Warhammer 40k: Starting as a Rogue Trader

Chapter 97: The Astra Militarum

Taking a shuttle, Edgar landed directly in the Raiders' barracks.

The Raiders' military camp occupied a very large area in the prime real estate of the uphive.

All soldiers selected for the Raiders were qualified to live in the uphive, a dream for the people of the underhive.

However, if one were to be eliminated or leave the Raiders for other reasons, they would also lose this privilege.

Although Edgar had already prepared himself mentally, he was still shocked by the degree of luxury afforded to the Raiders.

"The Mongorte Dynasty is truly willing to spend."

"You jest, my Lord. The Dynasty simply does not wish to treat its loyal soldiers poorly. Commissar, we have arrived. Allow me to take you to your room first!" the officer at his side said to Edgar.

Looking at the perpetually smiling officer, Edgar remained stern-faced.

He was already prepared to be targeted. He had been to several Astra Militarum regiments, and many did not take kindly to the presence of a commissar, let alone a Rogue Trader Dynasty's forces.

After all, no one wanted someone in their army who held the power of life and death.

He still remembered when he first became a Cadet Commissar and was assigned to an Astra Militarum regiment; the quarters they arranged for him were just a dilapidated basement.

They tried every means possible to make things difficult for him, trying to make him leave voluntarily. But his faith in the God-Emperor was unshakable. Did they think they could make him leave with just that?

Had he not endured the brutal training of the Schola Progenium for nothing?

Edgar had no particular requirements for his living quarters. What he found most intolerable were the soldiers conscripted from Feral Worlds, or even the underhive and hive bottom, who had no discipline whatsoever.

Not every Astra Militarum regiment could be like the soldiers of Cadia, nor did all Astra Militarum regiments have a strong fighting will.

And the combat effectiveness of the Astra Militarum was very uneven; it all depended on the level of the planet from which they were recruited.

But in the end, he had always won their respect through his own courage, leading from the front, and his loyalty to the Emperor. Through his efforts, he had turned what were originally dregs into qualified Astra Militarum soldiers.

In Edgar's eyes, the soldiers of the Mongorte Dynasty, a Rogue Trader Dynasty, might have decent combat strength, but their discipline and fighting will were likely nonexistent.

Regardless of the Rogue Trader's purpose in forming this Astra Militarum regiment, he would reshape this army as he had always done!

He would make them the Hammer of the Emperor.

As Edgar thought this, a sense of mission welled up within him. His loyalty to the God-Emperor was witnessed by heaven and earth!

"Commissar Edgar? Commissar Edgar! We've arrived!"

Hearing the officer's words, Edgar snapped back to reality. He was surprised to find that the hazing he had expected had not occurred at all. The room provided for him, though not a mansion, was a well-equipped officer's single quarters.

Pushing the door open, everything was clean and tidy. There was even some food laid out on the table, and the scent of it filled the air.

"This is your dormitory. All officers in the Raiders have a single room. Your treatment is the same as an officer's. This is a delicious canned food specialty of Agathos; you must try it. This stuff is very popular on Agathos!"

Edgar found that this was not at all what he had expected… He put down his backpack and sat at the table. The aroma of the food made him unable to help but swallow.

He tried a piece, putting it in his mouth, and found it was even more delicious than he had imagined.

But the more this was the case, the angrier he became.

The army was no place for enjoying life! This would only erode a person's will!

Were the Raiders like the Scintillan Fusiliers Astra Militarum regiment – just a bunch of noble young masters with the best weapons and equipment but no fighting spirit at all?

Did they need to bring a large retinue of servants with them when they went to war?

Faced with such a regiment, Edgar would rather lead soldiers from a Feral World; at least when battle came, they were sufficiently fierce and brave.

Putting down his cutlery, Edgar straightened his commissar's uniform and took the weapons from his backpack, putting them on.

With a displeased expression, he said to the officer beside him, "Take me to the barracks. I want to see your soldiers!"

Hearing Edgar's words, the Raider officer was confused. Why was Edgar in a mood? Was he dissatisfied with the accommodation, or did he have a problem with the food?

How could something so delicious taste bad?

However, Lord Verre had already said that, apart from military command, they should cooperate with this commissar as much as possible.

But when Edgar arrived at the barracks' training grounds, he found that this army once again exceeded his imagination.

Within the Raiders' garrison, soldiers, under the leadership of their officers, were undergoing what could almost be described as brutal training.

Almost all training was with live ammunition. He personally saw several Raiders conducting realistic melee training with sharp blades.

The combat knife in a soldier's hand actually sliced open his training partner's chest, but those around seemed to be accustomed to such injuries.

The moment an injury occurred, a Medic would immediately step forward to provide treatment.

This bloody training method even reminded him of the brutal training in the Schola Progenium…

But that was a place for training commissars and elite Tempestus Scions, whereas this was just the daily training ground of an Astra Militarum regiment.

Besides melee training, in the firing range, soldiers in combat suits were conducting live-fire exercises.

Under the command of a squad leader, two sides were engaged in a completely realistic offensive and defensive battle.

Spike rounds hitting the opposing ceramite combat suits signified an elimination. Although there was no blood, it still caused damage to the combat suits.

Sometimes, it would even result in armor penetration, threatening the soldier underneath.

Edgar had seen the combat suits the Mongorte Dynasty sold to the Navy. The Navy treasured them, reserving them for their most elite boarding teams.

But the soldiers here seemed completely unconcerned about the wear and tear on this equipment.

At this point, Edgar's view of the Raiders began to change. This force was clearly different from what he had imagined.

Almost every commissar in the Imperium had clawed their way up from the battlefield.

He could feel the strict discipline of these soldiers, and he could also feel the exceptionally high morale of this army and their tenacious fighting will.

Almost every face had a look of drive; they were all soldiers who had been tempered by fire.

"Is your daily training always like this?"

"Of course. The Raiders have an elimination system! Nobles and commoners alike are subject to this system; no one can change it. Only the most outstanding soldiers of the Dynasty can join!" the officer at his side said with heartfelt pride.

He himself was of common birth. The benefits of being a Raider officer were the envy of everyone in the Dynasty, even surpassing those of some minor noble scions from the past.

And Edgar, unable to find any faults, could only approach from the angle of faith.

Arriving at the garrison's chapel, priests were leading some soldiers in prayer. They piously prayed for the God-Emperor's protection, but at the same time, they also prayed to their Rogue Trader.

After all, everything they had was given to them by the Emperor's Living Saint, Lucan. Without Lucan, they would have nothing.

And the priests also preached Lucan's greatness to the soldiers, that following Lucan was following the great God-Emperor.

The soldiers prayed with fanaticism and piety.

The cohesion of the soldiers was almost palpable.

And leaving the infantry garrison, when he arrived at the armored battalion and air squadron's garrison, Edgar couldn't help but curse "filthy rich" under his breath…

Siege Tanks… Banshees… Liberators, Vikings, and even two giant Thors.

And if Edgar knew that the Raiders could also request Gorgon-class vessels, which possessed atmospheric strategic strike capabilities like a Strike Cruiser, who knows what his expression would be.

(End of Chapter)

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