"Guilliman! Don't think that just because you dominate half the administrative reports you can claim moral superiority! You say it's for the good of the Imperium? Then tell me—have you or have you not arranged for Ultramarines to quietly maneuver for cabinet positions? You want to be Lord Regent in everything but name!"
"Lorgar," Guilliman snapped back, abandoning his usual composed restraint, "do not pretend righteousness. Have you not cultivated your 'Word-Bearers-in-waiting' for the same purpose? You speak of purity while planting influence like a gardener."
This was the scene Mortarion walked into at the Ministry of State Affairs before sunrise.
Guilliman and Lorgar stood opposite each other like dueling advocates in a tribunal, neither willing to retreat, each perfectly aware that the other was guilty of precisely what they accused.
Malcador waved Mortarion inside without looking up from his documents.
He rather liked the Death Guard primarch. Mortarion disliked corruption, distrusted excess, and—most importantly—did not instinctively despise baseline humans.
Mortarion dropped heavily into a chair.
"Horus says you're restricting Astartes authority. That you undermine the Legions while claiming it's for the Emperor's good. Is it true?"
Malcador did not hesitate.
"Yes."
Mortarion blinked.
"…You admit it?"
"Yes," Malcador repeated calmly. "I restrict their authority. I centralize administration. I approve or deny compliance appointments."
Mortarion slammed his palm on the table.
"You're lying."
The argument between Guilliman and Lorgar stopped instantly.
Mortarion stood.
"You cannot conceal anything from the Emperor. If this is happening, it is by His will. You are not deceiving Him—you are carrying out His design. Do not pretend otherwise."
Lorgar moved faster than expected and clamped a hand over Mortarion's mouth.
"Prime Minister, forgive him," Lorgar said smoothly. "My brother's candor is… agricultural."
Mortarion tore Lorgar's hand away.
"Do not touch me."
But Lorgar leaned close and whispered:
"Brother. Please. Not here."
Mortarion paused.
Then, reluctantly, he followed Lorgar out.
The moment the doors closed, Guilliman visibly deflated.
Malcador allowed himself a thin smile.
"I did not know you could argue like a street advocate."
Guilliman exhaled slowly.
"Lorgar does not argue. He entangles. It is simpler to abandon dignity and match him blow for blow."
Malcador poured fresh tea.
"Mortarion believes I am stripping Astartes power."
"And are you?" Guilliman asked carefully.
Malcador did not answer.
Guilliman's expression shifted.
Unlike many of his brothers, Guilliman understood governance. He had ruled Macragge before the Imperium found him. He understood transition from conquest to stability.
The Legions conquered.
Administrators governed.
This was inevitable.
The argument that "Astartes authority is being stripped" was imprecise. What was being removed was military governance over civilian reconstruction. That was natural evolution.
But Guilliman had his own vision.
After the Crusade, Astartes could form a governing cadre—disciplined, educated, incorruptible.
A stable fusion of military and civil administration.
An Imperium guided by demigods, but not tyrannized by them.
It was an elegant model.
It was also incompatible with the Emperor's ultimate design.
Because the Emperor never intended the Astartes to rule.
They were instruments of unification.
Not inheritors.
And that truth was known only to three individuals:
The Emperor.
Yuki.
Malcador.
Malcador merely smiled at Guilliman.
Guilliman felt the weight of that silence.
"…Where is the Vice-Emperor?" he asked.
"In her office."
Guilliman left without another word.
Outside.
Mortarion shook Lorgar off.
"What did you want?"
Lorgar looked around before speaking.
"Brother, you cannot speak of the Emperor as if He were merely another sovereign."
Mortarion folded his arms.
"He is sovereign."
"He is more than that."
"Enough."
Mortarion's hand snapped up this time, covering Lorgar's mouth.
"Do not begin."
Lorgar pulled free, ignoring the faint reek of chem-alchemical toxins that always seemed to linger around Mortarion.
"If there is a god in this galaxy—"
"There is not."
Mortarion turned to leave.
Lorgar hurried after him.
"Brother, you misunderstand me. Faith is not weakness. It is truth. I seek only truth."
Mortarion stopped.
"Then answer me honestly. Does spreading this belief benefit you?"
"No."
Lorgar did not hesitate.
"It benefits nothing materially. It grants no power."
"Then why persist?"
"Because it is true."
There was no fanatic frenzy in Lorgar's tone now.
Only certainty.
Mortarion studied him carefully.
Lorgar had changed since Monarchia.
The desperation for approval had softened.
The need for recognition remained—but the expectation of reward had faded.
He no longer believed the Emperor would validate him.
He believed truth required no validation.
Mortarion did not agree.
But he understood the conviction.
Then Lorgar's expression shifted suddenly.
"…A book."
Mortarion blinked.
"A book?"
"Yes!" Lorgar's eyes lit up. "Curze writes. Guilliman drafts treatises. Why should truth not be codified? Thought shapes belief."
Mortarion stared at him.
"The Emperor's Sacred Words?" he guessed dryly.
Lorgar considered it seriously.
"…That does have impact."
"It induces nausea."
Lorgar ignored him entirely, already lost in conceptual structure.
"Yes… chapters arranged thematically. Theology. Philosophy. Imperium as divine instrument…"
Mortarion frowned.
"I will write a book as well."
That stopped Lorgar.
"You?"
"Yes."
"…On what?"
Mortarion straightened.
"Science."
Lorgar blinked.
"Science."
"Yes. The predictive modeling of historical development through numerical pattern analysis. Statistical inevitability. Quantifiable destiny."
Lorgar tilted his head.
"…Psychic prophecy."
Mortarion's eyes flared.
"It is not psychic."
"Of course."
"It is mathematics."
"Certainly."
"Numbers reveal inevitability."
"Brother," Lorgar said gently, "that is still—"
"It is science!"
Lorgar raised both hands.
"Science. Absolutely."
There was a pause.
Lorgar leaned in cautiously.
"Then perhaps your science can predict… the Regent?"
Mortarion stared at him.
"Get lost."
"Very well."
Visit patreon.com/ShiroTL for more chapters.