Chapter 345: Our Human Empire Is Thriving!

In a subsidiary palace near the Emperor's palace on Terra,

Alexei Lev Tiruien, Prime Minister of the Imperial Senate or Imperial Council or one of a thousand other titles, jolted awake from a brief slumber,

He shifted his pale, bloated body and opened his eyes in the dim room; compared to the elaborately decorated reception halls he had maintained over eighty years of service, his own chamber was plain and dull,

There were no sandstone fireplaces from the former French Federation, no gilded clocks from American nobility, no rare and exquisite porcelain from the Dragon Kingdoms, no original poems from the Age of the Great Crusade. Here there was only a small bed, a floor piled with documents, a desk, and a window too tiny to matter,

Even though he was Prime Minister of the Imperial Senate and Chairman of the High Lords Council, and though Imperial law inscribed on parchment granted him no seat among the Twelve High Lords, he held the right to attend their council—and his power rivaled theirs, fully capable of securing far better quarters,

In fact, even the tiniest fraction of the wealth Tiruien had embezzled would suffice to buy the most opulent palace on any planet beyond Terra,

But since the era known as the "Day of Blindness" descended, Tiruien craved the safety offered by this dim room,

As if such darkness could shield him from the gazes of things writhing beneath the veil of reality, like blasphemous, polluted blood,

Even within this dim room, Tiruien could only sleep with hypnotics and massive doses of anesthetics, then wake every half-hour from nightmares, trembling in the terror of reality,

He often dreamed of butchers with spiked iron helmets severing his head, saw his own reflection grinning with a sinister smile, heard phantom bird calls, endured the agony of inflammation and fever, and in hallucinations saw a blue, round, chubby cat claiming aliens were a subspecies of humanity,

These horrific scenes often left Tiruien gasping for air; he nearly took his own life several times,

Tiruien took a deep breath, steadying his violently pounding fragile heart, and slowly emerged from the blankets,

He gazed at his own ugly, swollen body exposed to the air, felt the cold, but did not wake Jeci lying beside him—he dressed himself alone,

Though work was about to begin, Tiruien could not help lowering his gaze to Jeci's sleeping face; her unremarkable features gave him slight comfort,

The two had clung together through the long, painful night,

Jeci was not Tiruien's wife; after he personally buried his second wife and watched six of his seven children die in political struggles, and one sent beneath the Throne, Tiruien had never married again,

Jeci was merely his assistant, yet their shared bed did not signify surrender to biological instinct,

In truth, Tiruien was two hundred years old and had never undergone deeper rejuvenation therapies to extend his life—he had lost that capacity long ago,

Tiruien and Jeci clung together only because, through years of relentless labor, they had come to fully trust each other, and this mutual trust was all that allowed them to endure the nights after the Day of Blindness,

Most often, Jeci brought Tiruien comfort. Well, most often.

Tiruien recalled the day the Day of Blindness descended—the event Terra's people called the Great Rift, and the Black Legion prisoner Kyan called the Crimson Path,

Frankly, in his eighty-year tenure as Imperial Prime Minister, Tiruien had done more than all sixty-four previous Imperial Prime Ministers whose names had survived the past five centuries combined—this was precisely why he had held the position for eight decades,

When the plea for aid from Cadia arrived as the Thirteenth Black Crusade approached, Tiruien successfully secured the support of five High Lords through bribery, deception, and exchanges of favors,

He proposed lifting the decree forbidding the Imperial Guard from leaving Terra, sending them to reinforce Cadia and protect that vital gateway,

But Ilthu Simotrien, Chief of the Neizheng Force and Senior High Lord, opposed Tiruien's proposal—or rather, he opposed any proposal to alter Imperial law,

Tiruien understood: though most High Lords derived their power from every scroll and line of Imperial law, the Neizheng Force was most deeply entwined with it; even the slightest change would trigger a flood within its ranks,

Countless individuals might lose their ancestral posts, countless others would drop dead at their parchment desks, Terra's parchment imports would surge by several percentage points, triggering trade disruptions that could bankrupt noble families and entire planets dependent on them,

With a hundred billion Neizheng Force employees relying on their livelihoods, Ilthu, as Chief, naturally fought to defend it to the death,

Tiruien knew this so well because his father had been a Neizheng Force official—yet shortly after Tiruien's birth, he was informed his department had been dissolved for one thousand five hundred and sixty years; his father and ancestors had performed useless labor for a millennium, ordered to transfer to new posts,

When Tiruien's father finally found a new assignment after two years, he discovered the department he was to join had been dissolved five hundred years earlier—his ancestral Neizheng Force post was gone,

After his father's death, Tiruien was sent to the Loyal Heirs Academy, and spent one hundred and twenty years climbing to the position of Imperial Prime Minister before learning it all stemmed from a minor spelling error corrected in Imperial law one thousand five hundred and sixty years ago,

Tiruien understood: his desire to lift the ban on the Imperial Guard and send them to aid Cadia meant confronting the entire Neizheng Force and the factions represented by other High Lords who opposed the proposal,

But just as Tiruien exhausted every ounce of his intellect, pushed everything to the final vote, and stood on the brink of success,

Jeci burst into the High Lords Council with the latest news,

No need to discuss sending the Imperial Guard to aid Cadia—Cadia no longer exists.

In truth, Jeci's announcement was unnecessary; minutes after she spoke, the sky was torn open by the Great Rift,

Terra and the entire galaxy plunged into madness and chaos,

Tiruien shuffled weakly to his desk; before beginning work, he pulled a small illustrated book from its drawer,

It was a religious pamphlet he had received as a child from a Church priest, depicting the nine pure Primarchs,

Every child on Terra was taught to pray constantly to these images, never letting those glorious forms fade from their minds, never allowing these symbols of human spirit and hope to vanish from their hearts,

Tiruien slowly opened the booklet, gazing at the nine figures—Lion El'Jonson, Leman Russ, Khârn, Vulkan, Corvus Corax, Rogal Dorn, Ferrus Manus, Roboute Guilliman, and Sanguinius,

"My thoughts may be heretical, but since childhood I've had a strange feeling: I believe they will one day return and lead us again,"

Tiruien said aloud, his voice loud, almost a shout,

Strangely, this childhood fantasy now gave him strength. "Is it because of those strange Star-Speeches?" Jeci's voice came from behind him; she had swiftly dressed and sat at the desk beside him, beginning work,

"Perhaps. Perhaps those bizarre Star-Speeches have given me false hope,"

A faint, grim smile crossed Tiruien's lips,

The Star-Speeches received recently had been truly bizarre,

Some claimed Guilliman and Sanguinius had been resurrected and formed a Second Empire, marching back to Terra,

Others claimed Leman Russ had returned with medicine to heal the Emperor,

Others claimed Rogal Dorn had returned and was preparing to lead the Imperial Fists in a coup against Terra,

Some even claimed certain Eldar called themselves Adepti, that Erebus awaited the birth of the fifth god of the Warp, and that Lion's foster father Lu Se had reappeared, seeking to resurrect Lion El'Jonson,

And even more blasphemous, vile, and absurd rumors surfaced—some claimed Horus had returned,

But the most bizarre and blasphemous of all was the sudden emergence across the galaxy of a cult worshipping a being called "Holy Doraemon,"

This cult claimed both Sanguinius and Guilliman had submitted to the authority of Holy Doraemon,

And the image of Holy Doraemon was a blue, round, chubby cat with a red nose and no ears—almost cute,

!

If this weren't heresy, it might be popular with children,

But it was far too heretical: according to its doctrine, the purest Primarch, Sanguinius, had been corrupted into Holy Doraemon's demonic prince,

Tiruien took a deep breath and expelled these fragmented thoughts from his mind—he must begin work,

Though the galaxy was now dark and hope seemed gone, he could not abandon his duties,

Our Human Empire is thriving! Tiruien told himself,

Tiruien worked continuously for over four hours until eight o'clock, when his first visitor arrived,

"It is Lady Mo Wen, High Abbess of the Sisterhood, Abbess of the Oracular Convent, and Supreme Commander of the Battle Sisters,"

"Accompanying her is Lady Magda, High Abbess of the Holy Rose Convent of the Battle Sisters,"

Jeci announced the visitors' identities; she hesitated slightly and added,

"It's odd—the Battle Sisters' power armor—when did it change to metallic blue paint?"

(End of Chapter)