Chapter 43 Accidents and Small Transactions
"Only fifty?"
Still in the suite arranged by the Psychic Academy for Calvin, the reception room in the front hall is also the office area.
Behind the desk specially prepared by the Academy for these giants, on the wide chair like a throne, Calvin folded his hands and looked at the official standing in front of him with his head down.
"This does not match the number on the document you sent."
"Yes, the mistake was made by our staff. The wrong number was sent to you. We are willing to apologize for this."
The middle-level official in black robe did not defend himself, but took all the mistakes on himself. But the simpler the problem seemed, the more Calvin did not believe it.
From the person in front of him, he smelled the smell of the shit he encountered in his previous life when he was arguing with local departments over excellent soldiers during the conscription.
But today is different from the past. He is no longer a platoon leader who has just received the rank of second lieutenant, and the political system of the empire is far more dirty and complicated than the country where he grew up in his previous life.
He didn't want to dwell on it too much, because he didn't know the complicated relationship between Terra's forces, and it was not a wise move to make enemies rashly.
But he couldn't bear the loss. So he thought about it, looked at the official in front of him and pointed at the documents on the table:
"I don't want to know your reasons, I just want the results. Today, as long as you produce the same number of qualified soldiers as on this list, I can ignore this mistake."
Originally, Calvin thought that the matter was over, but when he was about to lower his head and continue to read the existing soldier information at hand, he found that the other party had no intention of leaving.
The official neither agreed to Calvin's words nor was he ready to pick up the documents and leave, just bowing and apologizing.
Calvin's face sank: trouble has come.
It seems that this is not an ordinary mistake in document writing. Instead, a force he didn't know about has reached out to his desk.
Calvin is clear about his own confidentiality level. Calvin can also guess the other party's general idea.
On the surface, a mere warband of the Inquisition is enough most of the time, and no one will risk offending them for some small benefits.
But what if the benefits are big enough? More than 100 warrior apprentices with good psychic talents?
He narrowed his eyes and looked at the official in front of him who was silent. The man in front of him was probably just a scapegoat.
And the real messenger was probably watching his excitement in a corner. And his own handling would also affect the success or failure of the warband's recruitment of soldiers this time.
He did not try to communicate with the other party again. How could a scapegoat have the ability to bring the words to the hands of the real initiator?
After leaving this door, it must be a question whether the person in front of him can return to his dormitory alive.
Without hesitation, he looked at the Paladin Gavins standing on his left and said to him: "Send a message to the Eagle's Nest on the track. We need Titan to open the contact authority of the Throne Court..."
Before he finished speaking, the door of the living room was suddenly pushed open. A young red-robed official walked straight in with a smile on his face.
He looked around like a real person, then walked to the black-robed official and stopped half a step in front of him. After half bowing to Calvin, he introduced himself:
"Good day, angels from the Inquisition. I am Matthews de Sutherland, a first-class knight of the Empire. I am currently in charge of selecting students for the Psychic Academy."
He stood up without waiting for Calvin's permission, then smiled and looked directly at Calvin behind the table and said, "I am here to make a small deal with you, sir."
He raised his hand and pointed at the documents on the table, and continued, "A small deal about this student."
Calvin looked at the fearless mortal bureaucrat in front of him and did not rush to respond. Thinking about the cause and effect of the matter in front of him was turning rapidly in his mind.
"What gives a middle- and senior-level bureaucrat from the Psionic Academy the confidence to stand in front of me and talk freely?
The power represented by his long surname? I'm afraid it's not all. Then a suitable target that can afford to offend must be equally important to him.
A warband that is not any prominent warband, not any original warband, preferably an Astartes warband that is not doing well and can only rely on mortal organizations such as the Inquisition?"
Calvin smiled when he thought of this, and he was suddenly not in a hurry to punish the madman in front of him. After realizing that his overly low-key disguise was also one of the many reasons that contributed to this incident, what he wanted to know now was where the students who originally belonged to the Grey Knights ended up.
Calvin lowered his head and pondered:
It can't be the Astronomican Court. The people there have enough authority to mobilize past recruitment data. They roughly know the final destination of those who are taken away by the representatives of the Inquisition every year;
It can't be the Astra Militarum. In their recruitment needs on the psychic side, in addition to navigators, which are their core interests that cannot be violated, there are more political commissars and legion psykers who are relatively less concerned about quality and more concerned about quantity;
Where else? The only remaining ones are probably the think tanks that are also Astartes. They have such highly overlapping needs with the Grey Knights, right? Then whose recruitment world is Terra? Thinking of this, Calvin already understood the root of the biggest obstacle of this trip.
"So, Imperial Fist? Then does their commander know that you are doing this?"
Calvin suddenly relaxed and leaned back, his huge body making the exquisite antique solid wood chair creak.
He took time to look at the confident young man in front of him, and then told him his problem.
The topic got to the point so quickly, and Matthews's face finally stopped being frivolous after his trump card was revealed. He looked at Calvin seriously and said:
"As your lord thought, the soldiers have been sent to the base of the Imperial Fist. I believe you don't want to have any unpleasantness with these real pillars of the empire."
When he said this, he seemed to be given more confidence by the battle group he was talking about, and continued in a more calm tone:
"The deployment of troops this time is indeed unlucky. It coincides with the Imperial Fists' think tank recruitment, and my brother is also involved. If you are willing to give in, the Sutherland family is willing to remember your friendship."
The words have been said, and the desired news has been finally confirmed. Calvin stopped pretending. He straightened up and looked down at the bureaucrats in front of him. Although the tone of his mouth was not high-pitched, the meaning he spoke was like a knife edge:
"So, what if I don't want to?"
"That won't affect the outcome of this matter. For the sake of our future relationship, I'm sure you won't make such a hasty decision." This was the answer from Matthews.
Now that the matter has come to this, he has nothing to hide. A war group attached to the Tribunal cannot be easily offended in the eyes of the old nobles of the empire, but it is definitely not unoffendable, as long as the price is sufficient.
The force and authority represented by these warriors may be powerful enough for the civilians of the empire or the governors of rural planets in the wilderness. But in the eyes of these nobles who have been rooted in Terra for decades, they are far from sacrosanct.
In Matthews' eyes, if you still can't reach an agreement with the other party after expressing your attitude and paying the price as much as possible, then you are offended.
This was neither the first time nor the last time in his and his fathers' short lives.
“For the prosperity and continuation of the family, sending their children to the Imperial Fists, which is essentially responsible for the local defense of Terra, has been their tradition for decades, and it will never be disrupted by the actions of a certain war group. "
Matthews thought so and did the same thing. But what is different from before is that the targets he carefully selected this time may have some essential differences from those selected by his fathers.