"Trajann Valoris, I still disagree with your assessment. This is a trap!"
The Solar System.
On a starship sailing silently through the void, a heated argument was erupting.
Custodes Tribune Colquan stared at his leader, Trajann, with a face full of dissatisfaction. Just yesterday, the Adeptus Custodes within the Imperial Palace on Terra had intercepted a mysterious signal. After a period of decryption, they were stunned to find that the signal used an electronic encryption technique known only within the inner circles of the Custodes. Furthermore, it carried an identification code belonging exclusively to Leonardo, an Eye of the Emperor.
The code contained no logistical data—only a cryptic, fragmented sentence and coordinates for a starship located within the Solar System.
This anomaly immediately caught the attention of the Captain-General, who decided then and there to investigate the coordinates in person.
"In such an irregular situation, I strongly suspect that Leonardo has been compromised or killed. This signal is likely nothing more than another scheme by the Archenemy," Colquan warned solemnly. "Trajann, surely you haven't forgotten how Andros Lonsdale's soul was returned to our Lord's side?"
"I remember, Tribune," the Captain-General replied with a heavy nod.
Falling into a trap after trusting a psyker's flawed prophecy, isolated and ground down by a tide of Neverborn—truthfully, for a Captain-General of the Custodes, such a sacrifice could hardly be called a glorious death.
"However, you should have more faith in our brothers. Leonardo is a Blade Champion; he does not fall so easily."
"—But regardless, even as Custodes, we cannot afford the consequences of losing two Captain-Generals in such short succession," Colquan stood his ground.
"I understand. And perhaps you should have a little more faith in me as well." Trajann shook his head. "Just before the signal arrived, I had a dream."
What?
Colquan's eyes widened. After their post-human transfigurations, the Custodes almost never dreamed. Had it been a mortal, one might suspect the machinations of the Warp, but the mental fortifications of a Custodian were not so fragile.
Thus, it had to be a sign from the Emperor.
"Perhaps I am too weak and incapable to see the full breadth of the omen, but I understood the general intent of our Lord's will," Trajann's gaze seemed to lose focus, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. "He said: Hope has arrived."
Colquan fell silent. With that, he had no further grounds for objection.
Since time immemorial, the goal of the Custodes had been singular and clear. They did not care for the Imperium, they did not care for their own lives, and they did not care for honor. They cared only for the will of the Emperor. It was said that during the War within the Webway, the first Captain-General, Valdor, had even considered forcibly taking the Emperor and abandoning the entire Imperium to flee—a testament to their singular focus.
They had always been this way.
One Terran hour later.
The Teleportarium.
A forest of guardian spears stood in solemn formation. Trajann stood upon the high platform, reviewing the Custodians before him. Though he felt no malice in the omen, he had prepared for every eventuality.
A Shield Company of one hundred had been assembled, including five Allarus Terminators, five Aquilon Terminators, and a Venerable Contemptor Dreadnought. With such force, Trajann was confident that even if a Greater Daemon lay in ambush, he could make them feel the full weight of the Emperor's wrath.
However, he hoped it would not come to that.
He raised his hands and donned his eagle-crested helm, concealing his white hair and beard, before activating the teleportation array. In the next instant, accompanied by the blue flash of displacement, the scene shifted violently.
Trajann gripped his Watcher's Axe with the preternatural speed of his kind, his eyes sharply scanning the surroundings.
No enemies?
As far as his vision reached, there were only Custodes.
Wait—the numbers were wrong.
What is happening?
Instinctively raising their weapons, Trajann and his subordinates moved into a defensive stance, facing another formation of gold-armored Custodes who stood in equally solemn array.
The opposing group wore ornate golden armor identical to Trajann's forces, their pauldrons carved with the Aquila and inlaid with shimmering gems. The color patterns and heraldry on their left pauldrons clearly marked their respective units, perfectly matching every known characteristic of the Ten Thousand.
Seeing the newcomers arrive, the leader of the opposing group did not attack. He simply took a calm step forward and removed his helm, revealing his face.
Impossible.
That was the first thought that flashed through Trajann's mind.
"Andros Lonsdale?"
Are you not dead? Is this yet another trick of the Chaos gods?
Trajann could feel Tribune Colquan beside him tensing like a lion ready to pounce, while every Custodian behind him silently shifted into optimal firing positions. They were waiting for his command.
However, an inexplicable intuition stopped Trajann. He could feel no hostility from the scene before him, making it impossible to give the order to open fire.
"It has been a long time, Trajann," Andros spoke slowly. "I know the confusion in your heart. By the grace of the Emperor and another entity, we who were dead have been allowed to return to the material universe to continue serving Him."
As he spoke, the Custodians behind him also removed their helms, revealing their original faces.
Trajann found himself holding his breath. The Custodes were one of the best-preserved historical archives in existence; they knew the secrets of the long river of history and were not blinded by the false narratives fabricated to maintain Imperial stability.
And the faces appearing before him now were ones Trajann had only ever seen in ancient historical portraits.
The floor trembled slightly. A Venerable Contemptor Dreadnought from the opposing ranks moved forward, stopping before Trajann.
"Ra Endymion, Diocletian, Jaseric, Kady, Maecarion, Aquillon, Vensada, Kaikartu, Ludovicus..."
The Dreadnought's sensors swept over the familiar yet distant faces, speaking the name of every individual it recognized.
"Sagittarus, it is good to see you well after ten thousand years," Endymion stepped forward, nodding to his old acquaintance.
After a long period of verification and a rapid explanation of the circumstances, the remaining Custodes finally lowered their guard and merged with the resurrected veterans.
"So, how many Custodians have been returned to life in total?" Trajann asked.
"Approximately three thousand," Ra Endymion analyzed with cold rationality. "Because our Lord is still wrestling with those damned Chaos filth in the Warp, He requires us to act as His swords, His tools, and His leverage to participate in the coming battles."
"Understood." Trajann nodded, then posed a sharper second question. "This 'special entity' you mentioned—our Lord's contractor—what is his specific origin? Is he another Primarch? This fact is critical to the collective judgment of the Custodes."
The resurrected Custodians exchanged glances. Finally, Diocletian stepped forward. He had been a confidant of the Master of Mankind, and on the day the Emperor "stole fire" from the Warp to create the Primarchs, he had been present. He was qualified to answer.
"—He has no connection to the Primarchs. They are entirely different existences," Diocletian said in his characteristically detached voice. "We can confirm that his source is not that of a Warp entity."
It was a statement of fact.
"I see," Trajann continued. "Then, does this entity pose a threat to our Lord? Is there a risk of betrayal, as with the Primarchs?"
"Unknown," Diocletian's expression remained stoic. "But our Lord trusts him. And after these ten thousand dark years, our Lord has no other choice. He is currently the only hope—the hope that can liberate our Emperor from His unending agony. And, as I said ten thousand years ago, our opinions are irrelevant. Our Lord will make His choice regardless."
"Then the Custodes will naturally follow our Lord's command," Trajann nodded again. "Third question: You have returned from the Golden Throne. What is the command His Majesty has bestowed upon us?"
This time, Endymion stood forward. His voice was firm and powerful:
"To lift the Restraint issued ten thousand years ago. The Custodes must return to the battlefield. We are leaving the Imperial Palace."
Endymion continued, "For ten thousand years, the Custodes have been absent from our Lord's glorious blueprint for too long. The reasons are complex—a combination of our heavy losses after the Great Heresy and our own reluctance to leave the Emperor's side. But now, we must change everything. In the name of our Lord's decree, we shall gallop across the stars and pour His wrath upon every enemy of Mankind. We shall follow our Lord's vision and liberate this stagnant, overburdened Imperium."
One day later.
An explosive message emerged from the Senatorum Imperialis. Carried by the desperate whispers of Astropaths, it spread like wildfire across the human empire that spanned the galaxy.
[This is Trajann Valoris, the 17th Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes. In the name of the Emperor, I issue the following statement.]
[For ten thousand years, the people of the Imperium have forgotten the glories of old, but the Custodes guarding the Golden Throne have never forgotten. Regrettably, after ten millennia, the Imperium's situation has grown increasingly dire. New xenos and Chaos threats have breached our borders, yet we remain slow to react, allowing heretics to inflict loss after loss upon the Emperor's subjects and watching world after world fall.]
[Therefore, by the decree of the Emperor, the Adeptus Custodes have reached the following decision:]
[We hereby abolish the previous Restraints. While maintaining the defense of the Golden Throne, the Custodes will officially deploy from the Palace to execute missions. We will form elite forces known as 'Mobile Task Forces' to utterly eradicate all enemies of the Emperor before us.]
[This is not a request. It is a notification.]
[—For the Emperor.]