The room was filled with the blessed incense commonly used by Guojiao Priests, and upon closer sniff, it was mixed with a strange, unidentifiable floral scent.
Mr. Horatio walked slowly through the official residence, admiring its interior decor.
Rear Admiral Edward's home didn't have the ostentatious display of Rear Admiral Alexander Hood's, but every layout was meticulously designed, exuding a warmer, more homely feel, likely arranged by his wife and daughter.
The dining room was next to the reception hall on the first floor. Mr. Horatio passed by the reception hall, which had a pleasant temperature and humidity. The servants were already standing behind four chairs, waiting. Seeing their master and guests arrive, they smoothly pulled out the seats, inviting the four to sit.
Rear Admiral Edward sat at the head of the table, with his wife and daughter sitting to his left in order.
Mr. Horatio was naturally led to the seat on the right, which was considered the place of honor.
"Uncover them, let's eat and talk."
As soon as he finished speaking, the servants stepped forward two paces, holding gilded basins, standing to the left of each person.
"Don't be constrained, just make yourself at home, Horatio, just relax," Rear Admiral Edward said with a smile, demonstrating by washing his hands in the lemon-scented water.
Mr. Horatio recalled Farida's guidance on etiquette from the previous night.
'Usually, when nobles dine at the table, they are not allowed to lean back against the chair. Many people, including myself, learned or corrected our sitting posture as children using a special chair where a blunt knife could be inserted into our backs.'
'Of course, before the meal, attendants will bring you a basin of water to wash your hands, and there will also be warm, damp towels for you to dry your hands. Don't forget to use them, or use them to wipe your mouth.'
Combined with his understanding of some Ancient Terra etiquette, he maintained a dignified smile on his face, washed his hands in the basin, picked up the warm soft cloth to wipe them, then methodically picked up the cutlery with standard posture, straightening his back to maintain distance from the chair back.
Dinner was served in courses, with soup and an unidentifiable fish steak as the appetizer.
The soup was milky white, with a strong aroma of stewed meat and basil, and contained mushrooms, vegetables, and small pieces of ribs.
The fish steak showed a perfect Maillard reaction, with a just-right light brown color. The upper right corner of the steak was adorned with a sprig of rosemary arranged like a laurel wreath, and the sauce was drizzled to form the high gothic word for 'victory'.
"It seems our Mr. Horatio lives quite respectably, even in the Middle Hive," Madame Mengsha praised, observing Mr. Horatio's proper dining etiquette.
"Miss Hood guided me well," Mr. Horatio responded with a sincere nod.
"Miss Hood?"
Madame Mengsha's eyes darted around, maintaining a gentle smile on her face, then asked, "A lady from the Alexander Hood Family?"
"Precisely. Miss Farida Hood explained a lot of etiquette to me when she found me, otherwise, I would probably have made a fool of myself tonight."
"If you come often later, I can also teach you these things, perhaps even better than Miss Hood's guidance," the girl sitting opposite Mr. Horatio said with a charming smile.
"Once I enter the Loyalist Academy, visiting should… be a bit difficult?"
"Relax, Mr. Horatio," Rear Admiral Edward said, cutting into the fish steak, the fresh aroma of seasoning and fish wafting over.
"Please remember, you are now a Navy Heir, a talent being cultivated for command, not a Storm Childer of Loyalty."
Edward Peru continued after chewing the cut fish steak: "The Imperial Navy doesn't need rigid Soldiers who only obey orders unconditionally; we need wise, bold, and innovative officers.
The Naval Academy will have two days of holiday every two Terra weeks (14 days), and you can freely enter and exit the gates with your ID card.
Additionally, you will often go on missions during normal times, but before graduation, you will basically be on the planet Abyss Port, and only on the eve of graduation will you be sent to the front lines for practical training. These missions are assigned by the Navy Department, designated for various squads to complete, unlike bounty hunters who pick up tasks.
After all, we are Imperial forces; we have a lot to do and no time to wait for squads to slowly choose."
"Then… what if that mission is very difficult?" Mr. Horatio asked seriously.
"Without the strength and equipment of Space Marines, how do you think we, as mortals, should fight Chaos?"
"Our strength is weak, but our unity compensates for that, and we possess wisdom."
Mr. Horatio raised his finger and tapped his head.
"That's right, a flexible mind can solve 99% of problems. The Navy Department will also assess mission risks and assign more than one squad to complete them.
If necessary, there will also be Adeptus Arbites 'Sudden Death' teams, Space Marines, and even Inquisitors to support you. These are the most elite warriors. Of course, you wouldn't want the last one."
Rear Admiral Edward smiled, raising his glass containing dark red wine, and saluted Mr. Horatio:
"Mr. Horatio, if you want to stand out, you must boldly use your mind and come up with the best solutions. At that time, you will find that many difficulties will be resolved easily. This is the training policy of the Gothic Fleet. Once you are on a warship, you will understand that most of the difficulties you face now are not difficulties.
When you are given only 30 seconds to make a decision about the lives and deaths of tens of thousands of people on the entire ship, or even the entire fleet, and the dozens of worlds protected by the fleet, you will be grateful that you possess an incredibly intelligent and clear mind, and the training the Navy has given you."
Mr. Horatio swallowed, even just verbally, he could feel immense pressure bearing down on him.
"Yes, Peru," Mr. Horatio raised his glass in return.
"Remember," the Rear Admiral's face was very serious, yet in his seriousness, there was a sense of composure and naturalness.
"If the Imperial Guard loses, our transport ships can bring in another hundred regiments and ten times the number of reserve forces for ground combat.
But once the Navy loses, the claws of Chaos can unhinderedly surround and sweep across the entire sector, devastating dozens of worlds and costing trillions of lives.
And whether all this happens could very well be within the 30 seconds you make a decision, whether you are a Sergeant, a Midshipman, a Lieutenant, a Colonel, or a Navy Admiral, every detail from each of us could stir up a howling storm."
"My dear, why are you putting so much pressure on him right away?" the Rear Admiral's wife reminded him, while signaling the servants to bring out the main course.
"Pressure brings growth, Mother," the girl on the side watched Mr. Horatio throughout, observing the expression on his face, and whenever Mr. Horatio's expression became serious, she would let out a light laugh.
"I heard the war situation is very tense right now," Mr. Horatio said, taking a sip of wine.
"Since entering the 41st millennium, the war situation has always been tense.
The galaxy is currently embroiled in wars everywhere. The Gothic Fleet has activated over seventy percent of its mothballed warships. Our fleet has already dispersed throughout the entire galaxy, not just the Segmentum Obscurus.
Even so, there are still more people than ships. Now, even Midshipman positions are hard to come by, and the phenomenon of people waiting for ships in various fleets is becoming increasingly common. Many people have waited for decades without being assigned a warship.
The shipyards have activated an emergency preparedness decision of five hundred years of two-shift rotation, and tens of thousands of workers die from exhaustion every day because of it, but their sacrifice is worth it, as billions of people survive because of them."
The main course was served: steak covered in black pepper sauce. The meat was very tender; with just a slight pressure of the knife, it revealed a pink, juicy cross-section.
"But you don't have to worry about these issues, Mr. Horatio," Rear Admiral Edward casually wiped his mouth:
"As long as you can successfully advance to the officer preparatory school and become a Loyalist Midshipman, I will take you onto my warship, and then you can prepare well for the sector-level Naval Lieutenant qualification examination, just like your father. As long as you have the ability, we will give you the stage to show it and train you to be an excellent Captain, or even a General."
[Is this pulling strings?] Mr. Horatio thought.
"Thank you," he picked up his glass and proactively saluted the Rear Admiral.
While the two were talking, stewed meat made with turnips, carrots, potatoes, and some vegetables Mr. Horatio had never seen before was brought out.
"Thank your father, Mr. Horatio. It was he who proved his strength, proving that the Kirkland Family still has Navy blood flowing through its veins.
In this era where everyone is under great pressure, there is no news more exciting than a descendant of Spire re-emerging. The fleet needs faith, humanity needs faith, and you need faith."
At the end of the meal, an appetizing and exquisite dessert was brought out, symbolizing the end of the dinner, and also symbolizing that tomorrow would be better…
Perhaps.