Deep within the Imperial Council Chamber.
This chamber, located at the end of a vaulted corridor, was so silent that one could hear the airflow from the ventilation ducts. Embossed carvings on the marble walls depicted the Emperor's conquest of the galaxy. In the center of the room, the eerie blue light from a holographic projector was nearly the sole light source, casting Roboute Guilliman's towering silhouette onto the wall, stretching into a heavy shadow.
Simotriene, the Master of the Administratum, sat across the heavy solid wood table. He wore deep purple administrative robes, the Imperial Aquila embroidered in gold thread rising and falling slightly on his chest with his breathing.
Hearing Guilliman's question, Simotriene looked up at just the right moment, a look of unfeigned confusion appearing on his face.
"Are you referring to the unrest in the underhive of the Eternal City, my Lord Regent?" His voice was steady as he spoke as if it were common sense. "That falls under the jurisdiction of the Adeptus Arbites and the Inquisition. The Administratum is primarily responsible for—"
"I am not asking about jurisdiction."
Guilliman interrupted him cleanly. The Primarch's voice was not loud, yet it caused the air in the room to freeze instantly. He pushed a data slate across the table, the device making a slight scraping sound as it slid. "The Inquisition has submitted seventeen independent investigative reports from different Inquisitors, a vast amount of physical evidence, and testimonies from witnesses in various positions. These documents all point to the same conclusion."
Simotriene did not immediately touch the data slate. He first adjusted his seating position, the fabric of his robes rustling, before reaching out a well-maintained hand to pull the slate toward him. The Master of the Administratum's gaze swept across the screen, his pupils contracting slightly in the dim light, but his facial expression remained motionless.
"These accusations..." he began slowly, his voice carrying just the right amount of shock and indignation. "Claiming that I am 'secretly supporting Chaos cults on Terra'? My Lord Regent, this is simply absurd. Those mad dogs of the Inquisition are clearly suffering from paranoid delusions, lashing out at random."
He pushed the data slate back to the center of the table with a resolute movement, as if the device had been contaminated.
"In fact, I believe this is exactly where the problem lies," Simotriene said, leaning forward earnestly. "With the reckless support of the Adeptus Custodes, the Inquisitors' behavior has crossed the line. They search at will, execute on the spot without trial, and interfere with normal administrative processes—this has caused serious damage to the Imperial polity. My Lord Regent, you must place limits on the Inquisition's power to maintain the long-term stability of the Empire."
Guilliman watched his carefully crafted performance.
"I imagine the High Lord representative of the Inquisition, Lady Cleopatra Erls, would likely disagree."
"The innocent have nothing to fear," Simotriene replied instantly. He leaned back against his chair and spread his hands. "Lord Guilliman, you cannot believe every rumor and wrong a good man. I have served the Empire for forty-seven years, and every day—"
"Every day you have weighed power, calculated gains and losses, and protected your own little territory." Guilliman's voice remained calm, but the sentence caused the temperature in the room to plummet.
Simotriene's lips thinned.
Guilliman stood up. His movement was not fast, but the shadow cast by the Primarch's massive frame still completely enveloped the man across the table.
"Ten thousand years ago, I believed that humanity could govern itself," Guilliman's voice echoed through the room. "I believed that even without Primarchs, without Legions, humanity could manage this Empire through reason and cooperation. That is why I pushed for the establishment of the Council of High Lords, and why I used a single Codex Astartes to break apart my Legion—my own sons."
"But look at what has happened in these ten thousand years. Look at what you all have done. Corruption, infighting, bureaucracy, turning a blind eye to the suffering of the Empire... You claim to be upholding tradition, but you are only upholding your own positions of power! When Chaos breeds in the heart of Terra, your first reaction is not shame or anger, but 'this is not my responsibility,' followed by an immediate attempt at holy detachment."
Simotriene took a deep breath and slowly stood up, pressing his hands against the table.
"My Lord Regent, you slept for ten thousand years. You do not understand what we have faced during this time. The roar of the Warp has never ceased, the xenos threat surges from all directions, and rebellions flare up in every sector. We kept this Empire from falling—during the long ages the Emperor has sat upon the Throne, it was we who kept the Empire running."
Guilliman gazed at him, a deep sadness swirling in the Primarch's eyes. As a Primarch, he could naturally see through Simotriene's mindset—a way of thinking shaped entirely by a decaying and fallen bureaucratic system. In this man's eyes, Guilliman was the villain disrupting tradition and shaking the foundations of the Empire.
"['I am too busy—too busy to have time to die']?" Guilliman suddenly spoke.
Simotriene's voice stopped abruptly.
In the 36th Millennium, the tyrant Goge Vandire usurped the seats of both the Ecclesiarch and the High Lord of the Administratum. He achieved this through a combination of bribery, coercion, intimidation, and public murder, successfully gaining unprecedented power. With such unparalleled jurisdiction, Vandire attempted to bring the Empire to its knees, leading to the Reign of Blood, a period in which billions died and entire planets were put to the torch.
Guilliman's meaning was simple: Is this the 'keeping the Empire running' you speak of?
The room fell into a long silence. Only the low hum of the ventilation system continued in the background. Finally, Guilliman waved his hand with a trace of exhaustion.
He was tired.
"You may leave."
Simotriene stood up. He said nothing more, merely giving a slight bow—a gesture that followed etiquette but held no respect. The Master of the Administratum turned and walked toward the heavy oak doors, his purple robes sweeping across the polished floor. When he reached out to push the door open, his spine was straight and his pace steady and strong, as if he had just won a victory in a debate.
The door closed behind him with a heavy thud.
A few seconds later, a concealed door at the side of the room slid open silently. Two figures stepped out from the shadows—Lady Cleopatra Erls, the High Lord representative of the Inquisition, and Grand Master Vahl of the Officio Assassinorum.
Erls appeared as a relatively slender woman, though anyone who had dealt with her knew this was merely an external disguise.
"Your mercy fills me with admiration, Regent," she said, smiling at the Regent.
Guilliman did not look back. He was still staring at the door Simotriene had exited through, his brow furrowed.
"I gave him a chance. If one of my brothers were here, the outcome might not have been so dignified," Guilliman said. "But I also know that some people... truly do not deserve such mercy."