Rustle, rustle.
Golden sunlight streamed down onto the polished gilded floor, radiating soft warmth. The gentle summer breeze blew through, making the crimson-golden banners sway slightly. Elegant curtains adorned with tasseled valances framed the tall windows—everything seemed so perfect, so dreamlike.
Until—bang!
"Phew..."
Selene leaned back in her chair, exhaling deeply. She had just finished reviewing piles of documents: Decree on the Appointment of Acting Officials in the Empire's Central Direct-Administered A–13 Grand Sector (Warhammer 40K), Certification Report on the Empire's Legally Recognized Xenos—Necrons, Secretariat Department: Reorganization Process and Opinions on the Former Human Empire Agencies, Administrative Department: Settlement Opinions on the Integration of the Eldar and Other Races, Imperial Standard Time: Summary Report on the Colonial Governors' Quarterly Review Meetings...
After stamping her seal on the last document, Selene rubbed her forehead tiredly and pushed the finished stack of papers toward the corner of her luxurious desk.
The documents were neatly arranged, and beside the desk hung various engraved nameplates—each bearing distinct runes and departmental names such as Administration Department, Military Affairs Department, and Forge Division.
Selene glanced at the never-shrinking pile of paperwork and covered her face helplessly. "A ruler's days are indeed fulfilling, but after too many like this... they become dreadfully dull."
It was now time for a short break!
She reached toward the afternoon tea set on a nearby trolley. With a light gesture, the delicate glass tray floated toward her. Narrowing her eyes contentedly, Selene nibbled on juicy, refreshing fruit pastries, murmuring to herself:
"Seeing one fruit makes me think of another, huh?"
She glanced down at the fruit in her hand—a tribute from some colonial world, shaped like an orange but with flesh like a peach—and thought of the "fruit gatherers" she had dispatched not long ago.
"By now, my chakra fruit should be arriving soon."
What? The very fruit cultivated through the Ōtsutsuki Clan's millennia of toil and pain?
Then naturally—it was hers.
"Seizing is better than toiling... quite the twisted logic. But I must admit—it's rather intoxicating."
She chuckled softly at her own hypocrisy, then rose gracefully from her grand chair. With a thought, she signaled her aide—Offensive Bias—to open the ornate crystal window. Then, in high spirits, she stepped onto the intricately decorated balcony.
"Of course, the prerequisite... is to have the strength to seize."
Leaning against the marble railing, she reached out to catch a drifting flower petal carried by the summer breeze, inhaling the fresh fragrance of nature.
Below her balcony stretched a magnificent garden bursting with vibrant blossoms and ornamental trees—arranged with both order and natural harmony, as though crafted by goddesses themselves, scattering heavenly colors upon mortal soil.
The palace's central weather-control system was currently simulating midsummer.
The marble fountains sang softly, their silvery sprays glittering like veils of jade. The golden ripples of the garden pools shimmered gently, reflecting sunlight like scales of a divine fish.
"I'm starting to want another tour beyond the palace again," she mused.
"To be a diligent ruler... truly, it is no easy feat. How arduous, from beginning to end."
The outside world's allure grew stronger with each passing hour of paperwork.
As Selene savored her rare leisure, a voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Your Majesty, this is a new memorial from the Secretariat requesting Your Sacred Judgment."
The mechanical voice came from Offensive Bias, the super-intelligent adjutant operating a soulsteel body, tasked with collecting and delivering Selene's reviewed documents.
While using its gravitational manipulator to place a new batch of folders onto Selene's freshly cleared desk, it simultaneously lifted the pile of approved documents into the air.
"You really never rest, do you," Selene yawned, lazily scratching her silver hair.
"Mm, just leave it there." She brushed away a petal resting on her palm and turned back inside. Seeing that Offensive Bias seemed to hesitate, she paused and tilted her head slightly. "What is it? Any questions?"
"Forgive my rudeness, Your Majesty," replied the adjutant. "You mentioned the phrase 'diligent rulers from beginning to end.' Specifically, which historical figures did you mean? The database records remain insufficiently detailed. To conduct a proper study, additional historical literature would be required."
Offensive Bias explained this politely.
Hearing it, Selene smiled faintly. After casually mentioning a few historical names for the AI to reference, she granted it partial access to the Royal Library's physical archives, then waved her hand to dismiss the data-based intelligence.
"Now, let's see which troublesome provinces have stirred up trouble this time!"
After closing her eyes for a brief rest, Selene sat back down and pulled several copies of the latest reports from the new stack of folders on her desk—Twenty-Four-Hour Internal Report on Rebellions within the Empire's Colonial Worlds, List of Executed Rebel Leaders within the Past Week...
...
As Selene was gradually getting into the rhythm of reviewing the newly presented memorials, several dozen kilometers away, connected through the lower left corridor of the Diligence Hall, stood an enormous complex large enough to accommodate over a million administrative staff.
The Secretariat.
"Lord Neoth, this is the Secretariat. We serve as the Empress' think tank—advising on national affairs, drafting decrees, managing constitutional systems, and overseeing grand ceremonies. Our duty is to convey the Empress' edicts, announce official proclamations, and set an example for all civil servants."
Thud, thud...
Heavy footsteps echoed through the otherwise orderly, bustling atrium of the Secretariat. As one excited officer explained the function of the place, a tall, imposing figure slowly appeared from the corridor's corner—his presence like a burst of golden radiance.
What a mighty, majestic man.
That was the unanimous first impression of every clerk, attendant, and guard who saw him.
He wore a spotless white Roman-style toga, with fine golden threads embroidered along the edges of his mantle and left sleeve. His long, sleek black hair flowed freely, yet it did not diminish his masculine strength. Every movement exuded authority and the noble bearing of one long accustomed to command.
After all—this man stood nearly six meters tall.
Without question, he was the Emperor.
Unfortunately, this was not the Imperium of Man, and most here had no idea who this unexpected visitor truly was.
A giant, perhaps? That was the first thought flashing through the minds of the Secretariat's officials.
Still, this was the Imperial Capital's Secretariat—its halls frequented by nobles and bureaucrats of high station. Surprise and curiosity arose, yes, but not chaos or panic. None dared to let private curiosity override official duty.
Their movements remained precise—some carrying data slates, others stacks of papers. Though busy, all remained composed and orderly, merely offering polite, curious salutes as they passed the towering newcomer.
This man was no ordinary being. That much was evident.
From his physique alone, he seemed more suited to the Military Affairs Department—to the ranks of those stalwart warriors of the Adeptus Astartes. In fact, he looked every bit the part of a Terminator from the most elite companies.
The Emperor returned each greeting courteously.
He was no longer the Emperor of Mankind, and no longer bore the suffocating weight of urgent duty. Now, he was at ease. Yet still, he frowned slightly, somewhat helplessly.
He disliked these looks of awe and curiosity.
If possible, he would have preferred to assume an ordinary form—one that could blend seamlessly into a crowd.
But alas, the image of the Emperor—the embodiment of human unity and strength—had long become inseparable from his identity. That very image was now registered within the Sacred Selene Empire's central administrative system.
Henceforth, the name Neoth—a man over two hundred inches tall, fair-skinned, black-haired, and golden-eyed—was officially recognized as the Emperor's identity within the Sacred Selene Empire.
All other forms he might assume were now mere extensions of this one.
Soon, his expression returned to calm acceptance. If that was how it must be, then so be it.
Tap, tap.
As he walked through the Secretariat's vast halls, the Emperor occasionally nodded in approval.
He was deeply impressed by the efficiency of this institution—likely the very one he would soon be assigned to.
If only Terra's bloated bureaucracy possessed even a fraction of the Sacred Selene Empire's discipline and self-restraint, how could the Imperium of Mankind of the 41st Millennium have ever been humiliated by such insignificant "fleas"?
An unbearable disgrace.
Most of all, he admired Selene's aesthetic sensibilities. There was something about her—a sense of kindred spirit—that made him feel as if they were destined to meet.
The palace's marble sculptures gleamed with elegant precision, banners honoring frontline heroes draped proudly across the hallways, and the grandeur of Schönbrunn Palace stood unmatched—its interior design radiating magnificent splendor and commanding majesty.
Everywhere, gold and jade shimmered in brilliance. Luxurious carvings, grand oil paintings, and intricate tapestries adorned the walls. Exquisite furniture and rare works of art complemented the décor, perfectly embodying the Empress' architectural philosophy—without magnificence, there is no majesty.
As the Emperor studied the Secretariat's structure and operation, he did not forget the reason for his visit—he had come to bid farewell to Selene.
Truth be told, compared to his own gene-sons, his progress had fallen far behind.
After Selene had appointed him to assume command in the A–13 Grand Sector as its governor, the Emperor attended the formal investiture ceremony. When it concluded, he had dismissed his gene-sons to their respective duties, while he himself requested permission from Selene to tour the Imperial Capital.
Selene had raised no objection—she merely set a series of objectives for him to meet.
By his estimation, his time was nearly up. It was time to return to the A–13 Grand Sector, to rebuild and fortify his long-suffering homeland.
"If I could secure the assistance of the Forge Division and the Science Bureau, ideally with Dr. Stylish leading the expedition... Dr. Mobius or Dr. Catherine Halsey (Halo) would also be fine candidates."
The Emperor silently calculated his odds of persuading Selene to approve such scientific reinforcements—and naturally, those odds were slim. However, if any of these brilliant scientists volunteered to go of their own accord...
After all, his stay in the capital was not merely for leisure.
Lest one forget, he was a scientist himself—and great minds are drawn to one another. His repeated visits to the Imperial Science Bureau's headquarters, for "technical exchanges" and "relationship building," were only natural.
...
Knock, knock, knock—
Inside the Diligence Hall, at Selene's private study, came a knock at the door. Amused by the bizarre and often absurd motives behind various rebellions reported in her documents, Selene looked up. She recognized that familiar rhythm immediately.
Setting aside the memorial in her hand, she said, "Enter."
The tall doors swung open, guided by silent nuns and Flügel attendants. Dressed in a simple black uniform, Sebas bowed deeply. "Forgive me for interrupting Your Majesty's work."
"It's hardly an interruption," Selene replied cheerfully. "Come, let's share a laugh together, Sebas. Take a look at today's 'pre-dinner joke.'"
—List of Executed Rebel Leaders within the Past Week—
The moment Sebas saw the title on the folder Selene tapped with a smirk, his chiseled, marble-like expression faltered. His stern composure melted into helpless resignation as he sighed.
"My lady, this concerns formal public executions and reports on rebellion suppression. You cannot treat matters of life and death as entertainment. Such levity is unbecoming of a monarch."
"Alright, alright, I understand," Selene waved her hand dismissively, motioning for him to relax as she continued in her lighthearted tone.
"Just look at this—such a sloppy coup, such a whimsical uprising! Here, read this interrogation record: the planned rebellion was delayed by three months, and during that time, half the conspirators fled, others withdrew, and some even switched sides to become informants for the local governor's office. By the time the rebellion finally launched, over half the participants were undercover agents!"
"Their greatest act of destruction," she added, chuckling, "was breaking a few windows and floor tiles in the city hall."
Selene couldn't help but laugh unkindly.
No wonder the governor's office hadn't taken them seriously. They had let the situation play out for amusement, expecting to reel in a bigger catch—but the so-called uprising was so absurdly weak that a mere patrol squad had suppressed it within hours.
—Reviewed—
After signing her seal and laying down her quill, Selene ended her casual mockery of the executed rebels. Her gaze fell upon the file Sebas presented—alongside a peculiar sealed cube. She immediately recognized the file markings—it bore the insignia of the Immortal Blade Vanguard Fleet and Esdeath's command code.
"So, Esdeath and Durandal have claimed victory, and quite a substantial one, I presume?"
She already knew the answer.
"Yes," Sebas confirmed. "However, milady, I believe another piece of news may also interest you."
Selene's eyes flicked to the cube. "And what's in the box?"
Sebas bowed slightly. "The Force."
—
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