Howard reviewed the data slate, confirming evidence of crimes in all operations not personally led by him. Afterward, he removed his artificer power armor and changed into a black formal suit before heading to the banquet hall.
This gathering would serve as his opportunity to reassure the hive's factions.
Soon after, an elderly nobleman with silver hair, dressed in a black robe that followed the latest Vostroyan fashion, approached Howard.
After exchanging pleasantries and sharing a drink with the blond lord, he stated his concern directly:
"Count Howard, forgive my bluntness, but Sandchiga has just barely recovered from a revolt. The hive cannot afford more turmoil."
Howard had anticipated such sentiments. He also sensed the attention of everyone in the room focusing squarely on him.
With a calm smile, the blond nobleman raised his voice:
"Everyone, I'm sure you're all unsettled by the commotion last night."
"Allow me to clarify, the enemies we struck down last night were the same heretics who incited the previous riots."
As he spoke, he operated his data slate, linking it to a cogitator. The analysis results from the Cult Mechanicum were projected onto the large viewscreen at the front.
"Take a look. These substances mixed into the corpse starch drastically increase the mutation rate among healthy children."
"Furthermore..."
Howard went on to display the crimes committed by the heretical cultists one by one, quickly winning the crowd's trust.
The silver-haired elder lowered his head apologetically:
"My Lord, please forgive my earlier offense. I misjudged you."
The other nobles and guild leaders joined in support:
"Indeed. Without Lord Howard, who knows how long these heretics might have gone unnoticed."
"We're grateful to our Monarch, Nareth, for assigning Lord Howard to Sandchiga. Truly, we are fortunate."
"..."
Howard's blue eyes scanned the flattering crowd, then suddenly narrowed.
Among the guests, a blond young man caught his attention. He had never seen this person before, yet felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
Howard didn't pause his gaze and continued looking at the others, but in just one second, the "Sheriff" had confirmed: this blond youth with sharp eyes was the same man as the brown-haired, sunken-eyed Bartosz.
His Beyonder ability, "Recognition," as long as he has seen the target, whether from real life, a photo, or a sketch, they will recognize that person through a supernatural sense, whether that target be a doppleganger or in disguise.
Although their appearances differed, the faintly mocking smile at the corners of their mouths was the same. That alone was enough for Howard to be sure, it was Bartosz.
After a moment of thought, the "Sheriff" pieced together the logic:
'Bartosz must have used this alias when meeting Praslow. He has some way of subtly altering his appearance. He's calm and confident enough to attend a banquet even with a bounty on his head. Then again, maybe he feared that not showing up would draw suspicion.'
Howard went silent for two seconds, then quickly devised a way to apprehend his target. He walked into the crowd with a smile, toasting glasses one by one.
When he reached Bartosz, Howard suddenly smashed his glass into the man's face. As Bartosz froze in shock, Howard lunged forward and locked his arms tightly around the man's neck.
Bartosz froze for a moment, then pretended to be innocent and gasping:
"My lord... I'm from the Probiez family..."
Howard ignored him and addressed the alarmed guests:
"This man is Bartosz, the wanted criminal, and the ringleader of the heretical forces in Sandchiga."
His established credibility, authority, and charisma made his declaration instantly convincing.
The silver-haired noble sighed:
"Thank goodness for you, my lord. We were sharing drinks and conversation with a fiend."
Bartosz's face turned ashen. He hadn't expected Howard to name the alias he'd used among his cultists, confirming without a doubt that his cover was blown.
He suddenly struggled with all his might.
But Howard was faster. With a forceful yank of his arms, Bartosz lost his balance, then the blond nobleman struck him in the back of the head with his elbow.
Bang!
Bartosz collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
...
At the new hive construction site, Marlena turned to Nareth and remarked:
"The area you've designated is ten times the size of Mikhailovsk, the largest hive in Vostroya. You truly mean to build an unprecedented hive city."
"Vostroya is entering a new era. It needs a symbolic hive to match."
Nareth withdrew his gaze from the roaring excavation machines in the distance and turned to Marlena.
"Since you've left the Symphony of the Sea. What have you learned?"
"The outside world is bigger and harsher than I imagined, especially for us Sicilians."
Her voice was complex, awed by the vastness of the galaxy, but troubled by what the future might hold.
"Then what is your view on the Mother Sea?"
Nareth stared intently at Marlena. She was a powerful psyker with tested loyalty and a strong will, but her faith remained a concern.
Marlena felt the weight of his gaze; it was like being a tiny ship facing a storm on the Coral Sea.
She bit her lip but didn't respond under pressure. After a long pause, she gave a bitter smile:
"I've read every book I could find and studied the three data crystals you gave me. I now see divinity in a new light."
She turned toward the direction of the Symphony of the Sea and spoke with a solemn tone:
"The Mother Sea can't truly be called a god. She was born from our beliefs, guides us, but also depends on us."
As a strong psyker, she clearly recalled her past experiences with the Mother Sea. Compared to what she now knew of real gods, especially from the Fra'al people's writings, the difference was stark.
In the aether, the Mother Sea resembled a trickle, not a vast ocean.
"Good. That is the understanding I hoped for."
Nareth nodded with satisfaction. Marlena now saw the truth: the Mother Sea was not a true deity, but a being awakening to divinity.
"Do you still worship her?"
Marlena fell silent once more. After several seconds, she finally answered with resignation:
"I no longer do."
She had realized how powerless the Mother Sea was compared to the rest of the galaxy. The bleak future she foresaw couldn't be prevented by the Mother Sea's protection.
Whether it was the invading Fra'al or the monstrous Fangjaw, it was Nareth who had resolved every crisis. Her concern for the Sicilian people only grew.
Upon hearing her answer, Nareth made his final decision:
"Come to my palace in an hour."
Constructing a new hive city was a long-term effort. Nareth had ordered the construction of a temporary palace, which would later be dismantled and recycled for materials once progress moved upward.
An hour later, Marlena looked at the vial in Nareth's hand and hesitantly asked:
"What is this?"
"Drink it, and you will gain power, the kind that can secure a better future for the Sicilian people."
Marlena didn't hesitate further. She knew she had no choice, and she also trusted that Nareth had no reason to harm her.
Within just three minutes, the "Planter," who already knew how to meditate, had stabilized the power within her.
She stared at Nareth in astonishment. He had granted her real power through the vial, and not a temporary one, but a permanent one.
"I need you to return to the Symphony of the Sea, fulfill your role as a Planter. Develop farmland and crops across the isles."