Warhammer: Starting as a Planetary Governor

"When will you meet the target and produce a stable cure for the plague?"

At the mobilization meeting, Eden's gaze turned to the head of the Plague Research Institute.

Just recently, he had handed over the invaluable knowledge gained from the Goddess of Life to the institute.

They were tasked with deeply evaluating the sacred data and giving a clear research timeline—a key factor for gaining the upper hand in the coming Plague War.

The flickering projection of the Panacea Sage appeared, the ancient scholar's entire body visibly marked by lingering signs of plague.

After a moment of hesitation, he answered:

"By the grace of the Omnissiah, we will need eight standard Terran years to fully assimilate that divine knowledge and develop the treatment the Savior desires…"

Eden's demands were steep.

He wanted the Plague Research Sages to construct a universal treatment framework—a base template capable of reliably curing plagues—and from that, synthesize medicine akin to a panacea, specifically tailored for the varied strains of Nurgle's plagues.

Under normal conditions, that would be an impossible request.

But thanks to the Institute's vast accumulation of knowledge, the divine insights from the Goddess, and reference data from their own panacea research, it was barely possible.

Still, it would take a vast amount of time.

Eight years was already an aggressive deadline—especially with tens of thousands of bio-sages on the project and a streamlined research system in place.

"Make it five. I'll double your resource allocations."

Eden grit his teeth at the memory of plague-devastated worlds. His tone brooked no refusal.

He had already poured staggering resources into plague research. The "Plague Research Institute" wasn't just a lab—it occupied an entire planet.

It hosted countless bio-sages, and over billions of support personnel, including a dedicated logistics fleet.

An unceasing torrent of resources poured into that world.

Beyond medical treatments, the planet also oversaw the development of anti-Nurgle weaponry, protective gear, quarantine tech, and pathogen-purging machines.

Doubling that investment would significantly strain the court's treasury.

And not just for plague research—dozens of other departments were also seeing increased expenditures. The treasury was edging toward a deficit.

And a deficit meant taxes.

It struck Eden—his territory was beginning to resemble the Imperium, experiencing the same infinite resource strain. He understood now why the Imperium always seemed on the edge of collapse.

Desperate wars, resource shortages—each new tax intended to restore stability only created new unrest. A cycle that spiraled deeper into chaos.

Luckily, the Savior's domain had thick HP bars—this budget shortfall was minor. It wouldn't cripple them.

Still, the golden age of prosperity had clearly ended. With war on the horizon, the territory would have to tighten its belt.

"Maybe that's not a bad thing…"

Eden pondered quietly.

Years of peace had made many citizens complacent—especially the higher classes, who had grown indulgent and corrupt.

They were starting to resemble the bloated nobility of the Imperium.

They'd lost their drive. Their reverence. Their fear.

Thanks to the sacrifices and vigilance of the Savior's armies, no war had touched their homeland for decades.

And so they'd forgotten the truth—

War never left. Humanity remains on the edge of extinction.

It had only been 30 years since the territory's people escaped starvation and built stable lives.

But the new generations now took that comfort for granted. They thought full bellies and safe homes were inherent rights, not hard-earned blessings.

They had lost their reverence.

Even though the propaganda bureau constantly showcased the horrors across other Imperial regions, some things slipped through.

This was dangerous.

Because in the grim darkness of the far future, corruption of thought is often more terrifying than any enemy.

Maybe it was Chaos influence.

Maybe not.

Either way, Eden would not allow Chaos cults to take root here.

With the Plague War coming and new taxes imminent, it was time for the Inquisition to clean house.

Sweep out decadence. Reinforce vigilance.

Remind the people what's at stake.

Tough times were ahead.

And Eden himself would lead by example—cutting luxuries, canceling shipments of local delicacies and seafood.

Leading from the front.

As these thoughts raced through his mind, his gaze stayed locked on the Panacea Sage's image, awaiting his answer.

After over ten seconds of silence, the Sage finished his calculations and bowed slightly:

"As you command, Savior. The Plague Research Institute will deliver results that satisfy you—in five standard Terran years…"

The Sage understood what was coming. The Savior's domain—and the Imperium—would soon face horrors unimaginable.

Under the Omnissiah's blessing, he would shoulder this burden.

Eden nodded in satisfaction, then looked around the chamber at the other holographic projections. Every key department was present.

(Changed Kais into Kaise. Sounds better)

The Interior Director and Savior's Hand, Bayev.

Military officials like Arye, Kaise, and Chapter Masters Duke, Pru, and Barrel.

Inquisitorial High Judge Deville.

Logistics head Popov.

And representatives from engineering, civil welfare, commerce, the medical sisters, and more.

This was the first full assembly in over a decade—a strategic meeting that would determine the fate of the domain and the Imperium.

Every command issued here would affect billions.

Eden listened to the department heads deliver their reports and projections.

Among the highlights:

Astartes numbers had increased again. In five years, the Savior's gene-warriors were expected to number 150,000.

Biotech had advanced, particularly in gene-mods for Ogryns. Trials were progressing, and within five years, Ogryn Astartes would be ready for deployment.

Given their typical height of 2.5–3 meters, these Ogryns—already massive and resilient—would become truly terrifying after gene modification.

Eden looked forward to deploying these fearless, loyal brutes on the battlefield.

Meanwhile, the Storm Group Army was expanding its power armor units—replacing elite infantry with soldiers wearing suits based on Tau Battlesuit designs.

These new armored troops would form combat synth-battalions, fighting alongside Imperial Knights and Redemption-class Titans.

"By the Savior's name, once these new units are formed, we'll crush those damn heretics' eggs and show 'em what we're made of!"

General Arye grunted, chewing a cigar with typical brutish pride.

"Well said. I'm counting on the Storm Group's performance."

Eden replied with a mild smile.

Years had passed, but Arye hadn't changed much—still loud, still rough. Just more scars now.

This war, however, was against Nurgle's armies—which meant facing chemical weapons and toxic miasmas.

Standard armies would be slaughtered before they could even form a line.

These power-armored units, with full filtration systems and sealed suits, would be essential.

They would be one of the core forces in this war. This is part of a series from My Virtual Library Empire (M|V|L1EMPYR).

"Savior, the Redemption Fleet will in the coming years…"

Navy Commander Kaise stepped forward, offering a crisp salute and beginning his report.

His demeanor had changed with time—more composed, a streak of white now in his hair. The cunning and slyness of youth had given way to the solemn weight of command.

Years in high command had changed Kaise. He had grown into a true administrator, no longer the slick and cunning officer he once was.

He understood well that he was no longer a nameless officer on the frontlines—nor did he need to lead charges himself. Those old tricks would only cast shadows over his command now.

Besides, unlike Arye, Kaise was only mortal. He couldn't play both desk and frontline roles.

Eden listened attentively to his thorough and structured report and got a clear picture of the Redemption Fleet's status.

In truth, not much had changed with the fleet overall. Ship numbers wouldn't rise significantly—perhaps ten large vessels might be completed before the war.

That was the limit.

With only a few years left before the war truly began, and with shipbuilding and repairs requiring enormous time and resources, this was all they could achieve. At most, they'd polish and upgrade the current ships.

Perhaps install more anti-Nurgle weaponry.

But there wasn't much more to do.

As such, the fleet's focus would shift to intensive scenario training for its commanders, preparing them to adapt to the coming chaos.

Then came the topic of the Hospitaller Sisterhood—and here, changes were massive.

In the coming years, their strength would grow explosively. Their ranks would expand dramatically.

The Plague Lord's increased activity was already bleeding into realspace. Illnesses were on the rise.

While most weren't fatal, they were devastating to productivity.

Now, Eden's territories frequently saw the spread of highly contagious diseases like virulent flu strains, Violet Heat Syndrome, and Bovine Ant Syndrome.

The daily lives and work of citizens were heavily disrupted.

The burden on the medical system was becoming unbearable—its primitive structure showing alarming strain.

This had to be fixed.

Following this meeting, many planets would begin constructing modern hospitals, and a new medical insurance system would go online.

These measures would address public health crises and safeguard productivity.

It was clear: the Plague Lord would be active for years to come.

Medical resources had to be not just adequate, but abundant. If the war dragged on and plague crippled logistics and industrial capacity at home—

Game over.

Many of the Plague Institute's future breakthroughs would first serve the military, then gradually expand to civilian use—fueling the growth of biotech industries.

Every major war pushes technological advancement—and this one would reshape not just the Savior's Domain, but the entire galaxy.

Especially since this might be a war spanning multiple Apocalypse-class battlefields.

—

Next, Eden turned to the Engineering Department, with special focus on the Webway restoration project.

Fast interstellar travel was critical. Supply logistics relied on stable routes. The Savior's Domain's greatest advantage was its control of such infrastructure.

The ongoing conflict meant plans for a major Webway Trade Hub would be delayed, but partial activation would continue—particularly for transporting medicine and supplies.

A massive undertaking.

Once Eden confirmed the engineers could meet the deadline, he stopped asking questions.

He now had all the data he needed.

He rose and faced the gathered department heads.

With firm resolve, he issued the Total War Directive.

From this moment forward, the entire domain was now under wartime status.

All institutions. All activities.

Everything now served the war.

This state could last years, decades, or centuries.

Billions might die.

But as long as Nurgle's invasions did not cease, the Savior's Domain would continue fighting—until victory was won.

Eden's voice, amplified by vox-casters, echoed through the entire conference hall.

These words were recorded and relayed to the Machine Spirit mainframe in the Holy Sanctuary of Urth, then transmitted to every corner of his dominion.

Within days, over two thousand civilized worlds in his territory would begin sounding alarms. His voice would roll through planetary atmospheres—

Declaring war.

A decree that could not be challenged, delayed, or defied.

All who disobeyed would face the wrath of the Inquisition.

During this special period, inquisitorial authority had no upper limit.

After issuing the decree, Eden looked to his elderly but sharp-eyed Steward:

"Bayev… the rest is yours."

This mobilization summit would continue for weeks. Every department head would now work through the specifics—drafting policy and procedures to ensure total war readiness.

Eden would steer the direction—but Bayev would run the ship.

He had his own work to do.

After a brief exchange with Bayev, Eden's projection flickered and vanished.

This wasn't the official venue anyway.

He had been the virtual participant. The real war summit was taking place in the Sacred Hall of Urth.

There, dozens of top-level officials gathered in physical form. And in parallel, hundreds of sub-meetings were underway in various locations—drawing in nearly a million personnel to draft detailed regulations.

Different civilizations. Different species. Different development stages.

The territory's diversity made simple orders risky. A decree meant for one world could be disastrous for another.

Hence the need for endless conferences.

The Sacred Hall alone required tens of thousands of managers to coordinate everything.

And that didn't count the guides, servers, and staff who maintained order. The Hall was an administrative behemoth in its own right.

Maybe someday, when his domain achieved economic parity through inter-system redistribution, this chaos would fade.

Until then, it would persist.

Thankfully, the domain's administrative and communications systems were advanced enough to handle it.

Otherwise, like the Imperium, they'd have to abandon most of their realm and rule through flat taxation and brute enforcement.

—

After the meeting, Eden returned to his micro-garden sanctuary, basking his true body in the artificial sun.

But his consciousness returned to the black fortress—his dark citadel floating in the Eye of Terror.

Corrupted by his Chaos shell, the fortress had taken on traits of a Warp domain.

Within its hall, dark energy surged.

Eden's mind once more inhabited the Chaos avatar, now seated upon a black throne. Outside the viewing window, a dying planet loomed.

Black Abyss.

His fortress, towed by Chaos warships, was closing in.

Eden wouldn't be leaving the Eye of Terror anytime soon.

War was coming fast, and the Savior's forces—especially Astartes—couldn't grow much in the short term.

That wasn't enough.

Fortunately, there was another source of power.

The Eye of Terror was crawling with Chaos warriors—veterans, killers, zealots.

Precious assets.

Originally, Eden had formed his Chaos faction as a contingency.

Now, it was time to use it.

He would take advantage of the war-torn Eye—recruiting legions of battle-hardened Chaos troops.

When the Plague War erupted in earnest, he would lead them in a surgical strike—

Deep into Nurgle's rear lines.

His gaze turned toward Black Abyss.

Over two thousand Chaos warriors awaited him there.

And then—

His thoughts were interrupted.

A transmission surged through the Warp, crashing into his mind.

He read it—

And his daemonic body jolted with shock.

"…Ka'bro, Ka'bro… you magnificent bastard…"

The message came from Barag, the scheming Khorne mole—and it contained fresh intel on his half-brother:

Ka'Bandha.

(End of Chapter)

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