The Imperium of Man has fallen!
The High Lords of Terra are to be abolished!
Rumors spread that with the Primarchs' return, the Adeptus Astartes would once again seize the supremacy they held during the Great Crusade era.
Beneath the High Lords' Council, the central governing institutions of the Imperium—the highest administrative body, the Departmento Munitorum; the supreme judiciary, the Adeptus Arbites; the Astronomican; the Astropathic Choir; and the ancient, powerful organizations managing psykers, communications, and Warp navigation—all would face the same fate.
Every one of them would undergo a purge unlike any in the tens of millennia since the High Lords' system was established.
The High Lords themselves—including the Grand Minister of the Munitorum, the Minister of the Arbites, the representative of the Inquisition, the Speaker of the Astropathic Choir, the Navigator Envoy, and the Master of the Astronomican—those who had once held boundless authority across every Imperial faction, would all be purged!
Even the Navigator Houses and the Astropathic Orders would lose their once-supreme privileges—discarded, abolished.
Now, within Terra, undercurrents surged. With the disturbances around the Throne Hall and the Astronomican, the Custodes' lockdown of all communications, and their rapid takeover of key points within the Terran government...
The oppressive tension before the storm blanketed the entire Throne World.
Though far less catastrophic than the all-out warfare and despair of the [Horus Heresy] siege ten thousand years prior, for some, this time felt even deadlier.
In a shadowed alley beneath the towering Eternal Wall of the Imperial Palace's outer city, a desperate rebellion was unfolding.
"...Did Trajann Valoris, the Captain-General of the Custodes, truly say that?"
An aged and respected High Lord sat in his chair, puffing furiously on a cigar. His face was ashen, his features bloated and slack despite rejuvenation treatments, sweat beading densely upon his skin.
"Do I need to repeat myself? The High Lords' Council will be dissolved—so will the Departmento Munitorum, the Adeptus Arbites, even the Inquisition! Nearly every administrative framework of the Imperium is to be dismantled and rebuilt from the ground up."
"'Dissolved' might not be the right word. The Custodes and the returning Primarchs' intent is to restructure—to redefine the boundaries of responsibility and authority..."
"What difference does that make?! This is madness! Those brutish soldiers and half-awake princes are destroying the Imperium! We cannot accept this! It's outright heresy! A blasphemous perversion of the Emperor's divine will!"
"...Are you calling the Custodes heretics?"
"Their actions right now are heretical!"
Amid the heated debate, a former Minister of the Munitorum spoke up, his tone firm but evasive:
"As the High Lords entrusted with the Emperor's sacred mandate, it is both our duty and obligation to maintain the stability of the Imperium."
"Hmph! You speak so righteously—spare us the theatrics. We all know each other well enough. Do you truly mean to wage war against the Custodes and the Primarchs?"
With a calm yet heavy voice, the Master of the Astronomican—his eyes dull and buried beneath layers of augmetic implants—cut off the former minister's speech.
"With the combined might of the Adeptus Astartes, the Custodes, and the returning Primarchs, what are you in the face of their bolters?"
The former Minister of the Munitorum shook his head. "When did I ever say we would oppose them with force?"
"The Custodes must have misunderstood the Emperor's holy will. After all, as palace guardians, they've long been disconnected from the functioning of the Imperium—ten thousand years of isolation! It's natural for them to err. The Primarchs' return is a blessing, yes, but they are even more estranged from the Imperium's reality than the Custodes."
"We must show the Primarchs that the Imperium cannot function without the High Lords—and without us."
That sounded far more reasonable.
Through clouds of smoke, the former Minister of the Arbites and the Inquisition's representative exchanged glances and nodded.
If it came down to open rebellion, to military confrontation, they would have offered up the former Munitorum minister and his faction as scapegoats.
They were all old foxes, and they understood perfectly what he truly meant:
To paralyze the Imperium.
Not through civil war or alliance with xenos, but by cooperating with the Custodes and the Primarchs' demand—if they wanted dissolution, then so be it. Dissolve it. Completely.
By removing every administrative framework, the functioning of the Imperium would grind to a halt, confined to a small corner of the Throne World itself—unable even to govern the surface hives of Terra. Interstellar communication would cease, commerce would collapse, supply chains would break, ports would be abandoned, and warp routes would fall silent.
Without enough bureaucrats and civil officials, even the Primarchs would be powerless to conjure the necessary resources from nothing.
Then, surely, the Primarchs would realize what was truly indispensable to the governance and survival of the Imperium.
The Imperium could survive without the Primarchs—even with the Emperor still seated upon the Golden Throne—but not without them.
Such were the dark thoughts that crossed the minds of several attendees. Of course, none dared speak them aloud—such words were utterly taboo.
"However," the former Minister of the Munitorum said, tapping his finger rhythmically upon the silk-covered table like a gavel, "for this plan to have maximum effect, we High Lords—as well as the Navigator Envoys, House Patriarchs, Choir Masters, and Clan Lords—must act in unison."
"I trust none of you wish to see the noble Navigator Houses and Astropathic Clans lose their rightful honor and standing—to decay, perish, and sink to the level of the mutant serfs?"
The envoys and masters of the Navigator and Astropathic families murmured among themselves before reaching a silent consensus. They agreed to act together—to call upon their kin and faction members to cease all service to the Imperium as a sign of protest against the Custodes' reckless decrees.
Just as the former Munitorum minister had said.
When tens of millions—even billions—of bureaucrats and civil workers went on strike, when the Navigators who guided Imperial ships and the Astropaths who maintained galactic communication simultaneously withdrew their services, none could imagine how Terra would maintain its rule over the vast territories of the galaxy.
Yes, the Space Marines possessed superhuman bodies and wills—but their numbers were too few. Barely a million across the Imperium's countless recorded and tithe-paying worlds—not even enough for one Astartes per world.
There were Navigators and Astropaths who served the Space Marine Chapters, true, but they could never compare to the deep-rooted power of the ancient noble families entrenched on Terra for millennia.
Soon, the secret council of the dispossessed concluded.
The once-powerful officials of the Imperium's most critical departments left separately, escorted through the hidden underpasses beneath the Eternal Wall by their private guards.
"Master, news from our agents at the Martian orbital port—Thirteenth Primarch, Lord of Ultramar, Imperial Regent Roboute Guilliman, has returned."
At those words, deep within a damp, dim passageway, the Master of the Astronomican walked slowly to a small refracted window. Gazing toward the setting sun—toward Luna and Mars—he muttered softly:
"So shrewd... and yet so blind. Blinded by ambition, scattered and prideful—they bring ruin upon themselves..."
"Master? You mean... we will not take part?"
"Not only will we refrain, we will report this directly to Jaghatai Khan. Though I do not yet understand the Custodes' full intent, the Astronomican shall forever stand with the Emperor—and with the Primarchs. Phrase it carefully, neutrally..."
'The Age of the Primarchs has returned.'
...
"Oh? It seems there are still some clever ones."
Almost the moment the council of the dispossessed dispersed, a full transcript of their meeting—the participants, discussions, statements, and declarations—appeared in Selene's hand within the Throne Hall on Terra.
She listened as the Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum reported in calm tones.
As expected, the Assassins were pure in their loyalty. They served only the Emperor.
When summoned to report to Jaghatai Khan, even upon hearing the earth-shattering news of the Imperium's change of banners, they showed no reaction. Once they received confirmation from the Emperor himself, they had been astonished—but they still proceeded methodically to deliver their report to Selene.
"The Departmento Munitorum is the core of resistance, especially among those hereditary families within certain professions," the Grand Master said.
A fine plan indeed. These power plays might even trouble Guilliman himself, forcing him to compromise—but was Selene the type to be threatened?
She flipped through the copied transcript while marking it with a manifested crystal quill, circling and underlining key names.
The Minister of the Munitorum. The Ecclesiarch. The Navigator Envoy. The Master of the Astropathic Choir. The representative of the Inquisition...
Those who had lost the most power—those who were the focus of the restructuring—were also the ones shouting the loudest.
Especially the Navigators and the Astropaths—professions of the highest status within the Imperium of Man, yet utterly useless within the Sacred Selene Empire.
The Sacred Selene Empire had no need for them—no need for Warp navigation or astropathic transmission.
And these people had a history.
Long ago, when the Emperor's Webway Project had been partially leaked to the Navigator Envoys, they had feared that, once the project succeeded, their monopoly over interstellar travel would vanish. The Navigator Houses had even conspired together to secretly sabotage the Emperor's work...
Selene noted, however, that the reports she read contained much mention of "non-violent resistance." There was little of the near-civil-war level defiance seen in Guilliman's Plague of Bureaucracy or the so-called Shadow Crusade of the Regent.
It made sense—after all, Guilliman was not the only Primarch now present on Terra.
"Your Majesty, the tea is freshly prepared."
From the base of the Golden Throne, Magnus rose and, under the strange gazes of Jaghatai Khan and the assembled Custodes, carefully bent his massive frame, setting the steaming cup of red tea upon the small table beside Selene's throne.
This was no mere humility—it bordered on obsequiousness.
Was this truly the same demigod who had once sat upon the Golden Throne without even a frown?
At the same time, the gathered onlookers stole glances toward the Golden Throne behind Selene.
In place of Magnus, who once empowered the Astronomican, there now hovered a strange construct—entirely crystalline, translucent violet-gold, shaped like a three-dimensional diamond. Within its gleaming core shimmered divine radiance, pulsing with waves of gentle energy.
With each ripple of power, the entire Throne Hall vibrated in fluid waves of light. The Golden Throne itself seemed alive, glowing faintly with amethyst halos that mended its ancient cracks with soft brilliance.
And there, seated atop the highest tier of the throne, the white-haired woman—was she truly the one to whom the Emperor had entrusted everything?
"These petty Terran squabbles... I'll handle them for you."
Selene smiled as she sipped her tea, casting a sidelong glance toward the Emperor, whose golden flesh and pure psychic essence were slowly taking shape upon the Throne.
The question of who stood above whom—of ruler and subordinate—was now painfully clear.
Some Custodes felt indignation, but when met by the Emperor's calm, serene, almost relieved expression, they fell to their knees, weeping uncontrollably.
From their sovereign's own lips, they had received their answer: the Imperium of Man was now formally a vassal world under Selene's direct rule.
Ignoring the emotional display of loyalty and surrender, Selene propped her chin on her hand and turned toward the serene Warhawk, whose detached composure suggested he was moments away from plucking up a stringed instrument to hum a tune.
"Jaghatai, aren't you going to greet your brothers? Dorn, Jonson, Vulkan, Guilliman—they're gathering on Mars."
The Warhawk of Chogoris smiled faintly.
"One should clean one's house before inviting guests. As the only Primarch currently on Terra, I must prepare a suitable home for my brothers."
He closed the Codex of Law of the Sacred Selene Empire that Selene had given him.
Selene smiled warmly, then straightened, her tone turning crisp:
"The Navigator Houses and the Astropathic Choirs—effective immediately, abolished."
"Those who harbor resentment have revealed themselves. Separate the useful from the useless—and begin the harvest."
"As you command."
...
Meanwhile, upon Mars, as the priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus, the Battlefleet Solar officers, and accompanying scholars and chroniclers gathered in awe to witness the meeting of so many Imperial demigods—rekindling the grandeur of the Great Crusade itself—an event of unspeakable magnitude erupted on Holy Terra.
An unknown strike force of Astartes appeared suddenly on Terra.
They sealed off the Government Palace, purged countless vital institutions, and unleashed devastating weaponry and psychic power—obliterating the fortresses and bastions of the Navigator Houses and political dynasties in an instant.
They slaughtered and captured innumerable nobles and guards. The prisons of Terra overflowed with the detained.
They had appeared as if from the very ground itself—no detection systems had registered their landing, no surveillance had seen their arrival. Alarms blared across Terra; distress signals from the assaulted High Lords' Council reached even the Primarchs on Mars.
The assembled Primarchs, in the midst of debate with the leader of the so-called Imperial Evangelion Legion, turned pale.
Only Guilliman frowned in thought. As the only Primarch who had met Selene, he could feel that unmistakable, terrible power radiating from the Imperial Palace—a power she made no effort to conceal.
Moments later, a transmission arrived from Holy Terra itself.
"Long time no see... my brothers. The house has been cleaned."
—
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