"Huh… a-am I still alive?" the man muttered in an incredulous voice.
He did not immediately notice that his cheek was bleeding.
The bolter round had merely grazed him.
"Listen carefully, mortal. Go to your master and tell him this: I am, and will always be, a proud son of Olympia and an Iron Warrior. Siege warfare is our creed! If he truly wishes to know whether his iron fortress can withstand us, then let him continue to taint our intent with his fear," he said, radiating a murderous aura.
The Iron Warriors.
This Space Marine Legion was designed to operate like a massive machine, responding to the orders of their gene-father.
Is this less impressive than the noble Blood Angels, the perfect Emperor's Children, or the cold military discipline of the sons of the Lion?
Perhaps.
However, the Iron Warriors have already demonstrated that their tactical genius is etched into their genes.
This trait is a precious legacy, inherited from their genetic code obtained from Perturabo.
This truth has been proven by a single individual: Barabas Dantioch.
This Space Marine held a lost fortress in the middle of nowhere with minimal resources while facing a fleet of traitors, Warp demons, and Titans.
The War of Sotha was still fresh in Atreus's mind, as the Iron Warrior won despite being already declared defeated by the numbers.
Beyond that event, Dantioch also defended the Pharos.
This xenos device allowed Loyalists to navigate back to Terra, hidden behind immense warp storms.
This defensive war was also heavily unbalanced, yet the Iron Warrior once again proved himself an invaluable Loyalist.
To Atreus, the old Dantioch was without a doubt the finest son of Perturabo.
A being beyond the stage of a mere tool.
The true quintessence behind the name: Iron Warrior.
A will of steel.
"Judging by his expression as he ran beyond that door, his master will no longer play political games with me," he thought, a menacing smile forming behind his helmet.
The Iron Warrior had no intention of engaging in pointless intrigue, but of getting straight to the point.
At worst, he would simply take the Rogue Trader hostage and return to Limnos III.
As for the gene-seeds? Life is more important; he refused to be more reckless than when he first arrived here for a direct transaction.
"Escaping with everyone is impossible if things go wrong, but my life is guaranteed with Trust," he thought, glancing at his forearm.
He had not noticed any supernatural visual power, like in the story To Be Hero X.
However, Atreus had already observed an evolution in his overall strength.
He was no longer a simple Astartes.
"The master accepts your terms, you may enter," declared the Rogue Trader's representative after consulting his lord.
The elegant man avoided Atreus's gaze as he announced the decision.
He had likely suffered trauma after being grazed by a bolter shot.
The group entered the reception hall.
"Interesting, this man knows how to enjoy life in the void of space," he thought as he stepped forward toward the indicated seating area.
The atmosphere of the reception hall instantly blended with that of the outside upon the arrival of the Space Marines.
Yet Atreus paid no attention to it.
He simply admired the Rogue Trader's architecture and furniture.
The high ceilings were adorned with finely carved wooden beams, inlaid with gold patterns and sculptures.
The walls were covered in numerous artworks depicting interstellar wars, each of unknown value to Atreus.
There was also a massive fireplace occupying most of one wall, decorated with stone carvings and fine engravings.
Wood burned inside it, casting warm flames that heated the spaceship room.
At the center of the hall stood precious sofas and wooden tables, their cushions covered in soft silk.
On the table before Atreus, insulated and sterilized plates overflowed with delicious pastries and fruits.
After finishing his appreciation of the surrounding luxury, the transhuman's eyes finally turned to the person seated opposite him.
The most important person in the room was a young man with a splendid appearance, wearing a power sword and a bolter pistol at his belt.
The man appeared to be in his twenties, at least in appearance.
In the Warhammer 40K universe, extending one's lifespan through surgical procedures is not uncommon.
The adoptive father of Lorgar is a perfect example.
"Greetings, dear Lord of Steel. Welcome aboard my dynasty's flagship. My name is Augustus Notos Howard, and please accept my apologies for the earlier inconvenience," he said in a measured voice.
He was clearly not sorry, but the Rogue Trader wished to maintain appearances.
Atreus replied curtly:
"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Howard."
Atreus had already sat down without ceremony on the wooden sofa opposite Howard.
Despite the weight of his power armor and imposing stature, the wooden sofa surprisingly held his weight.
It was clear the materials used were no ordinary ones.
Atreus's two subordinates stood behind him, ready in case of incident.
"Lord Howard, we have brought the merchandise. A total of 100 wild psykers captured in the Eye of Terror. However, I must warn you that none possess the potential to be valuable combat assets," Atreus stated, referring to the metal coffins outside the reception room.
With a professional smile, Howard replied politely:
"Thank you for the warning, it is of no concern. Many places require psykers; some planetary governors need cheap psykers to compensate for insufficient Imperial tithes, and Forge Worlds require unknown genetic material to enrich their psyker breeding facilities. There will always be someone who needs them."
Howard spoke as if he were referring to a species other than human.
Atreus did not concern himself with this inhuman aspect of the merchant.
He was not here to judge morality, but to exchange dangerous psykers for gene-seeds.
"So, where are our goods?" he asked, looking Howard directly in the eyes.
The man nodded to his representative. The elegant man bowed and left with light steps.
It took him a few minutes to return with two servitors carrying the containers.
Discordia stepped from behind Atreus to inspect the crates.
After a series of careful operations, Discordia nodded toward his lord.
"A total of 50 gene-seeds, all in good vitality. Some show slight mutations, but they remain within an acceptable range with no issues," he said professionally.
The Space Marine Apothecary turned to Howard:
"Do you have the genealogy of these gene-seeds?" he asked, observing him closely for any sign of deceit.
Howard shrugged:
"All of this was acquired through trade with the Drukhari. Unfortunately, those xenos do not bother keeping records for such things," he explained calmly.
Howard's answer did not surprise Atreus.
The concept of Space Marines held no importance for the Drukhari, nor did the customs of the world of origin of their slaves.
When they capture an Astartes, a Drukhari spends their time extracting maximum value from them without concern for such trivial details.
To that arrogant and sadistic xeno, a Space Marine is merely a larger monkey.
Why would a human care about the life of a monkey?
Atreus nodded in understanding, but decided to gather more information.
He was interested in the Eldar.
In particular, their psychic training.
"Sooner or later, I will have too many psykers on Limnos III, as I live near the Maelstrom sector," he thought, recalling the future great rift.
Atreus had to prepare his planet for the wave of psychic human births.
"Do you have contacts with the Drukhari? I would like you to help me negotiate with them in the near future," he asked calmly.
The Space Marine's voice was no longer distorted by his helmet, as he had removed it to maintain appearances before Howard.
Howard let out a small laugh, looking completely at ease:
"Honestly, I don't think you have the capability to deal with those scum," he said without a trace of fear in his eyes.
Scar tightened his grip on his bolter, but Atreus raised his hand to stop him.
He was also angry, but this was clearly not the time for combat.
He had obtained the gene-seeds; should he risk Astartes lives over a thinly veiled insult?
Not efficient.
Useless.
"Frankly, I am selling at a loss. You should take better care of your affairs in the future and—" Howard continued, but his words were interrupted by a loud sound.
Atreus drained all the wine on the table from the enormous carafe and casually set the empty container down.
"You are arrogant, Rogue Trader. However, I will not deny your statement. Since the deal is concluded, we are leaving."
Atreus admitted he had reached too far in seeking Eldar information while being unqualified to handle them.
However, Howard did not rejoice at the Space Marine's resignation.
He sensed a cold, murderous intent—extremely well hidden.
"Did I go too far?" he thought, watching Atreus leave with his subordinates.
Howard had not lied.
He had indeed sold the gene-seeds at a loss, but they held no value in his hands.
The Imperium strictly controlled technology and knowledge surrounding the creation of Space Marines.
Even if he traded with the Dark Mechanicus to create Astartes, Howard would still have to remain cautious in their use.
He would be forced to remain cautious forever with forces tied to the Imperium.
Thus, this investment was costly and far too risky.
It was not worth it in the long term.
"Adolf, escort them out," he ordered, turning his attention back to the food.
Howard decided internally to leave the sector after this transaction.
He was not afraid of Atreus.
Something else was pushing him to leave the Maelstrom quickly.
The seller of the gene-seeds was not only the Drukhari, but also a group of Eldar far too curious about Atreus.
Howard did not know why, but attracting the attention of an Eldar prophet was never a good sign.
Especially since Atreus had also taken an interest in that race.
"…Yeah, I need to move elsewhere," he muttered alone in the hall.
***
Author's note: I haven't abandoned anything, guys, but I was sick (not healed, but relieved).
I will post two chapters this Sunday, since these were planned for Saturday.
Please support this story if you enjoy it (votes, comments, and reviews if possible).
Fun fact :
There is a theory in Warhammer 40K that states that Dantioch is responsible for the arrival of the Tyranids due to his desperate actions during the defense of the Pharos, during the Battle of Sotha.
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