Chapter 45: Guilliman Has Betrayed Us

Chapter 45: Guilliman Has Betrayed Us

Ficris's words interrupted Guilliman's train of thought, leaving him momentarily stunned. After a short pause, the Primarch raised his head and asked Ficris, "Is this an act of treason?"

"No, they are merely rejecting your reforms and recognizing only the system established for them by the Holy Emperor. They have expelled the reformists sent by the new council, declaring that they will obey only the commands originating from Holy Terra. Furthermore, they have broadcasted a proclamation to other worlds, demanding that they join in the refusal. Several noble houses have already responded, stating that unless Your Lordship secures the Emperor's personal authorization, they will refuse to acknowledge your reforms," Ficris reported.

"Require the acknowledgment of the Holy Emperor?" Guilliman paced a few steps, looked back up at Ficris, and asked, "Did they say anything else? Did they put forward any demands?"

"Those are the only reports received thus far," Ficris said with a suppressed tone of indignation. "Shall we dispatch military forces to punish these houses, My Lord? This is a blatant disrespect toward you."

"No, this is not disrespect toward me. They are testing me, Ficris; they are attempting to gauge the extent and resolve of my commitment to these reforms. Let us wait a moment longer. I anticipate other houses will soon voice their dissent. Send agents to compile evidence of their crimes so we may settle all accounts together."

Guilliman could see through the true motives behind such a declaration at a single glance.

The opposing faction had committed no treasonous act; in fact, they had positioned themselves with precise caution.

Neither the Inquisition nor any other institutional body could lay hold of a pretext to charge them with rebellion.

The current political landscape of the Imperium was exceptionally delicate. Logically speaking, the awakened Guilliman ought to have traveled to Holy Terra to claim the authority of the Terran Council before promulgating decrees.

Yet, Guilliman remained in Ultramar, issuing his commands from Macragge.

He was the Lord Commander of the Imperium, appointed directly by the Emperor Himself—the undisputed, rightful ruler of the realm.

For ten millennia, however, the Imperium had grown accustomed to receiving orders exclusively from the Council on Terra, instilling a deep-seated, tacit understanding that the core of imperial power resided upon Terra.

To pledge loyalty to Guilliman or to pledge loyalty to the Terran Council—on the surface, both amounted to loyalty to the Imperium.

"Why must these wretches step forward at a time like this? Are they truly so blind that they cannot perceive that Your Lordship's actions are an effort to save humanity?" Ficris demanded bitterly.

"It is precisely because they *can* perceive it that they oppose it," Guilliman said, gazing toward a winged cherub as it fluttered past, circling to deliver a message to a crewman before soaring off toward another destination to fulfill the programmatic duties of its existence.

"Why do you say that, My Lord? If they can see it, why would they oppose you? Have they all forsaken the Imperium and lost their loyalty?" Ficris asked, utterly bewildered.

"Loyalty takes many forms, Ficris. There is loyalty to an ideal, loyalty to an individual, and there is the loyalty of the greedy to power and influence. They are loyal to the Imperium, certainly; they are simply not loyal to *me*, nor to the future I seek to forge."

"I do not understand. Is true loyalty not defined by the willingness to sacrifice everything?"

Confusion etched itself across Ficris's broad, resolute features.

Guilliman withdrew his gaze, refusing to dwell any longer upon the loathsome techno-artifice.

"That is your definition, Ficris. The perspective of the majority is rather: *If I pledge my loyalty to this individual, what shall I gain? And if I gain nothing, why should I pledge allegiance at all?* They hope to force me into a retreat, to trade our compromise for their fealty. That is their true intent. The House of Grous is merely the first; countless other houses are watching from the sidelines."

"They have held positions of nobility for generations, enjoying wealth and extravagant luxuries denied to ordinary mortals. They believe their loyalty has earned them these privileges as their rightful due. They expect me to continue utilizing those very privileges to maintain their fidelity; otherwise, the fault lies with me," Guilliman chuckled wryly. "As for the greater cause of saving humanity, they consider themselves sufficiently loyal already—and if mankind marches toward crisis, well, that is simply beyond their control."

"To demand that they sacrifice their personal interests for the greater good of humanity is an absolute impossibility."

"What course of action shall we take then?" Ficris inquired.

"I shall travel to the Nattar System, declare the House of Grous excommunicate traitoris, execute every last member of that lineage, and proclaim to the entire Imperium that reform must proceed. Anyone who refuses to acknowledge it shall be treated as a Chaos heretic attempting to bring about the destruction of humanity."

Guilliman's tone was utterly devoid of warmth, completely indifferent to the lives of those soon to face execution.

The House of Grous was vast, possessing sprawling commercial assets and a formidable void-fleet.

To call them a stellar dynasty would scarcely be an exaggeration.

This house had produced no obvious traitors; they had consistently maintained their outward fealty to the Emperor and the Imperium.

Yet Guilliman had no need for that brand of loyalty.

What he required was the loyalty of submission—the obedience that accepted and embraced his reforms.

Many noble houses had indeed produced figures fiercely devoted to the Emperor and the Imperium, but such historical merits could not erase their present transgressions.

The sole reason these houses deigned to remain loyal to the Imperium and the Emperor was that the Imperium and the Emperor guaranteed them immense privileges.

They leveraged the Emperor's authority to rule their worlds by divine right.

Should rebellions erupt upon their domains, they could call upon the Imperial Guard and the Imperial Navy for protection to crush the insurgents.

To be loyal to the Emperor meant, in their eyes, that they were accountable only to the Emperor and the Imperium at large.

It permitted them to employ any system of governance they pleased within their worlds, squeezing every drop of wealth they could possibly extract.

The reason the House of Grous had issued such a public declaration was undoubtedly because Guilliman's reforms had shaken the very foundations of their power and their wealth.

To defend their dominion and riches, they had drafted their ultimatum.

The message was crystal clear: unless Guilliman backed down, they would no longer render him their allegiance.

It was a pity that the passage of long ages had made them forget how the Primarchs and the Emperor had built the Imperium in the first place.

The Primarchs had reduced every dynasty and alien empire that refused to submit to ash, erecting the Imperium of Man upon the very ruins of those civilizations.

Never once had they relied upon cunning political maneuvers or deceitful arts.

The House of Grous sought to probe Guilliman's bottom line, striving to secure the maximum possible advantage and even forcing the Primarch to rescind his reform decrees.

Yet Guilliman's ultimate boundary was simply this: those aristocrats who cooperated with the reforms would be permitted to survive.

If the House of Grous desired more than that, let them prepare to face the unmitigated wrath of a Primarch.

Guilliman would not retreat. He would respond with an unyielding, uncompromising iron will.

***

Planet Nattar.

The Hive City of Nyx.

The hive was divided into three distinct strata.

The lower levels belonged to impoverished laborers and criminal syndicates; the middle tiers were inhabited by the working class; while the upper level—blessed with pristine environments and purified air—was the exclusive domain of the nobility.

The aristocracy monopolized ninety-nine percent of the Nattar System's wealth, controlling pharmaceuticals, healthcare, heavy manufacturing, shipping, and countless other domains.

They reveled in a life of luxury beyond the comprehension of ordinary mortals.

Within the industrialized sprawl of a hive city, greenery and wholesome sustenance were exceptionally rare commodities.

Commoners subsisted either on nutrient paste or heavily polluted provisions such as hive-maggots and subterranean worms.

Ninety-nine percent of the populace lived and died without ever laying eyes upon a blade of grass.

The air within the hive was cycled and purified by the machinery of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

For the lowborn citizens dwelling in the depths, never having witnessed a living plant was an unremarkable norm.

The lifestyle of the nobility, naturally, stood in stark contrast.

Their sprawling estates featured manicured gardens cultivated with flora imported from diverse worlds.

They dined on unblemished harvests shipped directly from Agri-worlds.

Even the fruits upon their tables were specially freighted across star systems, the value of a single piece of fruit sufficient to match the cumulative lifetime labor earnings of an ordinary worker.

The abyss of economic disparity within the Imperium was a reality no ordinary mind could truly fathom.

As for ancient Rogue Trader lineages, the accumulated treasures of their dynasties reached astronomical proportions.

Dozens of star systems served as their private economic fiefdoms.

Short of being formally declared traitors by the high authorities of the Imperium, there was no conceivable force that could cause their decline.

At the apex of the Hawke Hive.

Scores of nobles were gathered at an extravagant banquet.

"This is treason! Guilliman has betrayed us! We bleed for the Imperium, we die for the Emperor, yet he dares to strip us of our birthright!" an aged aristocrat bellowed in righteous fury.