"Who are you?"
The Imperial Knight's low, cold, hoarse voice rolled across the grasslands from above like the tolling of some colossal bell.
This figure hiding its appearance was incredibly agile, agile enough to evade the grasp he had prepared in advance.
That alone made the Knight curious. Before blowing this suspicious, half-concealed figure to pieces, he decided to first ask where it had come from.
After all, in his experience, there were fewer than a handful of people who could move like that.
Gaia looked up at the towering Imperial Knight, her pupils tightening slightly.
She was not unsettled because of the sudden attack.
What shocked her was that he had actually used such a method to lure out possible enemies.
A Knight suit's design certainly took the safety of the pilot, enthroned within the neural throne, into account.
But it had absolutely never been designed with falling over in mind.
Because on a battlefield, falling in formation usually meant death.
And the pilots whose nerves were directly linked to the throne did not merely feel the physical impact of the fall with their flesh.
Mentally, they would also experience the damage and agony suffered by the Knight itself when such an immense body crashed down.
But this was not the time to dwell on that.
After all, the "toy gun" Dushi had mocked was currently aimed straight at her.
Looking at the massive caliber of the weapon, Gaia understood very clearly that if she took a hit from that thing, she would probably end up scattered in pieces.
She took a deep breath and spoke in a firm, steady voice.
"Honored Knight, I do not know what enemy you have encountered, but if you still remain loyal to the God-Emperor, then believe me, I am not your enemy."
From this steel colossus, Gaia had not sensed the stench or grotesque wrongness she associated with cultists, so she boldly invoked the Emperor's name.
The effect was immediate.
The Knight remained in an attacking posture, but only one of its cannons remained trained on her.
Unfortunately, her ability to read emotions through the eyes was useless here.
The reason was simple.
Upon this iron giant's body drifted at least a dozen souls.
Most of them were damaged, but because they overlapped and tangled together, Gaia found it impossible to tell which one truly belonged to the current pilot.
That phenomenon was normal enough.
Within the neural throne of every Imperial Knight lingered the broken consciousnesses of all its former pilots.
"You have one minute to make me believe you."
The Knight spoke coldly.
Gaia frowned slightly.
She knew these warriors, who fought for the Emperor and for the honor of their houses, were often arrogant by nature, but facing this kind of openly disdainful noble warrior in person still irritated her.
Even so, she understood his caution.
Anything capable of damaging an Imperial Knight this badly could not possibly be taken lightly.
So she thought for a moment, glanced at her hooded cloak, and came up with a bold idea.
She pulled back one side of her sleeve, revealing a long, toned arm and the black implants embedded within the hard, elegant lines of muscle like dark nodes set in granite, then spoke in a low, hoarse voice.
"For the Lion, Knight."
"And if possible, please tell me what happened. I will do my best to help."
That was right.
With the way she was dressed, aside from her height being a little off, she could very well pass as one of the Dark Angels, one of the original Legions descended from Lion El'Jonson, famous for their secrecy and their many hidden matters.
Hearing that invocation of one of the Emperor's sons, the Imperial Knight fell silent for a moment, clearly caught in doubt.
As a battle-hardened Knight who had once served beyond his homeworld, he knew exactly what identity she was implying.
But why would an unarmored Dark Angel appear on Swuvi?
Just as he was about to continue thinking it through, a surge of agony from the neural circuits shattered his train of thought and dragged him back into grim reality.
He had little time left.
House Magris had little time left.
Swuvi had little time left.
He had to unite the bloodlines of the highest royal house that still remained loyal to the instructions of their ancestors and to the will of the God-Emperor, gathering them into a force strong enough to resist those damned madmen.
At this point, even though there were still doubts about this stranger's claimed identity, he no longer had the luxury of choice.
His armiger squires could only buy so much time. Those who had already forgotten the honor of their forebears might even now be on their way to find him, or perhaps had already begun carrying out their crimes.
Only by trusting her could he preserve even the slightest chance.
So he lowered the heavy cannon mounted on his back and briefly explained what had driven him into this desperate state.
Not long ago, the patriarch of House Magris fell gravely ill. Though he had been saved by a certain lady from the Ecclesiarchy, he remained in poor condition, and the supreme royal house that ruled Swuvi urgently needed a new leader.
Everyone had assumed the position would go to the capable and widely respected eldest princess, Audreya Magris.
But the dying High King had suddenly declared that his thirteenth son, Pedro Magris, would instead become the first heir.
Pedro was, in some respects, the opposite of Audreya, who was skilled, perceptive, and politically gifted.
He was poor at governance, yet extravagant and self-indulgent.
He understood nothing of leadership, yet was blindly arrogant.
He was, in short, a very vividly rendered fool.
How could the honor-proud members of House Magris tolerate such an idiot standing over them?
So many of them openly opposed the decision.
And yet, strangely enough, the old patriarch, who had always respected the opinions of the major branches of the house, fell into an eerie silence.
While the other members of the family still struggled to understand what was happening, Pedro made his move.
"To be precise, it was his allies who acted."
"Those damned followers of the Machine God broke their promise not to interfere in Swuvi's internal politics and secretly backed that fool Pedro."
"They used some kind of twisted sorcery I still do not understand, forcing me and the other veteran Knights, who were all in dormant state at the time, into a condition where we could no longer control ourselves, leaving our armor to be driven by its automatic systems instead."
"If my own Knight's automated system had not been heavily damaged by a melta strike in an earlier battle, I would not have escaped that same fate."
"Fortunately, our armiger squires were not brought under their control. May their souls return to the Golden Throne..."
"I had intended to carry this warning to Hecius myself, even if it meant death, but those wretches appear to have tampered with my left leg during repairs. I can no longer go any farther."
"They may already be on their way. I had intended to make my last stand here anyway. Now that I have told you everything, I have no regrets left."
"Angel of the Emperor, carry word to the royal city that the Mechanicus is deploying forces to interfere in Swuvi. Tell my brothers and my children to prepare for war."
Gaia's eyes trembled.
Jericho Sector.
The Perfect Lord.
Mechanicus interference.
Knightly succession strife.
At that moment, many seemingly unrelated pieces suddenly linked together, weaving themselves into a vast net of conspiracy.
And Gaia abruptly realized:
Swuvi might be standing on the very brink of overthrow.
(End of Chapter)
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