"The Primarch's return has already shaken the very foundations of the Imperium. Our Imperium of Man is no longer what it once was. He even attempts to use Space Marines to rule our great empire, snatching power from our hands. We absolutely cannot allow this to happen!"
"...Furthermore, that ambitious individual seeks to turn the Imperium into his own personal mouthpiece. Since he has already been crowned Lord Regent, why wouldn't he take it a step further? Even if he doesn't, who can stop him from concentrating our political capital within his own hands?"
Inside a secret chamber.
The dim light flickered as one high-ranking official after another sat silently around a circular table, their faces mostly obscured by shadows. Had anyone been present, they could have identified them one by one: the Master of the Adeptus Arbites, the Ecclesiarch, the Lord Commander Militant of the Astra Militarum, the High Admiral of the Imperial Navy, the Master of the Administratum, and Grand Master Fadix of the Officio Assassinorum.
At the head of the table, Snodevien's voice echoed throughout the room, his face appearing exceptionally solemn in the candlelight. His words were so provocative and bewitching that the expressions of the seated High Lords shifted one after another.
It had been three days since the conclusion of the Council of High Lords.
Guilliman had already begun forming the Logistics Department, aggressively seizing power from various Imperial departments to establish his own administrative force. His arrival had immediately begun to purge the corruption of the Terran bureaucracy, but in the eyes of these High Lords, this was an outright provocation to their authority. It had completely triggered their sense of crisis, making them realize they might be on the verge of being replaced.
No political creature would allow such a thing to happen. Not even the possibility of it!
Thinking of this, several High Lords began to echo his sentiments.
"Indeed. It breaks my heart to think of the peaceful and tranquil citizens of the Imperium who are about to endure such suffering in the Great Crusade launched by that Primarch. Everything in the Imperium will be swept up in his personal desires; we will be dragged into the abyss of a senseless war."
"We need a wiser leader. We need to limit his power; power should be kept in a cage."
"Guilliman's crusade is merely his own wishful thinking. The Imperium's glory currently reaches across the four seas; where are these opponents he speaks of? Even the Despoiler—all twelve of his Black Crusades ended in failure!"
It seems we have reached a consensus.
The Master of the Administratum nodded with satisfaction.
"Then what should we do?"
Ecclesiarch Baldo Slyst finally spoke, his voice carrying an undetectable trace of resentment... and fear. "That is a Primarch, a son of the God-Emperor!"
Although being interrupted by the Living Saint during the meeting was deeply humiliating, the Ecclesiarch wasn't about to risk everything just for that. What he truly couldn't stand was that when Guilliman showed his sharp resolve and began reforms, the Ecclesiarch had tentatively proposed an act to repeal the Decree Passive which limited the Ecclesiarchy's armed forces...
Guilliman had actually refused!
Such double standards!
Moreover, the Primarch's attitude toward the Ecclesiarchy was glaringly obvious—one of complete disdain. This made the Ecclesiarch feel even more uneasy and enraged. For a son of the Emperor to personally deny the divinity inherent in his own blood was, for the Ecclesiarchy, like the sky was falling.
This could absolutely not be the Emperor's will!
"Correct. Roboute Guilliman—he is a Primarch."
At this moment, Grand Master Fadix of the Officio Assassinorum, who had been sitting silently in the shadows, moved. He straightened his body, and the gaze beneath his metal mask swept over the crowd.
"What should we do?" He repeated the Ecclesiarch's question, his tone flat but scrutinizing. "Give us a suggestion already."
Snodevien was confident, nodding slightly. "Of course. I have specifically invited a consultant for this purpose."
He clapped his hands lightly.
A figure slowly stepped out from the shadows behind the inner room. The moment the figure was fully exposed to the dim light, the pupils of almost every High Lord present contracted.
The pointed ears, the eerie yet intellectual eyes, the slender and non-human physique...
An Eldar!
"A xenos?!"
The Lord Commander Militant of the Astra Militarum jerked back, his body tensing, his voice filled with instinctive loathing and vigilance. "Are we to cooperate with a xenos? Is this not a bit..."
Though he didn't finish the sentence, the meaning was clear. However, after a moment of stiffness, he fell silent and offered no further objection.
But it wasn't just those present who were uncomfortable. The Eldar Farseer likewise frowned, a surge of intense disgust rising in his heart. For the future of his Craftworld, he actually had to cooperate with this group of uncivilized mon-keigh; it was truly nauseating!
Damnable fate. Had his prophecies not clearly shown the shattering destruction of his Craftworld in a future linked to that suddenly resurrected Primarch, Roboute Guilliman, he would never have resorted to such a tactic, holding his breath to endure all of this.
"What help can you offer us?" the Admiral inquired cautiously.
"I have made a prophecy." The Eldar Farseer stared straight ahead, as if his gaze could penetrate the walls to see the distant threads of fate. "Roboute Guilliman will launch a crusade. He will leave Terra and will not return for a very long time. I can foresee when he will come back."
As soon as these words were spoken, the eyes of everyone in the room lit up. These masters of conspiracy at the top of the Imperial power structure instantly wove countless possibilities in their minds.
—How to operate, how to maneuver, and even how to... during the power vacuum created by the Primarch's departure.
"Precisely." Snodevien took up the thread, his voice carrying a cold determination. "This is our plan. We will prove to him, and to everyone, that Guilliman is insufficient to protect Terra. The so-called 'reforms' he brings will only lead to chaos. We must limit him, or even... completely overhaul this erroneous situation."
"How?" Grand Master Fadix of the Officio Assassinorum seemed interested, tilting his head slightly.
Snodevien leaned forward, lowering his voice to explain.
"It is simple. We will utilize those... cultists on Terra who can never be fully eradicated. We will manufacture a crisis on Terra that is large enough, yet sufficiently 'controllable.' We will prove to all of humanity on Terra that only we—the human elites who are familiar with every fiber of the Imperium and hold the true power—possess the ability to protect the Imperium of Man."
Snodevien looked around, his gaze passing over the faces of everyone present one by one.
"With the support of the Imperial Navy, the Astra Militarum, the Minotaurs Chapter we control, and the Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum on our side..."
His tone was arrogant.
"The success of this matter is virtually certain."
After a brief silence.
A trace of struggle flashed across Ecclesiarch Baldo Slyst's face. He spoke up hesitantly.
"This... is this not a bit inappropriate? Is this... is this not rebellion?"
"Stupid!"
Snodevien rebuked him harshly in a low voice, his gaze as sharp as a knife.
"It is only rebellion if it fails."
He paused, a cold arc pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"If it succeeds, it is a revolution."