Warhammer: Love? Chapter 141: STC

STC: Standard Template Construct.

The pinnacle of human technological achievent from the Dark Age of Technology, capable of automatically generating design blueprints for any tool, machine, or building. Nearly all current technology in the Imperium is derived from STC fragnts. A single complete STC is enough to make any world the Imperium's most precious treasure.

And Brevis had one.

It was said that House Saint Gallus had unearthed it from the depths of the ice plains several hundred years ago. The Governor at the ti had entrusted it to House Saint Gallus for safekeeping, on the condition that they would protect Brevis for all eternity. This was also why the Adeptus chanicus had such a low profile on Brevis; they weren't absent, but rather focused all their energy on studying that specific STC.

Raynor recalled the absurdly powerful ion shields on the Saint Gallus Knight suits. That level of strength was certainly not achievable through ordinary technology. In all probability, it was a fruit of the STC.

"Sothing might have happened to House Saint Gallus," Raynor whispered.

Carter's expression shifted. "Are you saying..."

"I don't know," Raynor interrupted him. "But I must go and see for myself."

After Carter left, Sarah's cold voice rang out. "Raynor, if that's the case, why not take this chance to deal with more of the nobles first?"

Surprisingly, Raynor rejected Sarah's suggestion. Having read many Warhamr stories in his past life, Raynor knew deep down that when you spot sothing suspicious, you cannot afford to delay. Ninety-nine percent of the ti, hesitation leads to a catastrophic disaster.

"It's alright, Sarah. I still need to see what's actually going on." Raynor gently rubbed the Ripper's head.

Raynor made his first trip to the Saint Gallus Fortress three days later. He intentionally chose a "normal" excuse: in his capacity as Governor, he would pay a formal visit to the High King to discuss matters regarding the Cleansing Crusade.

His exclusive transport drove along the widest avenue of the Upper Hive and pulled up at the fortress gates. Raynor stepped out of the vehicle and looked up at the towering structure, noting the four Knight suits standing by the gates. They stood in silent vigil, their ion shields on standby, though the low hum of their power cores was clearly audible.

A butler dressed in the Saint Gallus family uniform walked out, bowing with respectful but distant formality. "Governor, the High King is indisposed and cannot receive guests. Please return."

Raynor stared at the four Knight suits, silent for two seconds. "Then give the High King my regards," he said after a mont's thought. "I will co again next ti."

He turned and got back into the car. Once the vehicle had traveled a certain distance, Sarah's voice echoed in his mind: "The machine spirits of those four Knights were in an active state."

Raynor's eyes narrowed. The machine spirit of a Knight suit is only fully activated when it is about to enter combat. Normally, they remain in a low-energy standby mode. Having four active at the sa ti was highly unusual.

"Do they fear I'll force my way in?" Raynor mused. Then he shook his head, dismissing the idea.

"Are we still going back?" Sarah asked.

"Yes," he said. "The more they act like this, the more they have to hide."

A week later, Raynor made his second trip to the Saint Gallus Fortress. This ti he chose a more pointed reason: he was visiting because the Upper Hive Council had not t in far too long. This was a eting established by Caladogong himself, ant to occur weekly, yet it had been skipped for two consecutive weeks. Constant evasion would only breed further suspicion.

Sure enough, the gates opened this ti. The person assigned to receive him was Callum Saint Gallus—the Lord of Internal Affairs and Leo's second uncle.

When Raynor first laid eyes on Callum, he was stunned. The man had platinum-blonde hair and extrely handso features; every gesture exuded the elegant aura of high nobility. If Geth were standing next to him, the two would likely form a "visual peak" duo of the Upper Hive.

But it wasn't Callum's looks that Raynor noticed. It was his temperant—a quality that made one feel as if they were basking in a spring breeze. The speed of his speech, his tone, his choice of words, his perfectly tid smiles, and his poised attitude were all impeccable. Talking to Callum made Raynor feel exceptionally comfortable.

Raynor searched his mories for information on Callum. Leo rarely ntioned his second uncle, only that he was in charge of internal affairs, never participated in military matters, and usually kept a low profile. However, if Leo had been there, he would have been surprised; in his mory, his uncle wasn't particularly handso.

"Governor, this way please." Callum's voice pulled Raynor back from his thoughts.

Raynor followed, speaking directly as they walked: "How has the High King been lately?"

Callum smiled slightly—a perfect smile that was neither overly fawning nor lacking in courtesy. "The High King is indisposed and has been resting lately. That is why he hasn't been able to attend the Council etings. I hope the Governor can forgive the oversight."

"Indisposed." It was a standard excuse, but Raynor didn't believe it for a second.

"I brought so fruit," Raynor gestured to the basket held by Doudou. "Please take to see him for a mont. I'll just offer my greetings and leave."

Callum glanced at the basket filled with fresh fruit, a flicker of indiscernible confusion passing through his eyes. He likely didn't understand why anyone would bring such a thing to a sickbed. However, his expression didn't change, maintaining that sa perfect smile.

"I will certainly pass on the Governor's kindness. However, the High King requires absolute rest. The dicae says he cannot see guests. I am truly sorry."

Raynor stared at him. Callum looked back, his eyes clear and his smile warm. Then Raynor laughed, adopting a look of understanding. "Never mind then. We'll talk another day."

What followed was the customary small talk. Callum was an excellent conversationalist. He knew what to say and what to keep to himself, and he always picked up the threads of the conversation perfectly. When they discussed the Battle of the Forbidden Wall, he expressed tily admiration; when they touched on the West District riots, he showed appropriate regret. Regarding the upcoming Cleansing Crusade, he showed moderate concern and limited support.

The more they talked, the more Raynor felt sothing was off. It was too perfect—too perfect to be real. It was as if every word Callum spoke and every expression he made had been ticulously engineered.

"Governor," Callum spoke suddenly in the middle of their chat. "Since you are already here, why not stay for a simple al?"

Raynor's eyes narrowed slightly. His instinct was to refuse; the most important thing was to return and analyze the situation, not eat with a suspicious noble. But his mouth moved against his control, saying: "Sure."

The mont the word left his lips, he regretted it. Callum's smile was radiant, but in that instant, Raynor caught sothing deep within his eyes. Triumph? Or a sense of absolute confidence?

"Please." Callum made an inviting gesture.

Raynor followed him toward the dining hall. Inside his sleeve, the Ripper twitched slightly—Sarah was sending a signal. But at this mont, Raynor seed entirely oblivious to Sarah's warning.

Far away in the Twin Peaks, Sarah's primary body opened her eyes. She... had lost contact with Raynor.