Sycamore Hive, Governor's Council Chamber.
"Absurd! Utterly absurd!"
"Lord Guilliman... actually handed Aurelian IV over to Cage Lawrence?"
Buhale Hysman, the Hive Governor representing the Hysman Merchant Guild in Sycamore Hive, slammed his hands down onto the heavy mahogany conference table.
His face was flushed beet-red, his greying beard trembling with rage.
"An organization of mud-crawlers that crawled out of the wastelands! A bunch of frauds who used Emperor-knows-what tricks to pull the wool over Lord Guilliman's eyes, and now they're Planetary Governor? And we're supposed to obey his orders? What does he know about governance? About politics? About economics?!"
Two other Hive Governors sat in the council chamber.
Kleman Aru, Governor of Aru Hive—a lean, middle-aged man with the cunning eyes of a merchant.
Kaia Atens, Governor of Holmes Hive—a member of the Atens Knight House.
Although the core leadership of the four major factions on the Aurelian Planetary Council had suffered devastating losses in the City of the Holy Anthem, these Governors still held considerable sway over their respective hives.
In fact, without the restrictions of the core leadership above them, their personal power had actually expanded, granting them true control over their hives.
"Buhale, calm down," Kleman Aru slowly took a sip of wine from his glass. It was an incredibly mellow vintage from an agri-world, purchased at a premium from a Rogue Trader. "The decree was personally issued by Lord Guilliman and endorsed by the Sector Governor's Office. It is legally unassailable."
"The law? Fuck the law!" Buhale roared. "For eighty years, we have managed Aurelian IV! We kept the hives running! We paid the tithes to the Imperium! We—"
"Buhale, haven't you figured it out yet? Lord Guilliman bought into their little 'labor for sustenance' gimmick."
"That trick those mud-crawlers pull in Kent Hive might be enough to fool the plebs, but do they seriously think they can manage an entire planet?" Kleman tapped his fingers against the table. "Schools? Hospitals? Ten-hour work shifts? Hah! Do they have any idea how much money it costs to maintain all that? Do they have any idea how complex a planetary fiscal budget is?"
"I'd wager that within a year, Kent Hive's finances will completely collapse. When that happens, Cage Lawrence will either have to raise taxes until the people riot, or he'll have to come crawling to us for a loan!"
From the right side of the long table, Kaia Atens spoke up slowly.
"A loan? Why the hell would we lend him anything? Besides Kent Hive and the City of the Holy Anthem—which is basically a ghost town now—the rest of Aurelian IV belongs to our factions. We control twenty-five hive cities and a total population exceeding nineteen billion! We control over eighty percent of the planet's mines and manufactorums! If we wanted to, we could easily conscript a PDF defense force of over a million men. Sure, their gear might be scrap and their training garbage, but the sheer numbers are there! And what does this Crimson Dawn have? One single hive and a small base, with a total population of less than a hundred million."
"Right now, while the three Primarchs are still here, we have to bow our heads. But once they leave..."
"I agree with you, Kaia," Kleman said coldly. "We must obey this decree for now. At least on the surface. Lord Guilliman hasn't left yet, and the fleets of the Blood Angels, Iron Hands, Ultramarines, and Iron Warriors are still in orbit. Anyone who jumps out to oppose this right now is literally asking for death."
A sinister smile crept across Buhale's face.
"But obedience... comes in many forms. We can acknowledge Cage Lawrence as Planetary Governor. We can submit reports to him. We can cooperate with his administration. But exactly how we cooperate, to what extent we cooperate, and when we cooperate..." He looked at the other two. "That is entirely up to us."
Kaia let out a cold chuckle. "You mean outwardly obey but secretly undermine?"
"It is the wisdom of survival," Buhale stated coldly.
"That Cage Lawrence thinks a single sheet of paper is enough to order us around? He's dreaming!"
"Pass down my orders: everything in Sycamore Hive proceeds exactly as before."
"Collect every tax we're owed. Work every penal slave we need."
"Whatever orders come out of Kent Hive, treat them as if they don't exist."
Kleman Aru nodded. "The same applies to Aru Hive."
Kaia Atens smiled. "Holmes Hive will naturally follow your lead."
The three of them firmly believed that as long as they didn't openly rebel or fly the banner of secession...
As long as they utilized the classic Imperial bureaucratic methods of stalling, shifting blame, and outward obedience masking secret defiance... the Crimson Dawn would be utterly powerless against them.
"I'd like to see exactly what that mud-crawler Governor can do to us." Buhale sneered, raising his glass.
"To our solidarity. Cheers."
"Cheers!"
Glasses clinked, producing a crisp chime.
These three rulers of the old era seemed to have reclaimed the arrogance they had previously wielded as the ruling class of Aurelian IV.
Similar scenes were playing out to varying degrees in the Governor's mansions of the other hive cities.
Some Governors were as furiously defiant as Buhale, while others were calculating and scheming like Kleman.
A full day after the Planetary Governor's investiture had been announced...
Not a single Hive Governor had proactively traveled to Kent Hive to pay their respects to the new Planetary Governor.
No visits, no gifts, no letters of congratulation.
They hadn't even submitted a single proper official document.
They were expressing the most absolute contempt in the most direct manner possible.
–
Kent Hive, Governor's Office.
Cogboy stood before the massive armaglass window, holding an intelligence summary that had just been transmitted by undercover players.
It detailed the contents of the various Hive Governors' meetings, their attitudes, and the preliminary consensus they had reached.
Sycamore, Aru, and Holmes Hives have formed an alliance spearheaded by Buhale Hysman. Outward compliance masking active resistance.
The vast majority of the other hives share this sentiment. Will to resist is exceptionally high.
Currently, no hive has initiated contact.
As Cogboy finished reading the final line, a mocking smile touched the corner of his mouth.
He turned and looked at Schrödinger Bro, who was sitting on the sofa.
"When faced with daemons, these people hesitated and cowered, lacking the courage to fight. Now that the daemons have been pushed back, they suddenly think they're invincible again. It's truly... laughable."
Schrödinger Bro was brewing tea—purchased from the System shop—the fragrant steam curling through the office.
He slowly poured two cups, handing one to Cogboy.
"Human nature among Imperial bureaucrats is largely the same everywhere, especially out here on the fringe," Schrödinger Bro said calmly. "Faced with absolute power, they cower in fear and do whatever it takes to preserve themselves. But the moment that pressure lifts, their delusion returns, their ambition swells, and they suddenly dare to entertain thoughts they wouldn't have dreamed of before."
He took a sip of tea and continued. "Furthermore, they believe they have leverage."
"What leverage?" Cogboy raised an eyebrow.
"First: Guilliman, Sanguinius, and Ferrus, along with their Legions and the Iron Warriors fleet, are about to leave. As Primarchs, they have far too many pressing matters across the vast Imperium. The Great Crusade marches on; they cannot garrison a single planet indefinitely."
"Second: The Crimson Dawn currently only exercises actual control over Kent Hive and its three surrounding peripheral towns. Even at maximum capacity, our PDF forces number less than fifty thousand, and a significant portion of those are raw recruits. They, on the other hand, possess massive populations and years of stockpiled weaponry. Naturally, they aren't willing to simply submit."
"Third: They view us as upstarts. They think we only got this position by favor with the Primarchs, and that we lack any real administrative capability or military strength."
Schrödinger Bro set down his teacup. "That is why they dare to give us the cold shoulder. That is why they dare to play their little games and form alliances. Because they think... there is absolutely nothing we can do to them."
Cogboy laughed out loud.
"Then let them keep thinking that."
He walked over to his desk and brought up the hololithic starmap.
The model of Aurelian IV rotated above the desk, the twenty-six hive cities marked by glowing points of light scattered across its surface.
"The City of the Holy Anthem has been completely purged, but the population is gone. It will be unusable in the short term."
"The fleets of Guilliman, Sanguinius, Ferrus, and Dantioch's Iron Warriors will depart tomorrow, heading to their next respective destinations."
"Once they are gone..."
Cogboy's finger traced across the hololithic map, coming to rest on the glowing point representing Kent Hive.
"...That is when this planet will truly begin to belong to us."
Schrödinger Bro walked over and looked at the hololithic map, a smile touching his lips.
"With the power the Crimson Dawn currently wields, we could sweep across every single hive in an instant and drag every last one of those self-righteous pieces of trash out to be executed by artillery fire."
Cogboy nodded. He turned off the hololithic map and looked out the window.
The sun was slowly sinking below the hive's skyline, the afterglow painting the entire city in a warm, golden-red hue.
On the streets, workers finishing their shifts were heading toward the cafeterias.
Children let out of school were playing in the plazas. The lights of the medicae facilities were flicking on, and the lumen-systems of the vertical agri-farms were powering up.
Everything here was orderly and brimming with life.
"We don't need the massive City of the Holy Anthem," Cogboy murmured softly to himself. "We are going to build Kent Hive into a hive even greater than the City of the Holy Anthem."
"No, not a hive."
He turned around, the light in his mechanical bionic eyes flashing.
"We are going to build a true city. A city where every person can stand equally in the sunlight, enjoy the fruits of their labor, and possess both dignity and hope."
"And that day..." Schrödinger Bro finished his thought, the two sharing a smile.
"...will not be long."
–
Forty-eight hours later.
The four fleets gathered in high orbit above Aurelian IV.
The Macragge's Honour, the Fist of Iron, the Red Tear, the Iron Blade, and a massive armada of over two hundred cruisers, escorts, and transport vessels slowly adjusted their headings.
They were departing for different destinations.
Guilliman was returning to Ultramar to handle a backlog of administrative duties.
Sanguinius would lead the Blood Angels to the side of the Emperor, to personally inquire about the situation on Aurelian IV.
Ferrus and his Iron Hands were resuming their previously interrupted mission, heading toward the Segmentum Obscurus.
Dantioch, commanding the Iron Blade, was heading to the Segmentum Obscurus to reinforce Imperial forces engaged in purging xenos threats.
Every fleet began accelerating, leaving the orbit of Aurelian IV behind.
In the logistics bays of every flagship, Quartermasters were tallying the final shipment of local specialties.
Twenty standard shipping containers of 'Enhanced Edition - Cigarettes' and 'Enhanced Edition - Alcohol' were carefully secured.
Two thousand crates of iron poker decks, over a thousand iron mahjong sets, and even three hundred custom-made iron basketballs.
They were small parting gifts from the players.
Aboard the Red Tear, Azkaellon looked at the manifest of tobacco, alcohol, and recreational supplies. His mouth twitched slightly, but he ultimately signed the receipt.
These supplies were the Crimson Dawn's farewell gift to the four Legions.
They weren't incredibly valuable, but they were unique.
Unique enough that, during some future lull in combat, these Astartes warriors might remember the world they had once fought so hard for.
Remember the bizarre friends who had played cards with them, drank with them, and wished them a Happy New Year.
Azkaellon remembered Arceus, the man who had taught them how to play cards. When Arceus had delivered the specialties, he had secretly told Azkaellon:
I don't know when we'll see each other again, but every single Space Marine fighting on the front lines will eternally command our respect. I hope you all live long and stay safe! Don't forget us! Do not fail the blood of Sanguinius.
Those words had genuinely moved Azkaellon, the Commander of the Sanguinary Guard.
Slowly the glow of the Red Tear's Warp drives reached its peak.
The Warp translation engines engaged.
The massive armada tore through the fabric of reality, dissolving into countless streams of light, and vanished into the deep sea of stars.
The three Primarchs and their Space Marines were gone. This parting…
Perhaps the next time they met the players of the Crimson Dawn…
–
Aboard the bridge of the strike cruiser Light of Dawn in high orbit.
Paul stood before the observation armaglass, watching the spatial ripples left by the departing fleets slowly flatten out.
On the hololithic starmap behind him, the orange light representing the Crimson Dawn's territory was still restricted to the solitary point of Kent Hive.
But a smile of utter liberation spread across Paul's face.
"Brothers."
Paul turned around, looking at all the players gathered on the bridge.
His voice was broadcast to the ears of every single member of the Crimson Dawn.
"The guests have left."
"Now..."
"It's time to clean house."
"We're going to show those Governors who are still dreaming... that mud-crawlers can still flip their damn tables over. We're going to make those high-and-mighty aristocratic bureaucrats kneel before the mud-crawlers."
"And accept the mud-crawlers' purification and punishment."