The Primarch's command—"You will come with me. To Terra"—fell upon the strategium with the force of a physical blow. It was not a suggestion. It was a statement of Imperial policy, a realignment of the galactic axis.
Canoness Celestine was the first to react. A look of pure, ecstatic triumph washed over her face. Her faith had been rewarded beyond her wildest dreams. The Saint was not being hidden away by the secretive Inquisition or allowed to depart on his own mysterious pilgrimage. He was being brought to the Throneworld itself, to the foot of the Golden Throne, to the very heart of the Imperial Creed. She fell to one knee, her head bowed. "The Emperor's will be done, my Lord Primarch."
Lord Inquisitor Varrus, on the other hand, felt a cold dread mix with his calculating resignation. He had lost control. His carefully managed investigation, his plan to guard the secret of the keys to reality, was now shattered. The anomaly was being taken to the most politically volatile, fanatically charged, and dangerous place in the galaxy. But to defy a Primarch's direct order was unthinkable. He gave a stiff, formal bow. "As the Lord Commander decrees."
Rimuru was the only one who seemed unfazed. He simply processed the new information with calm pragmatism. Terra? Their capital world. The seat of their Emperor. The center of everything.
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"Terra," Rimuru said aloud, his voice drawing the attention of the demigod before him. "Is that your capital? Will the people there be able to assist with my research more effectively than the Magi on Ryza?"
Guilliman almost smiled at the innocent, practical nature of the question. It was a breath of clean, logical air in a galaxy choking on dogma. "Yes," the Primarch replied. "The greatest minds of the Adeptus Mechanicus reside not on Ryza, but on Mars, within our home system. The work on your... array... will continue there, under my direct authority."
He then laid out his decrees, his voice reshaping the political landscape with every word.
"Archmagos Valerius," he said, speaking to a comms-link. The Archmagos, who had been monitoring the audience, appeared on the holo-lith, immediately prostrating himself. "Guilliman's voice was firm. "Your forge world's service is commendable. You and your most enlightened Magi will be granted the highest honor. You will accompany this project to Mars and oversee its completion." It was a great honor that was also a form of gilded cage, ensuring the knowledge was centralized under the Primarch's eye.
"Canoness Celestine," he continued, his gaze turning to the kneeling Sister. "You wished for a holy escort. You shall have it. Your fleet will be part of the honor guard to Terra. You will be a symbol of the faith's vigilance. However, all matters of doctrine concerning this being are now deferred to the Ecclesiarch and the Custodian Guard on Terra. You will not act independently." He had given her the glory she craved while putting her firmly on a leash.
"And Lord Inquisitor Varrus," he said, his tone softening almost imperceptibly. "Your clandestine efforts have brought this matter to my attention. Your investigation is now concluded. You will travel with me as my direct advisor. I will need your… unique perspective on the journey ahead." He was taking Varrus's secret and making it his own, placing the old spymaster in a position of advisory honor, and absolute oversight.
With the new chain of command established, Guilliman turned back to Rimuru. "We will travel to Terra at all haste. I wish to see this… 'Inertial Pathway' technology for myself. The Imperium has relied on the treacherous paths of the Warp for too long."
The meeting was over. The factions, their separate agendas now subsumed by the Primarch's single, unifying will, departed to make preparations.
Later, Rimuru found himself standing alone with the Primarch in the strategium, the great galactic map once more swirling on the holo-lith. For a long time, the demigod simply stared at the endless sea of stars, at the festering wounds of Chaos incursions and the dark, unexplored voids.
"For ten thousand years," Guilliman said, his voice a low, weary murmur, "this galaxy has known only decay. Stagnation. A slow, grinding death of everything my father and I fought to build. We do not create. We do not progress. We only remember, and we forget, and we fight to keep the darkness at bay for one more day."
He turned, his ancient, sorrowful eyes fixing on Rimuru. "You… you are the first truly new thing to have happened in all that time. You are not a product of this decay. You do not reek of the past. You are a stone thrown into a stagnant pond."
The Primarch walked closer, his sheer scale casting a shadow over Rimuru, but his presence was not threatening. It was simply… immense.
"I am bringing you to Terra, the most dangerous place in the galaxy, because I must know what you are. I must understand the ripples you will create."
He looked from Rimuru to the map of the dying Imperium he was trying so desperately to save.
"I only pray," the demigod whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of a million worlds, "that those ripples will wash away the rot, and not drown what little is left."