"By the Machine-Goddess.
What's the point of those studies? It's just a budget scam."
Saru shook his head, clearly irritated.
This Arch-Savant, born on Stygies VIII and specialized in xenos technology, had never liked the so-called "two-dinsional" faction. In his view, they were poisoning the Adeptus chanicus from the inside.
Those self-proclaid innovators not only chased bizarre, attention-grabbing projects, they also periodically uploaded techno-blasphemous images to the chanicus forums, seriously damaging the Imperium's moral climate.
They were corrupting younger tech-priests.
"Honestly, they're undermining the chanicus at its roots. They don't look like proper tech-priests at all. What future do they have? What results will they ever produce?"
Saru's tracked ch-legs clattered as his huge chanical silhouette moved through the lab.
He looked over the younger tech-priests who were researching quietly and obediently, and nodded with satisfaction.
His own people were doing real work, not the flashy nonsense the "two-dinsional reformists" loved.
Saru tapped his chanical staff and spoke with stern weight.
"We are the orthodox line of Imperial machine-craft. If anyone becos obsessed with that so-called 'two-dinsional' stuff, you're finished. Do not expect your papers to receive an excellent evaluation from ."
It was a severe warning.
These days, promotion within the chanicus was tied directly to academic output and research achievents.
Young tech-priests needed to follow savants and arch-savants into projects, secure resources, and then develop their own work.
Without a savant's backing, their future research path would be far harsher than everyone else's.
Of course, if they were dissatisfied with their current ntor, they could try to switch to another savant's patronage.
But that was not easy either.
After Saru's warning, a few young tech-priests quietly deleted certain data. Others discreetly tucked a few badges into the shielding field within their chanical bodies.
So tech-priests even fired off private ssages in the forum's encrypted channels, posting long strings of binary.
The aning was unmistakable: rude language, plus references to "old relics" and "ancient machine brains," the usual insults.
No question, in the eyes of a portion of the younger tech-priests, Saru was traditional and rigid.
Saru continued his inspection. He adjusted instrunt paraters, broke down overly obscure datasets, and unpacked symbols that would have baffled most initiates.
He was providing hands-on technical guidance.
In the past, arch-savants would have scorned doing such things. They preferred to lock their knowledge in the deepest layers of their data-vaults, let alone personally teach the proprietary techniques that made them valuable.
Now, within the chanicus evaluation system, "lineage transmission" was also a hard tric.
Whether savant or arch-savant, everyone needed asurable teaching contributions, and those contributions were converted into quantifiable resource allotnts.
The allotnts were generous.
Under those incentives, savants and arch-savants practically wanted to convert every scrap of their knowledge into teaching credit.
More credit ant more resources, and more resources ant better research.
So even the most arcane secrets of the chanicus were being dragged up from the deepest vaults and fed, bit by bit, into the servo-skulls of young tech-priests.
For the sake of teaching credit, arch-savants even competed for the best students.
That competition often began at the Loyal Scions Academy's chanicus division, where outstanding students could receive invitations very early.
Traditionalists like Saru usually did not get the very best students, but they still had far better access than underfunded institutes.
For example, the arch-savants studying the T'au had academic status so low they were practically sitting at the children's table.
Right now, the hottest field was research into ancient technology, especially anything tied to the Old Ones or the Necrontyr.
That linked directly to the Imperium's newest strategic plans, whether it was building a larger defensive frawork, suppressing the warp, or pushing into it.
Higher authorities could all sense it.
Humanity was about to launch an unprecedented counteroffensive against the enemies of the Imperium.
The final war.
Saru possessed deep reserves of xenos-tech expertise, so he had benefited from this shift.
Most importantly, he had been granted the chance to co to Vigilus and participate in the analysis of the Necrontyr ancient weapon, the Æonic Orb.
Under those circumstances, even if he was strict and old-fashioned, young tech-priests still wanted to follow him.
Big projects ant rich resources, and rich resources ant access to the newest machine-arts.
Even if it required living in the lab for years with no rest.
Saru scolded a few idiots whose progress had fallen behind, then spoke more gently to a handful of promising young savants, advising them to stay far away from "two-dinsional" obsessions and not drift into radical academic ideas.
"By the Machine-Goddess.
Our progress is solid. We are not going to lose to that crafty old bastard next door."
After making a full sweep of the lab and pulling the relevant trics, Saru was broadly satisfied.
He returned his massive chanical fra to the array of a new-pattern contemplator supercompute engine, connected data-cables, and began another round of calculations.
At their current pace, he could apply for funding from the Departnto Research before the other arch-savants did.
But not long after, Saru abruptly ended the run and severed the cable connections.
He issued a rapid burst of binharic commands, ordering the lab to prepare the highest standard of reception.
The tens-of-thousands-square-ter research hall beca instantly busy. Heavy machinery shifted positions. nials and apprentices cleaned and reorganized each section. Banners of welco were hung.
Because the Savior, the Imperial Emperor, had co to inspect.
It was a priority even above research.
Funding was on the line. They had to leave a good impression on the Savior. If they were lucky, they might even secure a larger allotnt.
Clang.
A massive chanical bell thundered, and a binharic hymn rose.
Arch-Savant Saru led several outstanding savants to the entrance to welco His Majesty.
"Machine-Goddess…"
The mont Saru saw the Savior, the lenses of his spiderlike augtic eyes flickered.
He was shocked.
His Majesty wore several badges on his chest. Besides the Machine-Goddess Holy Sigil, the highest academic honor within the chanicus, there was also a special emblem belonging to the "two-dinsional" faction.
Yes, the Savior also held the title of Arch-Savant, and not just any arch-savant. He held the highest rank, Honor Arch-Savant.
Strictly speaking, it was an honorary title, not part of the standard promotion ladder.
But the arch-savants knew it was a special honor, and they respected it even more.
To the chanicus, the Savior was second only to the Machine-Goddess herself.
He was the supre Honor Arch-Savant who controlled research funding.
In plain terms, Eden held the purse, so tech-priests followed. No researcher ever thought their budget was too large.
Especially not on projects of this scale, where one forge world was not enough to build what was needed.
It was also one of the ways the Savior controlled the chanicus.
He had to keep the Imperium's top technical class firmly in hand.
He could not allow a repeat of the old Imperium's weakness, where independent research collapsed and the chanicus could hold the entire state hostage.
But Saru's attention was not on the Holy Sigil.
He was staring at the "two-dinsional" badge.
The wiring along his body crackled with faint static as his emotions spiked.
"Those radicals actually dared to give such an ugly badge to the Savior. Is this not deception? An attempt to mislead His Majesty?"
Saru clearly did not accept the badge, or the faction behind it.
Especially not when the emblem featured a scantily dressed "chanical girl."
It was enough to make him shake with indignation.
The "two-dinsional" faction was corrupting fine chanicus youth.
"Arch-Savant, do you have sothing to say?" Eden asked, noticing the arch-savant's mood. His tone was calm and even considerate.
To him, every arch-savant was a pillar of the new Imperium's research foundation, worthy of respect.
Saru hesitated, then chose not to say anything about the badge. He had no right to judge the Savior's preferences.
His vox-speech remained reverent. "By the Machine-Goddess, I am simply overwheld by Your Majesty's arrival.
I can hardly wait to present our research progress on the Necrontyr ancient weapon…"
"You've all worked hard. I'll go in and take a look. I hope I'm not delaying your work," Eden said, giving a small nod. He did not press the matter.
From the focus of Saru's gaze, he had already identified the problem.
It was the "two-dinsional" badge on his chest.
Eden wore chanicus badges without any deep ideological leaning. He did it to narrow the distance between himself and the oil-stained priesthood.
As for the "two-dinsional" emblem, the younger tech-priests liked it. Wearing it earned goodwill.
Of course, he also understood that the chanicus had traditionalists and radicals, and that each camp fractured into countless smaller factions.
That was inevitable. Any large organization developed that way.
As long as it stayed controllable, it was fine.
In so respects, controlled competition even improved vitality, especially when both sides were evenly matched.
Eden was happy to see factional rivalry exist.
It gave him room to play arbiter.
No matter what, the chanicus was half the Imperium. He had to hold the greatest authority within it.
"The chanicus has changed a lot over the past two centuries…" he said, studying Saru with quiet emotion.
Who would have thought that more than two hundred years ago, this sa tech-priest from Stygies VIII had once been labeled a rebellious radical within the chanicus?
His work in xenos technology and blackstone research had been harshly criticized and treated as near-heresy.
Mars and the Inquisition watched him closely.
Stygies VIII itself had even been quietly judged, by so in the Inquisition, as a forge world flirting with forbidden tech.
Only its strategic importance, and the chanicus's strength at the ti, had prevented direct intervention.
But after Eden's reforms, the chanicus underwent a complete upheaval. New thought, new trends, new factions exploded outward.
So much so that Saru, once a symbol of the radical wing, had beco a traditionalist, mocked by young tech-priests as an "ancient machine brain."
Ti moved on. Everyone eventually beca an old man to soone.
Under Saru's guidance, Eden took a brief tour of the facility and listened to a progress report on the Æonic Orb project.
He was very satisfied, and he issued a formal directive on the spot.
The research of the Æonic Orb was one of the chanicus's key engineering endeavors. It was also vital machine-craft supporting the Imperium's future strategic power.
Arch-Savant Saru and the tech-priests of this laboratory had made outstanding contributions to the project amid the thunder of gears.
He hoped they would continue pushing forward and produce even more results. May the Machine-Goddess's radiance shine forever.
The Savior's praise left Saru and the others exhilarated.
More importantly, that exalted existence promised additional research funding.
The ancient weapon project was secure.
The news was so good that even the lab's machine-spirits seed to hum in gratitude.
More funding ant more rites, more holy oils, more blessings.
In short, the oil-stained priests and their machines were grateful.
They were loyal.
"This is what the chanicus should feel like," Eden said, nodding with approval.
After delivering the necessary encouragent and future promises, he did not linger. Under Saru's respectful escort, he departed for the next location.
In truth, Eden had not co here for the Æonic Orb project in the first place.
Saru's lab simply happened to sit at the front of the route, so Eden had stopped by to show support.
But Saru was ecstatic.
The mont the Savior left, Saru rushed onto the chanicus forums to brag to other arch-savants, and he took the opportunity to sneer at the factions he hated.
He wrote an entire binharic "paper" that was basically academic street-fighting, aid straight at the so-called innovators and their "funding scam" projects.
"By the Machine-Goddess, you flashy, empty researchers will have your budgets cut sooner or later…"
Saru declared those projects unnecessary, worthless research conducted only to siphon funding.
Only steady, disciplined work like his deserved more, better funding and the Savior's backing.
The traditionalist arch-savant triggered a new round of forum warfare. Participation exploded, and the heat climbed fast.
The argunt's popularity nearly caught up to the famous "orthodox versus improved fuel-drink" debate.
For a ti, it even surpassed the discussion of whether the Omnissiah and the Machine God were the sa entity.
Naturally, the chanicus's supre deity was the Machine-Goddess. Any other god was rely decoration.
Eden did not bother with the forum fighting. It was normal.
In a sense, it was just oil-priests doing politics with keyboards.
As long as the conflict did not escalate, it was harmless.
Besides, with Eden and the Machine-Goddess imposing order, the chanicus factions could not start major wars like they once had.
Even offline "real fights" were banned.
If you had a grievance, you settled it academically.
If you violated the prohibition, your funding got cut and your project permissions were revoked.
That was worse than death.
They could not even defect to the Dark chanicum.
Because the Savior, the Imperial Emperor, was also a Chaos Warmaster, and he held half the Dark chanicum's territory in his grasp, controlling the flow of resources.
As for throwing themselves at the Chaos Gods, that was a last resort with little future.
Those gods did not have a Machine-Goddess. They did not have much in the way of real material resources either. Even the Eye of Terror was almost the Chaos Warmaster's backyard now.
Strictly speaking, even the "legitimate" black-oil tech-priests had to apply for research licenses these days, conducting heretek and chaos-tech study legally and under supervision.
Otherwise, it was unlicensed illegal research, with consequences severe enough to end careers, lives, and dynasties.
That existence was effectively the god of research administration. Nobody could escape oversight.
Not long after, Eden arrived at the innovators' temporary research base.
The arch-savants there had long been waiting to present their latest technical breakthroughs, especially anything related to the Necrons.
It touched the Kalozasa Dynasty and the Imperium's coming war with the Silent King.
A range of cutting-edge projects were laid out before Eden in the most direct form possible.
"Your research really is advanced…" Eden said as he read through the material, but there was criticism in his voice. His brow tightened slightly.
That light, casual line made the surrounding arch-savants tense.
To Eden, the projects looked too strange.
How to awaken a Necron's sex drive.
What kinds of at Flayed Ones preferred.
How the Prince of Pleasure might profane chanical life.
They had even tried to get Flayed Ones to quit flesh and feed them bananas.
At first glance, it really did look like a budget scam.
It felt a lot like that project filed by Honor Arch-Savant Cawl, that little bastard.
The project title had been: Optimization and Safeguarding of Tech-Priest Combat Effectiveness.
What it actually studied was which biscuit tasted best when dunked in fuel-drink, and at what angle and temperature produced the optimal result.
Cawl had claid that delicious fuel-drink paired with biscuits could soothe machine-spirits within chanical bodies and augtics.
His final answer had been: a 27.3-degree angle of imrsion relative to the fuel-drink surface, with a tolerance of plus or minus 0.01 degrees.
As for biscuit types and temperature, he was still "researching" because there were too many biscuit varieties across the galaxy and the warp, spanning countless civilizations and species.
That bastard had even applied for military-industrial project funding.
In the end, soone reported it. The funding was clawed back.
Cawl had to continue on his own di.
The oversight departnt then used the incident to audit him hard and recovered a lot of good material.
Even with that negative example, Eden did not judge these projects too quickly.
Many truly creative breakthroughs ca out of research that looked ridiculous on the surface.
So earlier projects had already proven that.
And he could afford the budgets involved. If nothing else, it encouraged innovative thinking.
"Is there actually sothing here?" Eden murmured as he kept reading, growing particularly interested in the Flayed One projects.
These projects had mapped out a new concept: the "interface" by which the Flayer Virus intruded, involving the boundary between realspace and the warp.
In simple terms, the Flayer Virus curse was not purely a physical infection thod…
(End of Chapter)
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