Chapter 43 Accidents and Small Transactions

Chapter 43 Accidents and Small Transactions

"Only fifty?"

It was still in the suite arranged for Calvin by the Psychic Seminary. The living room in the front hall was also the office area.

Behind the desk specially prepared for these giants in the scholastic school, on a chair as wide as a throne, Calvin folded his hands and looked playfully at the officials standing in front of him with their heads bowed.

"This does not match the number on the documents you sent."

"Yes, the error was made by our staff and the wrong quantity was sent to you and we would like to apologize for this."

The mid-level official in black robes did not defend himself, but took the blame entirely on himself. But the more seemingly simple the question, the more unconvinced Calvin became.

From the people in front of him, he could smell the nonsense he had encountered in his previous life when he argued with local departments over outstanding soldiers during the recruitment process.

But today is different from the past. He is no longer a platoon leader who has just obtained the rank of second lieutenant. The empire's political system is far dirtier and more complicated than the country where he grew up in his previous life.

He didn't want to get too entangled in this, because he didn't understand the intricate relationships among Terra's forces, and it was not a wise idea to rashly make enemies.

But losses must not be eaten. So after thinking for a while, he looked at the official in front of him and tapped the documents on the table:

"I don't want to know your reasons, I just want the results. Within today, as long as you come up with the same number of qualified soldiers as on this list, I don't care about this mistake."

Originally, Calvin thought that the matter would come to an end, but when he was about to lower his head and continue reading the existing soldier information at hand, he found that the other party had no intention of leaving.

The official neither agreed to Calvin's words nor prepared to pick up the documents and leave. He just maintained the posture of bowing and apologizing.

Calvin's face darkened: trouble is coming.

It seems that this is not an ordinary file writing error. Instead, some force that he didn't know had reached out to his desk.

Calvin is clear about his own level of confidentiality. Calvin could also guess the other party's general thoughts.

On the surface, a mere war group affiliated with the Inquisition is sufficient most of the time, and no one would risk offending them for some small interests.

But what if the benefits are big enough? Than 100 warrior apprentices with good psychic talents?

He squinted his eyes and looked at the silent official in front of him. The person in front of him was most likely just an unlucky guy who was kicked out and used as a scapegoat.

And the real messenger is probably watching his excitement in a corner. And your own handling will also affect the success or failure of the war group's recruitment of soldiers.

He didn't try to communicate with the other party again. How could a scapegoat have the ability to bring the words to the real initiator?

After leaving this door, it must be a question whether the person in front of him can return to his dormitory alive.

Without hesitation, he looked at Paladin Gavins standing on his left and said to him: "Send a message to the Eagle's Nest in orbit. We need Titan to open the Throne Court's contact authority..."

Before he finished speaking, the door to the living room was suddenly pushed open. A young red-robed official walked straight in with a smile on his face.

He looked around for a while, then walked half a step in front of the black-robed official and stopped. After half-bending and saluting Calvin, he introduced himself:

"Good day, angels from the Inquisition. I am Matthews de Sutherland, a first-class knight of the Empire. Currently responsible for the selection of students for the Psychic Seminary."

He stood up straight before waiting for Calvin's permission, then looked directly at Calvin behind the table with a smile and said, "I am here to make a small deal with you."

Halfway through, he raised his hand and pointed at the documents on the table, and continued: "A small transaction regarding this birth."

Seeing the confident mortal bureaucrat in front of him, Calvin did not rush to respond. Thoughts about the causes and consequences of the incident in front of him were spinning rapidly in his mind.

“What gives a mid- to senior-level bureaucrat from a spiritual scholastic school the confidence to stand in front of him and speak eloquently?

The power that his lengthy surname represents? I'm afraid that's not the case. Then a suitable and affordable target must be equally important to him.

Not any illustrious chapter, not any primordial chapter, but preferably an Astartes chapter that has failed to get along and is ultimately dependent on a mortal organization like the Inquisition? "

Thinking of this, Calvin smiled, and suddenly he was no longer eager to punish the madman in front of him. After understanding that his too low-key disguise was also one of the many reasons that contributed to this incident, what he now wants to know more is where the survivors who originally belonged to the Gray Knights ended up.

Calvin lowered his head and thought:

It couldn't be the Star Torch Court. The people there had enough authority to mobilize past recruitment information. They roughly knew the final destination of these people who were taken away by representatives sent by the Tribunal every year;

It can't be the Astra Militarum. Among their recruitment requirements for the psionic side, in addition to the fact that navigators are their core interests that cannot be violated, there are more political commissars and legion psykers who do not require qualitative requirements. Pay more attention to quantity requirements;

Where else? I'm afraid the only think tanks left that are also Astartes will have such highly overlapping needs as those of the Gray Knights, right? So whose conscription world is on Terra? Thinking of this, Calvin already understood the source of the biggest obstacle to this trip.

"So, Imperial Fist? Then does their commander know that you are doing this?"

Calvin suddenly relaxed and leaned back, his huge body making the exquisite antique solid wood chair creak.

He took time to look at the confident young man in front of him, and then told him his problem.

The topic got to the point so quickly, and Matthews's face finally stopped being frivolous after his trump card was revealed. He looked at Calvin seriously and said:

"As your lord thought, the soldiers have been sent to the base of the Imperial Fist. I believe you don't want to have any unpleasantness with these real pillars of the empire."

When he said this, he seemed to be given more confidence by the battle group he was talking about, and continued in a more calm tone:

"The deployment of troops this time is indeed unlucky. It coincides with the Imperial Fists' think tank recruitment, and my brother is also involved. If you are willing to give in, the Sutherland family is willing to remember your friendship."

The words have been said, and the desired news has been finally confirmed. Calvin stopped pretending. He straightened up and looked down at the bureaucrats in front of him. Although the tone of his mouth was not high-pitched, the meaning he spoke was like a knife edge:

"So, what if I don't want to?"

"That won't affect the outcome of this matter. For the sake of our future relationship, I'm sure you won't make such a hasty decision." This was the answer from Matthews.

Now that the matter has come to this, he has nothing to hide. A war group attached to the Tribunal cannot be easily offended in the eyes of the old nobles of the empire, but it is definitely not unoffendable, as long as the price is sufficient.

The force and authority represented by these warriors may be powerful enough for the civilians of the empire or the governors of rural planets in the wilderness. But in the eyes of these nobles who have been rooted in Terra for decades, they are far from sacrosanct.

In Matthews' eyes, if you still can't reach an agreement with the other party after expressing your attitude and paying the price as much as possible, then you are offended.

This was neither the first time nor the last time in his and his fathers' short lives.

“For the prosperity and continuation of the family, sending their children to the Imperial Fists, which is essentially responsible for the local defense of Terra, has been their tradition for decades, and it will never be disrupted by the actions of a certain war group. "

Matthews thought so and did the same thing. But what is different from before is that the targets he carefully selected this time may have some essential differences from those selected by his fathers.