The five hours until the Macragge's Honour entered orbit were the longest in Lord Inquisitor Varrus's recent memory. The Ryza system, once a backwater on his grand map, had become the focal point of the entire Imperium. The fleets of the Mechanicus, the Inquisition, and the Ecclesiarchy held their positions, a tense and disparate gathering of the faithful, the secret keepers, and the machine-worshippers, all waiting for the arrival of living history.
The summons, when it came, was simple and absolute. A vox-hail, crisp and formal, from the Primarch's flagship. Lord Roboute Guilliman would grant an audience to Lord Inquisitor Varrus, Canoness Celestine, and the entity known as 'Tempest'.
They traveled on a single, unadorned Aquila lander, a neutral vessel for a meeting that would define the future. As they approached the Macragge's Honour, its sheer scale became apparent. It was not merely a warship; it was a mobile citadel, a piece of the Great Crusade itself, its blue and gold hull a testament to ten thousand years of war and honor.
The interior was a place of somber, majestic grandeur. The air was cool and still, carrying the scent of sanctified oils and ancient, hallowed metal. Great halls were lined with statues of legendary Ultramarine heroes and banners from campaigns that were now the stuff of myth. They were met not by servitors, but by the Victrix Guard, the Primarch's own honor guard, transhuman giants in ornate cobalt armor who moved with a silent, perfect grace. Every surface was clean, every warrior was disciplined. It was the Imperium not as the decaying, baroque nightmare it had become, but as it was intended to be: noble, powerful, and orderly.
They were led to the Primarch's strategium, the 'Heraeum'. It was a vast, circular chamber, its domed ceiling a perfect, real-time star-chart of the entire galaxy. In the center of the room, standing before a great tactical holo-lith, was the Primarch himself.
Roboute Guilliman was a demigod. He stood twice the height of a mortal man, a giant who towered even over Captain Arken in his Terminator armor. He wore the Armour of Fate, a masterwork of blue and gold plate that hummed with arcane technology. He was not wearing his helmet, and his face was that of a classical hero from ancient Terran myths—noble, intelligent, and etched with a weariness so profound it seemed to pull at the very light in the room. He carried the weight of a dying empire on his shoulders, and his eyes, ancient and sharp, saw everything.
He turned as they entered, his gaze sweeping over them. It rested for a moment on Varrus, a look of weary acknowledgement for a necessary evil. It passed over Celestine, a flicker of sadness for the fanaticism his father's empire now required to survive. Finally, his gaze settled on Rimuru.
The Primarch's eyes, which could calculate the trajectory of an entire war in a single glance, narrowed slightly. He saw not a xenos, not a daemon, not a psyker in the traditional sense. He saw something… other. A being of profound, unshakeable order, an anomaly whose very presence was a quiet contradiction to the chaotic, bleeding galaxy he was trying to save.
"Lord Inquisitor. Canoness," Guilliman's voice was a deep, resonant baritone, the voice of absolute command. "You have brought a storm to this sector. Your reports, and those of my own Librarian, are… unprecedented."
He took a step forward, his attention now focused entirely on Rimuru. "I have read of a being who can erase fleets from existence, who can unmake the Greater Daemons of the Archenemy, and who can rewrite the laws of physics. I have heard you called a god, a saint, and a xenos anomaly. My own Librarian, Corvus, whose judgment I trust, calls you an honorable king."
Guilliman's gaze was not hostile. It was intensely, terrifyingly analytical. "Tell me, King Rimuru Tempest... what is your purpose in my Imperium?"
Here, for the first time, was an equal. Not a fanatic to be managed or a subordinate to be guided, but a sovereign in his own right. Rimuru met his gaze and answered with the simple, direct honesty of one ruler to another.
"Lord Commander. I have no grand purpose in your Imperium. I am a traveler, lost from my own reality. My only goal is to find a way to return to my people and my nation. All of my actions so far have been in service of that single, simple goal."
The answer, in its sheer, anticlimactic simplicity, seemed to hang in the silent chamber. Guilliman studied him for a long moment. "You possess a power that could carve out an empire in the dark corners of my galaxy. You could live as a god among a thousand worlds. Why would you choose to leave?"
"Because I already have an empire," Rimuru replied, his voice firm. "And a king's place is with his people. I have no desire to rule over yours, Lord Guilliman. I simply wish to go home."
A profound, heavy silence filled the Heraeum. Roboute Guilliman, the Avenging Son, who had spent every waking moment of his new life fighting a desperate, hopeless war to hold his father's crumbling empire together, was faced with a being of god-like power whose only stated ambition was to leave. He was surrounded by those who would kill for a fraction of that power, yet this being sought only an exit.
The Primarch's impossibly weary face shifted, a new, complex calculation forming behind his eyes. He turned away from them, looking back at the great, galaxy-spanning map.
"This," he said, his voice a low, thoughtful murmur, "changes the calculus of everything."
He turned back, his decision made. His gaze was now one of profound, world-altering gravity. "Your quest to go home is no longer a private matter, King Rimuru. An entity of your power and nature cannot be allowed to wander my galaxy, hunted by fanatics or leaving behind reality-shattering technology. Your journey is now a matter of ultimate galactic security. Therefore, it is now a matter of Imperial policy, decreed by me."
He looked directly at Rimuru, his authority absolute and unquestionable.
"The work on Ryza will continue under my direct supervision. But your next destination has changed." He gave the stunning, final command.
"You will come with me. To Terra."