The scene before them made it obvious that the mechanical factory had been shut down for quite some time.
The warehouse was filled with humanoid machines dressed in simple skirts. Beneath those clothes lay crudely constructed humanoid silicone bodies.
The machines had not been properly stored or maintained. They lay scattered at odd angles, and some had fallen to the floor and spilled their components without anyone bothering to pick them up.
Worse still, glowing red electronic seals covered every entrance to the factory.
The text displayed upon them showed that the Imperial Market Regulation Department had sealed the facility pending investigation.
"O Machine Goddess, our forge-workshop is about to go bankrupt. Who knows how much compensation we'll have to pay..."
Magos Prik lay sprawled across a mechanical platform, gloomily drinking a can of nearly expired fortified fuel.
Many similar cans littered the floor around him.
Given his disastrous financial situation and mountain of debt, the Magos could afford only discounted fuel that was nearing its expiration date. All he could do was drink away his sorrows.
And that was still the best-case scenario.
If all his creditors came knocking, he would not even be able to afford low-grade fuel. His only forge-workshop would be seized to repay his debts.
Then he would have no choice but to become an assistant in another Magos's workshop, with no chance of ever running a forge of his own again.
For a Magos, losing one's forge-workshop was little different from being cast into the streets. His research career would be cut short, and he would fall to the absolute bottom of the cogboy pecking order.
Perhaps even his former instructor at the Forge Academy would use him as a cautionary tale when educating new tech-apprentices.
"How did I end up like this?"
Prik sighed repeatedly. His electronic voice carried a deep sense of despair, and his mechanical limbs hung limply at his sides.
He was a graduate of the Forge Academy. Although he could not be considered a genius, he had been an outstanding Tech-Priest and had acquired his own forge-workshop at an early age.
Not only that, but the automated combat machines he designed possessed formidable offensive capabilities. They had successfully passed Imperial inspection, entered the Imperium's military arsenal, and earned him a considerable number of orders.
By any standard, he had been a successful cogboy.
Prik had once believed he could continue advancing in the field of combat automata, then use his superior technology, research achievements, and military contracts to rise through the ranks and become an Archmagos.
Unfortunately, just after he invested vast resources into expanding his factory and constructing additional production lines and laboratories, the Imperium shifted its focus toward the civilian economy.
It began restricting the size of the military and the scale of weapons manufacturing. Subsidies for related fields of research also began to decline.
Prik's combat automata were powerful, but their overall performance could not compete with other models, and their bodies suffered relatively severe wear and tear. Naturally, they were placed on the list of products scheduled for "industrial transformation."
Of course, that was only part of the reason.
More importantly, the Forge World where his workshop was located had been designated as one of the principal planets targeted by the Imperium's restructuring plans.
There was nothing anyone could do about it. This sector contained too many Forge Worlds, resulting in a massive surplus of military manufacturing capacity.
The neighboring warehouse worlds had become unable to bear the burden. There had even been a major administrative disaster in which the landmass of one warehouse world collapsed beneath the sheer weight of the goods stored upon it.
As a result, they had the misfortune of attracting official scrutiny. Several Forge Worlds were forced to transition into producing civilian machinery.
Prik's forging technology was not advanced enough for the relevant authorities to grant him an exemption. Naturally, his forge-workshop had to transform alongside the rest of its Forge World.
If restructuring had been the only problem, he would never have fallen so far.
Many other forge-workshops on the same planet had performed quite well after entering the civilian machinery market.
Some Magi had even adapted perfectly and built thriving businesses.
Prik's situation had become so disastrous because he lacked the necessary skills for the transition and committed major errors in both technical development and business strategy.
The problem lay in his own personality and abilities.
Prik had always subscribed to the technological philosophy that firepower was everything. He specialized in killing machines.
Asking him to transition into civilian machinery was practically torture.
After several months of intense deliberation, Prik and his subordinate cogboys finally decided upon a new direction.
They would manufacture domestic servant automata designed to perform household chores, protect their owners, and handle other everyday tasks.
Prik even came up with what he considered a brilliant idea. He added a special companionship function so the automata could soothe the lonely hearts of their masters.
That would surely make the product far more competitive.
"O Machine Goddess, this is a perfect product! I'm certain the domestic servant automata we manufacture will be sold across every corner of the Imperium.
"Nobles and elites alike will shower them with praise!"
That was what Prik had believed at the time.
Unfortunately, he was a cogboy who specialized in killing machines, not an enthusiast of two-dimensional culture or a regular visitor to certain forums.
He had no understanding whatsoever of the finer principles behind designing special companionship automata. The relevant functions he created were excessively rough, forceful, and powerful.¹
Even after the finished product was covered in silicone skin, its appearance remained unsatisfactory and catered to an extremely unusual aesthetic.
Put simply, it matched Prik's personal tastes. Its style remained hard-edged and heavily influenced by killing machines.
Fortunately, his product had entered the market early, and its unusual concept filled a previously empty niche.
For a while, it sold surprisingly well.
The first batch of companion-type domestic automata sold out almost instantly, and many additional orders followed.
"O Machine Goddess, perhaps I'm a genius in this field!"
Prik had been overjoyed. Filled with confidence, he poured even more resources into the business, expanded his production lines, and manufactured an enormous stockpile.
Only later did he discover that most of the customers who had purchased his domestic automata were fellow cogboys.
They bought the machines so they could replace the outer coverings and modify them for personal use. Some even used Prik's designs as a foundation for building killing machines.
After all, the domestic automata's underlying code and internal structure were exceptionally well suited for modification and the installation of lethal weapon systems.
A small portion of the customers also modified them into anime-style domestic automata.
Ordinary customers had actually accounted for only a tiny fraction of his sales.
Then other domestic automata began appearing on the market. They had better designs, more affordable prices, and came in every conceivable variety, including young women, anime characters, muscular men, and many others.
Sales of Prik's special companion-type domestic automata immediately collapsed, leaving his warehouses packed to the ceiling with unsold products.
With so many alternatives available, only a tiny number of customers and gentlemen remained interested in such excessively hardcore domestic automata. Prik could not sell them even after slashing the price!
The situation left him frantic with anxiety.
Two consecutive expansions of his production lines, combined with the massive unsold inventory, had completely exhausted his reserves.
He had even accumulated a considerable amount of debt.
Worse still, problems began emerging among the companion-type domestic automata he had already sold.
His designs were far too forceful and even incorporated actual weapons.
At first, those powerful and exciting features had received favorable reviews.
There were reports of domestic automata destroying assassins, driving away mutant beasts, and protecting the lives of honored users and small children.
Then the negative reviews began to multiply.
Some complained that the domestic automata were too strong, causing them to smash furniture or break through floors. There were even cases in which people had been injured.
The most severely injured, and by far the most troublesome victim, was a veteran instructor at the Loyalist Academy.
The academy's instructors were counted among the Imperium's elite.
Many of the students they educated went on to serve throughout every field of Imperial society, attaining considerable social status and influence.
That particular instructor had secretly used a special companion-type domestic automaton inside the academy dormitory. Unfortunately, the machine malfunctioned during use and inflicted severe injuries across several parts of his body.²
The good news was that the accident triggered an alarm. A squad of Sisters Hospitaller arrived in time and saved the life of an outstanding Loyalist Academy instructor.
The bad news was that he had to be carried out while still entangled with the domestic automaton.
Many people witnessed the scene, and the incident became news.
Afterward, the humiliated instructor could not swallow his anger. He joined the other victims in filing a lawsuit against Prik and his forge-workshop.
They declared that it was a murderous product and denounced the Magos's forge-workshop as a heartless manufacturer that had gravely violated Imperial law.
The incident attracted the attention of the relevant regulatory agencies, prompting them to establish new industry standards for domestic automata to ensure human safety.
As for Prik, his fate was even more miserable.
Inspectors from the Market Department arrived and immediately sealed his factory, ordering him to suspend all production indefinitely until every lawsuit had been resolved and the necessary corrections completed.
Gritting his teeth, Prik emptied the last of his reserves to compensate every injured customer and reach settlements with them.
"Heartless cogboys must pay a painful price!"
However, the Loyalist Academy instructor continued to refuse any settlement.
He rejected all compensation. The incident had left him too ashamed to continue teaching his students, forcing him to ask another elite instructor to substitute for him.¹
The victim wanted nothing more than to see the terrible, heartless forge-workshop that had so gravely injured him go bankrupt!
"I committed an unforgivable error..." Prik could understand his feelings.
The machine he had forged had caused irreversible damage to the man's dignity. That was an undeniable fact.
"O Machine Goddess, all of you should leave. I can no longer afford to pay your wages."
Prik looked at the dust-covered furnaces and the Tech-Priests who had helped him construct this workshop. His voice was filled with helplessness.
They had once shared the same dream: to manufacture the most powerful and destructive combat automata imaginable.
Yet reality was cruel.
They could no longer continue their research.
No one needed the killing-machine technology in which they took such pride.
The forge-workshop remained deathly silent. The mechanical roar coming from outside only deepened their despair.
Under the Machine Goddess's blessing, the furnaces of every other forge-workshop were operating at full capacity, continuously producing new mechanical creations.
How could it not hurt?
Suddenly, Prik's servo-skull lit up as someone contacted him. Its electronic eye projected a holographic image of a man's upper body.
The moment Prik recognized the caller, he sprang up from the mechanical platform. The other Tech-Priests also turned their attention toward the projection.
The Loyalist Academy instructor had come to demand justice.
"Lord Pinos, the creations of this forge-workshop caused you grievous harm. In the name of the Machine Goddess, I offer you my sincerest apology."
Prik bowed with complete sincerity.
He genuinely could not afford to offend a senior instructor from the Loyalist Academy.
The Magos spoke slowly, his voice becoming increasingly hoarse.
"We will satisfy every one of your demands and permanently close this forge-workshop as you requested.
"All resources and proceeds obtained by mortgaging and selling the workshop will be used first to compensate you for your losses..."
He had already accepted that the forge-workshop would go bankrupt and leave him buried beneath a mountain of debt.
He had even contacted another Magos's laboratory and arranged to work there tightening bolts so he could earn enough money to repay what he owed.
When Prik said those words, the Tech-Priests around him became even more dejected.
They were about to lose everything they had worked for, with no chance of ever recovering it.
"Magos, I will not accept your compensation. Doing so would contradict my principles as an educator.
"Do you truly believe closing this forge-workshop will solve the problem?"
The moment Pinos saw Prik, anger rose within him as memories of that unbearable experience returned.
That companion-type domestic automaton had been terrifying. After losing control, it had nearly crushed this elderly gentleman flat beneath its weight!
The old instructor's words left Prik stunned. He could not understand what the man meant.
Did Pinos intend to hold him responsible for even more?
Prik had nothing left with which to compensate him.
"O Machine Goddess, what else would you have me do besides closing the factory? If it is within my power..."
"No. I have changed my mind. I no longer demand that you close the forge-workshop. Keep it operational.
"The great Savior has issued his Supreme Directive. The Imperium has entered total war, and humanity requires more forge-workshops.
"I am a civics instructor at the Loyalist Academy and a gardener of the Imperium. I have devoted my entire life to cultivating talented individuals. How could I allow a private grudge to interfere with the Imperium's greater interests?"
Pinos's voice overflowed with righteousness and loyalty toward the Savior and the Imperium.
"I have withdrawn my lawsuit and will no longer pursue your responsibility.
"My only hope is that you will put this forge-workshop to good use and serve the Imperium more effectively."
After saying that, the instructor immediately severed the connection, as though he could not bear to remain for even one more second.
The mere sight of the forge-workshop and the domestic automata inside it now made him tremble. A certain part of his body even began aching faintly.
"Did he... Did he just say he was withdrawing the lawsuit and wouldn't hold us responsible?"
"O Machine Goddess!"
"Our forge-workshop can finally be unsealed and begin operating again!"
"What in the world happened?"
Pinos's final words sent Prik and the other Tech-Priests into a frenzy of excitement. Yet none of them understood why he had suddenly made such a decision.
Could it truly have been out of loyalty?
In reality, that was only part of the reason, and certainly not the most important one.
Ever since Pinos and the domestic automaton had been carried out of the Loyalist Academy while still entangled together, his personal reputation had plummeted.
For an instructor, that was devastating. It had severely damaged his teaching career and hindered his ability to continue serving the Imperium.
He had been too ashamed even to return to the Loyalist Academy and resume his classes.
Fortunately, as an instructor at the Academy of Statecraft, Pinos possessed ample knowledge and experience.
Upon hearing the declaration of total war, he quickly devised a solution to his problem.
He would forgive the heartless Magos and his forge-workshop in the name of total war and humanity's greater interests.
Not only would he forgive them, but he would also help appeal their case.
Through this brilliant maneuver, Pinos transformed himself from a scandal-ridden instructor into a broad-minded, magnanimous, and loyal educator who embodied the righteousness and selfless devotion of the Imperium of Man.
For the sake of the greater good, he was willing to forgive the man who had injured him and allow that man to continue serving the Imperium.
What extraordinary loyalty!
With that, the incident would no longer be remembered as a scandal. Instead, it would become an inspiring story worthy of widespread praise.
Of course, certain details would have to be concealed, such as precisely how Pinos had been injured.
Moreover, the incident showcased his professional ability.
He was an outstanding statecraft instructor who could fully comprehend the Savior's intentions while swiftly reversing public opinion when it turned against him.
Even those who knew the full story would give him a thumbs-up.
The Academy of Statecraft might even award Pinos its Model Instructor Award for the year.
After all, he had forgiven the forge-workshop, refused all compensation, and even helped appeal its case so it could be unsealed sooner and resume forging weapons for humanity.
All of that was true.
It also conformed perfectly to the Imperium's current administrative priorities and public sentiment, so he naturally deserved a reward.
Without question, the Imperium was about to embark upon a magnificent campaign of mass production and manufacturing. Every available resource would be put to use.
In short, Pinos was already distributing official statements everywhere in preparation for his return to the Loyalist Academy.
Admittedly, doing so required remarkably thick skin. However, possessing immense psychological resilience was an essential quality for any administrative official.
"Praise the Omnissiah!"
Inside the forge-workshop, Prik and the other Tech-Priests grew increasingly excited.
The Market Administration Department had already lifted the seals upon their workshop, allowing it to resume operations.
Even more fortunately, they had received an order from the Department of Military Affairs.
The only disappointment was that the order was not for finished killing machines. It requested only certain components and weapon modules for combat automata.
The reason was simple.
After years of preparation by the Imperial Court, the Department of Military Affairs, the Department of Economic Affairs, and several other relevant authorities, the threat posed by the Necron xenos had finally driven them to activate a new production system capable of encompassing the Imperium's entire territory...
(End of Chapter)
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