"How is this even possible? Assets in Dawn City's Webway district are actually… not moving?"
Eden was a little numb.
Sensing something off, he asked the office secretary at his side, "Is it our publicity that's lacking? Or are the Webway assets priced so high the Empire's nobles and free-traders can't bear it?"
Dawn City is vast—Phase I alone spans the area of several planets. Letting the Savior's own demesne "play with it" is nowhere near enough.
They must draw in the Empire's commercial system, introduce large numbers of high-tier residents, free-traders, guild combines, and the like, to make this trade hub truly flourish.
So beyond the residential zones, every commercial and industrial zone also needs outside capital.
But the latest intake figures for those zones are far below expectation.
That's a serious problem. Without a steady influx of fresh blood, Dawn City could stagnate into a dead pool.
Put simply: without large-scale move-ins, who will the Savior be charging rent and taxes from? How does a trade quarter grow?
Eden's goal is to build a super-hub that touches the entire galaxy—an area of extreme prosperity, not just a galactic tollbooth and expressway.
The difference between the two is night and day.
"This may be temporary."
Tarko, well-briefed on the current situation, offered his view:
"In my judgment, people are still watching. This is a new commercial model, and the outlay isn't small.
"I'm confident things will shift soon—especially once the Empire's new grandees start moving in."
Dawn City's Webway assets sell only usage rights, and they still owe an annual percentage tax—slightly better than the old "Eleven Tax," but not by much.
It's a break from the Empire's prior commercial habits.
High nobles used to buy up enormous tracts of land, industrial blocks, or whole planets with permanent title—if not simply seize them by force.
Now the proposal is to spend a fortune for a sliver of space on a five-year usage right, and still pay taxes.
Even if everyone knows Dawn City's future will be prosperous and hugely valuable, those who've just bled heavily will hesitate, watch, and see how this plays out.
"Mmm. You're not wrong," Eden arched a brow, agreeing with his office secretary.
Truth be told, he understood this already—he'd just grown less inclined to think lately, letting the brain trust handle most problems.
Behind Tarko stands a think-tank corps of tens of thousands, gathering top talent across nearly every field.
Every time this secretary seeks audience with the Savior, he comes prepared for any likely question.
Perhaps that's the benefit of leading: secure power, use the right people, and most remaining work can be delegated.
Tok-tok-tok—
Eden tapped the desk, conjuring a midair projection of a residential district.
He sighed, "Everything else can take its time, but this high-end residential district needs to sell now to pull cash back in.
"We need that funding for the Misty Expanse."
To Eden, this luxury residential district is presently Dawn City's "land king," a cash cow—able to generate a great deal of ready resources fast.
It will also put the "high-end" brand on the map, letting them run more projects like it and harvest the Empire's nobles and emerging strata.
More importantly, it gathers those people into the Webway—safer that way.
And he'd bragged to Guilliman and the Khan already; if these little palaces and grande manors don't sell…
How embarrassing would that be?
"Our issue is that these high-end districts still aren't getting enough attention, nor do they feel scarce or urgent. We need to work them," Eden said, glancing to Tarko and passing along some experience from his previous life.
Hunger marketing, expo showings, guided tours—bring in shills to seed a frothy "boom."
Best case, bid the price up.
Dawn City has massive protected housing stock; high valuations for commercial/elite real estate won't touch the Empire's middle and lower strata.
So—harvest, then done.
He kneaded his brow and added, "If Bayev has already made a concrete decision, release that major news along with it.
"That'll be a huge boost to Dawn City's asset values."
"I've already sent the inquiry. I expect a reply from the Regent shortly," Tarko nodded—clearly long prepared.
This, too, is why the Savior keeps him as deputy: time-saving, worry-free—one of the most powerful few in today's Empire.
The only downside is that Tarko can't be promoted anymore; the Savior won't part with him—unless a true replacement appears.
Eden said nothing further.
He trusted that his secretary-general had internalized his intent and would carry things through.
And in fact, he always had.
All these years, the man hadn't really blundered.
After that, Eden checked on Webway construction. The routes to the Misty Expanse were essentially cleared; the hub nodes were complete.
Once the Redemption Crusade swept the Misty Expanse clean, they could fully open the trade network there.
Then it would grow in earnest.
Other sectors' Webway work remained in early stages—first open a set of key lines,
Maintain the vital node-to-node links so, if a mega-disaster strikes, there's a corridor for relief to travel.
That's the best they can do. Having resources for even this much is already rare.
In the old Empire, they couldn't have mustered even the current level of resources; the effort would have collapsed early.
Fortunately, this round they sheared the wealth of the Laedos heretics, xenos abominations, and Imperial nobility alike—the Dawn City Webway's build can hold at least into mid-to-late Phase II.
Once the Empire's commerce begins to truly thrive, Eden won't need to worry.
Beyond Dawn City's affairs, he flipped through War Ministry reports.
Because Dawn City has devoured resources, many large warships, super-heavy vehicles, and Titan God-Machines were on temporary hold. But small-scale armament production never stopped.
Every hour heaps of weapons, vehicles, and munitions rolled off the lines, nearly filling the depots.
All for the Redemption Crusade.
"What's this now—our armories are short on space again?"
Eden rubbed his temple. "Can't they plan production in order? We've overshot by this much; we can't absorb it quickly.
"This must be formally criticized!"
Tarko was blunt:
"Your Majesty, the War Ministry planned production off your guidance. The present excess comes from the Redemption Crusade failing to depart on schedule."
"Oh—I guided it. Then it's fine."
Eden grew a bit sheepish and didn't press the point.
As a leader, tossing out a few pointers during an inspection and causing a few hiccups is normal—particularly when a layman directs the professionals.
He'd only made the same mistake all rulers make.
It's bound to happen.
As Savior and Lord of the Empire—especially within his own demesne—his word is almost law.
Sometimes, when he's "guiding" on a tour and gets talkative, people treat it as an order and execute.
That's why he's loath to handle statecraft personally or offer opinions if he can help it.
Individual wit and talent are limited. Everyone has blind spots—Old G is pretty dreadful at tactics and boarding actions, yet loves to rush the front and get pummeled.
Much less does Eden have time to study it all.
Forcing himself in will only plant time bombs for the Empire.
Because his instructions and policies touch countless sectors and people. One misstep… and untold Imperial citizens suffer.
History has taught that.
Think of the Ming dynasty's founding emperor back on Eden's homeworld: born low, stubbornly micromanaging everything. He burned himself out and imposed rigid systems whose long shadows bled the state—central-princely conflicts, institutions that hollowed the treasury.
At least Eden's intellect remains intact. Most policy is hammered out by civil officers and the think-tank through multiple rounds, then passed by council.
Moreover, any measure with far-reaching impact doesn't launch immediately.
They do local pilots first. After lessons are learned and consensus formed, successful pilots are scaled up.
That way, even if policy has flaws, damage is capped—crossing the river by feeling for stones.
Cautious. Stable.
Inside such a well-tuned governance system, even if he occasionally "guides" and causes a wobble, it's not too bad.
No great harm done.
The War Ministry and peers probably saw it that way and didn't reject the Savior's instruction.
The variance stayed within acceptable bounds.
Like now: too many munitions, not enough space. Fine—dial future output down.
"Sigh. So we made a bit extra. We'll work hard to digest it," Eden muttered, giving himself a little face-saving, then signed off on the War Ministry's report.
Even if his sign-off isn't strictly necessary, the form matters—akin to "We have reviewed this." It shows the Savior's eye is on statecraft.
No matter how much power he devolves, he must know what's happening across the Empire and its departments.
It also reminds the upper echelon he is watching.
Otherwise—he'd be blind.
Per the report, the War Ministry has already requested a large block of Dawn City warehouses to stash the excess weapons and ammunition temporarily.
In preparation for the future deluge of galactic freight, Dawn City built the largest warehouse district in Imperial history.
The day will rarely come when finished goods have nowhere to go.
This surplus will likely be liquidated at favorable prices to raise readiness in some regions.
More can be shipped into the Misty Expanse.
That's not all bad.
Before long, Eden wrapped up the paperwork, a bit fatigued.
He stretched. "Truly a diligent Emperor of the Imperium… but one must also balance work and rest."
Then the Savior-Emperor ended his workday and headed for the Sanctum's private palace.
It's a massive convalescent palace—like a garden world, full of streams, copses, and cloud-soft turf.
Yes, modeled on the Third Circle of Slaanesh's domain—the Circle of Debauchery.
As for the Empire's beauties of every type—xenos-blooded lovelies, secretarial retinues—many reside there as well.
Eeden's purpose is simple: elevate his own Authority of Joy, that he might better shelter the Empire
—so his people aren't corrupted by the Prince of Pleasure.
A perfectly legitimate reason.
Besides, the Savior has bled for the Empire for years. What's wrong with a little enjoyment?!
Afterward, he wandered into a garden-forest, blindfolded, and played a round of "hide-and-seek" with cat-folk attendants from the Lacas Sector.
…
Dawn City High-Tier Residential District.
Yor stepped out of the opulent showroom drenched in sweat, contract signed.
He'd made a decision bordering on madness: buying a small palace in the highest-tier residential quarter.
Its value equaled several high-yield tax worlds.
Meaning, that one palace cost several times more than the entirety of Yor's net worth as a newly risen Imperial notable.
He had no choice but to stake everything—going into debt to buy.
If he failed to reap enough profit from Webway commerce to service the palace's debt, interest, and its annual property tax…
He would lose everything—ruin, with almost no way back.
"Yor, this is too risky!"
The one-eyed trader beside him swallowed, shocked by his friend's decision.
He himself dared not touch the top tier—he'd only bought a large, upper-mid residence.
Even that consumed nearly half his fortune.
"I have faith in His Majesty the Savior. Since it's his counsel, I will support unconditionally."
Catching his breath, Yor spoke calmly.
He'd noticed how few were buying in the highest-tier precincts.
Perhaps the price truly was too dear.
But even if he had to shoulder crushing debt, this can-seller would grit his teeth and buy—for the chance to live a little closer to the Savior.
Word is the glorious Emperor, His Majesty the Savior, and two Primarchs all hold residences here—and the Emperor's Angels patrol within.
That, alone, is one of the district's greatest values.
Even if the Savior and Primarchs won't live here long-term, a chance encounter is an honor beyond price.
In other words, living here confers a special aura of status.
In time this may become the Empire's most elite address—an entry ticket to the highest circle.
Moreover, the amenities are extravagant: a dedicated Webway hub that reaches any part of Dawn City on demand, plus exclusive vehicle licenses.
His craft would gain access to VIP express lanes.
Not only that, the highest-tier district includes a direct-subordinate branch of the Loyal Scion Academy, allowing residents' children to enroll directly.
From there, they can proceed to the Urth Loyal Scion Academy, receiving the Savior's most orthodox education.
That is exactly the educational resource Yor, as a new grandee, yearns for—more contact with His Majesty.
And to meet the Empire's young talents and noble offspring.
If his child enters the Academy, graduates with excellence, and receives a badge personally bestowed by the Savior…
Then House Hawke could rise further—truly entering the Empire's core circle.
Everyone knows many key figures across Imperial departments now hail from the Loyal Scion Academy. With that pedigree, promotions come easier.
Of course the Academy is a vast system: inside it are numerous societies and orders; by faculty, region, or creed it subdivides into many cliques.
Even so, gaining admission is a ticket to the top.
From there, it's about the child's effort, talent, and loyalty.
By those alone, the palace is worth its price, Yor thought.
Worth the gamble.
This can-seller, patriarch of House Hawke, wants to climb.
"Friends—if you're willing to stake your fortunes, you can buy a property here too. This may be our last chance."
Yor had put the pieces together and warned them: "Soon, this highest-tier district will become a rare asset fought over by the Empire's powerful!"
The number of units looks large, but there are only ten thousand. Even if each family buys only one…
Measured against the Empire's high nobility, that's a drop in the ocean.
And this is the Savior's first flagship district—set with the Emperor's and Primarchs' residences—destined to be a unique rarity.
Once buyers wake up, they'll swarm. If you wait, you'll be too late.
Yor had also noticed: top-tier prices are not fixed—they adjust to market value.
If the high nobility begin scrambling, prices will soar beyond imagination.
Then men like them, the Empire's new rich, will never touch them again.
"You're saying… the highest-tier will go up?" the one-eyed trader asked in disbelief.
He recalled his own survey: almost no one was buying the top tier; even the mid-tiers moved slowly.
Proof that everyone is waiting.
He shook his head. "Dawn City isn't Holy Terra. Sacred, yes—but not worth all our wealth.
"Yor, face the facts: these assets are already priced at several times Holy Terra's levels.
"There's scarcely any room left to rise—more likely they'll fall."
He simply couldn't believe Dawn City could climb higher. Sacred or not, is it more than Terra?
He even felt that, if the cold spell persists, the commerce bureau will be forced to cut prices.
To say something "treasonous":
The high nobility think the Savior is deliberately harvesting their wealth at high prices—striking while the iron is hot—so they're quietly not buying.
They're patient, waiting for His Majesty to swallow his pride and cut prices—which benefits everyone.
A little payback on the Savior.
Today, the great nobles have undergone punishment, professed loyalty, and reconciled—deemed faithful Imperial subjects.
So long as they do not rebel, they needn't worry overmuch.
So what if they wait and watch? Can the Savior force them to buy Dawn City at a premium?
That would be the ultimate joke—violating his own commercial principles and earning the stigma of coercive sale.
Days passed, and investment in Dawn City remained tepid—especially the residential assets.
The high nobility, by unspoken accord, did not move.
They waited on the Savior's response—waited for that great figure to be humbled into a price cut.
It was negotiation without words.
(End of Chapter)
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