

The Great Sage violently shoved a limb into the container, his actions rather brutal.

Seeing both parties enter a transaction mode, the excluded group, filled with various unexplained emotions from being ignored, resumed their unfinished conversation.

"Greetings, Grand Sister. My name is Orlando, and I am the Marshal of this Expeditionary Fleet."

Before the Judicator could speak, the Marshal gave a salute with one arm to the Sisters.

"Greetings, Marshal. My name is Arabella."

Arabella immediately returned the salute with the Aquila salute.

"May the Emperor’s light shine upon us."

Since both the Black Chapel and the Ecclesiarchy shared a fervent belief in the Emperor as a god, they maintained a good relationship and were happy to fight alongside the Sisters.

After exchanging pleasantries with the Sisters, Orlando turned to Romulus.

He didn’t remember the Deathwatch being this wealthy, to afford a Hellfire-pattern Terminator for a small unit in a remote star sector.

"I don’t remember the captain of the Eternal Huntwatch outposts being called Romulus."

He said bluntly, his tone harsh as if questioning.

"They were wiped out by a Chaos attack when clearing the Dark Eldar on the edge of the Piedre star sector. The full details can be consulted with Grand Sister Arabella."

"Apothecary Sevrith Gage fought until the last moment, allowing us to recover some gene-seed."

Romulus replied calmly.

"There were no Black Chapels involved."

"Did you fulfill your mission to support Piedre?"

Marshal Orlando tactfully avoided the topic.

"Of course."

They were already planning to go there, otherwise, all those people on the ship would have died for nothing.

"We can travel together."

Orlando nodded, the candles on his shoulders gently swaying with his movements.

"Are the Devouring Sharks loyal to the Imperium?"

"Naturally."

The Marshal invited seriously, "Can you have the Devouring Sharks Chapter participate in the mission?"

Is this how all sons of Dorn are?

Romulus was somewhat stunned by Orlando's lack of social grace, but then marveled that this person even knew to avoid the topic of gene-seed.

And if you want me and Tyberos to have a fight, just say it.

You’re asking a nominal Deathwatch Squad Leader to persuade a Chapter Master in front of everyone. Even if the Chapter Master wants to go, he won’t be able to.

"You can personally invite the Devouring Sharks."

He replied tactfully.

"Alright."

Orlando nodded seriously.

The stereotype deepened again.