“Finally…”
Merlin leaned against the exquisite floor-to-ceiling window of brass and quartz, looking down at the bustling crowds of the upper Hive City.
“Albert, tell them who I am.”
Standing beside Merlin was Albert, his tall, elderly butler.
At his master’s command, Albert took a deep breath.
“Standing before you is the heir to the Priestley Rogue Trader dynasty, Pioneer of the Halo Stars, Lord of Granria III, ruler of Gran Hive City, bearer of the sacred Warrant of Trade—the great Lord Merlin F.
Priestley.”
“That’s right.”
Merlin smiled.
Ever since he had transmigrated into the Warhammer 40K universe, he had never felt as triumphant as he did today.
Warhammer 40K—a gothic space opera, a world of swords and sorcery filled with elves, dwarfs, and orks, a dark age where “there is only war,” a…
gigantic cesspit.
Fortunately, Merlin had transmigrated into a remote Rogue Trader dynasty.
As a member of a cadet branch, he had relied on his family’s wealth to live a simple, ordinary life, untouched by war and political strife—though he had never really had much say over his own future.
But in the Warhammer universe, that already counted as hitting the jackpot.
Yet whether it was fate or the scheme of some Chaos God…
after a sudden raid by space pirates, the entire Priestley Rogue Trader dynasty was left with Merlin as its sole heir.
Rogue Traders were the frontier pioneers of the Imperium of Man.
Acting under warrants issued by Terra, they were free to explore the distant reaches of the galaxy and enjoyed an extraordinary degree of autonomy.
And the [Priestley] Rogue Trader dynasty Merlin was about to inherit could trace its origins all the way back to the 30K era, ten thousand years ago.
Although the dynasty had long since declined and its influence was now limited to the remote star system beneath his feet, that hardly mattered.
This was the late 40K era.
The Great Rift had yet to open, and Guilliman was still in stasis.
As a Rogue Trader, Merlin’s authority was practically limitless!
A vast galaxy lay before him, filled with possibilities!
Thinking about it, Merlin couldn’t help pacing back and forth in front of the window.
Should he focus on building up his resources first, or deal with the threat of the space pirates?
“My Lord,” Albert called out.
“The succession ceremony requires you to visit the Warrant Hall and pay your respects to the Priestley family’s sacred [Warrant of Trade].
Please follow me.”
The Warrant of Trade.
Right, the Warrant of Trade.
He had almost forgotten about that.
A Rogue Trader’s authority came from their Warrant of Trade.
Issued under the authority of Terra, such documents granted Rogue Trader dynasties varying degrees of power depending on who had signed them.
If a Warrant of Trade had personally been signed by the ruler of the Imperium of Man, the [Emperor]…
then its bearer could practically go anywhere with it.
And even if it hadn’t been signed by the Emperor Himself, the authority of a warrant signed ten thousand years ago by one of His [Primarchs] would be equally unquestionable.
Filled with anticipation, Merlin followed the old butler and pushed open the heavy doors of the Warrant Hall.
The magnificent, gold-adorned hall was filled with the scent of sacred Mechanicus oils and incense.
Inside a frame crafted from pure gold rested an ancient, heavy sheet of parchment.
Magnificent.
Merlin excitedly stepped forward and carefully examined the Warrant of Trade.
[…According to my will and the true contents of this document…]
He had to admit, the handwriting on the warrant was far more delicate and rounded than he had imagined.
It almost looked…
Like it had been written by a girl.
[…I appoint Merlin F.
Priestley as the bearer of this Warrant of Trade, entrusting this person with my dynasty and its great mission…]
Merlin was somewhat surprised that this ancestor had shared his name.
But that wasn’t important.
What mattered was who had actually signed it.
Merlin stared intently at the bottom of the warrant, carefully deciphering the ornate High Gothic signature.
Hmm…
War…
Warma…
Warmaster.
Who?
Merlin blinked hard and unconsciously leaned forward, trying to make out the signature.
Warm…
Warmaster?!
[Warmaster Horus Lupercal]
[♡]
“This…?”
Merlin didn’t know whether it was just his imagination, but at the very bottom of the Warrant of Trade, the drop of Horus’s own blood used as a seal seemed to have formed an eerily perfect heart.
“Hiss…”
Merlin couldn’t help taking several steps backward.
What do you mean our family’s Warrant of Trade was signed by Horus?!
Horus was indeed a Primarch, and the Warmaster at that…
but he—
Was a traitor!
How was this any different from carrying a travel permit signed by Benedict Arnold?!
“It’s fine…
it’s fine.
Don’t panic.
Don’t panic.”
Merlin took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down.
“It’s fine.
As long as we can pay the full Imperial Tithe, surely the Inquisition won’t give us too much trouble.”
“Don’t you agree, Albert?”
In the Imperium of Man, paying the tithe came first.
The Priestley family had safely survived ten thousand years of history before Merlin inherited it.
Surely, as long as they stayed away from heresy and paid their tithes on time, the Inquisition would turn a blind eye.
Yes.
As long as they could pay the tithe on time, everything would be fine.
“…”
However, Albert remained silent.
Merlin suddenly had a very bad feeling.
“Albert.”
“We…
we can pay the tithe, right?”
“My Lord.
The Inquisitorial vessel responsible for our sector is already more than three hundred years overdue.”
“And the mineral resources our planet used to pay the tithe were exhausted two hundred years ago.”
Albert didn’t say it outright, but the meaning was obvious.
They couldn’t pay.
“…Fine.”
Merlin felt sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.
“It’s fine…
we still have time.”
It was only a few hundred years of unpaid tithes!
If the Inquisition was already three hundred years late, who could say they wouldn’t be another three hundred years late?
Time was still on his side.
Yes!
Exactly!
Merlin clearly remembered that the Granria System lay at the very edge of the Segmentum Obscurus, separated from the heartlands of the Imperium by a region of violent Warp disturbances.
Under normal circumstances, Inquisitorial vessels rarely passed through this region.
He still had a chance!
As long as he worked hard to develop his territory and governed it properly, paying off a few centuries of overdue tithes wasn’t entirely impossible!
Merlin’s spirits soared.
He was a Rogue Trader who wouldn’t abandon hope or give up!
From this moment onward, he would write his own legendary chapter in the depths of despair!
“Albert, now isn’t the time to give up!”
“As long as the Inquisition doesn’t come here anytime soon, we still have—”
“My Lord, it’s worse than that,” Albert interrupted bitterly.
“A warship of the Dark Angels has sent us a signal.
They’re about to emerge from the Warp and arrive in the Granria System.”
“It appears we have something here that interests them.”
Dark…
Dark Angels…
Gulp.
At the name, Merlin swallowed hard.
The Dark Angels—a Space Marine Chapter famous for keeping secrets.
Their specialty?
Extremely professional interrogations.
Before the Dark Angels, there were no secrets.
And now something even more ominous than an Inquisitorial vessel was heading straight toward them with a clear objective…
Merlin could only hope they were coming to issue an Exterminatus order.
At least then he’d die quickly.
“…Albert.”
“I need you to answer my next question honestly.”
Merlin stiffly turned his head toward him.
“My Lord, please ask.”
“Did the Rogue Trader title fall to me because all the other heirs in the family ran away?”
“That space pirate raid was staged, wasn’t it?”
Sweat poured down Merlin’s face.
So there really was a fake-death conspiracy involved?!
“…”
Faced with his question, Albert lowered his golden eyes and remained silent.
And sometimes, silence was an answer.
“Damn it!”
Without another word, Merlin turned and bolted for the door.
Run!!!
“My Lord, don’t run!
We still have hope!”
“Don’t run?!
If I don’t run, am I supposed to stay here and wait for death?!”
“Hurry!
Pack up whatever assets we have left and get us out of here as fast as possible!”
“Wait, my Lord.”
The surprisingly agile old butler quickly caught up with Merlin.
“Look over there first.
The hope I mentioned wasn’t merely empty consolation.”
He stepped in front of Merlin and pointed toward the candelabrum before the Warrant of Trade.
There, resting on the table, was a small golden box that Merlin had previously overlooked.
“An ancient relic of the Priestley family,” Albert explained.
“Legend has it that it was a gift from Warmaster Horus before his betrayal of the Imperium.”
A gift from Horus?
Merlin immediately had a bad feeling.
“Please rest assured.
Over the past ten thousand years, Tech-Priests have examined it many times.
They have confirmed that this object bears absolutely no trace of Chaos corruption.”
“And according to prophecy, it will protect the descendants of the Priestley Rogue Trader dynasty and accomplish an impossible—
“Miracle.”
“If you have decided to open it, I will wait outside.”
With that, Albert turned and walked through the doors.
Merlin was left alone in the magnificent Warrant Hall.
“Can it really…
create a miracle?”
He slowly approached the small golden box and ran his hands across the exquisite openwork relief decorating its surface.
An artifact capable of creating miracles…
Could it be?
Could this finally be the “golden finger”—the cheat ability every transmigrator dreamed of—that Merlin had been waiting for ever since arriving in the Warhammer universe?
Click.
He released the metal clasp and solemnly opened the box.
“This is…”
The instant Merlin looked inside, he froze.
It wasn’t a golden finger.
It was a gold ring.
An ancient gold ring engraved with a lifelike centaur archer.
A centaur.
A gold ring.
“…”
Slam!
Merlin shut the box with a dark expression.
“I knew it!”
He had been so stupid.
Seriously!
How could he possibly have expected anything good from a gift left by Horus?!
The sight of the Ring of Sagittarius immediately dredged up a cursed bit of 30K trivia from Merlin’s memory.
The Emperor had once given Horus an old gold ring and told him that Horus was His Sagittarius.
Back then, Horus had looked indescribably proud, as though he could hear the entire Imperium whispering his name.
Those thirty years…
Those had been the most stable years of his life.
Those thirty years had been the time when his ideals and—
Enough!
Merlin violently shook his head, trying to throw the cursed nonsense out of his mind.
I’ve had enough!
Get it out of my head!
And Horus, have you completely lost your mind?
What’s the meaning of giving me a Ring of Sagittarius?
Do I look like the Emperor?!
“It’s hopeless!”
“Albert!
Get our transport ready to dep—”
Just as the despairing Merlin turned to leave, the Ring of Sagittarius inside the box suddenly erupted with brilliant light, completely engulfing him.
[Thirty Years, Centaur, Gold Ring]
[In Progress…
First Simulation]
[Target: Death World | Caliban]
In the final instant before his consciousness faded, Merlin seemed to hear a voice.
Whoosh—
And then everything vanished.
The magnificent Warrant Hall fell silent once more.
It really helps the fic grow!