Warhammer: Starting as a Planetary Governor-Chapter 308 - 309: On This Day, the T’au Felt the Ruthlessness of the Galaxy
"Aid?"
Upon hearing the captain's words, the governor stood up with great emotion. "By the Emperor's grace, Holy Terra has not forgotten Karo in its darkness!"
Though he didn't know who exactly this Savior was—
The ancient records of his family spoke of the Primarchs — legendary, mighty beings, the sons of the Emperor himself.
Beings of the highest rank imaginable!
Perhaps the Emperor had heard the prayers of Karo's people, sending one of His noble sons to save them — to spare Karo from xeno slaughter!
The governor offered a devout prayer, thanking the Emperor for His protection.
After the prayer, he turned to the captain. "Quickly! Bring in the Savior's envoy!"
"Yes, my lord!"
The captain left immediately to receive the guest.
The governor returned to his throne, but then hesitated. This envoy represented a Primarch — the Savior — someone of unimaginable dignity. Sitting on a high throne would be disrespectful.
So, he stepped down.
And waited at ground level, expectantly.
The grand doors opened slowly.
With the flood of light from outside came an aura of divine presence.
Before his eyes—
Several Ecclesiarch emissaries entered, clad in white, noble robes, exuding holiness and calm, bringing an overwhelming sense of peace.
The governor couldn't help but compare them to the alien envoy.
The Savior's followers radiated sanctity — whereas the xenos had seemed aloof, arrogant, and hollow.
These men felt like true saints.
And he was right.
The envoy was indeed a holy saint of the Savior — Frann.
A warrior-priest who traversed war-torn worlds to bring redemption.
His calming presence stemmed from power — Frann was an Eredari, with the power to request divine blessings directly from the Savior. Stronger than even most Space Marines, he could tear heretics and xenos apart with ease.
As he approached, the Savior's cross tattoo on his bald head gleamed under the light.
Upon seeing the governor, Frann halted and saluted.
"Governor, greetings. I am Frann, a devoted saint of the Savior. I come to spread the light of the Golden Sun and the Savior's glory…"
The governor returned the salute immediately.
"Lord Frann, Karo welcomes your presence."
Frann then presented items verifying his identity — a regent's decree, the Primarch Savior's sigil, and sacred tomes from the Ecclesiarchy's sanctified worlds.
He then explained the current state of the Imperium, the Savior's deeds, and his mission here.
Frann asked the governor a solemn question—
Was his faith in the Emperor steadfast?
And was he willing to follow the great Savior, a Primarch?
With the Savior's status as a Primarch, scion of the Emperor, and Ecclesiarch patron, converting planets was now remarkably easy.
Upon arriving on isolated, Dark Side worlds, missionaries now simply checked if local leaders showed signs of corruption.
If they did not—
They would ask directly: Will you follow the Savior, the Primarch, the Emperor's son?
Those who agreed were given sanctuary, blessings, and resources.
No one was as generous as the Savior in the entire galaxy.
He truly gave what he promised.
The governor trembled, overwhelmed by joy and disbelief.
Was he hearing correctly?
Such a blessing?
In his family's ancient records, it was nearly impossible to become a Primarch's follower. Only wealthy or valorous worlds — or noble bloodlines — had such a chance.
And even then, they had to endure strict rituals and trials.
Yet now, his family and planet were invited to follow one?
Maybe the Primarch had seen the valor of their warriors?
The Savior had, essentially, taken what was once a prestigious and exclusive privilege—
—and turned it into an open blessing, mass-distributed across the galaxy, recruiting followers in droves.
Granting them legitimacy and protection.
The more followers, the more faith to be harvested.
Afraid the saint would change his mind, the governor immediately knelt and passionately declared his unshakable faith in the Emperor—
—and swore allegiance to the great Savior, Primarch Eden.
At the end of the oath—
He was presented with a sacred token of followerhood and a slab-like artifact.
This sacred item was in fact a complex data-slate — a mix of several advanced technologies, granting access to the Redemption Market, where one could request weapons and material aid.
A divine gift from the Savior.
With the Charalton region integrated into the Savior's domain, forge worlds like Luna now had access to more minerals and increased production capacity — allowing them to supply more equipment.
The Ministry of the Interior and the Logistics Office had also agreed:
Humanity was now deep into the End Times. The requirements for aid would be loosened even further.
Auxiliary worlds and followers would receive more support.
It was a strategic defense move.
Outlying planets armed with stronger weapons could serve as buffer zones — slowing any invaders before they reached core territory.
Saint Frann left promptly.
The Charalton perimeter was filled with suffering worlds lost to darkness — every second wasted meant thousands more dying.
After respectfully seeing Frann off—
The governor finally smiled.
He now had hope for the coming war.
Even if they couldn't stop the xenos—
They could call for the Savior's help. At the very least, Karo would not be annihilated.
Back on his throne, the governor took a deep breath.
He opened the sacred tome left by Frann — detailing the duties of a follower.
He knew that becoming a Primarch's follower was no easy feat. The cost might be high.
Perhaps in the form of resources, manpower, or even offering the whole planet to serve.
And yet—
This was a blessing worth any price.
The galaxy was too dangerous now. Planets could fall to xenos or heretics at any moment.
Having a powerful protector was priceless.
But—
To his surprise, the sacred text listed only simple requirements:
Be loyal, hold regular prayer ceremonies, erect statues of the Golden Sun and the Savior, and spread the Savior's faith.
That was it.
To him, this was negligible.
The Imperium already required shrines and saints' statues on every world — this was standard practice.
"The Savior is… so merciful…"
The governor's voice cracked, tears welled up in his eyes.
Most Imperial obligations were brutal — the infamous Tithe was mandatory, like a forced protection fee.
In return, one might get protection from the Navy or other military forces.
But even that wasn't guaranteed.
And if you failed to meet quotas, you might be purged — the governor included.
Even worse, if Chaos taint was detected, the whole world might be bombed indiscriminately.
Sometimes, special forces purged even witnesses.
It was harsh.
But the Imperium had no choice.
This was the best it could do.
People accepted it. In the galaxy's inferno, only the Imperium could keep humanity alive — no matter the cost.
So the concept of "protection comes with a price" was ingrained.
From birth, all Imperial citizens were taught this truth.
It had always been so.
Life was the Emperor's coin.
If you received His protection, paying taxes and sacrificing for it was natural.
Even when planets aligned with powerful nobles or warmasters, the cost was steep.
In the Imperium, all resources were exploited to the limit.
Sacrifice was routine.
Even Chaos demanded soul offerings — and didn't always respond.
In such a harsh, demanding galaxy—
To suddenly receive a protector who asked for almost nothing, yet gave so much?
The governor was stunned. Touched. Blessed.
He wiped his tears and closed the Redemption Codex.
He was already fully loyal.
Then, he remembered the incoming xeno invasion and hurried to take up the sacred slate.
The artifact was clearly a marvel — complex, divine, and emanating holy energy.
He couldn't begin to understand it.
Only the Savior could create such a thing.
Following the Codex's rituals, he activated it.
Humm—
Runes glowed. The device vibrated, projecting a shimmering holographic screen.
"By the Emperor… is this the Redemption Market?"
The governor stared wide-eyed, dazed — as if in a dream.
Was this… what he could request?
Weapon schematics filled the interface.
Titans. Knight suits. Space Marine squads. Super-heavy tanks. Gunships. Giant cannons. Sentinels. Plasma rifles. Meltaguns. Power armor.
Things he'd only ever seen in his family's ancient lore—
—now at his fingertips.
He finally understood why the Primarchs were said to be gods.
They could bend the galaxy, reverse fate, and save the dying.
The Savior had brought salvation to Karo.
So generous. So merciful.
"Our world… is saved…"
The governor whispered, trembling.
The weight of anxiety and fear lifted.
He felt true safety — for the first time in weeks.
To be under the protection of a Primarch…
There was no doubt.
They would win this war.
Overwhelmed by options, he summoned his captain and advisory council.
Together, they pored over the Redemption Market, debating what weapons and reinforcements to request.
Though some basic aid was free—
The high-tier gear had to be paid for with planetary resources or labor.
The advisors arrived and were stunned speechless by what they saw.
They praised the Savior loudly.
Their planet's military was outdated. The main force was a ragtag PDF assembled by the governor.
Their vehicles were decades old — heavy tanks from a century ago, most broken or possessed by irritable machine spirits.
Now—
They stayed up all night, joyfully planning the purchases.
Of course, they didn't have enough Thrones or resources—
But the Savior graciously offered installments — letting them pay over decades.
War loans.
And the prices?
Dirt cheap. Practically at raw material cost.
Even cheaper were temporary support units.
This was unheard-of generosity.
Normally, they'd never be allowed to buy this gear — even if they had the funds.
Now—
The governor and his council felt like they'd hit the lottery.
They calculated every available resource and made lists of drool-worthy wargear.
Outdated tanks? Replaced with the latest models, plus a few super-heavies.
Obsolete air units? Two wings of heavy gunships, stat.
Artillery? Cannons? Yes, by the dozens.
PDF squads? Fully rearmed.
Elite guards? Meltaguns and thermal lances.
The captain, eyes gleaming, suggested upgrading the royal guard with force-feedback power armor and bolt weapons.
"Buy them all!"
The governor laughed heartily. "Just two hundred sets — take them all!"
He even saw the captain eyeing a collector's edition power sword—
So he bought one for him.
And for himself?
A high-grade set of power armor and a personal force-field generator.
Once they'd kitted out their existing forces—
They moved to temporary reinforcements.
Because even with better gear, their PDF couldn't handle the T'au alone.
Temporary support was essential.
After assessing local troop numbers and enemy data, the Redemption Market backend issued a tailored support list.
From it, they requested:
One Storm Group armored battalion (70–80k troops with heavy vehicles and artillery)
Three squads of the Emperor's Angels (30 Space Marines, half in Terminator armor, plus Dreadnoughts)
Ten Redeemer Mechs
Then one advisor said:
"My lord, the T'au are advancing fast… perhaps we should request a God-Machine?"
They paused.
Yes — at this point, might as well ensure total defense.
The governor clenched his fist. "Two! Request two Titans!"
Seconds later—
Approved.
Two Warlord-class Titans were added.
Once everything was greenlit—
The governor slammed the "Submit" button.
All equipment and support troops would arrive at maximum warp.
Then—
One advisor timidly raised a hand.
"Um… sire… based on my latest math, we'll need over 500 years to pay this off…"
Silence fell.
The governor inhaled deeply, hand trembling. "It's fine… we'll repay it slowly. Better than being conquered."
Another advisor chimed in:
"Exactly! And we don't even have to pay the Tithe anymore. Repaying this is much easier than Imperial taxes!"
"Right!" the governor agreed. The room erupted with cheer.
Compared to the Tithe, this was nothing — and they got actual weapons!
A total win.
Days passed.
The governor nervously waited, fearing the T'au would arrive before reinforcements did.
But the Savior's aid came faster than expected.
In just three days—
Massive transport ships, escorted by cruisers and warships, entered Karo's orbit.
And offloaded everything.
Even more shocking—
The reinforcements were double what was requested.
The governor panicked. They couldn't pay for that much.
But the reply was simple:
"These are the Savior's gifts. Free of charge. To protect Karo."
The governor was speechless.
Tears welled up again. His loyalty deepened.
Soon—
All defense forces were in place:
1 Emperor-class Titan
3 Warlord-class Redeemer Titans
20 Redeemer Mechs
10 squads of War Angels
1 Storm Group armored brigade
Heavy gunship squadrons
Defensive lines were reinforced.
Troop positions were cloaked.
A classic Savior tactic:
Hide the army. Lure the enemy in. Then obliterate them.
In fact, the moment Karo's threat reached the Redemption Market—
It was escalated to high command.
While Eden had hoped to avoid conflict with the T'au—
This was different.
The T'au had invaded a human world.
They needed to be crushed.
The command deemed this a test — a chance to study T'au tactics and structure.
More troops were ready if needed.
Soon— fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
The Savior's scanners detected the T'au fleet.
And they waited.
...
In orbit—
A T'au flotilla arrived, centered around merchant cruisers and escorts.
They targeted Karo — a planet that had dared reject the Greater Good.
Three task forces, including battlesuit teams and heavy armor, were inbound.
Among them—
A Supremacy Battlesuit, capable of fighting Knights — even small Titans.
Backed by Kroot, Vespid, and human auxiliaries.
Together, they could easily destroy a backwater world.
The fleet moved quickly.
Karo wasn't even their main target.
It was just a stopover — a warning strike against a planet resisting the T'au.
After Karo—
They'd move deeper into Charalton to confront the Savior directly.
To prove T'au dominance.
In the command chamber of a cruiser—
A dark-skinned Ethereal meditated.
"This is a deluded system. These ignorant humans cling to foolish myths…"
Fire Caste warriors knelt, receiving his guidance.
He lifted his prayer beads.
"Go. Destroy them. All for the Greater Good."
Fire Warriors rose, entering their suits.
T'au battlesuits — sleek, mobile, and deadly.
Each had 3–4 weapon ports — able to mount plasma rifles, missile launchers, burst cannons, flamers, fusion blasters, ion shields, and more.
The Supremacy Suit came with tri-axial ion cannons and linked pulse launchers.
They rushed deployment.
Their goal:
Cleanse Karo's capital in a single strike.
Drop ships and Tiger Sharks delivered troops.
Missile boats and skimmers began attacking ground defenses.
Auxiliary humans led the charge.
They fought with zeal — eager to prove loyalty to the T'au.
They despised fellow humans who resisted.
With Kroot, Vespid, and tanks—
They smashed into Karo's lines.
But—
The defenders replied with hellfire.
Auxiliaries screamed as artillery obliterated them.
Karo's troops focused fire on the traitors.
In orbit—
The Ethereal frowned. "Their resistance is… too strong. This world shouldn't have this firepower."
He ordered stealth suits to infiltrate.
And the rest to support auxiliaries.
But—
Moments later, screams came through comms.
Ambushes. Unknown forces.
Then—
The full battlefield erupted.
Stealth teams wiped out. Suits blasted from the sky.
Massive Titans and mechs emerged, their cannons reducing the T'au to ash.
The Supremacy Suit — vaporized.
Hover tanks shredded.
Fire Angels in crimson armor flanked the mechs, trapping the T'au.
Ground troops were annihilated.
The Ethereal panicked.
"Fall back! It's a trap — an Imperial ambush!"
Then—
"No… this can't be…"
On-screen:
Mountains of walking Titans blocked their path.
Their firepower far exceeded anything the T'au could handle.
All tactics failed.
Even retreat was nearly impossible.
Desperate—
The Ethereal ordered a bombardment from orbit.
Abandon the auxiliaries. Sacrifice the ground troops.
As T'au shuttles fled—
Abandoned auxiliaries stared up at the sky.
Their own fleet was preparing to nuke them.
Betrayed.
And then—
Alarms blared.
On every scanner:
Faint energy trails.
From all directions—
Savior fleetships emerged from the void.
Silent. Deadly.
Encircling the T'au fleet.
Cutting off all escape.
Like a pack of predators.
In that moment—
The young Ethereal finally understood.
The cruelty of the galaxy.
(End of Chapter)
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