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Chapter 169: Twin Thorne's
In his fevered imagination, Perturabo envisioned his own death. How his broken body would be carried home by loyal soldiers, and how the common people would weep themselves hoarse crying, "Look at the Lord of Iron! He sacrificed everything for us and asked nothing in return!"
The fantasy tasted bitter and sweet in his engineered mind. Recognition at last, but only in death, only when he could no longer enjoy it.
"And such a day will indeed come," the Raven assured him, his voice carrying absolute certainty. "The glory of the Human Empire will light up every star in creation."
The Emperor and His retinue boarded ceremonial transports that carried them through Terra's endless processional routes. Tree-lined boulevards stretched beyond the horizon, their edges packed with countless observers who surged forward like living tides.
"Child, you must remember this moment forever," mothers commanded as they lifted their young ones above the crowd's heads. They made sure their children witnessed the divine face of humanity's Lord, a sight that would likely be the most precious memory of their entire lives.
At last, the procession reached the gates of the Imperial Palace. Yet the Master of Mankind did not approach those grand entrances. Instead, He climbed marble steps to a platform carved in the likeness of a crouching golden eagle.
Malcador and the other High Lords awaited His arrival, offering formal salutes before stepping aside.
Servo-skulls buzzed through the air, their recording devices capturing the Emperor's every gesture. Across Terra and throughout the growing communications network, this moment was being broadcast to billions of watching souls.
The Emperor approached the platform's edge, His gaze sweeping across the endless sea of humanity.
Then, He addressed His children.
"Humanity's Age of Strife lasted for five thousand years. That terrible time brought our civilization to the very edge of extinction."
The Emperor neither shouted nor gestured dramatically. He simply spoke with crystal clarity, His voice somehow reaching every listening heart.
"Yet that darkness has been banished. Humanity has once again shown its strength, rebuilding a mighty realm from the ashes of the past."
"Some may credit this triumph to my efforts alone, but I say to you... No. This glory doesn't belong to Me alone."
The Emperor's voice rose with sudden passion.
"You built this empire. You made the sacrifices. You endured the hardships. You forged humanity's future with your own hands and will. Without your efforts, human civilisation would have died completely. Therefore, this glory belongs to all."
Perturabo felt something stir in his chest as he listened. Recognition, not for him, but for all humanity. The Emperor shared credit and acknowledged the countless unnamed souls who had built this reality.
'Was this how a true leader spoke? Not claiming sole glory, but lifting up those who served?'
"Yet rebuilding is merely the beginning. Human civilisation will reach heights undreamed of by previous ages. Human civilisation will be immortal. Human civilisation will be eternal."
The Emperor raised His hands and formed the sacred aquila across His chest.
This simple gesture ignited the assembled masses like a spark to fuel. Tears streamed down countless faces as millions mirrored the salute, their movements synchronised by shared devotion.
A surge of purpose filled every heart, souls no longer isolated but bound together by their common devotion to the Emperor and the species He championed.
Following the Emperor's address, celebrations erupted across Terra. The Emperor and the Raven, however, left the festivities immediately and made their way to the Throne Room within the Imperial Palace's deepest chamber.
The Golden Throne remained unfinished, but its basic structure had taken shape. Complex machinery formed a pyramid of impossible beauty, its surfaces covered with runes that seemed to shift when observed directly.
At the top, two thrones waited in perfect symmetry.
"Old Malcador," the Raven said, tilting his head, "why does this Golden Throne have two seats?"
"The design specifications provided by His Majesty called for this configuration," Malcador replied, activating a data-slate. "Furthermore, the Empire has two supreme rulers, so it seems logical that two thrones would be required."
The Raven fixed the Emperor with a suspicious stare. "Big Guy, please tell me the other seat isn't for me."
"How could it not be? Aren't you moved? Surprised? Delighted by the unexpected honour?" The Emperor's enthusiasm was almost boyish. "Don't worry, we built this Empire together, and I will never claim sole credit for our achievements!"
The Raven looked at his partner with growing alarm.
'Did this guy spend time as some dictator during humanity's pre-space age? he wondered. The rhetoric sounds awfully familiar...'
"I think you can enjoy this glory solo," the Raven muttered weakly. "Please remove my Golden Throne. I'm quite comfortable on your shoulder."
"Absolutely not!" the Emperor declared. "You are the co-ruler of this Empire. How could you possibly lack your own throne?"
The Raven stared in horror.
'Waaaaah! I really don't want to sit on the Golden Throne! Why is there a reserved seat for me?!'
'Does maintaining a galactic empire only require the Big Guy, while maintaining a universal empire needs to add one poor, helpless little raven?'
'Sure, I've abused my authority for personal gain, conspired with Primarchs, and accepted bribes. When visiting other universes, I've punched time guardians, kicked alien civilisations, and bullied cosmic entities, but I don't deserve THIS!'
"It's not about the seat's design," the Raven protested. "I simply don't think it's necessary."
The Emperor waved dismissively. "You are the Empire's ruler; therefore, you need a throne equal to Mine. Come, let us test the Golden Throne's capabilities together."
The Raven observed the Emperor's passionate planning and silently began his internal commentary.
"In the distant future, there will be two mummified corpses on this thing, one large, one small. The left one is the ruler of the Empire, and the right one is also the ruler of the Empire."
"Let's just try it," the Raven sighed in defeat.
The predetermined timeline of the Warhammer universe had collapsed entirely beyond recognition. Even if he revealed the truth about fate, no one would believe him. Such revelations might even harm reformed Primarchs like Horus and Perturabo.
The Raven and the Emperor took their positions upon the Golden Throne's twin seats.
Even in its incomplete state, this miraculous construct possessed power that elevated the Raven into realms of consciousness previously unimaginable. Incredible energies flowed through both rulers' forms, and their eyes blazed with intensity that resembled twin suns.
The Raven's eyes swirled with ethereal mists and shifting runes as the Golden Throne amplified his perceptions beyond natural limits. Through this enhanced awareness, he perceived countless phenomena across the galaxy.
Horus was negotiating with a lost human civilisation in the galactic rim, a world called Davin, where complex threads of fate converged and intertwined.
Unfortunately, those same threads had become a tangled maze, and most were already severed or straining toward breaking point.
Following Davin's conquest, Horus had established the Mournival, his inner council of advisors. Abaddon had earned membership through exceptional battlefield performance and claimed command of the First Company.
Garviel Loken had recently achieved captaincy of the Tenth Company while developing friendships with several expedition chroniclers.
Leman Russ continued his characteristically aggressive campaign style, leaving destruction and Imperial compliance in equal measure across his assigned sectors.
The Raven's enhanced perception caught the subtle tremors in fate's fabric surrounding these events. In the original timeline, this would have been where corruption took root, where brotherhood turned to betrayal.
But now? The threads shimmered with new possibilities, hope where once there had been only darkness.
'Perhaps, ' the Raven thought as cosmic energies coursed through his small form, 'this time things will be different.'
He could only pray that the changes they had wrought would be enough.
[End of Chapter]
Anio Brother, how you doing? Fine? happy? Shitshow? hmm?