Warhammer, I promise I am loyal!!

Leon lifted his head, gazing silently at the sky for a long while before letting out a deep sigh.

Damn it. If I'd known, I wouldn't have been reading novels while pulling an all-nighter on my thesis.

But then again, who would've thought I'd transmigrate while working on a thesis in the dead of night?

Leon glanced over the black book that had suddenly appeared in his hands.

Unfortunately, aside from the contents about the Holy Grail War, the latter pages of the book were inexplicably sealed. Since the readable sections were short, it only took Leon a few minutes to get a rough idea of the situation.

"Holy crap, it really is the Holy Grail War!"

Leon sighed deeply.

Assuming this isn't some Tzeentchian scheme…

Leon began to turn his mind to the best relics he could procure for this event.

Thanks to the Aurelian family's connections, obtaining relics of local "heroes" who had made great contributions to this planet or nearby ones wasn't particularly difficult. But if the opponents were Chaos or some of the Empire's old enemies...

Leon doubted that summoning these local saints would have much impact on the situation.

Something sparked in Leon's mind, and his eyes lit up.

He turned his head and looked through the window toward the grandiose Governor's Mansion nearby.

Leon knew full well that back in the day, the Aurelian family had gone to great lengths to establish ties with the Primarchs. They had collected quite a few so-called "relics" supposedly touched by the Primarchs themselves.

Whether these were genuine was uncertain.

However, Leon did know that the central throne in the Governor's Mansion, a high-tech masterpiece forged long ago by the royal family who ruled this planet before being obliterated by the Imperium, had indeed been personally used by a Primarch during his preaching here.

Leon even recalled seeing old photos from his childhood, showing his ancestors kneeling before the "Emperor of Lorgar," who was seated on that very throne, reviewing administrative documents.

Although such events were a black mark in the family's history, the Aurelians—upholding their usual cautious approach of playing all sides—ultimately decided to preserve these so-called "relics" of the Primarchs with the utmost care.

After all, who could predict whether these great demigods might one day rise again from the shadows of history, unleashing their wrath upon the mortal bureaucrats of Terra who once dared to oppress them?

The swift return of the Ultramarines Primarch after a ten-millennia slumber had only reinforced such thinking among certain members of the family.

Hell, for all we know, these Primarchs might truly return someday.

We'd better plan ahead and prepare to welcome them as heroes, rather than becoming an example—like certain other lords—sacrificed to set a precedent and instill fear.

The Aurelian family had a decent collection of items rumored to be connected to the Primarchs. However, Leon was sure that only a handful were genuine.

Should I... give it a try?

Even though everything seemed normal now, with this world's unpredictability, who knew what might happen down the line?

After pondering for a while, Leon ultimately abandoned the idea of sneaking into the Governor's Mansion to drag the throne back to his own place just yet.

It's good to plan ahead, but no need to take unnecessary risks.

Since his family had intentionally allowed him to remain unaware of many things before his memories awakened, Leon's understanding of this world was still too shallow, despite holding titles and territories in name.

Until he could ascertain whether the throne truly qualified as a holy relic and confirm whether the summoned Heroic Spirit would be the pre-Daemon Primarch Lorgar or the post-ascension Daemon Prince Lorgar, Leon couldn't afford to act rashly.

Judging by his memories, there were still many enemies on this planet who wouldn't hesitate to kill him before he came of age to seize his family's lands and inheritance.

Before making thorough preparations, Leon knew he had to proceed cautiously and avoid impulsive decisions.

As Leon's thoughts wandered, three crisp knocks sounded at the door.

"Colonel? Are you available right now? The traders at the spaceport have arrived to discuss the arms-for-supplies deal. When would you like to meet them—if you're free?"

"Come in!" Leon responded instinctively, hearing the clear and spirited voice of a young woman outside.

Traders, huh?

Oh, right, that was a thing.

While pulling on a fresh pair of trousers from the wardrobe, Leon thought about it.

He had always worried that his elder brother might lose his temper and decide to chop him down one day. Thus, he was particularly eager to strengthen his own position.

His mother's side of the family had also noticed the Aurelian family's hostility toward him.

This trade deal with the merchants had been heavily influenced by his uncles from his mother's side, who had gone to great lengths to mediate it.

"Ah!"

As the bedroom door opened, a young woman in the uniform of a Planetary Defense Force captain entered. Her face flushed bright red as her eyes landed on Leon, standing with his back to her, dressed only in shorts, revealing a slender waist and pale skin typical of nobles.

To make matters worse, the disheveled state of the room, strewn with women's clothing from the previous night's debauchery, painted an unambiguous picture of what had occurred.

The young adjutant, who had grown up with Leon, found her heart inexplicably pounding in her chest, despite having seen him countless times before. She forced her gaze away from his figure, her tone unusually strained.

"Your Highness, even though the Governor is away inspecting the northern provinces, you should be mindful of your private affairs. Don't give those damned tabloid reporters any ammunition to tarnish the glory of the Aurelian family."

To her surprise, Leon didn't respond with his usual impatience, telling her to shut up and do her job.

Instead, he maintained an air of indifference—so much so that Mireille wondered if he had even heard her heartfelt admonition at all as he casually wiped the sweat of last night's escapades off his body with a damp towel.

"Mireille, stop standing in the doorway. Come in and sit. What price are those merchants offering? If it's too high, we might have to consider alternative methods to ensure both they and their goods remain here in Joachim forever."

Though Leon spoke in a joking tone, Mireille didn't dare take his words lightly.

She knew full well that the young man before her, who was set to inherit thirteen massive mobile city-states, over a million soldiers, and countless lands spanning millions of kilometers in the northern provinces within a few years, rarely joked about such matters.

Planetary governors might fear offending the powerful merchant dynasties that controlled vast fleets and entire systems, but not all merchants were so untouchable. Most were merely privateers operating under Imperial writ.

"Lord Leon, please watch your words."

Glancing out the door to ensure no one overheard, Mireille breathed a sigh of relief. Then, she raised her voice, speaking in a tone more fitting for a vassal advising their liege.

"You are a colonel of the Planetary Defense Force, and today's visitors carry Imperial warrants. Speaking like that is highly inappropriate!"

"I thought we were friends, Mireille."

Leon turned, locking eyes with the white-haired young woman before him. His voice grew serious.

Finally donning his ornate Planetary Defense Force uniform—far more exquisite than most Imperial military attire, arguably finer than the clothing of 99% of humanity—Leon cut a commanding figure.

Thanks to the Aurelians' intricate relationship with the Ecclesiarchy, the planet of Joachim enjoyed a unique status within the Imperium.

Though its technological and industrial capabilities were sufficient to produce parts for small destroyers and even fully manufacture tiny civilian escort ships, Joachim was officially classified as an agricultural world.

This was, of course, a bureaucratic loophole exploited by the Aurelians, as they had done countless times throughout their history.

In the aftermath of the great rebellion, the Imperium's systems no longer functioned with the ruthless efficiency they once did.

The Imperium's most brilliant Warmaster, Horus, had dealt the war machine a devastating blow.

Though the bloated, labyrinthine bureaucratic system—once praised as eternal and loyal—continued to limp along for ten thousand years, it was but a shadow of its former self.

By leveraging their ties with the Ecclesiarchy—first with the Word Bearers and later with the Terran nobility—the Aurelians had ensured that Joachim was officially designated as an agricultural world supplying luxury crops to garden worlds.

This classification subjected it to far lower taxes than its true capabilities would warrant.

.....

📢30 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

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3. The Merchants

4. The Relic.

5. Holy Grail?! I Became One!

6. The High Heavens, Huh?

7. Opening with the Big Guns, Huh?