Deep beneath Terra, in the suffocating grandeur of the Senatorum Imperialis, the twelve High Lords of Terra sat in judgment. A flickering holo-pict showed the lone, dark cruiser hanging in the void, followed by the recording of the Monarch's calm, psychic ultimatum.
The chamber erupted.
"UNACCEPTABLE!" bellowed Patriarch Vhred of the Adeptus Ministorum, his face purple with rage. "This is a Daemon Prince of unparalleled power! I demand a Crusade of Purgation!"
"Your calls for martyrdom are as predictable as they are wasteful," rasped Arch-Magos Omicron-K88. "This entity is the same bio-technological plague from Kryllus Secundus. It must be captured. Its profane code analyzed."
Lord Inquisitor Kyria Draxus spoke in a dangerous whisper. "Its psychic signature is... clean. Cold. Ordered. That is more terrifying than any daemon. To act rashly is to act blind."
The bickering continued until another figure, who had been listening in silence, finally spoke. His voice cut through the noise with an innate, soul-shaking authority.
Roboute Guilliman, Avenging Son, Primarch of the Ultramarines, and Lord Commander of the Imperium, rose from his seat. A true demigod, his sheer presence made the other High Lords seem like squabbling children.
"Enough," he said, and the chamber fell silent.
"The Ecclesiarch would have us throw away our greatest defensive fleet. The Fabricator-General would risk unleashing this entity's 'profane code' upon Terra itself. And the Inquisitor... is right. We are blind." Guilliman paced, his eyes fixed on the holo-pict. "This... 'Monarch'... did not come with an invading army. It disabled our fleet without firing a shot, stated its purpose, and now it waits. This is the act of a power that believes itself to be our equal."
The Primarch's gaze hardened. "An open conflict in the orbit of Terra is a risk I will not take. Therefore, we will do the one thing it does not expect. We will grant its request."
A wave of shocked protests was silenced by his glare.
"We will bring it to us," he continued. "Here, on Terra, where we hold every advantage. Under the gaze of the Custodes and the psychic shield of the Emperor himself. I will meet this 'Shadow Monarch' face to face. I will look into its eyes and I will take its measure."
He turned his gaze towards the shadows where the golden giants of the Adeptus Custodes stood motionless.
"Captain-General," Guilliman said, addressing Trajann Valoris. "Send an emissary. A Shield-Captain. This Monarch has demanded a reception. We shall provide him with a suitable herald."
On the bridge of the Spear of Judgement, a melodic chime signaled a single, small vessel approaching: an Aquila Lander, requesting permission to dock.
The Monarch's Shadow-Knights shifted, but he raised a hand, and they fell still. "Grant it," he said.
He rose from his throne and, flanked by his knights, made his way to the hangar. The airlock door cycled open, bathing the bay in the golden light of the lander's interior.
A single figure stood silhouetted against the light, immense even by Astartes standards, clad head to toe in baroque, golden auramite armor. He held a guardian spear and radiated an aura of ancient purpose. This was a warrior of a completely different caliber.
His helmeted gaze swept over the knights before settling on the Monarch. His voice, amplified, was the calm, resonant boom of a striking bell.
"I am Shield-Captain Valerian of the Adeptus Custodes, the Emperor's personal guard," the giant announced. "By the will of the Lord Commander, Roboute Guilliman, and by the authority of the Golden Throne of Terra, I am sent to receive you."
He took a single, deliberate step forward, his spear held at a formal salute.
"The High Lords will grant your audience. The Primarch will meet with you. Your presence is now required on the Throneworld."