The New Imperium was far more "civilized" than the old one. It did not casually execute people in the name of faith.
The premise, of course, was that you were not involved with xenos, heresy, or rebellion.
Given Dorn's current behavior, and assuming no xenos or heresy was involved, at worst it amounted to disrespect toward the Savior.
And the circumstances were relatively minor.
After all, people from unreclaimed regions might not know the Savior exists, or they might not understand Imperial etiquette. There was room for leniency.
But if you were warned and still insisted on showing disrespect to the Savior, then it became a crime.
The Discipline Squad would take you in for instruction. Only once you truly understood the Savior's greatness and contributions would you be allowed out to "start over" as a proper citizen.
"Loyalty isn't innate. The Savior permits people to reject his rule, but the disloyal absolutely must not enjoy everything the loyal have built.
The disloyal should count themselves lucky that merciful being spared their lives…"
Grand Inquisitor Deville had said as much before. He consistently supported executing or exiling anyone who blasphemed or showed disrespect.
Naturally, his view was not adopted.
The Savior and the rest of the Imperial high command believed the New Imperium should not continue the old high-pressure environment. That only produced excessive slaughter.
And crushing psychological pressure, in turn, tended to breed heretical corruption.
Of course, xenos, heretics, and rebels threatened humanity's survival and had to be executed.
No negotiation. No exceptions.
But for Imperial citizens who could still be reclaimed, the Imperium should reclaim them, guiding them back from the wrong path.
In short, it was about finding a balance between the old Imperium's brutal suppression and the New Imperium's "civilized development."
As the Savior had emphasized:
The Imperium has entered a new era. We should gradually implement the rule of law to shape a stable order.
Education was one of the measures used to recover some Imperial citizens.
Under the Savior's guidance, prison facilities were established, but when the policy first rolled out, a lot went wrong.
Because the "reform prison" environment hadn't been designed with actual scientific research, the educational measures failed to produce the intended effect.
The main issue was that the reform prison was too nice, so some people who had never experienced New Imperium life thought it was a welfare program.
A prison made of cement and alloy, no bed, just one miserable blanket.
Forced labor for more than ten hours a day.
Food limited to corpse-starch.
Cold water splashed on you sometimes to wake you up.
And somehow the detainees were moved to tears and didn't even want to leave?
From the detainees' perspective, it looked different.
The enforcers didn't kill them.
They fed them, clothed them, gave them a warm, safe place to sleep, with no risk of xenos or heretical contamination.
They even provided medical care and cured diseases they'd been living with.
Not bad at all.
Back in their hive factory jobs, they worked harder than this and died more often.
That was the problem. In many old-Imperium regions, Imperial citizens lived worse than roaches. Apocalypse inside an apocalypse. Built to endure.
So in the end, the reform prison achieved an "educational effect," but it did so in a very sideways way that didn't match the original intent.
Of course, that wasn't a failure of the Savior's guidance. It was the departments executing it poorly.
You could hardly say the Savior underestimated the detainees' tolerance and was simply too merciful.
That being was just too kind, too soft-hearted.
After deep internal reflection, the responsible departments reported back.
They argued that even if it was "education," a prison should still look like a prison. Punishment had to be increased.
As long as the disrespectful were not punished the way xenos and heretics were, it was acceptable.
After that, they optimized the "education system," splitting it into two phases: education and punishment.
For those with old-Imperium thinking who simply hadn't correctly understood the Savior, education was enough. There was no need to throw them into prison at all.
But the hardliners needed to be sent to prison for stick-based "education" and labor reform, then released once they were corrected.
They also made special additional investments, refurbishing reform prisons across various regions at great cost.
Environmental control systems were installed to simulate extreme, but non-lethal, conditions.
So those hardliners could feel the "warmth" of reform and be forced into compliance.
In the Savior's eyes, this was straightforward personal autocracy and thought control.
A harsh management regime.
But in this wretched cesspit of a galaxy, it somehow stood out as exceptionally civilized.
Either way, the New Imperium could not relax its grip on faith and ideology. Unity had to be maintained.
Otherwise the Changer of Ways would play you like an instrument, pushing in and out of humanity's beliefs and thoughts at will.
Then it was over.
Still, those who needed education were usually a tiny minority. Most Imperial citizens treasured this hard-won life and felt genuine gratitude toward the Savior.
They also despised anyone who showed disrespect.
Like Dorn, this big man.
In the cathedral square, he hadn't saluted the Savior in time. That was disrespect.
If he refused after being warned, he would be taken away immediately for instruction.
If he still failed the post-instruction assessment, he'd be sent to a dedicated prison for forced reform.
At this moment, the Discipline Squad in the cathedral square had already risen after saluting and turned their gaze this way.
Their expressions were severe.
The short veteran was anxious and urged Dorn again.
"Big guy, what are you spacing out for? Just do what we do and salute."
He was confused.
This big man looked blank. Maybe he hadn't reacted at first, but the veteran had already reminded him. There was no reason he still wouldn't understand.
In Imperial territory, even the simple-minded Ogryn knew how to salute and thank the Savior.
"It looks like the Savior has monopolized power. The Imperium's basically about to become his one-man show…"
Dorn sensed the crowd's mood and thought grimly.
It wasn't just the pilgrims. Even the Ecclesiarchy priests, the tech-priests, and the ship's Imperial guard were under the Savior's rule.
That meant the Imperium's Senatorum had completely lost control. The Savior was restrained by nothing.
That kind of towering authority was practically identical to the Emperor, to Dorn's own Father.
"What state is Father in? Has he been constrained somehow?"
Dorn's worry deepened.
He knew the Emperor, his Father, was trapped on the Golden Throne, his body slowly withering away, unable to resist attacks from within or without.
Dorn had tried to contact him before, but received no answer.
Now that Dorn recognized the Savior as a potential threat, he worried even more about the Emperor's situation.
External threats from xenos and heretics were not as terrifying.
But if the danger came from the Imperium's core, how could it be resisted?
If something truly happened, it would be a catastrophe even more dangerous than the Horus Heresy.
Dorn quickly forced himself to think.
"Even if the Savior's ambition is fully exposed and no one restrains him, it shouldn't be so easy for him to threaten Father deep within the Palace.
The Custodes should be able to protect Father, right?"
The Adeptus Custodes were the Imperium's most loyal and elite guard. They would protect Father, and they would not be swayed by the Savior's authority.
That thought steadied Dorn, a little.
He made a decision.
"I have to tell Father about this.
If the Savior truly hid all of this, then with Father's approval, I can mobilize the Custodes to stop him…"
No matter what, the Emperor, Dorn's Father, was the Imperium's one and only ruler. The Savior could not overturn the heavens.
"Savior, I am Rogal Dorn. I am the Imperium's last wall. I will not allow you to do as you please."
Dorn silently swore it, his expression hardening, his presence rising until it was almost impossible to suppress.
Then he dropped with a heavy thud to one knee and saluted the Savior.
Because in the edge of his vision, the Discipline Squad was already moving over, with the clear intent of arresting him on the spot and dragging him off for "education."
He still had to reach the Imperial Palace in secret and tell his Father the truth about the Savior.
He could not expose his identity here and now, or he might ignite a crisis instantly.
If the Savior truly harbored treason, Dorn feared he might gamble and launch a war of secession.
Best to act covertly, learn the truth, then decide whether to take the Savior down with a thunderclap of force.
"Father is too merciful. He trusts too easily."
Dorn felt a bitter weight in his chest.
Back then, Father handed Imperial governance to Malcador, and handed most of the Imperium's armies to Horus, placing total trust in them.
He never truly considered that someone might betray him.
Now Father had given power to the Savior as well, and the Emperor's authority was being weakened step by step.
"No matter what, I am Father's most loyal son. As long as I haven't completely fallen and died, no one will harm Father.
Not the Savior. Not xenos, heretics, rebels. Not anyone."
Dorn lowered his head and swore it.
Now, he might be the only one Father could trust.
Ten thousand years…
The thought that he would finally return to Father's side, finally meet him again after ten millennia, made tears spill into his eyes.
"I told you. This big guy's just honest and a little slow. He's loyal, I tell you."
The short veteran muttered when he saw Dorn's reaction.
At this point, the crowd accepted Dorn's loyalty.
In their eyes, the big man simply reacted half a beat late, then slammed down to his knee so hard he nearly cracked the marble and started bawling.
That wasn't disrespect. That was the very image of Imperial loyalty.
The short veteran even suspected Dorn had been so overwhelmed that he forgot to kneel in time.
That happened sometimes. Some people even fainted from excitement.
Seeing Dorn like this, the Discipline Squad nodded with satisfaction and quietly retreated to continue their watch.
They kept scanning the crowd for anyone showing disrespect, noting names to a list.
The short veteran clenched his fist to his chest.
In the heated atmosphere, his gratitude toward the Savior, the Emperor of the Imperium, surged like a tide, and tears fell from his eyes.
The virtual image above was so radiant it felt like it was giving off an invisible heat, igniting gratitude in the hearts of the people.
Some pilgrims could not control themselves at all, raising both hands and wailing openly.
They had lived through the dark age where life was worth less than grass.
They had never, in their entire lives, received such attention and honor.
"Damn it. What humiliation…"
Dorn wasn't paying much attention to the outside anymore.
He raised a hand and wiped his tears, feeling ashamed that he had knelt before the Savior's holy image.
Thankfully, he was in disguise as a simple big man. No one would know this mortifying disgrace.
Overhead, mechanical cherubim drifted silently between the banners, recording the touching scene.
These moving, inspiring images would become propaganda material, circulated through various regions.
Soon, the sacred address concluded, and the Savior's virtual projection slowly faded away.
The pilgrims gradually calmed, returning to their victory celebration with brighter smiles.
After saluting the Savior, the pilgrim ship also restarted and departed.
Not long after, it arrived at the Imperium's core system.
The Sol System.
As the pilgrim ship entered Sol, Dorn's mood grew heavier. He was about to reveal a terrifying truth to the Emperor and the Imperium.
It would ignite vicious conflict.
If possible, he hoped it was all a misunderstanding, not that the Savior truly meant to replace Father.
By any measure, the Savior was an excellent administrator, even better than Malcador.
If the Imperium truly lost the Savior, it would be a colossal loss.
"When the time comes… it depends on Father's choice."
Dorn thought so.
He followed the short veteran and the others to the ship's main viewing deck.
From here, you could clearly observe the Sol System, and even faintly make out the Imperium's heart: Holy Terra.
In the naked eye, it was only a slightly brighter star.
Standing on the viewing deck, Dorn felt a flicker of emotion.
He wanted to see Terra again after ten thousand years. His Father was there, on humanity's cradle-world.
But the moment Dorn raised his head toward Terra's direction, he froze, pupils dilating.
What?
He saw something beyond belief. What in the void was that?
"By my mother, by the Savior above!
So this is what Sol looks like. No wonder those people are desperate to come here on pilgrimage. His Majesty is so holy!"
At that moment, the short veteran also spotted the sight near Holy Terra.
He stared slack-jawed, then snapped straight and offered a small salute.
Not just him. The other pilgrims were also shaken speechless.
In everyone's view:
The Savior's image had appeared above the stars, as if it were the size of the Sol System itself, looking down on the endless stars and his Imperium.
It even seemed to glow with gold.
This was a special "galactic wonder" built by the New Imperium.
The Mechanicus had poured immense resources into developing the technology. Through the light emitted by countless mechanical outposts placed throughout Sol, the void itself refracted the Savior's majestic image.
Once a ship entered the Sol System, no matter what direction you looked toward Holy Terra, you would see the Savior.
His presence was like a galaxy-sized giant blotting out the heavens, overwhelmingly shocking.
More than that, any region capable of observing Sol could view the phenomenon through dome-augurs and telescopic instruments.
It just would not feel as immediate as seeing it from within Sol itself.
In short, using high technology, the Savior had "stamped" Sol and the galaxy, plastering his majesty across it.
No one could ignore it.
"Hiss. You can do that?"
Even Dorn was stunned by the sheer audacity of the move, unable to react for a long time.
He drew a slow breath, worry sharpening into something colder.
This was lawless. It showed not the slightest regard for the Emperor, the Master of Mankind.
Then Dorn noticed something even worse.
Ten thousand years ago, he had led the Imperial Fists in constructing a Solar System-wide void defense network.
Hundreds of star-forts, and even more defensive platforms, had formed a wall in space.
That had been one reason he could endure the warp for so long with some measure of peace.
"Where is my Solar System star-fort defense network?
Two hundred years ago it was still there. Why can't I see any of it now?!"
Dorn went rigid.
Two hundred years ago, he had learned about Sol's state from the mouth of a lost Space Marine captain.
The Imperial Fists were still executing the orders their gene-father had left behind, maintaining the star-fort defense network and holding Sol fast.
But now everything was gone. What happened?
Dorn stared into the familiar void and realized the reason.
The Savior's newly built mechanical outposts had replaced the old fort positions.
For the sake of projecting his virtual image across the galaxy, the Savior had dismantled the defense network Dorn had left behind.
That was exactly what had happened.
The relevant departments judged the old defense installations too outdated, their tech too obsolete.
More importantly, they obstructed the installation of the Savior's void-projection infrastructure and interfered with Sol's overall "environment."
So after review and approval, the old network was dismantled completely.
Then, based on the Imperium's future development plans, a new and more comprehensive defense system was secretly designed.
To guard against enemy invasion.
Staring at the empty void, Dorn nearly laughed from sheer rage.
Then he thought of something and hurriedly looked toward another region.
It was empty as well.
The shipyards were gone.
And the enormous fortress bastion that had held Sol, the Imperial Fists' great stronghold, was nowhere to be seen.
Even when he used specialized mechanical scanning to search for that fortress, he found no signal at all.
Under normal circumstances, as long as the Phalanx was in this star-region, it would be impossible not to detect its signature.
"Where is the Phalanx?!"
Dorn almost shouted, disbelief cracking through him.
Was this still Sol?
Where did you take my Phalanx?
Where are my Imperial Fists boys?!
"Phalanx? What are you talking about?"
The short veteran heard the big man's outburst and scratched his head in confusion.
Then he seemed to remember something and pulled out his data-slate.
"Big guy.
You mean that Phalanx, right? That huge fortress. I remember there was news about it. The Mechanicus sent a lot of ships."
"They said it was too old…"
Hearing that, Dorn felt dread crawl up his spine.
(End of Chapter)
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