Chapter 54: No Roaring in the Forge Hall

*Forge Hall, The Endurance.*

*Present Time.*

The Death Guard's Forge Hall has seen minimal changes since the return of the Primarch. Its simple geometric designs are neatly arranged, devoid of chaos or discord. Tools and blueprints are meticulously organized, and every exposed cable is carefully managed, marked with binary runes decipherable only to the Death Guard's Techmarines.

The once crimson banners of the Twilight Raiders have been replaced by the muted green flags of the Death Guard.

The hum of the assembly line intermittently fills the hall. Silent servitors, draped in red robes bearing the skull and cog of the Mechanicum, move between the massive machines. Their insignias sway with their movements.

In a corner of the vast hall, Techmarine Alberto, clad in Mk2 armor, is assessing the ceramite supply for the latest batch of Mk3 power armor.

His mentor and superior, Enrico, mentioned that the newly returned Primarch favors heavy infantry combat, suggesting a potential increase in demand for the Mk3 power armor.

Compared to the Mk2 Expeditionary armor from the Great Crusade era, the Mk3 Iron armor sacrifices some agility and stealth for enhanced protection. Its helmet's thick slanting plates can even deflect bullets.

While the Mk3 Iron armor is equipped in various legions, it remains a minority. The Mk2 Expeditionary is still the mainstay. When a legion predominantly uses Mk3, it usually indicates brutal, high-casualty warfare. This armor isn't designed for swift strikes but for direct, frontal assaults.

Alberto silently sighed. The Forge Hall and the logistics division are perhaps the first to sense the legion's future direction. While most of the trained soldiers continue their daily drills, the Techmarines in the Forge Hall have already begun preparing equipment for upcoming wars.

Near Alberto's workstation, a temporary desk has been set up for Hades. He sits there, occasionally waving an empty quill in the air.

Although Hades was called to assist, a raw recruit without proper training isn't much help. He's less efficient than a servitor with direct brain-uploaded instructions.

But Enrico didn't really expect Hades to assist.

On their way back that day, Enrico sent Alberto a binary message: "Alberto, mentor this recruit. We're not the only ones interested in him."

Alberto was momentarily puzzled but didn't question. He'd simply fulfill his mentor's request.

Yet, it became clear that Hades didn't need mentoring. The moment Alberto brought him into the Forge Hall, Hades's enthusiasm was palpable. Alberto had never seen a recruit so fascinated by machinery.

If his previous Techmarines were as passionate as Hades, Alberto's job would've been much easier.

So, Alberto happily handed Hades some inconsequential blueprints and sent him on his way.

To Hades, he said, "The legion's equipment production is intense. We've accumulated low-tier blueprints from various worlds that need categorization. Classify them by use."

In reality, these low-tier blueprints, mostly odd everyday designs, were typically incinerated. Previous classifications ensured no vital tech was among them.

Yet, Hades seemed engrossed.

He held his quill, resisting the urge to twirl it. The blueprint before him detailed a small household appliance. Gothic letters densely annotated the design, which depicted a box the size of two bolt pistols stacked. Some key numbers were encrypted in octal, but Hades's left eye flickered red, quickly decrypting them.

It was a toaster! One that even allowed users to choose the pattern on their toast.

The scent of toasted bread wafted in Hades's imagination.

He was hungry.

Deciding to visit the mess hall later, he continued studying the blueprints.

Time flew. When Alberto signaled it was time to leave, Hades nodded, placing the blueprint in the "furniture" category.

"Good work," Alberto nodded to Hades, who reciprocated and left the Forge Hall.

Hades assumed his "punishment" was a mere formality due to the damaged combat servitor incident. He felt grateful to Master Enrico and Techmarine Alberto for their leniency.

His logic was flawed, but it made sense to him. Techmarines are generally good people, he thought. Maybe he could apply to become one?

Settling in his usual spot in the mess hall, Hades was served his familiar porridge by a familiar servitor. He had over forty minutes left.

He could eat ten bowls!

But as he was about to dig in, urgent footsteps echoed.

"Hades, senior!" a voice called, "You need to head to the dueling cage now!"

Vox's face was a mix of anxiety and concern.

Hades's spoon hung in mid-air.

What? And why was he being addressed so formally?