The choice was obvious when I thought about it. I would have to find myself some melee specialists to train the soldiers under my command, the advantage could prove to be invaluable once I joined in ship-to-ship combat. But I also wanted to upgrade the general weaponry available to my soldiers. The voidsmen would need Shotcannons instead of the regular Ironclaw shotguns, and the voidmasters would enjoy being upgraded to the Lucius pattern mark 22c revolver/shotgun hybrid, preferred by the Death Korps of Krieg combat engineers. This would free a hand to wield a melee weapon, instead of relying on a cumbersome shotgun requiring both hands. maybe 400 or so of the Lathe pattern Boarding gun. The extreme recoil meant that only the biggest and strongest of the voidsmen could use it, but that would only add to the effect of boarding parties. The larger shells and the fact that it could fire all 3 barrels at once, meant that it could pulp anything that wasn't clad in copious amounts of serious armor. Of course, it had a rather limited range, but for combat in void ships, it was perfect, the cramped and snaking corridors making optimal conditions for just such a weapon.

A standard close-combat weapon would also have to be chosen and trained with, again, something that would give me the most bang for my buck. Axes were a good contender, but since they were favored by renegades and heretics, it would paint the wrong image of my soldiers, and it could not parry effectively as well. No, it would have to be some form of blade and I was leaning toward Falchions. Heavier than the cutlass and combining the best aspects of both the sword and the axe, they would deliver the results I desired, and with just a little gold ornamentation and a skull or two, they would look oh so good, when lining up to impress Imperial representatives.

Of course, all of this was going to cost me a not insignificant amount of Imperial Thrones, but since I was going to a feudal world anyway, the blades would at least be cheap and well-made. I could pick up the guns at Bakka station, but I would either have to pay up or offer up my services as payment. One would not think it initially, but the freedom offered to my position could be a massive boon to any of the organizations in the Imperium, apart from the Inquisition. My best bet would be the Mechanicus, but I was not keen on dealing with those technophile zealots. It was more than enough to have to deal with my own Enginseer regularly. I could put in a requisition with the Administratum and receive my shipment in 15 or so years, my rank DID afford me some priority in regards to requisition requests. Naturally, I would have to go outside the official channels.

We reached Bakka station within the next day and I was informed over the vox that that an Ultramarine, Captain Acheran, Master of the Watch, would be ready to receive me upon my arrival. We docked without much fuss and after convincing Trokk that he did not need the maul he now carried with him everywhere, ever since the incident with the apostates on the ship he and I walked off the ship, followed by the commissar and Elris.

There was no need to ask around to find Captain Acheran, as he was standing a few hundred meters away, helmet tucked under his arm, sharp facial features adorned with a stoic look of quiet contemplation. Even without an honor guard, I had no doubts as to who he was. His mere presence was dominating, even from this distance. He commandeered your attention and drew it toward himself. The crisp blue of his armor stood out among the green, grey, and gold ships, and he towered above the regular humans scurrying around, dealing with a thousand different and menial tasks. He did not carry his bolter, but the chainsword on his hip was almost as big as I was tall. There was no amount of written lore from back home that could ever do justice to the aura of sheer intimidation that oozed from this man. He was wound up like a bowstring at the moment before you release the arrow, the destructive potential of this behemoth of a man, wearing enough armor to put a tank from my own world to shame, was nothing short of mind-shattering, and I had to stop myself from gawking as we walked toward him.

Sure, I had met Astartes before, Demias to be specific, but he was nothing like the individual I was now facing. Demias, even with his honor guard, could potentially, although the chance would have been very slim, have been defeated by the collective effort of my ship. But this captain, growing larger as I approached, crushed any such illusions. If he so desired, his natural advantages combined with the 800 years of active service, indicated by the gold studs on his forehead, meant he alone could take out me and everyone I commanded with disgusting ease.

"Trader Björk. Welcome to Bakka Naval base." Acheran's voice was comprised of gravel and rusted iron, the hoarse voice of a man that had been yelling orders and cursing his enemies for centuries. A man that had watched the decline of the Imperium he fought for, slow and agonizing, while he fought to preserve it. He looked every bit of his age and an aura of death and duty hung around him like a miasma, permeating the very air I breathed. Shooting glances at Elris and the commissar, I saw that they felt it as well, being near a being so powerful it bordered on incredulity. Even Trokk's lumbering footsteps behind me had become more hesitant, slower, and not as confident.

I was still a bit of a way away when the Captain spoke to me, and I had to raise my voice when I answered, "Thank you Captain Acheran, it is good to finally make port, even if it just for a short while."

"You wished to speak to an Astartes representative upon your arrival. Speak." While not displeased, Acheran sounded Impatient, a rare thing for an Astartes to display emotion to a mortal, but then again, Master of the watch, Captain of the 2nd company of the Ultramarines chapter, was not a regular Astartes.

"I plan to visit a feudal world, both for resupply and re-armament. However, I thought it prudent to seek information on the systems near the veiled region before I do so, as I plan to make excursions into the area and bring the Emperor's light to the shrouded hideout for heretics and renegades." I saw no reason to dance around the subject, especially not faced with a disgruntled Astartes Captain, "And I would like to offer my services, humble as they may be, in exchange for said information. I am certain you have minor tasks that are better suited for someone of less import to the safety of the Imperium."

I had no way to read the face of superhuman standing tall in front of me, but I hoped my passive skill for interaction with strangers would help me.

"A moment, please," Acheran said as he put on his helmet and I heard the muted click of his internal vox activating. Figures, he would vox back to ask the chapter master. I could almost hear the internal grinding mantra that most assuredly rang continuously inside of his head. "The Codex Astartes does not support this action". I swear, if I actually hear that sentence, I will have to use all my willpower to not mock whoever says it. I know it would be a serious health hazard to do so, but damn it, no book could ever account for every possible situation!

I waited for a minute before the helmet was removed again and Acheran fixed me with a stare that was, well, not friendly but at least not hostile either. "There may be something we can use you for," He rumbled, and the wording perplexed me for a second before I reminded myself how the Imperium worked, "The feudal world of Slud has had issues, and it has been decreed that a change in governor is needed. Since your intended destination happens to be our target of interest, we have a common goal. You will travel to Slud and take care of this situation in the Emperor's name." It was not a request but an order, and something bristled in me at the thought.

"I shall do this for you, Captain, but only because I so chose. As you said, we have a common goal, and doing this will benefit Imperium and allow me to accomplish my task at the same time." I had to cement a reputation for not getting pushed around and that meant pushing back against these minor attacks on my authority. Yes, it was a literal superhuman standing in front of me, a mere mortal, but my Imperial authority rivaled that of his immediate superior, the chapter master of the Ultramarines. My wording let him know that I wished to perform my duty as an Imperial subject, but also that I had my own agenda and I would not allow anyone to interfere with it.

"As it must be" Acheran rumbled in reply, "All the relevant information has been forwarded to your ship. Take heed, Slud is a pre-industrial society and it is the wish of the Imperium that they remain unaware of the larger galaxy in general. Weapons and equipment planetside will be restricted to pre-industrial equipment only, to keep up the illusion. Breach of this order of secrecy will result in the immediate termination of the transgressor. Praise the Emperor." There was something incredibly intimidating about the way Acheran conveyed the threat. He had not moved a muscle, and yet his entire being was pressing down on me like a blanket made from adamantium and ceramite. Deciding he had spent enough of his valuable time on a mere mortal, however glorious my designated position deemed me, he turned on his heel and walked away without another word.

I should not be surprised by the casual dismissal of someone, not an Astartes, especially not from a chapter o fanatically codex compliant as the Ultramarines. A small cough made me turn my head and the young commissar caught my eyes before he presented the Aquila, as stiff and formal as if he was being inspected by a former teacher from the Schola Progenium. When I had returned the salute he, to my great surprise, reached out a hand and I did not hesitate to extend my own in a warm handshake. "While you are as unconventional and strange as I was told, and your methods border on the heretical, I cannot argue with the results or the faith of your character. Trokk has also taken well to you, which I must admit is a bit of a surprise. He was a... Difficult, subject, very willful, and stubborn. But the Promotion to Bone Head did wonders for his ability to understand the need to obey his superiors. So to see him bond to you without much issue is... Enigmatic. I have asked him, but all he says is that you make happy noises. You will have to forgive me for asking, but could you elaborate on the subject?"

The question was innocent enough, and his tone was light, but there was the slightest hint of a twinkle, deep in his eyes, and the tingling sensation along my spine was driving me crazy. I was balancing on the border between believable eccentricity and perceived heresy.

"I whistle, commissar. Just random little happy tunes." I answered lightly, doing my best to come off as unbothered and slightly amused.

"I see," His voice remained carefully neutral, and his next words were as predictable as they were expected. "And what can bring about such joy, besides a perverse reveling in your newly acquired power?"

"Why, having done a good day's work in the name of the Emperor, commissar. Does it not bring you immense joy to carry out the Emperor's will?" I kept my voice light and chipper, but the trap had been laid and the commissar knew it just as well as I. He could say yes, at which point he would have to relent on this last attempt to wrestle my authority from me under the guise of Imperial duty. Or he could say no and stick to his accusations against me, calling his faith into question near an Inquisitorial agent in the form of Elris, who was standing less than 6 feet from him. The crooked and amused smile on her face did not escape my attention

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"Of course it does!" The young commissar almost spat out the words in indignation over that implication, had he disagreed, and I got the thought that this might cause a divide between us, if I didn't try mending it posthaste.

"As I rightly assumed. Your dedication has been an inspiration to my crew and I will not forget the service you have provided on my ship." I was being honest and my voice betrayed that, turning the sour look on the face of the commissar to one of appeased calm. "But try whistling around the Ogryn, commissar. It does not matter what tune you whistle, they seem to respond well to the sound itself." He made a neutral grunt and stepped back, leaving me to turn to Elris.

"I am staying until tomorrow. Your crew will need a little shore leave, and if you are looking to rearm your troops, I think it's best if I escort you to the Ecclesiarchial representative on the naval base, and help you requisition what you need. Within reason of course." She was being formal, but I had a feeling she also wanted to say goodbye in private. So be it, one last time before we hit the open road.

"Of course, I only seek to rearm the voidsmen and guardsmen. Lascarbines for the Guardsmen, shotcannons for the voidsmen, Lucius pattern mark 22c for the voidmasters, and around 400 Lathe pattern boarding guns. I figured the offset of the downgrading from Lasrifles to Lascarbines will make it equal out and if not, I am sure something can be worked out." I laid out what I needed and her eyes widened slightly.

"That's all? I thought you wanted to refit the ship." She exclaimed in surprise as she realized I was being serious.

"Yes, that is all. Everything beyond that will have to be earned by smart choices and hard work." I told her and she nodded slowly in understanding. I wanted to prove my worth before claiming more resources. At least that's how she interpreted it. I only saw it as a way to not strain my relationship with the Inquisition by being a burden.

She nodded and we went on our way. I acquired the upgrade in weapons from the Naval Bases' armory and got my stocks of basic supplies refilled. I granted a full day of leave for everyone that was not indentured or part of a penal crew, and it took almost a week before we had cycled through the crew, at which time I had been in contact with the planetary governor of Slud, the pompous fool was blissfully ignorant of the danger he was currently placed in. I also learned the reason for the needing change in leadership on Slud. The planetary governor, Dartsma Ret, had chosen to dramatically increase the price he charged the Imperium for his world's ores. It was then that Imperial authorities decided to replace him with a more cooperative puppet, and where I came into the picture.

Had any other representative of the Imperium arrived in orbit, he would have been immediately suspicious and have fled planetside, where they would have to restrict themselves in the gear they used to combat the troops loyal to him, out of fear of the planet's population learning that more advanced technology existed. But as a rogue trader, and especially one looking to rearm his troops with quality melee weapons from a feudal world, I was not only able to arrive without suspicion but I would be welcomed with open arms as an opportunity to increase the size of their coffers was always jumped at by such individuals.

I also spent my 5 points while cursing the system regularly for not granting me completed status on my quest to become a rogue trader, and after many restless hours, the only reason I could think of was that the Inquisition was not allowing me to roam as free as I liked to think. Which meant, they have me under strict surveillance. So naturally, I made sure to spend copious amounts of time at the cathedral on the station. A large amount of time spent praying meant that I gained quite a lot of litanies and a positive shift in my alignment. As for my points, I put 3 points into will, 1 into Agility, and 1 into Perception. I also spent time going over the accuracy exercise charts from the drills that were constantly being run by my crew. I was looking and hoping to find a trooper with over 95% accuracy. I had a plan to take the most accurate of my troopers and turn them into a support unit that would be used to pick off targets of interest, commanders, and officers, while the bulk of regular troopers made sure to keep the enemy occupied. In the end, my status screen looked pretty good.

HUMAN. LEVEL 6.

STAT POINTS REMAINING: 0

ALIGNMENT: FAITHFUL IMPERIAL+

LITANIES: 62

AUGMENTATIONS: Cybernetic lung(upgrade lvl1, Toxins/environment)

LEVEL:9818/19200

STRENGTH: 11

AGILITY: 10

PERCEPTION: 14

WILL: 17

LUCK: 31

PSYCHE: 5/500

SKILLS

FEATS

ABILITIES

RETINUE

With everything done, the crew rested and rearmed, the immediate plan clear, and absolutely nothing to stand in my way going forward, we left Bakka Naval base and turned the ship toward Slud. Nothing noteworthy happened on the way there and we arrived in orbit above the planet where we got hailed by the nearby space station that housed the governor because of course the prick couldn't be bothered to live on the same common dirt as the people that slaved their existence away so he could live a life of luxury and debauchery. After the standard back and forth over the vox, I ordered the ship to be docked at the station after being given permission. Not that he could refuse an Imperial ship, but it was always good to keep up appearances.

Dartma Ret was there to greet me and the honor guard I had chosen. While no troopers had the accuracy scores for my little plan, at least not yet, there were a great many that were placed well above the 70% accuracy mark, and I had the voidmasters pick out 4 dozen of their most veteran and accomplished troopers to serve as my personal guard. For the occasion, I had dug out enough suits of full carapace armor from my ships armory to fully deck out my bodyguard, and with the new shotguns in hand, Laspistols, and combat knives on the hip, sharp eyes, and gruff faces, they joined Trokk and me as I made ready to leave my ship.

I strode off the ship with Trokk following close behind me, his usual melee weapon replaced by a ripper gun without a loaded clip, no reason to tempt fate, and the designated honor guard in proper marching order behind me, we made for an impressive sight. The local guardsmen shot envious looks at the armor I had my men wear for the occasion, and they eyed the new shotcannons with both weary trepidation and jealous greed. My men looked professional, hardened, and extremely well-equipped for being regular guardsmen, just as you would expect from a rogue trader. In comparison, the troops on board the governors' space station were undisciplined as evidenced by the idle chattering among them, lazy, if the state of their armor and weapons were anything to go by, and completely out of touch with how the Imperium worked, as several of the regular troops would openly challenge me by refusing to avert their gaze as I swept my eyes over them. They looked dirty and uninterested in doing their duty, more akin to the hive gangers I had fought, than actual guardsmen. It would seem that apathy and hedonism were spreading from their original host.

"Welcome, welcome, to my humble station. I hope you had no trouble during the journey here?" The voice came from a ghastly individual, soft and delicate as only a politician could sound. My eyes found the owner of the voice, and I saw everything I had expected in a planetary governor that was on the line for failing his duty. Flabby, overweight, short, dressed in the most expensive and colorful of clothing, draped in jewelry made from precious metal and covered in shining gems. His shoes looked to be made from some form of silk, as well as the cloak that clung to his back, looking more like a napkin that got turned the wrong way. Sure, it might once have fit the man that was now approaching me with beads of sweat running down his forehead, from the exertion it took him to move his sizeable girth with a surprising speed.

"None," I said gruffly as I looked down on the man sending me what I assumed was supposed to be a reassuring and warm smile that mostly came off as fake and treacherous.

"Good, good. Now, I understand you wished to purchase some of the fine weapons produced here on my meager planet?" Dartman Ret rambled on, jumping straight to business. How typical, no tact or etiquette from this supposedly refined person of power and position.

"Maybe, if they are of the quality I desire. I would wish to inspect the blades before we discuss this further, governor. For now, I would like you to arrange transport to the planet as well, as I require a blade master, and one of the trainers among your planet's garrison will be the one to travel with me." I kept my voice gruff and blunt, refusing to let his slimy demeanor get to me, and I saw the fake smile turn stiff and the first crack appeared in the facade he was trying to present.

"I am not sure you would find men of exceptional enough quality to satisfy your needs, Lord. Perhaps I could suggest.." He started, but I cut him off, intent on taking control of this interaction. It would shape how we interacted going forward.

"You will not refuse this honor. The Imperium has needs, and they will be met by you and your loyal Imperial subjects!" I said sternly as I caught his gaze and I saw the fires of rebellion flare up for a short moment inside of him before he relented. His authority was great, but mine was greater, and refusing to yield would give me immediate grounds to remove him from office, by violence if needed.

"Of course Lord, I was merely concerned with the quality of my troops. I would not wish anything but the best for the Emperor's finest." The governor was starting to annoy me, and in turn, I had managed to annoy him, even if he was hiding it well.

"When can we leave for the planet?" I pressed, and the question caught him off guard.

"I-I-I can't say with certainty, Lord," He stammered nervously, and I was struck by a sudden inspiration.

"Very well, if you would follow me, we can take a Valkyrie from my ship and have this whole thing over with and a few hours. I have things to do, places to be, and I cannot afford to wait around!" I demanded and there was very little he could say to avoid going with me. At least, if there was a valid protest, he failed to come up with one, and we soon found ourselves heading through my ship, Dartma Ret now with an honor guard of his own. it doubled mine in size, but they neither had carapace armor, nor any weapons of note besides regular Lasrifles, replaced with simple bows and swords. My men's armor was hidden beneath plain robes.

A walk, a flight, and a solid walk as I refused to use the carriage that was waiting for the governor at the grove where we touched down, we soon found ourselves on the outskirts of the biggest town on the planet, the supposed seat of this whining and sweat-drenched excuse for a ruler. He had been complaining about having to walk ever since we left the ship, but I didn't care. Even his own men, sloppy as they were, looked at him with disgust whenever he wasn't watching them.

Slud was not something to be proud of. Filthy people worked the fields with rounded backs, smoke bellowed up from the large city, the stench was unbelievable, and where ever we went, the peasants looked up from their fields in fear and awe. We were healthier and stronger than most people on the planet that was not part of the significant military needed to suppress the people and keep them obedient, living in conditions such as these.

We didn't carry any weapons besides the combat knives, and a select few troopers with Laspistols tucked away under their shirts. And of course, Trokk, that had been outfitted with the piping he had ripped off the wall in his attempt to break down a bulkhead. Mangled and twisted, there was no telling what the piece of metal had once been, so it was safe to bring along. Besides, Trokk drew more attention than anyone else, his cranial augmentation hidden beneath a simple hood, and his size and bulk made him stand out like a sore thumb. I had noticed the governor side-eye him with suspicion several times, but he never said anything as the hulking brute stuck close to my side. I now understood why he had been hesitant to go down here. It was a truly depressing setting, just miserable. Muck and grime everywhere, badly maintained roads, guards dressed in too much armor for regular peacetimes, serving to intimidate the general population, animals that looked like they bordered on being malnourished, and an endless train of carts arriving from every road in the horizon, dragging ore, coal, and food to the capital and the countless foundries and blacksmiths working there.

Medieval slum at its finest. Oh, how I loathed this pathetic excuse for a leader already, but I still had a role to play before I could see to it that he was removed from office. And he would not be granted a quick death. I planned on handing him over to the Inquisition. That ought to ensure he was properly punished, provided he survived the extended stay in my ship's prison, of course. With a deep internal sigh, I steeled myself for the sights to greet me when we entered the city gate that was already being swung wide open as medieval soldiers assembled to form an impromptu parade for the sudden surprise visit from the almost mythical ruler.