V3 Chapter 95: The Secret Council of Terra's Twelve High Lords
Upon Holy Terra as it now stood, the true master of mankind still sat upon the Golden Throne.
Deep within the Imperial Palace, the Grand Chamber of the Senatorum Imperialis had been sealed completely. Every entrance had been taken over by the Lucifer Black Guard and the Custodians, and clearance to enter the chamber had been raised to the highest level available.
At that moment, only twelve people sat within it.
Yet the power these twelve represented was enough to shape the whole of the Imperium of Man.
Inside the grand chamber, a vast dome vanished into darkness overhead, while the central dais remained bathed in a column of golden light. Ring upon ring of viewing galleries, large enough to seat a million souls, climbed upward and outward, their empty seats finally lost from sight in the distance.
Not a single observer could be seen anywhere.
Every word the High Lords spoke echoed several times across the empty galleries before finally being absorbed by ancient devices still running somewhere deep within the walls.
Twelve seats of power stood arranged around the Imperial Aquila, each bearing the mark of the institution it represented.
The life-support platform of the Fabricator-General of Mars took up nearly three seats' worth of space, great numbers of mechanical limbs and data cables trailing out from beneath it. The Ecclesiarch sat enthroned amid banks of ever-burning candles, white smoke rising slowly along his ornate vestments.
The Grand Master of the Assassinorum, Fidicus, held a seat at the edge of the dais.
No light reached that spot, and no attendant stood beside it. Fidicus's form stayed lost within shadow, only the occasional glint of metal proving that someone truly occupied that chair at all.
Ahead of the twelve seats stood one more, taller than the rest: a throne of black stone.
For thousands of years, no one had sat there as Regent of the Imperium. Ancient inscriptions from the age of the Great Crusade still remained carved into its base.
Master of the Imperium.
Imperial Regent.
On the chamber's eastern side stood a colossal statue of Rogal Dorn, one hand resting on his sword.
Cracks ten thousand years deep ran through the stone armour, and in places the marks of later restoration were still visible. Dorn's eyes were lowered, fixed always on the central dais, as though he still watched over those who held the Imperium's fate in their hands.
An old man seated in a high-backed chair spoke first.
His body was thin to the point of gauntness, the skin over his cheekbones and jaw carrying the waxy pallor of a man who had gone without sunlight for years. His grey-white hair was combed neatly back, not one strand out of place. Ilthor Cimotrion, Master of the Administratum, looked toward the other eleven High Lords.
"The Imperium is about to face a situation unlike anything it has seen in nearly ten thousand years."
His voice was hoarse, yet carried not a trace of weakness.
"Several cross-verified reports confirm that a Primarch, identifying himself as Roboute Guilliman, and already recognised by a number of newly-founded Chapters, has awakened."
"He leads an expeditionary fleet, travelling from the Maelstrom's direction toward Terra."
The other High Lords showed no particular surprise.
Each of them commanded a vast intelligence network in their own right; word had already reached Terra through the Astropathic Choirs, the Imperial Navy, and the Inquisition.
For those who governed the machinery of an Imperium this vast, surprise itself held little value.
"I would suggest we first confirm his authenticity."
A calm woman's voice came from the right.
Every gaze turned to the Inquisition's representative, Cleopatra Axe.
Her build was slight, almost frail. Narrow, level shoulders sat draped in layered black robes, her hands folded quietly before her, the shape of her knuckles clearly visible beneath pale skin.
Yet no one present would think to underestimate her for it.
Axe raised her narrow face, her deep brown eyes settling on Cimotrion.
"The Primarch's identity must be confirmed."
"We need to examine his genetics, the state of his soul, and his mental integrity, to rule out Xenos manipulation or Chaos impersonation."
"Confirmed identity, on its own, still proves nothing about whether his mind has been compromised."
"This will provoke him."
The Lord High Admiral's voice came from another side of the chamber.
Axe's expression didn't change.
"This is a necessary procedure."
"Until his identity is confirmed, he remains subject to Sol System security protocol."
She paused briefly.
"If the one arriving is truly Roboute Guilliman, he should understand that much."
"The bulk of that expeditionary fleet must remain stationed within the Jovian system."
The Lord High Admiral of the Imperial Navy, Merelda Perez, projected a fleet deployment plan into the chamber's centre.
"The Solar Fleet will establish an escort and monitoring formation. No Titan transport, ground Legion, or large troop carrier is to approach Terra any further."
"Once identity confirmation is complete, the Macragge's Honour may bring a limited escort into the Lunar port."
"Its main guns are to stand down from charge, and its void craft are to remain in their hangars."
The Ecclesiarch, Baldo Slester, slowly raised his head.
"This information is not to be made public for the time being."
"If the one who has come truly is a son of the Emperor, his return must be announced to the Imperium in the proper manner. Any suggestion that Xenos involvement played a part in reviving a Primarch must be suppressed entirely."
"The Ecclesiarchy will work jointly with the Administratum to settle the official account."
"His retinue will need examination as well." Axe spoke again.
"Every attendant travelling with Roboute Guilliman is to be placed on an independent review list."
"Especially that Marshal-Commissar, Duvette Erdmann."
"I've pulled his file."
"Existing reports show he has previously worked alongside Xenos factions, and wields power of an origin that cannot be explained. His rank, though it carries Slaydo's endorsement, remains highly questionable."
"He is to surrender his weapons and submit to review before he sets foot on Terra."
The grand chamber fell silent for a moment.
"He won't accept that."
A voice came from somewhere near the shadows.
No one could say for certain whether it had come from Fidicus.
Cimotrion looked toward the darkness, but received no further answer.
"Guilliman wishes to see the Emperor."
The Master of the Astropathic Choirs spoke slowly. "We hold no authority to make that decision on the Custodians' behalf."
"So long as the Captain-General of the Custodian Guard permits him through the Eternity Gate, the Council of High Lords cannot prevent that meeting from taking place."
"Then before he enters the Palace, we finish whatever can be finished."
Cimotrion raised a hand, and the central projection began drawing together everything just proposed.
The expeditionary fleet's main body remains stationed at Jupiter.
The Macragge's Honour and a limited escort may enter the Lunar port once verification is complete.
The Solar Fleet and the Adeptus Arbites move to highest alert immediately.
Duvette and the other significant members of the retinue undergo independent screening.
All related information is classified at the highest level, with any public announcement drafted jointly by the Administratum and the Ecclesiarchy.
Whether Guilliman is permitted to see the Emperor rests with the Custodians.
Until that meeting takes place, and clear authorisation follows, the Council of High Lords does not, for the time being, recognise Guilliman as holding any authority.
Point by point, the measures were finally compiled into a complete resolution.
The twelve High Lords voted, one after another.
As the last confirmation light came on, Cimotrion looked toward the black stone throne at the centre, empty now for thousands of years.
"The resolution passes."
Beneath the column of golden light, the black stone throne stayed silent.
The council ended there.
The twelve High Lords left the central dais one by one, the grand chamber's heavy doors opening and closing again and again. Cimotrion's scribe and guards waited for him outside, but he raised a hand to stop them.
"Stay here."
Having said that much, he returned alone into the chamber.
Most of the lights across the central dais had already gone dark.
Cimotrion walked to where the Grand Master of the Assassinorum had been sitting, and found Fidicus still there. That shape remained almost entirely fused with the surrounding dark.
"There's something I need to discuss with you."
Cimotrion said.
Fidicus didn't answer right away.
After a moment, a low voice came from within the shadow.
"About the Primarch?"
"About the mortal standing beside him."
Cimotrion walked slowly into the dark.
The two figures, and their voices, finally sank together into the deepest black of the grand chamber.
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