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The Lost Primarch Quest
- Thread starter Daemon Hunter
- Start date
- Location
- The Golden State
- Pronouns
- He/Him
By the way, anybody would know either by threadmark or sidestory the beginnings of Eldar and Magnus interactions?
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
Then I am vindicated!
- Pronouns
- Psychic energy
[X] Chaos Shall Suffer
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
- Location
- I move alot.
I think it's better if we focus on the Rune of Subtlety right now than the Rune of Daemonsbane. Aside from finally getting it done, Alpharius gave his blood, Omegon's blood and a clone(s)'s blood to Kesar Dorlin to help make the Subtlety Rune.
Next turn Kesar Dorlin can go back into action and be with his sons, which is a perfect time to make the Rune of Daemonsbane with them. As otherwise, even if Kesar makes it right now it can't actually reach his sons in time for their battles and actions this turn and he'd need to spend time to get his sons to help boost the Rune of Daemonsbane when he finally does arrive than getting it all done at once.
Next turn Kesar Dorlin can go back into action and be with his sons, which is a perfect time to make the Rune of Daemonsbane with them. As otherwise, even if Kesar makes it right now it can't actually reach his sons in time for their battles and actions this turn and he'd need to spend time to get his sons to help boost the Rune of Daemonsbane when he finally does arrive than getting it all done at once.
[X] Plan Subtlety And Hopefully Other Stuff
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
In summation: It provides exactly zero help right now and will cost us an extra action next turn to bring it up to par with what it WOULD be if we just did it next turn.
Hmmmmm how should we respond to the new anti-warden teams this diplo-deamon is setting up. This is ... A disturbingly efficient and coherent plan for chaos, and while I appreciate it from a story and game design standpoint, my playing to win brain is blaring that this must die now.
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Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
For now, constant vigilance and extensive training.
But for medium and longer term solutions, I have a few ideas. We could have Auro conduct a locating ritual that lets us find the Black Covenant headquarters in the Warp and strike back at them. We could tell the Twins and see if they can't allocate their efforts towards finding and eliminating these anti-Daemonsbanes from the inside. We could try to research Gellar Field technology to make it harder for these Daemonic assassins to attack us during Warp Travel. We could even ask the Eldar for help.
- Location
- USA
This would probably take eternity or so close as to be eternity. I would be very surprised if that ritual could be completed in less than 100k years. Since it would be absolutely silly of Chaos to not give the Black Covenants protections inherently on par with Exalted daemons against scrying rituals from daemonsbanes. And it would take eons for Auro to make a ritual capable of finding let alone doing anything more to an Exalted.
Nicholas Brooks
Redeemer and Destroyer
- Location
- United States
The Black Covenants right now aren't backed by all four Chaos Gods, what with Tzeentch making his own anti-Warden Daemons, Khorne going AWOL, Nurgle choosing to be lazy all the time, and Slaanesh being very occupied with fixing the blemish Scafrir put on her. I can't speak for how long such a ritual would take, but I really don't think they have access to anti-scrying protections that would be comparable to an Exalted Greater Daemon's own fortress. Besides, all Black Covenants are not created equal. The one for Auro, for example, would be very new and thus seriously lacking in resources compared to Kesar's. Doom Slayer's is clearly a joke if you look at how their latest activities went.
That isn't to say that it's a sure thing. It could ultimately still take too long to be viable or too dangerous, but it's at least something to check up on.
[X] Plan Subtlety And Hopefully Other Stuff
As to tracking down the Black Covenants, I think it's safe to assume that the Eldar are our only real option. Auro could make a ritual for finding daemons, but the success of that ritual will likely be heavily dependent on the skill of the psyker wielding it and I'm not sure Auro will be able to beat an Honored Lord of Change let alone whatever other secrets they have in store. Technically, we do know where the Black Covenant, or at least U'mas' home base is. The real problem is that the Black Temple, U'mas' home base, is located in the Formless Wastes which is definitely not a location that would be easy to traverse, and when factoring in Warp bonuses and Warp penalties, I can't imagine anyone other than our own heroes and Kesar being able to survive the trip there let alone actually fight.
The Man in the Middle
The Man in the Middle
In an era defined by gods, heroes, and visionaries, the galaxy was at the precipice of monumental change. Hundreds of trillions of souls, regardless of their species, were embroiled in life-or-death struggles that would shape the fate of the next ten thousand years. This pivotal juncture in history drew the aspirations of many eager to become part of this sweeping transformation.
Yet, the stark reality was that most denizens of the galaxy would never truly play a meaningful role in these epic events. For the vast majority, their destinies were predetermined as they became mere cogs within vast and indifferent machines. This, for many, was a tragic fate – a repetition of the same lives their forebears had led or, worse yet, an imposition of duties and obligations that felt like metaphorical chains. Unbeknownst to most, they were silently resigned to their lots in life, a grim acceptance.
Within this broader perspective, it was evident that a significant portion of humanity was trapped in the most soul-crushing of existences – the mundane. While the transhuman warriors of the Legions battled horrors from other dimensions, gods plotted their schemes, and the Imperium of Man teetered on the brink of a new era, the unremarkable tasks of everyday existence continued.
It might seem contradictory for someone to accept and even embrace this situation in such a galaxy. A select few individuals possessed the self-awareness to recognize their place in life and derive contentment from it. These individuals, deemed "abhorrent" by those with grander ambitions, were the ones who found fulfillment in simplicity. Such individuals were the exception for humanity, a species inherently driven by aspirations for greatness and power.
And what was the alternative? If you were to inquire with one, Lars Scriveus, he would assert that there was dignity in acknowledging and cherishing one's station in life, especially if it was favorable. But who was Lars Scriveus, and why should anyone take note?
At first glance, Lars Scriveus epitomized the quintessential scribe within the vast machinery of the Imperium of Man. He was a young, Terran-born man laboring as a mid-level scribe within the labyrinthine bureaucracy of the Imperial Palace. As the third son of a minor noble lord, Mr. Scriveus was a diligent and appreciative worker, well-acquainted with the intricacies of the administrative apparatus.
Lars's loyalty and gratitude were unwavering for his position, modest apartment, and the chance to make a meaningful contribution. He was far from meek or a pushover, yet Lars had an uncanny knack for avoiding trouble and the spotlight. No one could accuse him of being a troublemaker. Those who knew him, however, recognized his true value. If one delved into his credentials, one would find the potential for Lars to be more than just a scribe. Yet, given the opportunity, Lars would willingly forgo any hint of involvement in grand endeavors. He had consciously chosen an uneventful life that thrived on routine and anonymity.
In the grand machinations of the galaxy, not every soul was destined to play a pivotal role in the new galactic era. Lars believed that sometimes, the wisest course of action was to remain inconspicuous and diligently perform one's duties.
He firmly believed that the most significant contributions often arose from those who knew their place and were content. Being unremarkable did not equate to being inadequate or ineffective; perhaps such traits could keep men alive or even just sane. However, the cosmos rarely adhered to the desires of such individuals, and unfortunately for Lars Scriveus, he would soon find that his place in the galactic order was a bit higher than he'd have liked.
Terra.
The Inner Palace.
Hab Block 90-A.
As Lars put on the finishing touches to his attire, he couldn't help but be optimistic as he left for work. The recaff he bought was excellent, the smog over the palace was light, and he got lucky with purchasing some fresh bread and oranges for breakfast. Lar's just finished making his lunch and a meal ticket for some actual meat for dinner tonight. Maybe he could even get some beer.
Today was shaping up to be a good day, and that thought occupied his mind. It might have seemed peculiar to some, but Lars genuinely looked forward to heading to work. His colleagues, superiors, and daily tasks held a certain charm for him. The same could be said about his little apartment, with all the amenities he could afford, but Lars had grown up in extravagance that living like this allowed him to breathe and enjoy the solitude.
Stepping out of his apartment and ensuring the lock was secure, Lars nearly collided with his neighbor. "Oh!"
A familiar voice filled with surprise echoed, "Oh!" It was a young woman with sleek black hair, clad in the uniform of a gardener, who flashed a warm smile at Lars. "You gave me a start, Lars."
Lars couldn't help but smirk. "I startled you, Kim? Out of all the people on the block, you are the only one whose father is a war veteran. I'm sure he taught you a thing or two about self-defense."
Kim confessed with a smile, "He did. But I don't exactly have his killer instinct. He claims it's a blessing." Lars could empathize with that sentiment. Kim's father, a former Major in the Panpacific Empire, had served the Emperor in the early days of the Unification Wars, and his dedication had been rewarded. He had likely witnessed enough carnage to wish his children wouldn't have to wield weapons. Veterans of the Unification Wars were among the few permitted full retirement, and their families were guaranteed care indefinitely.
Kim had explained to Lars long ago that she had left her family to seek her own path in life, becoming a gardener at the Palace. Their friendship had taken root after Lars offered to help her resolve some accounting issues in exchange for a bounty of fresh fruits and vegetables. That arrangement had begun a year ago, and he still enjoyed the benefits of her produce.
"Heading off to work early again?" Kim's voice held a note of amusement. "You must be your overseer's favorite."
Lars shrugged modestly. "Nah, I can think of a few others who hold their favor. I prefer to stay out of the limelight with my superiors, although sometimes it's impossible because I often solve problems that stump everyone else. I try to pace myself, though."
As they approached the floor lift, Kim couldn't help but ask, "I know you don't seek the limelight, but don't you think you deserve a little recognition for your skills?"
Lars replied modestly, "Kim, all I do is put things down in writing or type them out. It's not much, and I could easily be replaced with a servitor."
Kim gently admonished him, "Don't say that. People don't like hearing that kind of talk around here." The fear of being replaced by servitors had become pervasive among the staff. Kim explained to Lars that whenever a servitor made its rounds, people did their best to ignore it, sometimes even ceasing work until it had moved on. Such actions, however, often ruffled the feathers of overseers and bosses.
"Look, I just don't think someone like me deserves a promotion when others probably need the extra Thrones for their families," Lars said, though he knew it was a somewhat feeble excuse. Being single didn't negate his need for additional income, especially if he aspired to start a family one day. "Besides, I'm not hurrying to become an important figure."
Kim's response came as the lift carried them toward the tram station. "But you'll be stuck doing the same thing for years otherwise! It's like… I adore gardening, but I aspire to work my way up to becoming an administrator. You know, maybe run an entire green section?"
A green section was responsible for overseeing Terra's nature renewal efforts, which included reviving ancient forests, jungles, and reefs, among other ecological projects. These roles were considered prestigious and highly honorable. They were also incredibly difficult to get into, even at an entry-level.
As they arrived at their destination, Lars commented, "Well, I'm glad you're reaching for the stars, Kim. But I'd rather keep my aspirations grounded here on Terra." He stepped into the empty hallway as the lift doors opened.
Kim called out to him, "You know, my father had a saying: 'A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.' You aren't meant to be just some script grinder, Lars!"
Lars chuckled, "But I happen to enjoy being one!" He raised a hand in a parting wave. "I'll catch up with you later, Kim. Have a great day!"
Never push your luck. Stay in your lane. Keep your head down. Do your job. You could assign any axiom such as these to Lars, which would fit him. The man knew what he wanted out of life or what not to do.
To outsiders, his perspective might seem peculiar, possibly even irrational, but for Lars, it was the only perspective that made sense. He carefully weighed the options and found genuine happiness in appreciating what he had. Lars understood that he could have been born into a life of slavery, plunged into poverty, or met an early end for any number of reasons the galaxy could throw at him. But fate had been kind to him, and he was contributing his part within the pulsing heart of the Imperium, working for the betterment of humanity.
At just 29 years old, he was already self-sufficient, having distanced himself from his family. As far as Lars saw it, his most significant hurdle was pursuing financial stability, hoping to one day meet someone with whom he could build a life, perhaps even off-world. While he cherished his time on Terra, he recognized that greater opportunities existed beyond its boundaries, even if they seemed distant.
Lars was deliberate in tempering his ambitions. He understood that achieving his long-term goal might take decades, but he considered this a blessing in disguise. It meant Lars could proceed at his own pace, careful and deliberate in every step he took. He'd observed too many individuals who sought to become shining stars too quickly, only to burn themselves out, growing resentful of their power and, ultimately, the people around them. Even worse, rumors had reached his ears of ambitious souls who had met untimely ends at the hands of rivals.
Lars, in stark contrast, desired nothing more than a quiet and content life. While some might consider this a virtue, a testament to his humility and sense of duty, Lars simply wished to maintain a low profile and ensure his security. He was content to keep his nose clean and his rear end covered in a galaxy brimming with chaos and ambition.
That singular aspiration defined Lars's life; frankly, it was more than sufficient for him. The term he often employed and which had guided him well was "good enough." In his extensive listening and recording experience, one valuable lesson he had gleaned was that individuals frequently erred by reaching for the stars when they would have been better served simply savoring life's goodness. It was the one nugget of wisdom that he took to heart.
Certainly, Lars could have aspired to do more, and he certainly could achieve it. On paper, he was nothing short of a genius in his own right. His impressive skills set him apart. As an accomplished polyglot, he possessed the gift of speaking multiple languages fluently. His keen analytical abilities allowed him to dissect complex information. He was remarkably observant, capturing the nuances and subtleties of situations. But his most extraordinary talent was his memory retention, which set him apart. This exceptional trait made him exceptionally qualified for the meticulous task of transcribing meetings, recordings, and other critical information that needed to be documented on paper or cogitators.
Lars undeniably possessed the potential to venture into more ambitious and illustrious career paths. However, he consciously chose to follow a path that resonated with his preference for a tranquil life and the satisfaction of engaging in work he loved. Lars believed it was better to be the individual who derived joy and pride from life's simple pleasures rather than constantly bemoaning their absence. Moreover, he was mindful of not coming across as boastful or arrogant. He didn't want people to think of him differently.
Lars's desire to be liked and connect with others may be seen as his one flaw. While he had no aspirations for fame or popularity, he sincerely wished to engage in meaningful conversations with people. This longing was particularly challenging in his position, surrounded by individuals who predominantly held ordinary concerns and pastimes. Many were content with their roles and felt a sense of wonder about their surroundings in the Imperial Palace. The atmosphere was admired and reverent; few were inclined to discuss weighty topics like politics. Lars, for his part, didn't fault them for it; in fact, he kept such discussions well away from the ears of strangers, knowing that it wasn't the place for it.
In the realm of everyday interactions, Lars often found himself drawn into more commonplace discussions. His ability to recall even the most trivial details consistently amazed people, which led to frequent references and queries. In his own way, Lars had garnered a form of popularity based on his extraordinary memory and the subtle connections he formed with those around him.
However, he couldn't help but wonder if he was indeed expecting too much from these interactions. Perhaps, just as he aspired to lead a simple life, part of that simplicity was accepting that most conversations would revolve around equally ordinary concerns. Recognizing this might be the key to reconciling his desire for more profound discussions with the reality of his environment. Ultimately, he might need to content himself with the beauty of life's everyday simplicity.
Lars had to remember that life was good. He didn't need to be anything more than he wanted; that was all that mattered now.
Terra.
The Inner Palace.
Administrative Section Epi-Seven.
Lars arrived at his section only a few minutes late. Many people had this crazy idea that the overseers or bosses would beat you for the littlest thing. It wasn't true at all. Besides, if they wanted to make your life miserable, they'd just give you an extra workload.
Anyway, Lars was late, but what could you do? The problem was getting a cup of recaff during the morning rush in the office kitchen; everyone was doing the same thing. Some people brought their own, but their section actually had good recaff on standby. Once he had a nice steaming cup, Lars reached his workstation and got started.
The way a workday seemed to fly by for Lars was truly remarkable. There was an unending stream of tasks and responsibilities, and he reveled in the constant activity. Occasionally, there were priority missives that required his careful documentation and review. These provided a welcome challenge, something he genuinely enjoyed. Beyond the satisfaction of overcoming these challenges, these missives also granted him a unique glimpse into the intricate inner workings of the Imperial Palace, which always piqued his curiosity.
Lars found himself particularly intrigued by the recent developments within the Sol system. The ongoing war games on Venus, the arrival of several formidable Primarchs, Lord-Militant Baelsar's retirement, and myriad other significant events and minute details graced his desk, each offering a tantalizing glimpse into the politics of the Imperium.
Unfortunately, Lars had no one in his immediate circle to discuss these matters. He seemed to be one of the few in his section genuinely interested in the politics and intrigues surrounding events in the Imperium or toward high-level individuals such as the High Lord and, perhaps, even the Emperor himself. Regrettably, such information rarely found its way to his desk. The closest he had come to any direct knowledge of the Emperor of Mankind was when he had read about the Emperor's arrival at a ceremony in the Yndonesic Bloc.
While the glimpses into higher-profile events were rare, Lars remained dedicated to managing standard recordings and messages from mid-ranking bureaucrats, officers, and remembrancers. This seemingly routine task, in fact, offered a fascinating window into the inner workings of various organizations and divisions across the Imperium. Lars found these intermediaries to be a treasure trove of institutional knowledge and real-world experience, and their often candid commentaries made for engrossing reading.
If Lars were entirely honest, he'd admit that his job was entertaining simply due to these insights. However, this enjoyment was occasionally tempered when the casualty reports came through or were referenced. While war might offer a compelling narrative from an outsider's perspective, it was essential to remember that these men and women made great sacrifices for the Imperium during the Great Crusade. In those moments, a sense of respect and solemnity was warranted.
Compiling and documenting everything was the straightforward part of Lars's job. He could have opted for the efficiency of an autoquill, but he was more than capable of meticulously transcribing the information with a regular writing instrument. He needed to keep a vigilant eye on specific notations, contextual details, and the crucial step of triple-checking everything. To rise to his mid-level position, a keen eye for details and the ability to prevent mistakes were essential qualities he had honed over time.
For Lars, this was the rhythm of his life, which had been for the past six years. Many with even a modicum of ambition or dreams of escaping the daily grind might have grown weary, but not Lars. He continued to press forward, his resolve stubborn. He was exactly where he needed to be, and the satisfaction he derived from his work was unwavering. He was in his element and content with the path he had chosen.
As Lars wrapped up his third report and seventh documentation, the shrill ring of the buzzer at his desk startled him. A robotic voice emanated from the built-in speaker, delivering an unexpected message, "Scribe 988-09, please report to the Head Overseer's office immediately."
Lars blinked in mild confusion, muttering to himself, "Huh? I'm assigned to Overseer three, though." The sudden summons to the Head Overseer's office piqued his curiosity and sparked a sense of unease. A mid-rank scribe doesn't ever go to the head overseer. Still, what was he to do? Lars couldn't go complain to his boss. He'd just be told to follow instructions. Had Lars done something wrong?
The Head Overseer's office was situated several floors above his current location. Lars had ventured up there on one occasion, albeit as part of a larger group during a meeting a few years back. He didn't need to seek directions, as the path was somewhat familiar. Nevertheless, as he ascended the stairs, he couldn't help but notice the curious glances from some of his colleagues. The attention made him feel like a prisoner embarking on the solemn journey to the execution block.
It was a perplexing situation. If Lars were truly in trouble, one might expect a contingent of guards to have already arrived, escorting him to face whatever accusations lay ahead. He had heard numerous tales of individuals being abruptly arrested during their work shifts, a dramatic spectacle meant as a stark reminder for everyone to toe the line. Perhaps this wasn't as dire as he had initially feared.
Yet, Lars couldn't help but entertain the possibility that he might receive news about a promotion. While he had little desire for such advancement, it was more appealing than being thrown into a prison cell or meeting an even darker fate: glass-half-full perspective and all that.
Lars encountered no obstacles on his way to the Head Overseer's office. He reached the designated floor via the lift, and before he realized it, he was standing outside the imposing double wooden doors of the Epi-Seven section head. What struck him immediately was the conspicuous absence of guards or even a secretary. There was no one there to greet him or offer any explanation.
He hesitated momentarily, pondering if he should look for someone or even just leave, thinking there was maybe a mistake, when suddenly, the electric lock disengaged with a soft click, and the imposing double doors began to open slowly before him.
"Shit," Lars muttered before walking into the office. Lars half-expected to find the Head Overseer, an elderly and somewhat decrepit man, seated at his desk, ensconced in a lavish array of extravagant amenities and an assortment of costly knickknacks.
To Lars's surprise, he was met not by the expected Head Overseer but by a man with brown hair and a stocky build. This stranger appeared to be only a few years older than Lars himself. The newcomer hardly resembled a scribe; his athletic and robust appearance suggested a life quite different from the sedentary tasks of their profession. He had a dataslate in his hands and seemed focused on it.
"Please," He idly gestured to one of the chairs across from the desk, "Take a seat Mr. Scriveus."
Guess that confirmed Lars was supposed to be here. He sat and couldn't help but ask, "Where is the head overseer?"
The man replied casually, "Out to lunch. Doesn't matter. I told him I needed the office for this meeting." Lars couldn't help but find the situation rather disconcerting. The stranger seemed to wield enough rank or authority to displace the Head Overseer from his office.
Placing the dataslate on the desk, Oliver Cohen focused his undivided attention on Lars. "My name is Oliver Cohen. I represent the head offices within the Administratum. This meeting aims to conduct an interview and evaluate you, Mr. Scriveus."
Lars felt a mixture of relief and apprehension. While he appreciated the recognition from the head offices, he hadn't been seeking any additional attention. "Oh, well, I suppose it's good to know that someone from the head offices acknowledges my work."
Oliver Cohen responded bluntly, "To be perfectly frank, Mr. Scriveus, your name is at the bottom of my list of prospects."
Lars felt a wave of relief wash over him. It seemed this meeting was merely a formality, and there was no real chance he would be selected for whatever was held in mind. "That's unfortunate," he remarked with fake disappointment, "well, I suppose there is still no harm in putting my best foot forward."
Oliver's gaze seemed to linger for a moment before he nodded. He leaned back into what appeared to be a rather comfortable leather chair. "Let's begin with your general history, just to ensure accuracy. You were born as Larson Landvik, the third son of Halvorsen Landvik, a member of the family bearing that name from the Nordyc Kingdoms. You demonstrated exceptional aptitude, achieving an overall Green-Minus rank in most areas of your work. You had the potential to achieve much, but at 19 years of age, you chose to emancipate yourself from your family."
Lars affirmed, "That's correct. I felt like I was living in the shadow of my father and siblings. I decided to seek my own path."
Oliver regarded Lars with suspicion. "And you found that path as a paper grinder and pusher in the Imperial Palace? You could have secured a far more prestigious position with your family's connections."
Lars conceded, "You're absolutely right; I could have. I could have been extremely wealthy if I'd stayed with my family. But I didn't."
"Was this in response to what happened at Troskyia?" Oliver inquired, and Lars wasn't particularly surprised by the question, considering the thoroughness of the inquiry implied by this man's presence.
"Of course," Lars finally admitted. "I refused to divulge certain information that was considered crucial to a member of a rival house because Lady Sief, the house matriarch, all but begged me to keep it a secret. She was an old friend of my mother's, and I found it a cause worth protecting. I made sure no one else learned of it."
In truth, Lars had undertaken the task because he wanted to defy his father, and it was an added benefit that Lady Sief had treated him kindly. He didn't believe that the situation warranted a loss of face. Even in this secular era, the Nordyc Kingdoms remained deeply superstitious and traditional. When the time came to ensure the secrecy of the information, Lars had intentionally set fire to the family estate at Troskyia to obliterate any traces of his involvement. His father suspected Lars's complicity but had no concrete evidence. This led to his decision to disassociate himself from the wretched Landvik family, assuming his current identity.
Oliver nodded. "Yes, it would have been a significant blow to the reputation of House Ashguard if it became known that their heir manifested psychic abilities." Lars felt his fists clench nervously at the revelation, a secret he had been prepared to take to the grave.
"Should I be surprised that you know that?" Lars inquired, already anticipating the answer.
The man across from him shook his head, a gesture of negation. "I can assure you that such matters don't escape our attention. Under any other circumstances, you would have been subjected to questioning long before you relinquished your former name and title for harboring a psyker. However, Lady Sief's efforts at restitution led to the incident being resolved by the time of your emancipation."
Lars couldn't help but wryly remark, "Lucky me." It underscored how little control he had had over the situation. "And somehow, this doesn't disqualify me from this interview?"
Oliver responded, "It will be weighed against you and in your favor." The ambiguity of the statement left Lars uncertain.
Shifting the conversation, Oliver asked, "Let's move on. What are your thoughts on the government?"
The abrupt shift in topics left Lars momentarily taken aback. He answered cautiously, "I think the Imperium is doing alright so far."
Oliver pressed for more, his tone devoid of any antagonism. "Can you elaborate on that statement? And please, be honest with me. I don't need the regurgitation of what the masses are saying."
Lars wasn't quite sure how to begin, so he chose to speak the truth. "I've read enough reports to understand that while the Great Crusade has achieved significant success, it's not without problems." Lars was acutely aware of the grim details. The back and forths, the underlying tones, and how some messages felt worded by men walking on eggshells.
"The High Lord and the Primarchs have made considerable progress in the Emperor's name, but the level of concern in the day-to-day missives... Look, I don't want to accuse anyone of defeatism, as that's not what's happening, but someone, somewhere, needs to bring about a change. Otherwise, there's a crisis looming on the horizon."
"So, you believe that the government can and should do better," Oliver summarized, to which Lars nodded. "Do you believe in the Imperium of Man and its mission?"
Lars furrowed his brow, beginning to feel slightly uneasy. "Of course I do," he replied hesitantly. "Is this some kind of loyalty test?"
"Perhaps," Oliver responded, his expression impassive. "If you were ordered to pick up a weapon and fight for our Emperor's great Imperium, would you do it?"
Lars grappled with answering such a question honestly without appearing craven or disingenuous. "I don't know. I'd like to think I would, even if it meant my death. But I'm not exactly a fighter."
Oliver's gaze remained unyielding as he pressed, "But if it came down to it?"
Lars contemplated the question, wanting to believe he could muster the resolve to fight, particularly to defend his home world. "If it meant defending Terra, yes. Otherwise, I'm unsure if I could summon the will to fight and potentially die on some alien planet. Terra is my home. It's the only home I know. I'm immensely grateful for what I've achieved in life, thanks to my time on Terra."
"But what about the Imperium itself?" Oliver insisted.
Lars had a clear response, emphasizing, "Defending the Throneworld matters more than anything. The Emperor, the High Lord, the government—everything required to maintain the Imperium—resides here. If we lose it, there is no more Imperium." It was probably not what Oliver wanted to hear, but it was something that Lars did believe in. Without Terra, the Imperium would fall apart.
Oliver appeared more intrigued now. "So, your loyalty is primarily directed towards Terra."
Lars clarified, "About as much as a Martian is to Mars, someone from Macragge is to Macragge, or anyone from a homeworld they strongly believe in. It's just that Terra is the seat of the Emperor's power. Humanity owes everything to it, and, as a result, the Imperium owes it." He recognized that this reason might seem somewhat simplistic. "That's not to say I wish for it to be the sole beneficiary. Every other world should benefit from their affiliation with us. This was the Emperor's vision for humanity. He has a plan for all of us, and if I had the opportunity to contribute to it, I'd like to see it realized."
Once more, Lars grappled with his thoughts. He told himself he believed in the Imperium of Man, but another part remained skeptical. Instead of wholly embracing or dismissing the idea, Lars assessed the reality of the situation. Before the Emperor assumed control, Terra, like the rest of the galaxy, had been in a dire state. The violence and death hadn't decreased, but Lars acknowledged that he could, at the very least, be grateful for the stability Terra enjoyed now.
"Hmm, I see," Oliver responded, presumably mentally taking notes. He then shifted the subject yet again. "What are your thoughts on taxation?" Lars let out a sigh, realizing that this conversation was likely to be a lengthy one.
By the third hour of questioning, Lars entertained the thought that a swift execution might be more palatable than this grueling interrogation. The lack of discernible pattern to the questions made the ordeal even more arduous. Oliver would inquire about taxation and expansion, only to suddenly pivot to topics such as abhumans and the Mechanicum. There were no straightforward or easy answers to such complex questions, and Lars found the process draining. Especially if he was expected to return to work after this "interview" concluded.
Finally, Oliver abruptly ended the questioning. "I've heard enough," he said, glancing at the time before rising from his seat. Lars followed suit. "You are free to return to your workstation, Mr. Scriveus."
"Oh, alright," Lars responded, feigning disappointment, though he was secretly relieved to be done with the ordeal. "So... I don't need to do anything else?"
"You'll be expected to keep quiet about this interview," Oliver instructed as he retrieved his dataslate. "Do not speak of it to anyone. Clear?"
"Clear as crystal." As if he wanted to tell anyone this, "Well, I'm sure you are busy; I'll take off then." As Lars moved to leave, Oliver spoke up.
"A piece of advice, Lars," Oliver began, "but trying to remain low-key hasn't done you any favors or made you unnoticeable." He pressed the button to open the office doors. "Showing off some aspiration from time to time might actually make you less likely to get noticed, as you'll just be another schmuck trying to get ahead of the crowd."
Oliver walked out of the office, leaving Lars alone with his thoughts. While the words had some merit, Lars had no inclination to heed them. Regardless of what transpired today, he remained perfectly content with his unambitious life. After all, what did it matter now? Lars believed he had clearly failed to impress Oliver and would likely be passed over in favor of someone else.
"I've got to get back to work…" Lars mumbled under his breath as he started his return to his workstation. He knew the office gossip would likely revolve around him for a while, but he expected to fade from the limelight soon enough, especially since he had made it back in one piece and remained part of the section.
Whatever had transpired felt like an oddity, a one-off event that had briefly placed Lars in the crosshairs of the higher authorities. Beyond that, it seemed to conclude within the office, and Lars was genuinely relieved that it hadn't taken a more concerning turn.
Terra.
The Inner Palace.
Hab Block 90-A.
Two months later…
As Lars had expected, he became the focus of office gossip for about half a week before people moved on to the next topic. Naturally, a few curious souls asked him what had happened, and Lars simply explained that the Head Overseer had admonished him for an error made in a particular portfolio. He insinuated that he was only spared due to someone higher up not wanting to escalate the situation. This garnered enough sympathy and a few snide comments behind his back, but those who knew Lars assumed he had been caught in someone else's mistake and had to take the fall for it. None of the higher-ups confronted Lars about the situation either.
Lars' life soon returned to normal, with the familiar mundanity and lackadaisical nature he had grown used to. He resumed enjoying the simple things and even contemplated asking Kim to see a show with him as a token of appreciation for all the raspberries she had brought him.
Yet, just as Lars was about to leave his apartment, he heard a loud knocking on his door. Initially assuming it was Kim or maybe the floor manager coming for their routine contraband scan, which had become a rather "unscheduled" event lately, Lars couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.
When the loud, insistent knocking echoed through the corridor outside his apartment, Lars knew he couldn't keep his neighbors from getting suspicious. Anxious, he hurried to open the door, only to be met by an unsettling sight: three uniformed men, armed and giving off an air of grim passiveness, focused their attention on him.
The leader of the trio held a dataslate, which bore what Lars could only assume showed his own photograph. "Scribe# 982-0A, Lars Scriveus?" he inquired, his gaze flicking between Lars and the image on the dataslate.
Uncomfortable and unsure, Lars replied, "Yes?"
The leader wasted no time. "We're here to escort you to the head offices, as instructed." He extended the dataslate, featuring a thumbprint scanner. "Please confirm your compliance by pressing your right thumb on this."
Lars complied without a word, his mind racing with questions about this unexpected turn of events. He wasn't arrested, or so they claimed, yet there were armed escorts for a sudden summons. To call this situation unprecedented was putting it lightly. With no further explanation, they began escorting him out of the hab block, leaving Lars with a growing dread and confusion about what awaited him at the head offices.
To add to the unsettling atmosphere, Kim emerged from her room, her face a portrait of confusion and concern. "What the hell?" She muttered loudly enough to draw Lars's attention. "Lars, what's going on?" Kim attempted to approach, but one of the guards swiftly raised a hand to halt her progress.
"Please return to your domicile, miss," the guard instructed, his right hand hovering dangerously close to his sidearm. "There's no reason to be concerned about Mr. Scriveus's situation."
Lars attempted to reassure Kim, "It's fine, Kim. I'm just heading to the head offices. I'll probably be back before you know it." He tried to sound self-assured. However, it was the head guard who delivered the real bombshell.
"Mr. Scriveus, you won't be returning here. A team of workers will relocate your belongings and items from your apartment to a new location by the end of the day."
"What?!"
"WHAT?!"
Both Kim and Lars cried out in disbelief. It had to be a misunderstanding. "That... that can't be right."
"It is, Mr. Scriveus," the guard affirmed, checking his wrist chrono. "I'm sorry, sir, but we need to get moving. The High Lord is expecting you." The urgency in his tone left no room for further discussion. Lars was still trying to get his wits about him from the last bombshell to have almost missed that he was meeting the High Lord.
As the guards ushered Lars away, he cast one final glance back at Kim. "I'll try and contact you later!" He offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me! I'll be alright! Looks like I'm finally going up in the world!"
Kim appeared deeply unhappy, and for a brief moment, Lars thought he saw tears welling up in her eyes. "Lars...""Her voice wavered. Once they were out of sight, Lars couldn't shake the feeling that he was leaving behind his best friend for whatever uncertain fate awaited him. Today was anything but a good day.
Instead of being led to the ground or the elevator, Lars was escorted to the rooftop of his hab complex. There, he was greeted by the sight of an expensive and intimidating-looking shuttle, which he assumed was meant for him. Seeing Oliver at the base of the loading ramp confirmed his suspicions.
"Mr. Scriveus," Oliver called out loudly over the noise of the shuttle's engines, "We meet again."
Lars glanced around and noticed three more uniformed and armed men nearby. "Did you really need to send armed guards to fetch me?"
"It's for your protection," Oliver responded with a stern expression. "Best get used to it." He gestured for Lars to follow him into the shuttle. "Come on, it's time for your follow-up interview."
As Lars entered the shuttle, his mind was buzzing with questions. The armed guards followed him, and he couldn't help but be surprised by the spacious and luxurious interior of the vessel. Oliver guided him to a table adorned with bottles of amber liquid.
Looking around, Lars couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. "Shouldn't we be strapping in?"
Oliver reassured him with a casual wave of his hand. "This shuttle is equipped with inertia dampeners and grav-locks. It could survive the blast of an AA missile and come out unscathed. You'll be fine if you feel a little turbulence. Now, have a seat. I'll pour us some drinks."
Lars raised an eyebrow. "It's like seven in the morning."
Oliver chuckled. "You'll get used to early-morning drinks. Trust me, it comes with jobs like this." He poured a measure of the amber liquid into both crystal glasses. Considering his situation, Lars wasn't a drinker, but a stiff drink might be good right about now.
Lars hesitated before taking a sip of his drink. "What's really happening, Oliver? Am I actually going to meet the High Lord, Malcador?"
Oliver nodded, taking another sip of his own drink. "The one and only Sigillite. As I mentioned, this is the final interview. And I have a feeling you're going to be chosen."
"Chosen for what?" Lars pressed, "You haven't told me what this is all about or why it has to be so secretive. Am I being promoted, recruited, or something else entirely? And let's not forget, you mentioned I was at the bottom of your list of potentials." There was no chance that Lars had impressed anyone with his responses.
Oliver offered a sly smile, "There were two other names on the list. You were the third choice. But one prospective scribe was found dead three weeks ago, and the other turned out to be a spy for certain elements we'd rather not have prying into your future work. So, by process of elimination, you'll likely be our First Scribe."
Lars furrowed his brow, still trying to grasp the situation. "First Scribe to what exactly? And are you telling me that I'm being chosen because I'm the last resort? Is that the only reason you're giving me such a vital role?"
Oliver leaned in, meeting Lars's gaze. "You've always had the qualifications for this position. The question has always been about your dedication and commitment to the role. You will serve as the first point of contact and communication, and your work will significantly impact future decision-making within the Imperium of Man."
Lars couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief. "This is unbelievable. I'm going to take on a pivotal role? You choose a disgraced son of a minor Terran lord among trillions of people across the galaxy? This seems like some bizarre loyalty test."
"In some ways, it is a test of loyalty," Oliver conceded. "But the truth is you meet the unique criteria for the First Scribe role, Lars. Because out of the countless potential candidates, you stand above them all regarding skill, capability, and intelligence. The only question remains if you are ready to do your part."
Oliver set aside his glass and spoke directly to Lars, his tone earnest. "Listen, I asked if you were ready to serve the Imperium. Here's your opportunity. We are ready to give you a chance to assist certain individuals in leadership positions who will help implement much-needed changes for the betterment of our galaxy."
Lars couldn't help but feel a sense of skepticism. "And I'm doing exactly what in all of this?"
Oliver's response was straightforward. "Essentially the same as what you did in your previous role: Recording, observing, analyzing, and providing context during high-level meetings and interactions, particularly when significant discussions, debates, or arguments occur. All while keeping your mouth shut when it needs to and speaking when you have something worthwhile to say."
"I'm getting mixed messages here. I didn't interact much with anyone at my 'old job,' especially not with those in leadership positions," Lars admitted, trying to unravel the purpose behind all this. "So, who exactly am I assisting as the First Scribe? These 'people in leadership positions,' as you put it."
Oliver didn't mince words. "Powerful individuals, extremely powerful. You'll be right amid them, recording their words and decisions and fulfilling any other duties that may arise. The silver lining is that you're just a man with a job, no more, no less."
"You say that right as I will soon meet the High Lord." This situation made Lars realize how little control he had over it now. It wasn't like he could say "no" to the man.
Oliver smiled knowingly, "Well, you've come this far, haven't you? Besides, it's not every day that you meet the Sigillite. Who, by the way, personally invited you to his office. Which means you get to see all the fun sights."
"Right, the home offices." But as Lars said, Oliver shook his head, "It's not there? Where is it then."
"Deep within the interior of the palace. As in, right next to the Golden Throne."
Lars looked very interested now, "Seriously? Well, we probably won't be able to see it then." No one ever got to see such a thing. The only reason anyone even knew about it was because there had been so many rumors that the Rememberancers had to come out and explain things before anyone got any crazy ideas in their head.
Oliver sighed before pouring more amber liquid into Lars's glass, "Lars, if you get this position as First Scribe, you will be working right next to it for the rest of your life." Upon hearing that and seeing it wasn't a joke, Lars waited until his glass was full and then drank most of it in one gulp to help calm his nerves.
"Listen, this is quite a lot, I'll give you that." Oliver started, "And I know you created this whole idea of being this unambitious guy living an easy life, but there is a point where opportunity comes knocking, and ignoring is just impossible. So it's better to embrace the chance and see where it leads because you might be surprised where you end up."
Lars rolled his eyes, "Not a great prep talker, are you." He shook his head, "Did I ever even have a choice in this matter?"
"Can't say," Oliver admitted, "Sometimes you just get dealt a bad hand in life, but this isn't one. If you want to go up to the Sigillite and tell him you aren't interested, be my guest. It ain't going to end well, though."
What choice did he have? You don't tell the second most powerful man in the galaxy "no" if you want to keep your life. "If I go through with this, what happens to me after I say yes? Because I heard one of my supposed guards say I will be moving into a new location."
Oliver nodded as he refilled his glass, "Have to keep you safe and close by. I wouldn't worry about it. You are a permanent stay in the inner palace. That means the lap of luxury." Lars tried not to wince at hearing this impending fate.
"I was happy where I was…" Thoughts of his humble and comfy apartment and spending time with Kim flowed through his mind, "There was a neighbor of mine that I was close with."
"Kim Cahya, daughter of Major Jones Cahya of the 17th Kopassus Unit." Oliver grinned, "Hey, settle a bet, would you? But were you trying to sleep with her?"
Lars glared at him, "We were friends. That's it."
Oliver snorted, "Not many female friends bring a male friend they know fruits and veggies daily." He shrugged before sipping, "But I guess I lost the bet." Lars was starting to believe that the man across from him was a bit of an asshole.
Unfortunately, Oliver was the only person who could give him answers, "I want to send a message to Kim. Explaining why I won't be coming back."
"That won't work, at least not right now." Oliver had the decency to sound sympathetic to Lars's plight, "Right now, your previous existence is going to slowly be erased from the record, and by this time next year, only a few people would ever know that the unambitious and mild-manner scribe that was Lars Scriveus was ever anything but the First Scribe."
Everything that Lars had been was seemingly gone now. He tried to lay low and enjoy a simple life, only for him to be thrust into whatever extraordinary circumstances awaited him by the most powerful people in the galaxy. Lars wondered how many others had been put in the same circumstances as him and for far worse cases and equally awful positions. He should have been a bit more grateful, but all Lars wanted to do was tear his hair out.
"Look, there are a lot of moving parts in what's happening here," Oliver continued, "We, and that includes you, need to keep things quiet for the next six to eight months. Forget about your previous life until then, and we can maybe, possibly, arrange for something."
"What's the point?" Lars's voice dripped with bitterness. "Kim will believe I've died or been left to rot in some jail cell. She'll never know unless someone tells her, which I highly doubt." His temples throbbed as a headache began to form. "All this just to become an over-glorified scribe."
Oliver shrugged, "You'll discover that most positions at the highest levels are just that: over-glorified." He took another sip from his glass and paused as the sound of vox-chatter emanated from a micro-bead in his ear.
"We're almost at our destination." He gestured to the glass in Lars's hand, "Finish your drink; it'll give you a little more spine before we meet with the Sigillite."
Lars quickly downed his drink, contemplating what lay ahead and wondering if his new apartment was luxurious enough to have booze cabinets for him to drown his sorrows in tonight. Still, a few questions nagged at him, "What's the High Lord like?"
"Direct and no-nonsense when it comes to people like us," Oliver commented with a hint of seriousness. "Don't attempt to be witty, humorous, or charming in your conversation. Stick to simple answers: yes, no, or 'I don't know.' Avoid saying 'maybe' or anything of the sort."
"Right." Well, that sounded straightforward enough.
"You might as well be briefed on this because your security clearance warrants it, but the High Lord is a psyker," Oliver bluntly clarified. "Don't mention that to anyone, or you will be terminated." The implication was clear, and the consequences were dire.
Lars couldn't help but express his disbelief, "The High Lord is a psyker? But he's the one who passes all the laws, which includes the anti-psyker laws." Considering the depths of fear and hatred directed towards them, he knew all too well how harsh the Imperium's treatment of psykers was. "I mean, those laws are rather…"
"Harsh? Yeah, they are," Oliver agreed, shaking his head. "I work with two psykers. I'm very much aware of what they entail for them. You best start realizing something here, Lars. The people in charge will do whatever is necessary to ensure the stability and survival of the Imperium. It doesn't matter who or what. Every decision made is for the good of humanity. So keep that in mind if you need to comment or criticize certain decisions made within these walls."
Lars frowned, absorbing the warning. "I know how to keep my mouth shut."
"Lars, by this time next year, you might be one of the few people in the entire Imperium who will be allowed to speak directly with the people in charge, as they are going to ask you questions, and you are going to need to answer," Oliver explained, emphasizing the significance of his role.
Oliver continued as the shuttle seemed to have landed, "You are one of the lucky few, Lars. You get to see history play out but won't be responsible for it. You'll be the man on the inside of it all." He patted Lars's shoulder gently before gesturing to the nearby agents and left the scribe to process this information.
Him, the man on the inside? Lars could only wonder why he, of all people, got the opportunity when he never wanted it. Oliver said he was lucky. Lars didn't feel that way.
Malcador, the High Lord, or the Sigillite, as he seemed to prefer, quietly perused a few documents on his desk while Lars patiently occupied the seat across from him. The atmosphere in the room was palpably tense, with Lars feeling as if he were about to embark on a life-or-death struggle. Then again, maybe he already had?
The overwhelming nature of this situation was still sinking in for Lars. The swift turn of events, from his ordinary life to being in the presence of one of the most powerful figures in the Imperium, had left him awestruck.
Things had taken a dramatic turn when Lars disembarked from the shuttle. He was immediately greeted by a pair of Golden Giants, whom Oliver introduced as the Adeptus Custodians—the personal Guard and Companions of the Emperor of Mankind. Each giant was adorned in the most spectacular armor and wielded weapons that surpassed anything Lars had ever seen.
Like most humanity, Lars had only heard rumors and legends about these golden warriors who carried out the Emperor's will. Kim's father claimed to have witnessed one of them during the Unification Wars, describing the golden warrior singlehandedly decimating an enemy infantry company. Exceedingly dangerous and capable didn't even begin to describe them.
Having two of them escorting Lars and Oliver felt incredibly surreal. "A necessary measure," Oliver claimed, saying that such extraordinary security was warranted around the most guarded place on Terra. Be that as it may, Lars felt like the two Custodians were specifically watching him.
Navigating through the most highly secured place in the Imperium, second only to Mars, was a surreal experience for Lars. He passed by an endless array of breathtaking artworks and depictions of historic victories and significant events. According to Oliver, this was the designated route for visitors.
One aspect that deeply unnerved Lars was several silent, bald-headed women stationed at various doors and lifts along the way. Their absolute stillness and intense focus made his skin crawl, and he couldn't help but wonder about their significance and role within this place.
Upon reaching the upper levels, Lars couldn't help but notice the scarcity of human activity. It seemed as though the bulk of the work was being carried out by servitors, and most inhabitants were likely concealed within their opulent offices. Oliver appeared unperturbed by the absence of people, which added to the overall eerie atmosphere.
There was an undeniable sense that this place was under constant surveillance. Lars couldn't help but feel like every object around him was equipped with pict-recorders, tracking devices, and hidden scanners, whether visible or concealed. It was a discomforting feeling that everything he could see was being monitored, and there were probably even more hidden surveillance systems that he couldn't detect.
Finally, the group arrived at a lavishly decorated corridor adorned with valuable tapestries, exquisite rugs, intricate paintings, and other priceless works of art. This opulent path led to colossal adamantium doors flanked by the formidable golden warriors. As the group approached, the doors swung open without any overt command, and the Custodians who had accompanied Lars and Oliver assumed a statuesque and silent sentinel posture on either side of the entrance.
Oliver led the way into an expansive room adorned with an awe-inspiring collection of relics, priceless art, and opulent treasures that served as trophies within the inner sanctum of the High Lord of Terra. The room's towering ceiling reached skyward, creating a sense of grandeur that was impossible to ignore. Amid this display of opulence and history, the High Lord remained seated at his desk, engrossed in the workings of a cogitator. His focus on the machine made it evident that he had no intention of acknowledging the arrival of the two men who had entered his sacred space. At least not yet.
As Lars fixed his gaze upon the figure of the High Lord, he couldn't help but recognize the presence that had graced countless newsreels and broadcasts across the Imperium. Malcador was a man who seemed to effortlessly exude an aura of wisdom, power, and unwavering authority. What made it all the more fascinating was that, despite appearances, he looked as if he hadn't aged a day over sixty standard years.
Lars suspected that rejuvenation treatments were undoubtedly responsible for this feat, but now, armed with the knowledge of Malcador's psychic abilities, he couldn't help but wonder if there was a hint of warp magic involved in preserving the High Lord's appearance.
"Lord Sigillite," Oliver spoke composedly, "I've retrieved our sole remaining prospect."
Malcador, engrossed in his cogitator, merely waved toward a nearby chair, not bothering to look up. "Take a seat, Mr. Scriveus," he instructed in a voice that held the weight of unwavering authority. "I will be with you in but a moment. Oliver, do you have his files ready?"
"Of course." Oliver stepped up to the desk, laying out several reports in an orderly fashion. A brief pause ensued before Oliver asked, "Anything else, Lord Sigillite?"
Malcador, not one to mince words, offered a curt response. "No." With that, he gestured for Oliver to leave the room, his tone conveying his expectation for immediate compliance. A fleeting glimpse of annoyance crossed the agent's face, but he didn't protest. Oliver nodded in acknowledgment and exited the office without uttering a word, leaving Lars alone with the enigmatic High Lord.
A not-so-small period of awkward silence forcing Lars to wait patiently. He didn't like this feeling. It reminded him too much of whenever his father called him into his study before either dishing out tongue-lashing or trying to instill some sort of "wisdom" in hopes of making Lars into a better man.
Then, without much preamble, Malcador finished his typing and turned to look at the documents left behind by Oliver. Another few moments passed while the tight-lipped and stoic High Lord quietly reviewed. He seemed almost bored, like this was a waste of his time. Lars didn't know if that was good or bad.
Finally, he sighed and tossed the report on his desk, "You'll do."
At this momentous juncture, Lars blinked in surprise at the seemingly abrupt appointment. "I'll do... as I'm now the First Scribe?"
Malcador, sitting behind the imposing desk, appeared to exude indifference. "Yes. You'll need to undergo preparation and training for the role. Mental and memetics conditioning, necessary cybernetic enhancements, and the finalization of your security clearance are in order."
Lars took in the magnitude of what was transpiring, a mixture of astonishment and uncertainty clouding his expression. "You certainly made your decision quickly."
The Sigillite shot him a slight glare, his patience waning. "Several factors influenced my choice."
Lars couldn't help but verbalize his perception of the situation. "Such as me being the only option now."
"Yes, that was certainly part of the consideration," Malcador admitted with the sincerity of a man constrained by time and protocol. "There is also a time constraint. But otherwise, your credentials and psych profile align with the requirements. So, congratulations," the Sigillite remarked, his words bearing the weight of a mandatory nicety.
"In any case, Oliver will get you settled. Tomorrow, you'll report back to my office to meet your instructors. They will mold you into what is needed to become the First Scribe of the Consilium."
"The Consilium?" Lars inquired, the term unfamiliar to him. Yet, the High Lord remained silent, and the doors opened once more as Oliver approached.
Suddenly, Lars felt a pressing need to make a request. "Wait!" he exclaimed, "I…I'd like to ask for a favor if you don't mind."
Malcador returned to his cogitator, his tone dismissive. "Mr. Scriveus, I sincerely hope you aren't thinking you can ask or request a favor at this juncture." Lars found the dismissal irksome, but he stood his ground.
"I'm asking for a favor to help me concentrate on the tasks ahead. Besides, it's within your power to arrange." Lars decided to push his luck. "I'd like to request that someone's family be assigned to a green section."
"Let me guess, the Cahyas," Malcador observed as he continued working on the cogitator. "You were deemed to have a romantic connection with Major Jones's daughter. You understand that, effective today, you will not be allowed further contact with her now, correct?"
"I do," Lars acknowledged. "I just thought that while I have the chance, I could use my position to do some good for someone else."
As Oliver approached, Malcador halted his work and fixed Lars sternly. "You possess no authority with your position that doesn't go beyond the Consilium. Keep that in mind before assuming otherwise." The warning put Lars on edge, but he refused to back down.
Shaking his head, Malcador sighed and put down his cogitator. "I will, however, grant your request if it will help you focus on your training and put these distracting thoughts behind you."
Lars felt a wave of relief hearing Malcador's agreement. "Thank you, Lord Malcador."
Malcador merely returned to his work, his focus seemingly undeterred. "You're dismissed." With a hint of impatient worry, Oliver gestured for Lars to follow him. They swiftly exited the Sigillite's office, leaving him engrossed in his tasks.
Once outside, Oliver turned to Lars, his tone filled with incredulity. "Did you seriously just ask the Sigillite for a favor and out of turn?"
Lars realized the audacity of his request, and a sense of embarrassment washed over him. "I'm sorry, but I just… I just had to. If I can't say goodbye to Kim, and it seems I never will, the least I could do is ensure she has a better future than spending the rest of her life in some hab-garden, picking oranges and olives."
In hindsight, he realized how foolish it might have been, but it felt like the right thing to do. His one brief moment of ambition had nearly put him on the wrong side of the High Lord, and he couldn't help but think he was off to a rocky start in his career as First Scribe.
"Stars above, next time, think before you act." Oliver admonished. "Or you might not get a second chance." He shook his head, "Keep having to handle a bunch of mavericks…"
Instead of offering an immediate answer, Lars studied the imposing adamantium doors and the motionless golden warriors guarding them. It was a surreal and unsettling experience that was still early in the day. He couldn't help but wonder, "So what now?"
Oliver took the lead, and Lars followed suit, embarking on what appeared to be a journey to his new and permanent residence. "We'll head to your new home so you can get settled in," Oliver replied as he walked beside Lars. "And then I'll fill you in on more details before I take off. Hopefully, we won't see much of each other for a while."
Lars couldn't resist a bit of sarcasm, "Gee, and here I thought our friendship was just beginning." At least Oliver was straightforward in addressing his questions. The agent shook his head, and they continued toward Lars's new home.
However, as they walked, Lars's thoughts drifted to what lay ahead. Training and augmentation? The mention of "memetics" by Malcador left him with a sense of unease. He had no prior experience with bionics, and it seemed his future would involve challenges he couldn't fully comprehend.
Should he be worried?
Six months later…
There was a bomb in his head. At least, that was what Lars thought—courtesy of his new augmentations. Then again, maybe it was all in his head, but Lars couldn't shake the feeling, which had come about thanks to the augmentations he had received for becoming the First Scribe. Lars had been given a cortex implant, an MIU, a subdermal communication organ, and enough security features that could hinder even a Vanus, whatever that meant. Then there were the non-cybernetic enhancements. The psy-wards, memetic countermeasures, and "Mnemonic Purging" would allow Lars to protect and compartmentalize everything he sees or hears.
By this point, everything had blurred together in Lars's memory. The names and faces of his instructors were a foggy recollection. Malcador assured him this was a deliberate aspect of his training to safeguard his memories and cognitive integrity.
This approach left Lars feeling uneasy. It was as if he had undergone a servitorization process unknowingly. While enhancing his abilities, the cybernetic augmentations under his skin gave him an unsettling sensation. In the quiet of the night, he could hear an eerie electric hum within his mind.
Lars couldn't shake the feeling that something elusive lurked in his thoughts. His every idea was under surveillance and control, a mental safeguard designed to ensure his compliance and prevent any escape, although escaping from the heart of the Imperial Palace seemed utterly impossible. With Custodians, Sisters of Silence, Solar Auxillia, and the High Lord's network of spies and agents omnipresent, he felt like a caged beast being trained for a performance.
Lars's new apartment defied his humble tastes, embracing grandiosity and luxury in a manner that awed and overwhelmed him. It occupied an expansive space within the Imperial Palace, furnished with an array of cutting-edge technologies. The ambiance was a striking fusion of opulence and functionality, with auto-adjusting temperature controls ensuring constant comfort, while holographic displays provided access to media output on Terra.
Of course, the real treasure was the apartment's gravity pool, a marvel of Imperial engineering that offered moments of rare respite and relaxation. A much-welcome amenity could not even stop the oppressive feeling in the air of his place. Anytime Lars moved through its opulent chambers, the apartment's imposing Gothic architecture loomed overhead, underscoring the weight of his new position.
Yet, what struck him most was the enforced serenity. The apartment was perpetually bathed in dim, artificial light, casting elongated shadows across the ornate walls. The thick, soundproofed walls and windows created an eerie silence, contrasting starkly with the ceaseless activity of the bustling palace beyond. The absence of sound amplified his solitude in this magnificent yet somber abode.
Finding sleep difficult amidst this newfound silence, Lars gravitated toward the apartment's regal library. Here, he immersed himself in the ancient tomes and rare data-slates, savoring the opportunity to delve deeper into the mysteries of the Imperial Palace and the ever-changing state of affairs in the far-reaching Imperium. So, at least Lars wasn't so blind regarding what might come next within this Consilium, which he still only had a vague idea about regarding what it was supposed to achieve.
A few days after Lars had received what was supposed to be his final bio-enhancement, a familiar face appeared at his apartment door. Oliver's stoic expression greeted Lars as he surveyed the entrance.
"Long time no see," Oliver remarked with a brief nod. "Enjoying yourself in the new place?"
Lars let out a scoff, his restlessness was apparent. "Not really," he admitted, his time in isolation starting to wear on him. Memories of simple pleasures like sharing fruits and vegetables with Kim were sorely missed. "I'm going stir-crazy in here. If I didn't have access to a library, I might have honestly considered doing something regrettable."
Oliver's stern expression softened slightly, but his tone remained serious. "Count your blessings. It could always be worse."
Sensing a purpose behind Oliver's visit, Lars asked, "Are you here for a reason, Oliver?"
A nod from the agent confirmed it. "I am. It's time for you to meet your new co-workers."
Navigating the vast and labyrinthine corridors of the Imperial Palace was a perilous endeavor when attempted alone. A single wrong turn could lead to hours of wandering, with encounters often far from helpful. Lars had once found himself face-to-face with a Sister of Silence, an experience that proved about as informative as he had expected.
Given this, it surprised Lars that Oliver could guide him so effortlessly. "How do you know where to go?" Lars inquired, his curiosity piqued.
Oliver's response held a touch of irony. "I've memorized the floor plans for several sections of the Imperial Palace. It becomes a necessary skill once you reach a certain level within the Sigillites." He added, "Tell me, do you remember the names or faces of your instructors?"
Lars shook his head, his memory of the past months a blurry haze. "No, it's all just a giant blur."
The implication didn't escape Lars, and Oliver's nod confirmed it. "Another security feature of training high-level operatives. It's a common experience."
Lars couldn't help but wonder aloud, "And that's considered normal? Doesn't it mess with our minds or our perception of reality?"
Oliver regarded Lars briefly before responding, "That's kind of the point." If he had anything more to say, he kept it to himself. The two men continued to walk in silence after that. As far as Lars was concerned, everyone in the palace was too vague. Oliver hadn't even told him who his co-workers were. Then again, maybe everyone kept their lips tight because they had no choice. Lars didn't want to think about what would happen if he did try to say something he shouldn't have.
After about twenty minutes of walking, passing through a seemingly nonstop series of galleries and treasures on display, they arrived at another non-descript door guarded by a pair of Custodians. Lars wondered why the Emperor used his supposedly most trusted soldiers and companions for such boring details. It wasn't like there weren't enough security features inside the inner palace.
The doors opened automatically, and Lars entered a room with only four others. Lars instantly noticed the large, muscular, stern-looking man sitting in one of the chairs next to a strikingly enigmatic individual whose gender was difficult to discern. The other two people appeared nondescript and somewhat annoyed at Oliver when he entered.
"Ah, Kara, Kochno. I hope you two weren't waiting long."
"Took your sweet time, Oliver." The woman, Kara, said, "The Judicator and Counselor have been waiting quite a while for you to arrive with the Scribe." If Lars had to guess, the stern man and the androgynous individual would be his co-workers.
"Got lost for a moment." Oliver remarked, which caused Lars to glance at him for such a blatant lie, "Still, everyone is now here." He turned and gestured to an empty seat right next to his co-workers. The good news was that Lars was used to working alongside complete strangers. There were so many rotations back at the old section that he rarely used to know anything beyond people's names for months before they went somewhere else. Even so, this felt considerably awkward.
"Alright, the Judicator and Counselor already know each other." The other man, Kochno, said, "So perhaps a quick introduction is in order for Mr. Scriveus?"
"Yeah, sure." Oliver nodded, "Lars, this is Darius Al-Malik and Sacha Nillefrant." Lars politely nodded back at the two people. If Lars had to guess, he was clearly the youngest of his co-workers. Darius certainly looked old, while Sacha had this strange aura that made Lars think they were much older than they appeared.
Lars did the polite thing, "Hello."
Sacha responded with a small smile and a warm, "Hello, dear," their voice carrying a mysterious quality left Lars still unable to discern their gender.
Darius offered a more straightforward nod, stating, "Greetings." The First Judicator, in contrast, had a deep and stern voice that hinted at the potential intensity of their anger, which Lars hoped he wouldn't have to experience firsthand.
Oliver seemed satisfied, "Alright, we're off to a good start. Now, let's get to the purpose of this meeting." With a data-chit in hand, he approached what Lars had initially considered an ordinary table in the center of the room. To Lars' surprise, a small projector appeared at the table's center, revealing its true nature as a holo-projector. As Oliver inserted the data-chit, a series of images sprung to life, showing highlighted guidelines, schedules, and various other pieces of information.
"The three of you are going to do a bit of reading and discussing things while we step out of the room for a few hours." Lars gave him an incredulous look.
"Oliver, aren't you supposed to be briefing or explaining things to us?" Lars inquired. Before Oliver could respond, Darius intervened.
"He doesn't have the clearance," Darius clarified. "This information is need-to-know, and neither of these three needs to know." The First Judicator sent a stern gaze towards Oliver, adding, "You need to work more on your diplomacy, Sigillite. It is quite frankly atrocious." Lars couldn't help but smirk at the chastisement.
"I can help you with that, Mr. Cohen," Sacha smiled. "It wouldn't be that difficult. I've worked wonders with all sorts of clients. I've even taught an Ogryn how to sing beautifully. So, I'm sure I can work something out."
Kara snorted and muttered, loud enough for Lars to hear, "Don't count on it." She also wanted to make sure Oliver knew her opinion before he gestured for Kara and Kochno to follow him.
"We'll be back in an hour or so. Please make sure to memorize everything important by then," The flustered agent stated before Oliver and the other two left the room, locking the door behind them. Lars couldn't believe Oliver thought either would try and "escape." It's not like Lars knew where to go.
After a few seconds of silence, Darius grumbled, "What a duplicitous and unctuous man."
"At least Mr. Kochno had the decency to pretend he wasn't some master operative," Darius continued.
"I liked Kara," Sacha mentioned with a wistful tone. "She was fun to play with." For some reason, Lars didn't want to know what constituted "fun" for this person.
Still, Lars agreed that this whole thing was annoying. He nodded slowly, agreeing, "Oliver is... yeah, I got nothing. He's a bastard."
Darius shook his head, "I must file a complaint with Malcador. This treatment is inexcusable."
Intrigued by the idea, Lars asked, "Can we do that? File a complaint to him?"
Sacha explained, "Darius can. He's the former Chief Justice of the Achaemenid Empire. He helped create the treaty aligning Achaemenid with the Emperor during the Unification Wars."
The First Judicator beamed proudly, "A feat I am most proud of! Because of our efforts, my nation and people have only since benefited here on Terra! The Imperium of Man rewards loyalty, and I shall return the effort with my position here."
Lars found Darius's background quite impressive and a bit intimidating. When Darius mentioned it, he was about to ask Sacha about their background.
Lars turned to Sacha and inquired, "What about you, Sacha?"
Sacha smiled and replied, "I just run a business."
Darius snorted at this, prompting Sacha to explain further. "If you consider Nillefrant Enterprises, which operates the most brothels, joy clubs, gambling houses, and servant programs, just a business, then we must have a different assessment of such things."
Sacha rolled their eyes but continued, "The Nillefrants have provided much-needed services across the entirety of Sol for over seven thousand years. Business has only boomed since the Imperium of Man took control of the warp lanes. I don't have the political, hehe, weight as Darius here."
Darius scoffed at the jest. Sacha said, "But I provide very discreet services to my clients. All their needs, whatever they are, are taken care of. Hence, I am here." Then they both looked expectantly at Lars, "And you, Mr. Scriveus?"
Lars merely shrugged, "I wish I could say I had something grand about me. I'm a scribe. I have some minor noble lineage but was emancipated from my family years ago. Oliver told me I fit a specific profile that Malcador was looking for as First Scribe. Six months ago, I was living an unambitious life... but I guess I answered the call to help the Imperium."
To his surprise, Darius seemed quite satisfied with that answer, "The High Lord has an eye for talent. He doesn't select people for positions on a whim or because of favoritism." That was somewhat a vote of confidence for Lars, although he was starting to suspect that Darius was quite the adherent to the Imperium.
"I can't say I'm familiar with your or Darius's duties," Sacha admitted after a moment, "I'm assuming that is why we were all sent here by our... handlers." They didn't seem to think highly of requiring an escort, and honestly, Lars agreed.
"Yes, yes." Darius remarked impatiently, "We should go over our duties and this information. There is much to discuss, and we evidently have little time." Darius was right; the three could chat while still going over everything. Lars was also curious about what exactly they were supposed to be reviewing.
The trio settled in and started going over everything. Darius took the initiative and started to loudly but clearly read aloud. That was fine with Lars. He was simply recording everything with his new bionics while processing everything. It was a good test run.
One hour later…
The First Judicator was either the most powerful man in the Consilium or just another figurehead. That was the read that Lars got on what duties and authority Darius Al-Malik had with the position. From what Lars gathered, Darius mediated and advised the Princips or High Lords, ensuring debates and discussions didn't reach a deadlock. While he didn't have a direct vote, Darius held the power to declare a final judgment on any matter in dispute. His expertise lay in Imperial law and political treaties, making him a vital source of knowledge within the Consilium.
Lars gradually grasped the significant role Sacha Nillefrant played as the First Counselor. Initially, it might not have seemed impressive, but as the three of them delved into the structure of a Consilium session, it became apparent that their responsibilities were rigorous and multifaceted. Sacha was entrusted with keeping the High Lords content and productive while safeguarding their secrets. This entailed a wide array of tasks, from ensuring the safety and satisfaction of their food and drinks to guaranteeing they didn't feel like their time was wasted during a session. Sacha's role was pivotal in maintaining the Consilium's functionality.
Lars began to comprehend the demanding nature of his role as the First Scribe. As Oliver had mentioned, his primary duty was to meticulously record, memorize, and summarize every aspect of the Consilium sessions. While he didn't have to engage with the High Lords or make significant decisions, he was expected to document every word, action, decision, and event during marathon ten-hour-long sessions that spanned an entire week. When this task was discussed among the three, even Darius, with all his experience, appeared somewhat apprehensive about the endurance required of everyone involved.
Lars couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the thought of multiple sessions a year, excluding emergencies. He turned to Darius and inquired, "Isn't this a bit much?"
The First Judicator, fanning himself with a silk handkerchief, said, "Well, we must all make sacrifices in these trying times. These Princips are entrusted with a prestigious and crucial duty. Besides, the Sigillite will undoubtedly select individuals with the discipline and determination to endure a few hours of talking."
Sacha chimed in, "I partially agree with Darius. Everyone will still enjoy the treasures of the Imperial Palace and have their needs catered to. I'm sure it won't be that bad." However, they couldn't hide their unease about other aspects, "The information blackout is a bit... worrisome. People may not like being informed that all outbound and inbound communication will be suspended."
Lars was taken aback by this revelation. Once a Consilium session commenced, those involved were effectively confined to the palace for an entire week, with no contact with the outside galaxy allowed. This was to prevent information from being transmitted prematurely and, more concerningly, to keep vital details from reaching the wrong parties.
Darius remained optimistic, offering, "It's just a week. Some of the Princips might even appreciate being cut off from the rest of the galaxy. They can call it a working vacation. Besides, if the Sigillite deems it necessary, he can always call off a session early." Darius had another point; it wasn't a prison. Those involved could leave a session but might risk losing their position if they weren't dedicated enough to the task.
The more Lars delved into the guidelines, parameters, and tenets, the more he realized that the Consilium sessions were tightly focused and controlled meetings of the minds. High Lords were prohibited from wasting time on frivolous topics, engaging in pedantic arguments and debates, or dragging discussions endlessly. If everyone agreed on a topic early, they would swiftly move on to the next and continue until the session concluded for the day, to reconvene tomorrow for further deliberations.
The consilium's rules and regulations baffled Lars as he delved deeper into the intricacies. "Silent voting? Time limits? Random seating?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. Then his eyes widened as he encountered a particularly intriguing clause, "No dueling allowed?"
Sacha sighed, exasperated by the notion, "Yes, the last thing I want to see is someone forcing my attendants to fight for my supposed honor. Honestly, some lords can be so childish." Darius seemed embarrassed, hinting at his possible involvement in past honor duels.
"I suppose they can be a little distracting," Darius muttered, wiping his brow, "Things get a little heated occasionally." Lars and Sacha exchanged knowing glances and rolled their eyes, recognizing the unpredictability of the High Lords' behaviors.
But a different point in the Silent Voting clause truly stunned Lars. "The First Scribe will identify the votes for recording," he read aloud, his voice filled with confusion, "I... I don't understand. It's a silent vote."
Darius clarified the matter, "It's not a blind vote, though. A blind vote can be called, but you'll typically need to record who voted for what."
"What?" Lars exclaimed, the implications dawning on him, "WHAT?!" He realized he would be the sole keeper of the knowledge about who voted for what. In essence, he was the only one to know the outcome of a particular vote with absolute certainty. Suddenly, he grasped the magnitude of the situation.
"Darius, that can't be fair to the Princips!" Lars confronted the Judicator, his frustration evident, "This undermines the very purpose of a blind or silent vote if I record who voted for what."
Yet the Judicator shook his head, offering an alternative perspective, "It's not about fairness to the Princips. Rather, it's designed to prevent arguments or backstabbing. As far as you should be concerned, it's perfectly fine to do."
Sacha interjected, reassuring Lars, "Lars, you aren't required to disclose anything. They won't know about you tallying the real votes if you don't share this with anyone else." Their calming words sought to ease his anxiety. It didn't help. Lars was starting to feel agitated.
Things weren't helped when there was a knock on the door, and Oliver stepped inside, "Alright, times up. You three can snag a copy on the way out. I hope you went over everything thoroughly." The agent then looked over at Lars and noticed how agitated he looked. "What's with him?"
Darius crossed his arms, "Lars believes that a few points put him in a potentially awkward position of knowing too much."
"He's about to be in the center of galactic policy-making; of course, he fucking knows too much." Oliver rebutted before turning to Lars, "Man in the middle, Lars." He repeated that point as if that brought Lars any comfort. "Besides, I need you all to get your heads on straight. Word just reached us. The first session of the Consilium Princips is in one week now."
"What?" Darius interjected again, "That can't be right. I was told that two spots aren't filled out yet on the Consilium."
Oliver shrugged, "That is no longer being considered for decision-making. The Emperor has ordered the first session be held within the next week."
"Is our glorious Emperor showing up?" Sacha asked with peaked curiosity, but they and Darius were both disappointed when Oliver shook his head. Even Lars felt considerable disappointment at not being able to see the Master of Mankind. Granted, there might be other opportunities next time.
Oliver walked back over to get the data-chit. "A reminder to everyone, but please keep this information to yourself. None of you want to be on the receiving end of whatever the Sigillite has in store if you break operational security."
Darius waved off the remark while Sacha rolled their eyes. Lars could only feel a headache coming on as he processed just how important his functionality was, starting to look beyond just recording a few exchanges. When he thought things couldn't get any more chaotic, the galaxy tossed this at him. The weight of his role in the upcoming session sank in, and Lars knew he had a lot to prepare for mentally.
One week later…
The past week had slipped by in a hazy whirlwind for Lars. Amid the blur, only his regular meetings with Darius and Sacha seemed to stand out. These gatherings had quickly become part of his routine. The First Scribe, Judicator, and Counselor had formed an amicable bond as they recognized the urgency of their mission.
It was indeed a blessing. Despite their contrasting backgrounds, Lars had no difficulty getting along with his new colleagues. Despite his loud and boisterous demeanor, Darius possessed a keen intellect and a fondness for engaging in conversations. On the other hand, Sacha had an endless trove of stories to share. Although Lars had not learned much about them, he found their company quite enjoyable.
It certainly helped relieve some of the stress that built up after their first meeting. Once Lars calmed down, he figured he didn't need to tell anyone that he was reading the silent votes and leave it at that. As far as anyone was concerned, it was completely fair. He didn't need to confirm or deny it either. Besides, he wasn't sure anyone would be looking to him for details, not when they could try their luck with Darius.
Nevertheless, the time came for the first session of the Consilium Princips. Lars knew he had to dress the part. After careful consideration, he asked Sacha to help, and they were able to send a few people over to help Lars, who were able to decide on attire that would befit his role and the importance of the event.
Lars was given an ornate robe, its deep blue fabric adorned with intricate embroidery and embellishments that symbolized the significance of the gathering. Beneath the robe, he wore a high-collared, crisp white shirt with delicate lace and embroidery, adding an extra layer of formality.
Matching the dark blue robe, he chose well-tailored trousers, ensuring that every element of his outfit exuded a sense of dignity and regality. He cinched the robe with a golden belt, adding a touch of splendor. Lars completed his ensemble with elegant dress shoes that harmonized with the overall attire, ensuring his flawless appearance.
He didn't look that bad, but Lars wouldn't make this his standard dress. As the appointed hour drew near, a Custodian arrived to escort Lars. It was late morning, and the anticipation was palpable. He had been informed that the inaugural session would occur within the Throneroom. The very thought sent shivers of excitement down his spine. Who wouldn't be eager to glimpse the Golden Throne?
Marching toward the Throneroom, Lars was plagued by a gnawing unease as if a storm brewed in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't help but reflect on his life's remarkable twist. He had aspired for a tranquil and uneventful existence, yet he now found himself part of something extraordinary, the fulcrum of an intricate design, the "man in the middle," as Oliver had aptly put it. A mixture of exhilaration and anxiety churned within him, trying to grasp the magnitude of it all.
As he proceeded, the Imperial Palace's vast corridors teemed with Custodians, servants, and the relentless hum of servitors, all of whom made way for him. Lars tried to remind himself that their deference wasn't directed at him as a person but at his station as the First Scribe. Nonetheless, the attention he received felt overwhelming and left him somewhat embarrassed. They treated him as though he were a herald of the Emperor or one of his esteemed sons, a role he wasn't entirely comfortable with.
As he moved further inside, the ongoing construction near the awe-inspiring Golden Throne didn't catch Lars entirely off guard. It seemed like the Imperial Palace was in a perpetual state of expansion and renewal, an ever-changing monument to the Imperium's might. However, he couldn't ignore the strange sensations that had begun to wash over him. It was as if something intangible, something beyond mere physicality, was gently brushing against his mind and soul as they approached the entrance to the Throneroom.
When they finally reached the entrance, Lars was perplexed by the absence of doors or walls. It was as if he had passed through an ethereal membrane, and the sight that greeted him was breathtaking. The Golden Throne stood in all its radiant splendor, almost blinding in its brilliance. It was like gazing upon the sun without the searing pain in his eyes, leaving him to grapple with the overwhelming beauty and significance of what lay before him. The sheer scale of the chamber, the towering statues, and the intricate details etched into every surface filled him with awe.
As the initial overwhelming sensation passed, Lars's mortal mind adjusted to the brilliant radiance of the Golden Throne. He shifted from a state of reverence to one of deep appreciation for the magnificent craftsmanship and sheer power that the Emperor's great work represented.
Still, Lars couldn't ignore the discomfort of the intense brightness. It was almost obnoxiously bright, and he wondered whether this was natural or if some artificial light source contributed to it. The thought of having a ten-hour meeting in such an environment made him reconsider the practicality of the Throneroom as a meeting place.
Lars reminded himself that he was here to fulfill his duties, record the proceedings, and serve the Imperium to the best of his abilities. He mentally steeled himself for the upcoming session, hoping his eyes would eventually adjust to the luminosity and allow him to focus on the matters at hand.
He was promptly guided to Darius and Sacha, who stood near a row of anti-grav platforms situated at the base of the Golden Throne. A nearby tech-priest explained these platforms would be utilized by the Princips and their staff, including Lars, Darius, and Sacha's attendants. Each platform had powerful short-range communication devices and featured enough creature comforts to qualify as a floating living room.
Despite the awe-inspiring surroundings, the trio remained focused on their preparations. After they had taken a moment to absorb the grandeur of their location and the significance of the event, it was time to delve into the business at hand.
Their attention shifted as one of the Sisters of Silence approached, presenting each of them with a tome containing instructions from Malcador, who was notably absent from these proceedings. The directives provided to Lars were clear and concise: stay vigilant for anything unusual during these proceedings and maintain silence unless directly questioned. It wasn't presented as a warning but as valuable guidance.
Following this brief exchange, Lars was guided to his designated anti-grav platform and instructed to establish a connection with its machine spirit. It took a few moments for the tech-priests to complete the necessary cybernetic connections, but once Lars had offered the required invocations, the platform's spirit yielded control to him.
Lars settled into his, thankfully, comfortable seat for the forthcoming hours, yet his mind was too preoccupied with adjusting to the newfound capabilities afforded by the platform's advanced technology. With this remarkable interface, he could "see" in all directions from multiple perspectives. Data flowed seamlessly into his consciousness, processed by his cortex implant. It felt as though he was performing the work of twenty individuals, and he marveled at the efficiency of his newfound abilities.
The moment the platform began hovering, Lars entered an equally surreal experience. He felt he had left his physical body behind and merged with the apparatus he now controlled. Voices and vox transmissions filled his auditory senses, allowing him to eavesdrop on conversations around him. At this moment, Lars grasped the extent of his augmented faculties, which included the capacity to overhear and analyze discussions without anyone knowing. That seemed too powerful for his position, but what could he do?
Because only a few moments later, a warning was sent to his implant. The Princips were arriving now. It was time to begin the first day of the first session of the first meeting of the Consilium Princips. The galaxy would never be the same after this.
As with the inception of any significant event, inevitable challenges arose. The initial hurdle was the orderly entry of all the Princips, which posed a minor inconvenience for the Custodians, barring a few exceptions. Naturally, the high-ranking attendees were filled with queries about the nature of the proceedings. They inquired about why this session was convened at the very base of the Golden Throne, why each gathering would span an extensive ten hours, and why the throneroom was to be hermetically sealed.
The initial arrival was marked by Edric the Steersman, the delegate for the Navigators. His presence was as unsettling as his unnaturally altered physiology, which made it challenging for some attendees to meet his gaze. Shortly thereafter, Tarasha Euten entered, the representative of the Primarchs. It was evident that her tenure among the Princips was likely temporary.
Following them, Lord-Militant Eli Lanatus, Voice of the Imperial Army, and Sota-Nul, the Voice of the Mechanicum, arrived in quick succession. Lord-Militant Lanatus assumed his position confidently, while Sota-Nul, representing the Mechanicum, displayed quiet authority.
In stark contrast, figures like Chief Custodian Constantin Valdor, the enigmatic Vandal Cartou of the Adeptus Scientifica, and the composed Grand Master of Assassins, Erevan, took to their platforms with an unwavering resolve, unburdened by doubts or concerns. They stood poised and waited patiently for the remaining Princips to gather.
On the other hand, the process was less seamless for individuals like Maria Polo, the Voice of the Rogue Traders, Anastus Corus, the Steward of the Imperium, and Julius Peius, Chief Officer of the Office of Strategic Services. Each exhibited signs of misconception or apprehension, particularly regarding the security measures implemented for this inaugural session.
As all the Princips took their seats, the anti-grav platforms gracefully awoke and ascended into the air, eliciting astonishment from a few attendees due to their theatricality. Once everyone was comfortably settled, a brief round of introductions commenced. Darius assumed the role of the host speaker, elaborating on the session's procedures, rules, and allowances available to each Princips. Everyone seemed to accept them, at least publicly.
Sacha was also introduced, to the surprise of those who knew of them. Their attendants stood ready and poised to cater to the Princips' needs, including serving food, drinks, and other amenities through a group of "angelic-looking" servitors who would efficiently transport any requested items to the respective platforms.
Lars was also introduced to the assembly. Darius emphasized that should anyone need to review specific spoken words or provide data; they could direct their inquiries to him, underscoring his role as the First Scribe.
Darius proceeded to unveil a speech written by the Emperor of Mankind, while the First Judicator apologized on the Emperor's behalf for missing this momentous occasion due to security concerns that had been brought to his attention. The speech was riveting and compelling, taking only a few minutes for Darius to deliver. As tradition and politeness dictated, the assembled members all rose to their feet, offering applause to honor the occasion.
To further underscore the significance of this event, Darius explained that each participant had been privately encouraged to bring a token of goodwill, intended as a gesture either for the Princips themselves or for the betterment of the Imperium. Lars observed quietly, pondering what each member had chosen to contribute to this gathering.
Darius randomly selected Tarasha Euten to be the first to speak. The Representative of the Primarchs began by announcing that Roboute Guilliman and Corvus Corax had pledged to continually deploy one hundred thousand Astartes to assist Imperial Army operations of a "substantial" degree. This commitment received widespread approval and set a positive tone for the proceedings.
Following this, Sota-Nul took the floor and declared that the Mechanicum had reached an agreement, signed by Kelbor-Hal and the Martian Parliament, to reduce prices for the Imperium by 5% across the board. The announcement was met with enthusiastic support from the assembled members, recognizing the significant benefits this would bring.
Eli Lanatus then had his turn to address the Consilium. He presented a substantial list containing the names of 10,000 generals, admirals, commanders, and other distinguished officers who had reaffirmed their loyalty to his position as Lord-Militant and recognized the authority of the Consilium. While less flashy than the previous announcements, this list demonstrated the considerable influence and respect the Consilium held over high-ranking military leaders.
Anastus Corus followed, revealing the Codices Consilium, a binding legal document granting the Princips sweeping powers and the ability to codify their laws into the very foundations of the Imperium of Man and the Administratum. The Codices Consilium also provided each Princips with a high degree of legal protection and political authority, including protection from prosecution—except by the personal guard of the Emperor or Sigillites—the ability to pardon non-treasonous criminals, and the authority to recruit or command Planetary Defense Forces and Enforcers in emergencies. This announcement caused some commotion, but the majority recognized the necessity of such measures.
Following that was Erevan, the Grand Master of Assassins, who made his offer without much preamble. He invited each of his fellow Princips, both at the current gathering and for the future, to receive a Callidus assassin as a personal bodyguard for an indefinite duration. He emphasized that those who did not wish for this service could explore alternative arrangements to suit their preferences.
Vandal Cartou's announcement was greeted with a smirk as he revealed that the Adeptus Scientifica had developed several new technologies to be shared with all members of the Consilium. These included something known as "the Boot" and many new vehicle designs. It was a relatively modest gift in comparison to the others.
Then Edric presented a compendium of maps obtained from 24 Navigator Houses. These maps contained valuable information on particularly perilous warp routes that could significantly shorten essential logistical lines across various points in the galaxy. It was a strategic contribution that garnered appreciation from the assembly.
Maria Polo's announcement resonated with intrigue as she revealed that an alliance of Rogue Traders had discovered the location of several immense and incredibly wealthy stockpiles of adamantium. She boldly asserted that these findings could provide enough precious material to build a small empire. The evidence presented, which Lars could observe, supported her claims, and the implications were not lost on the gathering.
Constantin Valdor rose when his turn came, exuding an air of authority and gravitas that was befitting his position. In his resonant voice, he declared that each member would be bestowed with five plates of forged Auramite, granting them the freedom to employ these precious materials as they saw fit. With this proclamation finished, the Chief Custodian returned to his seat without further elaboration, his message delivered with an air of finality.
Julius Peius took his turn to speak and, with a tone of stern authority, announced that the Office of Strategic Services had compiled a list of 258 individuals. Each name on the list represented an enemy seeking to undermine the unity and efforts of those gathered within the Consilium. As he continued to speak, he unveiled that the list contained names of notable individuals, including a striking accusation directed at the Lord Commander of Ultima, Soraya Van Sterk, and high-ranking members of the Imperial Army who are believed to be conspiring against the new Lord-Militant and the Assassins. This revelation stirred considerable commotion among certain members, sparking conversations and debates about the seriousness of such allegations.
As the host and First Judicator, Darius brought the gift-giving session to a close. He expressed his wishes that the Voices of Nobility and History seats were also filled, but several complications made it not so. Nevertheless, he emphasized that the gifts presented during this inaugural event were generous and bountiful, truly serving their fellow Princips and the entire Imperium. His words conveyed gratitude and unity, marking the occasion's significance.
Darius's tone shifted to a more serious note as he announced it was time to address the first item on the day's agenda: Primarch Vulkan's reforms. The members settled into their seats. It was going to be a long day.
Nine and half hours later…
Lars was on the brink of exhaustion. Given how taxing the day had been, he couldn't help but wonder how the others felt. Surprisingly, Eli, Valdor, Erevan, Vandal, and Sota-Nul managed to conceal their weariness, though their mental fatigue was apparent due to the constant debates and arguments. These giants of the Imperium even relied on the services of the First Counselor to bring some relief to the relentless discussions. The brief breaks allowed for stretching legs or a restroom visit but lasted no more than fifteen minutes at a time.
The entire session had felt like an unending barrage of discussions, often escalating into shouting matches that required Darius's intervention to maintain order. The divisiveness of the reform topic was evident, as the main argument against it revolved around the cost to the Imperium. It wasn't just about finances, although that was a significant concern. The opposition also considered the costs of manpower, time, resources, and the inevitable loss of life resulting from the ensuing chaos and uncertainty.
No one questioned the value of the lives saved through the reforms, but the price of depleted resources was a concerning trade-off. What would happen to the Imperium if it had a quarter million fewer regiments, half a million fewer tanks, and hundreds of thousands of fewer ships, all due to the reforms that would take at least a century to complete? The Primarch Vulkan's supporters believed firmly in the benefits outweighing the inevitable hardships, anticipating a previously unimaginable surge in production, quality, and morale throughout the Imperium. To them, a century was a speck of the Imperium's vast planning that lay thousands of years ahead.
Back and forth, the debate went. Every hour brought on new complaints or objections. Throughout it all, Lars had to repeatedly showcase his skills as members asked him to replay past conversations from hours ago to support or debunk their arguments. It had been a grueling battle, less of a chaotic circus and more of an intellectual arena where minds and wills clashed.
The Princips weren't individuals who had climbed to their positions through nepotism, greed, or murder. They had earned their places because they had the will and capability to be there. This assembly consisted of visionaries, idealists, pessimists, and determined individuals, each aiming to gain more than they might lose through participation in the Consilium.
Finally, it was time for the vote, which would be both silent and anonymous. Darius invited each member to make a final plea or objection before voting. The collective fatigue weighed heavily on everyone. Lord Militant Eli delivered an impassioned speech, trying to persuade others to choose the "pragmatic" path. Lars suspected he was putting on quite a show and might not truly believe in the reforms.
The First Judicator glanced only once at Lars, and the First Scribe felt a bit of weight upon his soul as the votes were tallied up in seconds. He saw the results.
5 vs 4, the majority was against the reforms.
So the Consilium decided. The Imperium would neither support nor condone the reforms.
The first session concluded, and everyone retreated to their prepared rooms for the night. However, the respite was brief for Lars, Darius, and Sacha. They had to spend another hour reviewing the day's events and assembling a compendium for Malcador. Lars had experienced taxing shifts before, but today had taken a toll like no other.
And they knew they would have to do it again tomorrow and repeat this process until the end of the week.
"This is insane," Lars remarked to Darius and Sacha as they enjoyed dinner together, "We have the Golden Throne practically blinding us, that persistent piercing in our skulls, and spending ten hours listening to arguments and debates? It's no wonder dueling wasn't allowed because if I was stuck in that room trying to argue my point, I might as well settle things with one."
But the First Judicator huffed as he poured himself more of some expensive wine, "Nonsense! The Princips handled themselves exceptionally well!" He then looked a little considerate at Lars' claims, "I will admit that the environment is unorthodox…but it is still entirely doable. Why, I remember presiding over a local election that lasted sixteen weeks, and we'd sometimes spend all day and night inside those political halls until a decision was reached!"
"Darius, don't you think this is still a bit much?" Sacha asked while they ate what looked to be an expensive and exquisite-looking dish of Neptune origin, "The Princips were exhausted by the fifth hour. I know this because all the orders at the halfway point were for recaff and even a few designer stims. I noticed the blood sugar, norepinephrine, and orexin levels were also low." This was the first time that Lars heard that Sacha could monitor the biometric readings of the Princips. Did that include the Custodian Chief?
"Is it truly wise or fair to have people make these decisions under what could be considered duress?" Sacha asked her companion, "Otherwise, future Princips might be picked solely based on having the necessary endurance and patience rather than capability or proper motivation."
The First Judicator grimaced but then slowly nodded, "Hrm, you have a point," Darius conceded after considering the matter, his eyes drifting over their exquisite meal. "I understand that the Princips need to consider their decisions properly…but perhaps not all topics require the full session length. I might consider adjusting the session lengths depending on the complexity and significance of the topic."
Lars seized the opportunity, nodding in agreement. "That's precisely what I was suggesting. It's about finding a balance. Those with far-reaching consequences should be closely examined and argued before being decided upon. However, not every topic is going to be as galaxy-shaking as something like the reforms. This has to be examined case by case. Because I mean, come on, at what point does this go from pragmatism to arguing semantics?"
Darius leaned back and sipped his wine; his thoughts clearly focused on the ethical dimension of the issue. "I do see where you are both coming from. But also, put yourself in the shoes of the people affected by these decisions. If it were your loved ones' fate at stake, your community, or even your entire world, wouldn't you want those in charge to examine the merits and consequences of each side thoroughly? What if the Consilium is asked to decide on the cost of exporting grains or who will now qualify for conscription for the Imperial Army or Armada? Should those be considered "low stakes" by the Princips and effectively handled within an hour or two so they can move on to more important topics? To me, that isn't fair to anyone."
Lars paused, contemplating Darius's words. As exhausting as the ten-hour sessions were, the gravity of the Consilium's decisions couldn't be understated. Their rulings were, by the words of the Emperor, absolute unless overturned by the Master of Mankind or the Sigillite. These Princips were not just debating policies but shaping the future of countless lives across the galaxy. And if it were his family, community, and world, he'd prefer those making those choices to be diligent, even if it meant enduring long hours of debate.
With a resigned nod, Lars conceded that Darius had a point, "Damn it. I can't say that I would want that to happen. But we have to do something to prevent exhaustion and frustration. Otherwise, we'll have Princips deciding on what is the most time-efficient for themselves."
"That or they will see the Consilium as a waste of time." Sacha warned, "Darius, I think it will be up to you to decide during a session. If the tone and feel of the Princips are aligned toward a particular ruling, it won't matter if we extend the debate. We can't force them to argue for or against a particular ruling."
Lars thought that was the best option, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth, "My chief concern is that…what happens if someone, mind you in future Consiliums, got to the Princips and convinced them all to vote on a particular ruling one way? The session starts, and everyone agrees right from the get-go? Wouldn't that be a little suspicious?"
Darius wiped his brow, looking uncomfortable, "Democratic solutions to government decision-making have an uncomfortable trend of exactly that happening, Mr. Scriveus. There is all manner of mischief that can come about. The best hope is to maintain a blind selection for future Princips. A recommendation I will make to the High Lord." The more Lars thought about it, the more he noticed just how much power the Emperor and Malcador still had with their supposed "replacement" government.
Setting his empty wine glass down, Darius started wiping his hands with a napkin, "I think we've all had enough 'shop talk' tonight. Finish your meals and then retire to your rooms for rest. It will be another long day tomorrow, especially with the topic."
Lars couldn't help but wonder, "Dare I ask what the Consilium is debating now?"
Darius grimaced, "The execution of Primarch Angron."
Day Two…
Yesterday had been a particularly heated series of debates. Lars suspected as much due to the wider implications the reforms could have had on the greater Imperium. Today was different, though. The Consilium was debating the fate of one man—a Primarch.
The atmosphere in the throneroom crackled with tension as soon as the topic for today was announced, and Lars suspected that everyone here would have a lot to say. The first was Constantin Valdor, who didn't bother waiting for his turn or direction from Darius.
His blunt stance was simple: "Angron has proven to be a failure. His actions, whether malicious design or gross incompetence, nearly brought the Imperium to the brink of civil war with the Desolation. There is only one fate that awaits him now." He finished shortly after that.
Tarasha Euten was picked next, this time by the First Judicator. She presented several testimonies from the Primarchs and other Astartes speaking on behalf of Angron. These words were stirring, but they did not seek to prove that the Red Angel was worthy of mercy. Instead, they appeared to be a compelling indictment of the Emperor for allowing Angron to command a domain and his legion. She believed that the only just course of action was to execute Angron.
Her argument centered on the idea that the Primarchs had been allowed to escape the consequences of their actions, time and time again. Everyone was willing to look the other way because it was necessary. But the Desolation was too much. Any ordinary individual would have already been executed for it long ago. While war was inherently brutal, there came a threshold beyond which such transgressions could not be forgiven or ignored, and the Desolation had certainly crossed that line.
When it was his turn to speak, Eli abstained from the vote. He explained that he didn't want to incur the anger of Primarch Mortarion, who had a close relationship with Angron. However, Eli did acknowledge that the consequences of the Desolation would continue to haunt the Imperium for generations, and he believed Angron to be at the root of the problem. His abstention reflected the delicate and intricate political dynamics within the Consilium.
Similar sentiments were shared with the Voice of the Rogue Traders, the Grand Master, and the Navigators. However, they did not feel the need to explain further.
On the other hand, those who advocated for executing Angron presented their arguments with fervor and conviction. Vandal highlighted the significant loss of life and extensive damage inflicted on numerous sectors that made up the Desolation. He pointed out that the massacres Angron and his forces committed, followed by the ones from Imperials cleaning up the mess, had sown the seeds for future rebellions that would plague the Imperium for the next thousand years.
Anastus focused on the economic costs that ordinary Imperial citizens would bear for the next two centuries due to the Desolation. He emphasized how the financial burden on the populace would lead to enduring hardships and challenges.
Julius provided a detailed account of the fallout from the Desolation, including the thousands of officers, millions of soldiers, and countless others who had gone rogue. He explained how these defectors would lead to tens of millions of deaths in future insurgencies, rebellions, and other conflicts, further emphasizing the long-term consequences of Angron's actions.
In contrast, Sota-Nul presented a unique proposal, advocating for Angron's imprisonment instead of execution. However, his argument was not grounded in altruism. The Mechanicum offered to pay the Imperium for the opportunity to "examine the Primarch under specific conditions." Sota-Nul argued that it was both logical and fair not to squander the chance to further understand and harness the potential that Angron's biology still represented, even if it had been tragically wasted until now.
By the sixth hour, everyone seemed quite finished making their arguments. Darius called for the vote after the Princips made their last appeals. Lars saw something interesting: Valdor, who appeared initially to favor execution, abstained from the vote.
Yet that didn't matter. It ended in a 4 vs 1 in favor of execution. Primarch Angron would be sentenced to death. Officially, his crimes would be determined by the Emperor and Malcador, but Lars saw that it was more than likely for charges of gross incompetence.
Darius ended the session before remarking, "Let justice be done though the heavens fall." It made Lars shudder.
Day Three…
The preceding night remained relatively calm, allowing some of the Princips to engage with one another. Surprisingly, the session ended four hours earlier than expected. Darius later confessed that he had wrapped up the session prematurely because the next item on the agenda pertained to the Lord-Militant's use of the Imperium's budget.
Another extremely contested topic, it seemed. More so than even yesterday. Again, this involved the fate of entire planets because the Lord-Militant had gone into extensive debt spending from what Lars was hearing during the proceedings.
Anastus was the first to speak, and he, as the Steward of the Imperium, acknowledged that the spending appeared, to put it mildly, extravagant when viewed from a budgetary perspective. However, he contended that debt spending was not necessarily detrimental to a government. Eli, who had thoroughly investigated the matter, declared that while the upcoming economic recession might be painful, the Imperium would ultimately endure. He further explained that the technologies acquired from lost technology, recovered worlds, and emerging industries would be capable of compensating for the downturn.
Julius was next to speak and echoed his support for Eli's spending decisions. The Office of Strategic Services believed that the substantial resources allocated to the Imperial war machine ultimately resulted in cost savings. The reason was straightforward: intelligence agencies had been significantly understaffed and underfunded, making it impossible to tackle the corruption and embezzlement issues that had been rampant. By increasing resources dedicated to defense spending, the Imperium was effectively rooting out elements within its own ranks that were diverting funds from more critical programs.
Darius then turned to Valdor, who fully supported Eli's spending decisions. The Chief Custodian believed the Imperium's economy was poised for explosive growth as more worlds and technologies were recovered. Moreover, the new economic procedures and practices developed by the Administraum and Primarchs would enable the Imperium to weather any financial challenges. Valdor mentioned that both the Emperor and the Sigillite were confident in this reasoning, though he directed his remarks towards the broader Imperium and not specifically towards the Lord-Militant. Eli, upon hearing this, rolled his eyes.
Maria was then called to make her remarks. She abstained. Then Edric was called. He, too, abstained. None gave any real reasoning. Lars suspected it was because neither the Rogue Traders nor Navigators were affected much by this. Eli seemed happy with this.
Sota-Nul was the first to diverge from the consensus, presenting a gloomy outlook by suggesting that the economic crash would drastically impact the Mechanicum. She backed her arguments with comprehensive data, painting a bleak picture where the production of new weapons, armor, vehicles, aircraft, and ships would come to a dead standstill for as long as two years. Production could resume only after extensive negotiations within the Martian Parliament and then with the Imperium of Man. She admitted that this was the nightmare scenario but warned the possibility of this happening, or even getting worse, could have a probability as high as 40%.
When it was Vandal's turn to speak, he didn't stop tearing apart several arguments by the "Yes" side. He presented many situations and examples to illustrate how debt spending could cripple the Imperium's economy. He emphasized that their fixation on expansion was suffocating the average citizen and raised a critical question: if they committed to economic self-destruction and then faced a new major threat, how would the Imperium be able to confront it? Vandal didn't especially didn't spare Valdor from his criticism, pointing out that while human courage and determination were admirable, the average trooper would lose the will to fight if they struggled to secure essential supplies like ammunition, food, fuel, or vehicle replacement parts.
When it was Tarasha Euten's turn to speak, she expanded upon the points made by Vandal and presented a bleak picture of the consequences. She mentioned that her son, Roboute Guilliman, had meticulously analyzed the data and conveyed his readiness to take "regrettable" measures to prevent the Lord-Militant from driving the galaxy off a cliff. Tarasha underlined that individuals in the middle and lower classes would experience a significant decline in their quality of life, possibly for a century. The nobility, too, would see their wealth dwindle by as much as 60%. Prices for essentials like food, fuel, and clean air would soar, with nearly a 300% increase within a decade of economic collapse, potentially lasting for a generation. As Sota-Nul had warned, entire planetary industries would grind to a halt, leaving trillions needing new employment opportunities and further exacerbating the scarcity of resources and positions.
Following Tarasha's detailed argument against the spending, Erevan supported Eli's decisions. The Grand Master of Assassins emphasized that debt spending was the right decision. The Imperium had been reeling in the aftermath of the Desolation, and the previous Lord-Militant's attempt to resolve these issues by reducing spending across the board had merely prolonged the crisis. Erevan didn't rely on hard data for his argument but rather on the notion that, sometimes, drastic measures were essential.
Finally, it was time for Eli, who adopted a confident smirk and stated, "The Imperium asked for leadership to make the hard choices. You all got me. Now, I can stand here and repeat the same things or argue against the opposition points, but let's face it…we're already on the way to a collapse. But I promise you that we will ride it out and survive. You are free to choose as you see fit, but I want you to keep this in mind: I have a plan, and so far, it's been working well for us all."
At nine hours and 48 minutes, the First Judicator called for the vote.
5 vs 3, the majority in favor of continuing the budget spending. The Consilium would stay the course and hope to come out on the other side relatively unscathed.
Lars sighed with a heavy breath as he collapsed onto his cozy and comfortable bed. Today was brutal for just about everyone. The Princips directed numerous inquiries at him, and Darius was likewise exhausted. Sacha seemed particularly frazzled this evening, so everyone had agreed to have dinner alone.
Lars, however, wasn't hungry. He honestly just wanted to sleep. His mind felt strange after every session, and sleep seemed to be the only thing that allowed his thoughts to straighten themselves out. Even then, Lars was having peculiar dreams. The Golden Throne might have been responsible for that.
Just as he started drifting into slumber, a sudden knock on his door pulled him back to the waking world. The First Scribe knew from Darius that ignoring anybody here wasn't ever a good idea. The last thing you wanted to do was keep a Custodian or Sister of Silence waiting.
Upon opening the door, Lars was quite confused to see none other than the head of the OSS, Julius Peius. The man had a neutral look, "First Scribe."
Lars politely nodded, "Chief Officer." There was an awkward pause, "May I help you with something?"
"Let's take a walk, if you don't mind." Lars did mind, but something told him that telling a Princips to fuck off wasn't a good idea. Still, this was quite brazen of Julius to request from him.
As Lars stepped into the hallway, he briefly noticed a smirking Lord-Militant Eli a short distance away, shaking his head before turning back around the way he came. It seemed like Julius hadn't been the only one to seek out the First Scribe.
The two started walking, with Julius keeping his voice low, "You've been doing a great job, son."
Lars stiffly nodded, "Thank you, sir."
"I want you to know that the OSS has your back," Julius continued. Lars blinked at this, "Don't act too surprised. Our division might be new, but the founders are highly skilled at recognizing talent."
"I can imagine," Lars replied. He didn't know who the founders were, but he suspected they were likely quite dangerous if they were anything like Julius. "And I appreciate the positive standing I have with the OSS."
The two arrived at a small garden, which Lars noted had no safety railings. The First Scribe was starting to feel a bit nervous. "The founders wanted me to ask if you'd be open to extending a hand of friendship."
Oh, great. Lars made sure to keep his back away from the railing. "I'm not at liberty to accept such things."
"This isn't a gift or a bribe. It's simply a confirmation that we are on the same page."
If Lars survived this, he might start carrying around a gun when he leaves his room, "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."
"That you are loyal to the Imperium. I already know you are, but the founders need confirmation from a vetted member." Julius tapped his head with a smirk, "Trust but verify, Mr. Scriveus."
Lars stared momentarily, "So this just all a formality then?"
"As I said, I just wanted to tell you that you are doing a good job, and the hand of friendship has been extended. The OSS could have used someone like you. How you slipped by our fingers or even the clades is a mystery."
The wind blew across Lars, although that wasn't what made him shiver, "It's a mystery, alright."
Julius's hand reached out, causing Lars to tense as the chief officer simply patted his shoulder in appreciation, "It's good to know that we have someone like you who can keep so many secrets for us in the Consilium. It's good to know that everyone can…speak freely."
"Just like now?"
The man stared at Lars before smirking, "Yes. Just like now." Turning, He walked away, "You have a nice night, Mr. Scriveus. You keep what I said in mind. You have allies in the Consilium. You just don't know it yet."
"Right." Lars waited until the man was out of sight before letting out the biggest sigh of relief possible and holding himself up against the railing.
"Shit." He swore under his breath, "They think I'm an asset. Fuck."
Day Four…
As much as Lars wanted to confide in Darius or Sacha, he decided against it. Perhaps after the Consilium had concluded for the week, but for now, he didn't want to risk angering any Princips. Evidently, they were all seeking to harness his talents as an asset, a tool to advance their agendas.
Nonetheless, Lars knew he needed to focus. Progress was being made, and Darius assured him the next agenda topic wouldn't be as challenging. In fact, it might even be a relatively swift matter for everyone involved. When Lars learned what it was, he felt a wave of relief. This topic was something they could all agree on, especially after understanding the context behind it.
Though Lars wasn't familiar with the Eldar, it was clear they were deemed a significant menace to the Imperium, necessitating the Consilium's intervention. The fact that these aliens posed a threat to humanity had Lars hopeful that the Princips would have a comprehensive plan to address the issue. Aliens couldn't just be allowed to do as they pleased.
Darius seemed to pick up on the reservations among the Princips. Instead of randomly selecting one to speak, he invited the assembly to offer their suggestions and solutions. The first to step forward was Valdor, expressing his readiness to deploy a third of the Custodians to confront the internal Eldar threat. Julius and Erevan voiced their support without hesitation, proposing to allocate additional resources and operatives to help root out this menace.
To Lars's surprise, though, he detected an undercurrent of uncertainty among several members, even if no one openly expressed their reservations. Eli, however, candidly raised concerns, primarily regarding resource allocation. He believed that assigning the Custodians to more critical endeavors should take precedence, but he conceded to Valdor that the Eldar threat couldn't be ignored. In response, he offered the assistance of the Black Brigades to the Chief Custodian.
Tarasha Euten, on the other hand, saw the proposed course of action as an overreaction, especially considering that the Eldar's whereabouts were unknown until after the fact. She argued that dispatching a massive strike force comprising assassins, soldiers, operatives, and Custodians might incite significant chaos. This notion led to the term "witch-hunt," causing a stir among the Princips. She argued that it might be best to examine patterns of the Eldar infiltration and respond accordingly.
Sota-Nul joined in expressing her reservations about the proposed strike force, sharing that it was an excessive response to a potentially overexaggerated Eldar threat. She emphasized the significant resources required for transportation and logistics to support such a massive group, which, in her opinion, could be better directed toward more pressing and tangible threats. Despite acknowledging that the Eldar situation had escalated beyond expectations, she still advocated for a more measured approach. However, the prevailing sentiment among the Princips was a desire for a more aggressive response.
The swift decision had been made, and the Princips overwhelmingly voted to launch a Custodies-led strike force to root out the Eldar from their worlds. The unity among the Princips on this matter was clear, and it seemed the Imperium was committed to dealing decisively with the perceived Eldar threat. The assembly had reached a consensus, showing a strong stance against the menace they believed the Eldar posed to the Imperium.
With a swift resolution to the matter, the Princips dedicated the next three hours to discussing the practicalities and execution of their plan to root out the Eldar from the Imperium. The groundwork for this operation had been thoroughly laid out, and the Princips were ready to move forward. Darius decided to conclude the session early, given that there was little left to deliberate or decide upon for the time being.
Day Five…
It had been a rather uneventful day within the Consilium, with the topic centered around appointing a new garrison commander for Sol. Recent leadership changes have left the position vacant, prompting the need for discussion. As the session unfolded, it became apparent that most of the Princips were not engaged in the conversation. However, a handful did begin to propose their ideas and suggestions on the matter.
Maria Polo advocated for a pragmatic approach: hiring a qualified outsider to serve as the interim garrison commander for Sol. Her argument centered on the expertise required for the role, suggesting that the Imperium could attract a capable candidate by offering a competitive salary. Once the appointed individual successfully completed their assignment, the transition back to Imperial Army command could occur seamlessly. This approach highlighted the importance of competence and emphasized the plan's flexibility, citing that political mischief would not hinder such an individual if they were insulated.
Although Maria's idea had some merit, others like Sota-Nul found the idea of putting the safety of the entire system in the hands of the highest bidder outrageously foolish. Instead, she proposed the creation of a specialized apparatus designed to assist garrison and defense planners. This device's primary function would be identifying potential vulnerabilities through simulated war games and strategic simulations. However, her idea faced significant resistance, primarily due to concerns about the intrusive nature of such technology. The proposal required mind-machine interfacing, raising questions about security that the Princips found difficult to condone.
Tarasha Euten proposed removing the human element from the defense planning of Sol, suggesting that Astartes should be granted complete control over the defense strategy with a rotating position based on Terra. She argued that the Astartes had a proven track record of success in defense operations and were more likely to contribute innovative ideas and strategies. Furthermore, she believed that granting the more heroic Astartes officers the opportunity to participate in this rotation would enhance the overall effectiveness of Sol's defense.
Eli, Anastus, and Valdor vehemently objected to these ideas, leading to Darius's intervention. For the first time, the Judicator had to mediate and make decisions regarding the proposed suggestions.
In this case, Maria's and Sota-Nul's ideas were outright rejected on legal grounds. The first idea, proposing an outsider's involvement in Sol's defense, violated a treaty with Saturn and Io in which the Emperor had committed to using only officers from his military to defend Sol.
Sota-Nul's idea was dismissed due to its controversial nature. It involved the mandatory cyberization of qualified individuals who refused augmentation and posed a potential vulnerability to internal attacks. Darius cited a section from the Treaty of Olympus, which explicitly prohibited the Martian Parliament from creating unified defense network systems.
Tarasha's proposal presented a more complex challenge. It had significant merits but conflicted with the requirement of keeping the Imperial military involved in defense planning. Various treatises from the Unification War stipulated that Terran armies should be allowed to defend their homeworld, while Mars and Saturn had similar clauses. The only exception to this was in an emergency situation within Sol. However, Darius pointed out that no specific rules prevented the Astartes from having an advisory command role, allowing them to contribute without violating these treaties.
The Consilium continued to engage in heated arguments, debates, and refinements of Tarasha's idea for a few hours. Eventually, after six and a half hours, all the Princips came to a consensus that it was time to put the matter to a vote. Darius granted each member the opportunity to make one final plea, but to Lars's surprise, the First Judicator emphasized that decision-making within the Throneroom should not be solely influenced by external politics—a strange time to make such an appeal.
When the vote was finally called, Lars was surprised to see the outcome. The First Scribe made sure to triple-check that the votes were input correctly, but the results were still the same.
5 vs. 4 in favor of allowing Astartes to have a dedicated advisory role in the defense of Sol. What puzzled Lars was that Julius and Sota-Nul had voted in favor of the proposal. Lars also noticed that once again, for the fifth day in a row, Edric abstained.
Day six…
It was disappointing to know that just as Lars was getting used to things, they were already on the second to last day of the Consilium. The Princips gathered for another open-floor discussion where they could propose topics for review and approval.
The first five hours, they reviewed various economics-related topics, uniformity, handling new discoveries, and establishing political procedures for recently compliant worlds. The fear of preventing incidents like the Desolation remained an underlying concern in the background. Unlike previous sessions, Darius called for several votes, but discussions and debates persisted after each concluded.
Around the seventh hour, Lord-Militant Eli proposed collecting genetic material from individuals with "high-value traits" for something called Project GI. The Princips were puzzled by this unusual idea, and many sought clarification on the purpose behind collecting such samples.
As Eli began to explain the details of Project GI, Lars observed a mixed reaction among those who weren't previously aware of it. Some were uncertain, while others became deeply intrigued by the prospect of creating these "GIs" for the Imperial Army. The concept of gathering "seeds and eggs" from across the Imperium remained unconventional, even with the context behind the proposal.
Eli requested the Consilium's permission to collect genetic samples from various sources, including legion homeworlds, deathworlds, and penal colonies. He argued that individuals merely provided a substance that their bodies could naturally reproduce. This proposal triggered a brief but heated argument among Eli, Valdor, and Euten regarding acquiring genetic samples from legion homeworlds. Once again, Darius was called upon to mediate the discussion.
Darius ultimately ruled that Eli could not have blanket permission to collect genetic samples from the legion homeworlds without the approval of the respective Primarch who ruled that world. However, Darius believed that it was within the rights of the Imperial Army and Administraum to gather genetic material from deathworlds and penal colonies, as these fell under their exclusive jurisdiction.
When the tenth hour approached, the final vote was called. Once again, Lars was surprised to see the results.
5 to 3, the majority in favor of this proposal. Maria abstained, as did Edric once more.
Later that day…
Bags had formed under Lars's eyes, and his sleep had been fitful in recent nights. It seemed that every time he closed his eyes, the blinding light of the Golden Throne and the strange thoughts echoing in his mind would haunt him. His cortex implant played data incessantly, creating a cacophony of introspections in his head.
As Oliver had predicted, Lars found himself turning to alcohol more frequently, seeking solace and respite for his tormented mind. He eagerly anticipated the conclusion of the Consilium, yearning to escape the ceaseless glare of the Golden Throne. Lars couldn't fathom how the Custodians endured being in its presence day in and day out, a question he was in no hurry to have answered.
Gazing at his reflection in the mirror, Lars pondered the path that had led him to this moment and couldn't help but reflect on it all. What troubled him the most was his growing indifference to the person he had once been and the life he had left behind. The six months since he entered this world felt like an eternity, and he was acutely aware of how complex and tumultuous the galaxy had become.
Once again, Oliver had astutely noted how Lars would eventually find himself at the center. The man in the middle. He might not have been the one pulling the strings, but he was a firsthand observer of the unfolding events, and that gave him a degree of power. A power he still didn't fully comprehend.
A knock at the door interrupted Lars' thoughts, providing a welcome break from his contemplation. He had his doubts that it was Darius or Sacha at the door. Upon opening it, he found Grand Master Erevan on the other side.
"Lars."
"Erevan." He was starting to drop titles and pretenses around the Princips. "Can I help you with something?"
"Actually, I'm here to maybe help you," Erevan remarked with a subtle upward twitch of his mouth. "Might I come in?" Dare Lars invite a self-proclaimed assassin into his home?
"My room might not be the best for a conversation," Lars admitted. He was aware that his room was most likely bugged. "I'd rather not put either of us in an awkward position."
"It's fine," Erevan said before holding up a device that looked strangely advanced but also archaic. "This will ensure we can speak freely."
Lars glanced at the device and then opened the door, stepping aside to let the Grand Master into his temporary apartment. Erevan walked inside, and Lars closed the door.
"Do you want a drink?" Lars asked.
"No, thank you," Erevan answered as he sat on a luxurious couch. "I won't be here long." He placed the device on the table and pressed a button to the side. Lars felt a previously unnoticed humming in his head go silent.
"Take a seat, Lars," Erevan said, gesturing to the other couch across from him. The First Scribe complied, still holding his brandy.
"I wanted to speak with you about something that came to my attention," Erevan continued, "or someone else." Lars tensed as Erevan pulled out what looked like a letter and a picture from his coat pocket and placed them on the table. He slid them across to Lars.
Lars looked at the items, puzzled. "What's this?"
"A gift from the Sigillite," Erevan said with a small smile. Lars cautiously examined the picture and was shocked to see a recent image of Kim standing in the middle of a lush forest or jungle with a bright smile on her face.
"Her family was relocated to the Hy Brasil," Erevan explained, "one of the green sections involved with reintroducing macro plant life for Terra. She's doing well and moving up the ranks quickly."
Lars nodded, recalling Kim's talent for growing things. He still remembered the taste of the oranges she cultivated. "She seems really happy."
Setting the photo down, Lars looked at the letter. "Is this from her?"
Erevan nodded. "It is. I was instructed to give that to you and that I have the authority to relay a message back to her from you."
Lars was skeptical. "Why? What do you gain from this?"
"Your hand in friendship," Erevan replied, an amused grin on his face. "I'm sure you've heard that already, right?"
"Julius made the same pitch a few nights ago. But I figure you knew that?"
Erevan snorted, "The OSS thinks they can blindside the Clades. We let them enjoy this fantasy."
"Good for you, but I'm not interested in getting involved in your game, Erevan." Lars remarked, "And I'm not going to be someone's pawn."
Erevan leaned in, his voice low, "You already are one, Mr. Scriveus. Nothing you can do will change that. But I can tell you that sometimes the pawn can evolve into something else if they play the game well enough."
Lars scowled, feeling increasingly trapped by the Princips. "So what are you getting out of this?"
"Information," Erevan replied. "That is something I am quite good at getting. Sometimes, I need another set of eyes, ears, and even a voice to ensure everything is in order. But it goes both ways. You don't have to accept just my hand in friendship. You can do that for all the Princips."
Lars raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "That sounds like a fast way to get me killed."
Erevan chuckled, "Only if you're bad at playing the game. Now, read the letter, because you'll need to burn it and the photo when you're done. You don't want to leave any evidence of someone you care about in this business."
Lars glared for a moment but reluctantly opened the letter. Kim's message was bittersweet. She had been worried about his disappearance and had received orders to relocate to a green section. She was convinced to go by her family, but Kim wanted to know Lars's fate before leaving. A rude man claiming to be an agent of the High Lord had told her that Lars was in good health, working an important job, but he could never return, and she was better off forgetting about him and moving on. Lars made a mental note to confront Oliver about this when they next met.
But Kim did leave, and from the sounds of things, she had moved on in some sense. Her work was challenging but rewarding, and her family's health had improved thanks to the green environment of the relocation. Kim expressed her gratitude for what Lars had done to get her family to the green section. As he read the final parts of the letter, Lars felt heartbreak at some of the words spoken. Kim admitted to having certain feelings for him. This made the next choice difficult.
Lars took another sip of his brandy and then broke the silence. "So... am I supposed to thank you for this?"
Erevan simply shrugged in response. "I just wanted you to know. In fact, I'm ready to deliver a message back to her if you'd like."
The words in the letter held many things Lars wanted to address and convey to Kim. He had spent six months contemplating what his life had become and the losses he had suffered. But as he pictured a future where he might leave his role as First Scribe, something held him back.
"That won't be necessary," Lars finally replied, finishing his brandy. "What's done is done. Kim has her life now, and I have mine. It'd be cruel to both of us to try and pretend otherwise. We both need to move on."
Erevan's response didn't surprise or disturb Lars, although his emotions remained well-guarded. "Very well. I will respect your decision on the matter. Have you considered my... heh, hand of friendship as well?"
Lars tried to maintain his composure, avoiding eye contact with the letter and photo on the table. "I will consider it."
"That's all I ask for," Erevan replied, then stood up. "Well, I should get going. I've finished what I came here to do."
Lars pointed to the device on the table. "You're forgetting this device." To his surprise, Erevan smiled at him.
"Keep it," the Grand Master suggested. "Just remember that I've given you something free of charge, First Scribe, when others will eventually ask for something in return." The Princips chuckled before exiting the apartment, "See you tomorrow, First Scribe." He finished his exit before leaving Lars alone.
Looking down at the letter and photo, Lars grabbed them before heading to one of the windows and opening it. He took a small lighter out of his pocket and, for a moment, hesitated at what he was about to do. Perhaps if he wanted, he could reach back out one day. However, Lars knew when something was over.
He lit the letter and photo, ensuring they both burned properly before letting the wind pick up the ashes. Someday, the memory of Kim might fade, but for now, she was a ghost that haunted his thoughts, a reminder of the life he had left behind. The thought kept him up all night.
Day Seven…
The anticipation of the final Consilium session filled the room. Princips and advisers alike were likely eager to conclude their business, at least for now, and return to their respective duties. Darius and Sacha's comments about Lars' appearance might have been intended to prepare others for a more extended session, but the First Scribe was, in fact, ready and able.
Like all things that neared their end, the Princips were eager to get this last agenda topic over, so when it came to the final discussion, Lars could sense that everyone was a bit disappointed when they learned it was over the nature of counter-operations against assassins within the Desolation and toward the Death Guard. These were believed to be surviving elements of the Delta factions supported by the Eldar.
Julius made a strong case for an aggressive approach to dealing with the surviving elements of the Delta factions. He emphasized the need for the OSS to lead the efforts and employ strike companies, with Astartes detachments, to root out weapon distribution centers and dismantle civilian support for these factions. His argument was built on the assumption that the conspiracy within the former Desolation was more extensive than initially believed.
Maria's approach focused on strategic blockades and leveraging the Zanzibar League for military support, emphasizing the need to make it difficult for the Eldar to operate without taking significant risks. On the other hand, Vandal argued for a subtler approach, emphasizing the importance of a delicate touch to remind the survivors that they were being manipulated by aliens, much like during the Age of Strife. He believed excessive force would only breed resentment among the survivors.
Sota-Nul advocated for outright genocide, citing that the resources being put into the Desolation had reached a "farcical" level of waste, and it was time to admit that they would quickly lose control by attempting any sort of action. She would only advocate extracting useful individuals and populations to other worlds before approving for virus bombing the entire region.
Eli, Euten, Anastus, and Valdor leaned towards a more direct military intervention using the Imperial Army and Astartes forces. Euten emphasized the need for additional humanitarian aid, while Eli proposed the construction of fortified positions to act as bait for the Deltas, suggesting a proactive approach to lure out the enemy factions.
Edric said nothing, opting to give his time to Erevan. The Grand Master of Assassins proclaimed that he could end the threat within ten years if he were authorized to play all available assets of the Vanus, Callidus, and Culexus clades, along with support companies of highly trained and dangerous Officio Assassinorum soldiers. He agreed that a more subtle approach was necessary but that a proportional response of strength was needed when it came time. Erevan only needed the go-ahead to do whatever was required without causing further embarrassment to the Imperium. If this didn't work, he'd resign his position as Princips.
If Lars had to make a guess, he would have assumed that Erevan's proposal had garnered the most enthusiastic response from the other Princips, as when the moment for the vote arrived, it was quite evident that everyone, except for Edric, who abstained from the vote once again, was in unanimous agreement with Erevan's plan.
The Grand Master received the go-ahead to proceed with his counter-operations against the conspiracy that had grown within the former Desolation.
And with that, the meeting was adjourned. Therefore, in the 8th hour of the Seventh Day, Darius officially concluded the inaugural session of the Consilium Princips.
Lars couldn't linger to observe the Princips' reactions to the votes. Instead, he found himself guided by a Custodian who discreetly signaled for Lars to follow amidst the celebrations and faux well-wishes within the Consilium.
To his slight surprise, Lars recognized the path leading him to Malcador's office. As he entered, he realized that his intuition had been correct. He stood before the Sigillite, who was engrossed in reviewing a data slate. After a moment, Malcador looked up and gestured for Lars to sit across from his desk.
A moment lingered in the room before Malcador finally spoke, "You've exceeded expectations." His tone, however, lacked enthusiasm. "I'm impressed, and I've received glowing reviews for Darius and Sacha, along with my operatives on the ground, particularly in your ability to maintain discretion."
Lars should have known better but couldn't resist asking, "Did you send Julius and Erevan to test me?"
"Hardly," the Sigillite replied. "They acted of their own accord. I was merely an observer. Nevertheless, had you been identified earlier by the Vanus or the OSS, you might have shown promise as an operative at the outset of your career."
Lars couldn't help but let a hint of amusement creep into his voice, "Is that praise I'm hearing?"
Malcador didn't respond to that comment and continued, "You'll keep your position as First Scribe. Given your youth, you have a long career ahead of you, assuming no unforeseen consequences."
Lars felt a sense of unease gnawing at him as he asked, "What about this... court intrigue?"
The Sigillite appeared bemused at the question, "You'll manage it in your own way, of course."
"You expect me to play their game?" Lars questioned.
The Sigillite nodded, "If you want to make it your own, yes."
"What's the point, though?" Lars pressed further, seeking to understand Malcador's perspective, "If you are aware of everything that is or can happen here, you don't gain anything from me doing this."
Malcador shook his head, "You still think this is about me gaining something? Your lack of ambition is making you blind now. If you want minuscule power, you must seize it for yourself. Otherwise, you will not survive as the First Scribe. There will be others looking to get your position soon enough. Eventually, you'll want to move up in influence. Perhaps once Darius passes on, you could attempt to become the First Judicator."
Malcador paused and examined a few reports while lecturing Lars, "In any case, you'll need to eventually defend your position. Allying yourself with those who call themselves Princips will give you a lot of resources in the years to come. I highly recommend you start networking now rather than later."
Lars stared at the High Lord, "What exactly do you think I'll become by doing all this? And what do you really gain from me doing it?"
"Ambitious. Motivated. Inspired. In other words, useful. That is what I gain from setting you on this path. But now I see you were already on it before we spoke." Malcador remarked before gesturing to the Custodian who had brought Lars here, "We will speak later, First Scribe. Please be sure to relax and enjoy the accomplishment that we all share today with the success of the Consilium. You'll be back in the Throneroom soon enough for much is to be done in the coming years, and we've only just begun to see the unfolding disasters before us."
Seven hours later…
Everyone was celebrating. The Princips were eager to talk to him, Sacha, and Darius. Lars made sure to put on a pleasant facade while hesitantly accepting invitations for meetings and discussions at a later date. He saw a few unhappy faces, likely because of the voting results, but overall, everyone seemed satisfied with how the Consilium had unfolded. Lars told himself that was a good thing.
When he stumbled back into his apartment, the one further away from the Throneroom, Lars decided to continue the celebration by having a few more drinks. He couldn't help but accept that he was developing bad habits, the stuff he had once promised himself he'd never get into. Worse yet, Lars was enjoying himself.
Not just the drinking, but the reality of what he had become started to set in. He had been told that to survive, he needed to have aspirations for more. He had more power and influence as the First Scribe, and he could only keep the position and stay alive, but Lars needed more. He understood that soon, there would be those who coveted his position and all the authority that came with it.
He had gotten a taste of it and found it delicious. Yet the Sigillite said Lars had been on this path far before ever coming here. What did he mean by that? Everything he had done in life had been for a good reason, leading to him abandoning his name and lineage to be someone else. He did honest work and could have had a good life with Kim.
Instead, he found himself alone in this fortress of gold and power. Surprisingly, Lars almost felt content in the solitude. Here, as the First Scribe, he could do things he never thought possible, and perhaps, someday, he could rise to ranks previously undreamed of. He had been unambitious and uninspired for too long.
What good was the mundane without real purpose? What was powerlessness, if not inevitable demise? The galaxy sought to put Lars here, and it won. Best to make use of his time with the opportunity given.
He was now just the man in the middle of it all.
---
@Daemon Hunter Alright, this took way longer than it should have. But it's done.
In an era defined by gods, heroes, and visionaries, the galaxy was at the precipice of monumental change. Hundreds of trillions of souls, regardless of their species, were embroiled in life-or-death struggles that would shape the fate of the next ten thousand years. This pivotal juncture in history drew the aspirations of many eager to become part of this sweeping transformation.
Yet, the stark reality was that most denizens of the galaxy would never truly play a meaningful role in these epic events. For the vast majority, their destinies were predetermined as they became mere cogs within vast and indifferent machines. This, for many, was a tragic fate – a repetition of the same lives their forebears had led or, worse yet, an imposition of duties and obligations that felt like metaphorical chains. Unbeknownst to most, they were silently resigned to their lots in life, a grim acceptance.
Within this broader perspective, it was evident that a significant portion of humanity was trapped in the most soul-crushing of existences – the mundane. While the transhuman warriors of the Legions battled horrors from other dimensions, gods plotted their schemes, and the Imperium of Man teetered on the brink of a new era, the unremarkable tasks of everyday existence continued.
It might seem contradictory for someone to accept and even embrace this situation in such a galaxy. A select few individuals possessed the self-awareness to recognize their place in life and derive contentment from it. These individuals, deemed "abhorrent" by those with grander ambitions, were the ones who found fulfillment in simplicity. Such individuals were the exception for humanity, a species inherently driven by aspirations for greatness and power.
And what was the alternative? If you were to inquire with one, Lars Scriveus, he would assert that there was dignity in acknowledging and cherishing one's station in life, especially if it was favorable. But who was Lars Scriveus, and why should anyone take note?
At first glance, Lars Scriveus epitomized the quintessential scribe within the vast machinery of the Imperium of Man. He was a young, Terran-born man laboring as a mid-level scribe within the labyrinthine bureaucracy of the Imperial Palace. As the third son of a minor noble lord, Mr. Scriveus was a diligent and appreciative worker, well-acquainted with the intricacies of the administrative apparatus.
Lars's loyalty and gratitude were unwavering for his position, modest apartment, and the chance to make a meaningful contribution. He was far from meek or a pushover, yet Lars had an uncanny knack for avoiding trouble and the spotlight. No one could accuse him of being a troublemaker. Those who knew him, however, recognized his true value. If one delved into his credentials, one would find the potential for Lars to be more than just a scribe. Yet, given the opportunity, Lars would willingly forgo any hint of involvement in grand endeavors. He had consciously chosen an uneventful life that thrived on routine and anonymity.
In the grand machinations of the galaxy, not every soul was destined to play a pivotal role in the new galactic era. Lars believed that sometimes, the wisest course of action was to remain inconspicuous and diligently perform one's duties.
He firmly believed that the most significant contributions often arose from those who knew their place and were content. Being unremarkable did not equate to being inadequate or ineffective; perhaps such traits could keep men alive or even just sane. However, the cosmos rarely adhered to the desires of such individuals, and unfortunately for Lars Scriveus, he would soon find that his place in the galactic order was a bit higher than he'd have liked.
Terra.
The Inner Palace.
Hab Block 90-A.
As Lars put on the finishing touches to his attire, he couldn't help but be optimistic as he left for work. The recaff he bought was excellent, the smog over the palace was light, and he got lucky with purchasing some fresh bread and oranges for breakfast. Lar's just finished making his lunch and a meal ticket for some actual meat for dinner tonight. Maybe he could even get some beer.
Today was shaping up to be a good day, and that thought occupied his mind. It might have seemed peculiar to some, but Lars genuinely looked forward to heading to work. His colleagues, superiors, and daily tasks held a certain charm for him. The same could be said about his little apartment, with all the amenities he could afford, but Lars had grown up in extravagance that living like this allowed him to breathe and enjoy the solitude.
Stepping out of his apartment and ensuring the lock was secure, Lars nearly collided with his neighbor. "Oh!"
A familiar voice filled with surprise echoed, "Oh!" It was a young woman with sleek black hair, clad in the uniform of a gardener, who flashed a warm smile at Lars. "You gave me a start, Lars."
Lars couldn't help but smirk. "I startled you, Kim? Out of all the people on the block, you are the only one whose father is a war veteran. I'm sure he taught you a thing or two about self-defense."
Kim confessed with a smile, "He did. But I don't exactly have his killer instinct. He claims it's a blessing." Lars could empathize with that sentiment. Kim's father, a former Major in the Panpacific Empire, had served the Emperor in the early days of the Unification Wars, and his dedication had been rewarded. He had likely witnessed enough carnage to wish his children wouldn't have to wield weapons. Veterans of the Unification Wars were among the few permitted full retirement, and their families were guaranteed care indefinitely.
Kim had explained to Lars long ago that she had left her family to seek her own path in life, becoming a gardener at the Palace. Their friendship had taken root after Lars offered to help her resolve some accounting issues in exchange for a bounty of fresh fruits and vegetables. That arrangement had begun a year ago, and he still enjoyed the benefits of her produce.
"Heading off to work early again?" Kim's voice held a note of amusement. "You must be your overseer's favorite."
Lars shrugged modestly. "Nah, I can think of a few others who hold their favor. I prefer to stay out of the limelight with my superiors, although sometimes it's impossible because I often solve problems that stump everyone else. I try to pace myself, though."
As they approached the floor lift, Kim couldn't help but ask, "I know you don't seek the limelight, but don't you think you deserve a little recognition for your skills?"
Lars replied modestly, "Kim, all I do is put things down in writing or type them out. It's not much, and I could easily be replaced with a servitor."
Kim gently admonished him, "Don't say that. People don't like hearing that kind of talk around here." The fear of being replaced by servitors had become pervasive among the staff. Kim explained to Lars that whenever a servitor made its rounds, people did their best to ignore it, sometimes even ceasing work until it had moved on. Such actions, however, often ruffled the feathers of overseers and bosses.
"Look, I just don't think someone like me deserves a promotion when others probably need the extra Thrones for their families," Lars said, though he knew it was a somewhat feeble excuse. Being single didn't negate his need for additional income, especially if he aspired to start a family one day. "Besides, I'm not hurrying to become an important figure."
Kim's response came as the lift carried them toward the tram station. "But you'll be stuck doing the same thing for years otherwise! It's like… I adore gardening, but I aspire to work my way up to becoming an administrator. You know, maybe run an entire green section?"
A green section was responsible for overseeing Terra's nature renewal efforts, which included reviving ancient forests, jungles, and reefs, among other ecological projects. These roles were considered prestigious and highly honorable. They were also incredibly difficult to get into, even at an entry-level.
As they arrived at their destination, Lars commented, "Well, I'm glad you're reaching for the stars, Kim. But I'd rather keep my aspirations grounded here on Terra." He stepped into the empty hallway as the lift doors opened.
Kim called out to him, "You know, my father had a saying: 'A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.' You aren't meant to be just some script grinder, Lars!"
Lars chuckled, "But I happen to enjoy being one!" He raised a hand in a parting wave. "I'll catch up with you later, Kim. Have a great day!"
Never push your luck. Stay in your lane. Keep your head down. Do your job. You could assign any axiom such as these to Lars, which would fit him. The man knew what he wanted out of life or what not to do.
To outsiders, his perspective might seem peculiar, possibly even irrational, but for Lars, it was the only perspective that made sense. He carefully weighed the options and found genuine happiness in appreciating what he had. Lars understood that he could have been born into a life of slavery, plunged into poverty, or met an early end for any number of reasons the galaxy could throw at him. But fate had been kind to him, and he was contributing his part within the pulsing heart of the Imperium, working for the betterment of humanity.
At just 29 years old, he was already self-sufficient, having distanced himself from his family. As far as Lars saw it, his most significant hurdle was pursuing financial stability, hoping to one day meet someone with whom he could build a life, perhaps even off-world. While he cherished his time on Terra, he recognized that greater opportunities existed beyond its boundaries, even if they seemed distant.
Lars was deliberate in tempering his ambitions. He understood that achieving his long-term goal might take decades, but he considered this a blessing in disguise. It meant Lars could proceed at his own pace, careful and deliberate in every step he took. He'd observed too many individuals who sought to become shining stars too quickly, only to burn themselves out, growing resentful of their power and, ultimately, the people around them. Even worse, rumors had reached his ears of ambitious souls who had met untimely ends at the hands of rivals.
Lars, in stark contrast, desired nothing more than a quiet and content life. While some might consider this a virtue, a testament to his humility and sense of duty, Lars simply wished to maintain a low profile and ensure his security. He was content to keep his nose clean and his rear end covered in a galaxy brimming with chaos and ambition.
That singular aspiration defined Lars's life; frankly, it was more than sufficient for him. The term he often employed and which had guided him well was "good enough." In his extensive listening and recording experience, one valuable lesson he had gleaned was that individuals frequently erred by reaching for the stars when they would have been better served simply savoring life's goodness. It was the one nugget of wisdom that he took to heart.
Certainly, Lars could have aspired to do more, and he certainly could achieve it. On paper, he was nothing short of a genius in his own right. His impressive skills set him apart. As an accomplished polyglot, he possessed the gift of speaking multiple languages fluently. His keen analytical abilities allowed him to dissect complex information. He was remarkably observant, capturing the nuances and subtleties of situations. But his most extraordinary talent was his memory retention, which set him apart. This exceptional trait made him exceptionally qualified for the meticulous task of transcribing meetings, recordings, and other critical information that needed to be documented on paper or cogitators.
Lars undeniably possessed the potential to venture into more ambitious and illustrious career paths. However, he consciously chose to follow a path that resonated with his preference for a tranquil life and the satisfaction of engaging in work he loved. Lars believed it was better to be the individual who derived joy and pride from life's simple pleasures rather than constantly bemoaning their absence. Moreover, he was mindful of not coming across as boastful or arrogant. He didn't want people to think of him differently.
Lars's desire to be liked and connect with others may be seen as his one flaw. While he had no aspirations for fame or popularity, he sincerely wished to engage in meaningful conversations with people. This longing was particularly challenging in his position, surrounded by individuals who predominantly held ordinary concerns and pastimes. Many were content with their roles and felt a sense of wonder about their surroundings in the Imperial Palace. The atmosphere was admired and reverent; few were inclined to discuss weighty topics like politics. Lars, for his part, didn't fault them for it; in fact, he kept such discussions well away from the ears of strangers, knowing that it wasn't the place for it.
In the realm of everyday interactions, Lars often found himself drawn into more commonplace discussions. His ability to recall even the most trivial details consistently amazed people, which led to frequent references and queries. In his own way, Lars had garnered a form of popularity based on his extraordinary memory and the subtle connections he formed with those around him.
However, he couldn't help but wonder if he was indeed expecting too much from these interactions. Perhaps, just as he aspired to lead a simple life, part of that simplicity was accepting that most conversations would revolve around equally ordinary concerns. Recognizing this might be the key to reconciling his desire for more profound discussions with the reality of his environment. Ultimately, he might need to content himself with the beauty of life's everyday simplicity.
Lars had to remember that life was good. He didn't need to be anything more than he wanted; that was all that mattered now.
Terra.
The Inner Palace.
Administrative Section Epi-Seven.
Lars arrived at his section only a few minutes late. Many people had this crazy idea that the overseers or bosses would beat you for the littlest thing. It wasn't true at all. Besides, if they wanted to make your life miserable, they'd just give you an extra workload.
Anyway, Lars was late, but what could you do? The problem was getting a cup of recaff during the morning rush in the office kitchen; everyone was doing the same thing. Some people brought their own, but their section actually had good recaff on standby. Once he had a nice steaming cup, Lars reached his workstation and got started.
The way a workday seemed to fly by for Lars was truly remarkable. There was an unending stream of tasks and responsibilities, and he reveled in the constant activity. Occasionally, there were priority missives that required his careful documentation and review. These provided a welcome challenge, something he genuinely enjoyed. Beyond the satisfaction of overcoming these challenges, these missives also granted him a unique glimpse into the intricate inner workings of the Imperial Palace, which always piqued his curiosity.
Lars found himself particularly intrigued by the recent developments within the Sol system. The ongoing war games on Venus, the arrival of several formidable Primarchs, Lord-Militant Baelsar's retirement, and myriad other significant events and minute details graced his desk, each offering a tantalizing glimpse into the politics of the Imperium.
Unfortunately, Lars had no one in his immediate circle to discuss these matters. He seemed to be one of the few in his section genuinely interested in the politics and intrigues surrounding events in the Imperium or toward high-level individuals such as the High Lord and, perhaps, even the Emperor himself. Regrettably, such information rarely found its way to his desk. The closest he had come to any direct knowledge of the Emperor of Mankind was when he had read about the Emperor's arrival at a ceremony in the Yndonesic Bloc.
While the glimpses into higher-profile events were rare, Lars remained dedicated to managing standard recordings and messages from mid-ranking bureaucrats, officers, and remembrancers. This seemingly routine task, in fact, offered a fascinating window into the inner workings of various organizations and divisions across the Imperium. Lars found these intermediaries to be a treasure trove of institutional knowledge and real-world experience, and their often candid commentaries made for engrossing reading.
If Lars were entirely honest, he'd admit that his job was entertaining simply due to these insights. However, this enjoyment was occasionally tempered when the casualty reports came through or were referenced. While war might offer a compelling narrative from an outsider's perspective, it was essential to remember that these men and women made great sacrifices for the Imperium during the Great Crusade. In those moments, a sense of respect and solemnity was warranted.
Compiling and documenting everything was the straightforward part of Lars's job. He could have opted for the efficiency of an autoquill, but he was more than capable of meticulously transcribing the information with a regular writing instrument. He needed to keep a vigilant eye on specific notations, contextual details, and the crucial step of triple-checking everything. To rise to his mid-level position, a keen eye for details and the ability to prevent mistakes were essential qualities he had honed over time.
For Lars, this was the rhythm of his life, which had been for the past six years. Many with even a modicum of ambition or dreams of escaping the daily grind might have grown weary, but not Lars. He continued to press forward, his resolve stubborn. He was exactly where he needed to be, and the satisfaction he derived from his work was unwavering. He was in his element and content with the path he had chosen.
As Lars wrapped up his third report and seventh documentation, the shrill ring of the buzzer at his desk startled him. A robotic voice emanated from the built-in speaker, delivering an unexpected message, "Scribe 988-09, please report to the Head Overseer's office immediately."
Lars blinked in mild confusion, muttering to himself, "Huh? I'm assigned to Overseer three, though." The sudden summons to the Head Overseer's office piqued his curiosity and sparked a sense of unease. A mid-rank scribe doesn't ever go to the head overseer. Still, what was he to do? Lars couldn't go complain to his boss. He'd just be told to follow instructions. Had Lars done something wrong?
The Head Overseer's office was situated several floors above his current location. Lars had ventured up there on one occasion, albeit as part of a larger group during a meeting a few years back. He didn't need to seek directions, as the path was somewhat familiar. Nevertheless, as he ascended the stairs, he couldn't help but notice the curious glances from some of his colleagues. The attention made him feel like a prisoner embarking on the solemn journey to the execution block.
It was a perplexing situation. If Lars were truly in trouble, one might expect a contingent of guards to have already arrived, escorting him to face whatever accusations lay ahead. He had heard numerous tales of individuals being abruptly arrested during their work shifts, a dramatic spectacle meant as a stark reminder for everyone to toe the line. Perhaps this wasn't as dire as he had initially feared.
Yet, Lars couldn't help but entertain the possibility that he might receive news about a promotion. While he had little desire for such advancement, it was more appealing than being thrown into a prison cell or meeting an even darker fate: glass-half-full perspective and all that.
Lars encountered no obstacles on his way to the Head Overseer's office. He reached the designated floor via the lift, and before he realized it, he was standing outside the imposing double wooden doors of the Epi-Seven section head. What struck him immediately was the conspicuous absence of guards or even a secretary. There was no one there to greet him or offer any explanation.
He hesitated momentarily, pondering if he should look for someone or even just leave, thinking there was maybe a mistake, when suddenly, the electric lock disengaged with a soft click, and the imposing double doors began to open slowly before him.
"Shit," Lars muttered before walking into the office. Lars half-expected to find the Head Overseer, an elderly and somewhat decrepit man, seated at his desk, ensconced in a lavish array of extravagant amenities and an assortment of costly knickknacks.
To Lars's surprise, he was met not by the expected Head Overseer but by a man with brown hair and a stocky build. This stranger appeared to be only a few years older than Lars himself. The newcomer hardly resembled a scribe; his athletic and robust appearance suggested a life quite different from the sedentary tasks of their profession. He had a dataslate in his hands and seemed focused on it.
"Please," He idly gestured to one of the chairs across from the desk, "Take a seat Mr. Scriveus."
Guess that confirmed Lars was supposed to be here. He sat and couldn't help but ask, "Where is the head overseer?"
The man replied casually, "Out to lunch. Doesn't matter. I told him I needed the office for this meeting." Lars couldn't help but find the situation rather disconcerting. The stranger seemed to wield enough rank or authority to displace the Head Overseer from his office.
Placing the dataslate on the desk, Oliver Cohen focused his undivided attention on Lars. "My name is Oliver Cohen. I represent the head offices within the Administratum. This meeting aims to conduct an interview and evaluate you, Mr. Scriveus."
Lars felt a mixture of relief and apprehension. While he appreciated the recognition from the head offices, he hadn't been seeking any additional attention. "Oh, well, I suppose it's good to know that someone from the head offices acknowledges my work."
Oliver Cohen responded bluntly, "To be perfectly frank, Mr. Scriveus, your name is at the bottom of my list of prospects."
Lars felt a wave of relief wash over him. It seemed this meeting was merely a formality, and there was no real chance he would be selected for whatever was held in mind. "That's unfortunate," he remarked with fake disappointment, "well, I suppose there is still no harm in putting my best foot forward."
Oliver's gaze seemed to linger for a moment before he nodded. He leaned back into what appeared to be a rather comfortable leather chair. "Let's begin with your general history, just to ensure accuracy. You were born as Larson Landvik, the third son of Halvorsen Landvik, a member of the family bearing that name from the Nordyc Kingdoms. You demonstrated exceptional aptitude, achieving an overall Green-Minus rank in most areas of your work. You had the potential to achieve much, but at 19 years of age, you chose to emancipate yourself from your family."
Lars affirmed, "That's correct. I felt like I was living in the shadow of my father and siblings. I decided to seek my own path."
Oliver regarded Lars with suspicion. "And you found that path as a paper grinder and pusher in the Imperial Palace? You could have secured a far more prestigious position with your family's connections."
Lars conceded, "You're absolutely right; I could have. I could have been extremely wealthy if I'd stayed with my family. But I didn't."
"Was this in response to what happened at Troskyia?" Oliver inquired, and Lars wasn't particularly surprised by the question, considering the thoroughness of the inquiry implied by this man's presence.
"Of course," Lars finally admitted. "I refused to divulge certain information that was considered crucial to a member of a rival house because Lady Sief, the house matriarch, all but begged me to keep it a secret. She was an old friend of my mother's, and I found it a cause worth protecting. I made sure no one else learned of it."
In truth, Lars had undertaken the task because he wanted to defy his father, and it was an added benefit that Lady Sief had treated him kindly. He didn't believe that the situation warranted a loss of face. Even in this secular era, the Nordyc Kingdoms remained deeply superstitious and traditional. When the time came to ensure the secrecy of the information, Lars had intentionally set fire to the family estate at Troskyia to obliterate any traces of his involvement. His father suspected Lars's complicity but had no concrete evidence. This led to his decision to disassociate himself from the wretched Landvik family, assuming his current identity.
Oliver nodded. "Yes, it would have been a significant blow to the reputation of House Ashguard if it became known that their heir manifested psychic abilities." Lars felt his fists clench nervously at the revelation, a secret he had been prepared to take to the grave.
"Should I be surprised that you know that?" Lars inquired, already anticipating the answer.
The man across from him shook his head, a gesture of negation. "I can assure you that such matters don't escape our attention. Under any other circumstances, you would have been subjected to questioning long before you relinquished your former name and title for harboring a psyker. However, Lady Sief's efforts at restitution led to the incident being resolved by the time of your emancipation."
Lars couldn't help but wryly remark, "Lucky me." It underscored how little control he had had over the situation. "And somehow, this doesn't disqualify me from this interview?"
Oliver responded, "It will be weighed against you and in your favor." The ambiguity of the statement left Lars uncertain.
Shifting the conversation, Oliver asked, "Let's move on. What are your thoughts on the government?"
The abrupt shift in topics left Lars momentarily taken aback. He answered cautiously, "I think the Imperium is doing alright so far."
Oliver pressed for more, his tone devoid of any antagonism. "Can you elaborate on that statement? And please, be honest with me. I don't need the regurgitation of what the masses are saying."
Lars wasn't quite sure how to begin, so he chose to speak the truth. "I've read enough reports to understand that while the Great Crusade has achieved significant success, it's not without problems." Lars was acutely aware of the grim details. The back and forths, the underlying tones, and how some messages felt worded by men walking on eggshells.
"The High Lord and the Primarchs have made considerable progress in the Emperor's name, but the level of concern in the day-to-day missives... Look, I don't want to accuse anyone of defeatism, as that's not what's happening, but someone, somewhere, needs to bring about a change. Otherwise, there's a crisis looming on the horizon."
"So, you believe that the government can and should do better," Oliver summarized, to which Lars nodded. "Do you believe in the Imperium of Man and its mission?"
Lars furrowed his brow, beginning to feel slightly uneasy. "Of course I do," he replied hesitantly. "Is this some kind of loyalty test?"
"Perhaps," Oliver responded, his expression impassive. "If you were ordered to pick up a weapon and fight for our Emperor's great Imperium, would you do it?"
Lars grappled with answering such a question honestly without appearing craven or disingenuous. "I don't know. I'd like to think I would, even if it meant my death. But I'm not exactly a fighter."
Oliver's gaze remained unyielding as he pressed, "But if it came down to it?"
Lars contemplated the question, wanting to believe he could muster the resolve to fight, particularly to defend his home world. "If it meant defending Terra, yes. Otherwise, I'm unsure if I could summon the will to fight and potentially die on some alien planet. Terra is my home. It's the only home I know. I'm immensely grateful for what I've achieved in life, thanks to my time on Terra."
"But what about the Imperium itself?" Oliver insisted.
Lars had a clear response, emphasizing, "Defending the Throneworld matters more than anything. The Emperor, the High Lord, the government—everything required to maintain the Imperium—resides here. If we lose it, there is no more Imperium." It was probably not what Oliver wanted to hear, but it was something that Lars did believe in. Without Terra, the Imperium would fall apart.
Oliver appeared more intrigued now. "So, your loyalty is primarily directed towards Terra."
Lars clarified, "About as much as a Martian is to Mars, someone from Macragge is to Macragge, or anyone from a homeworld they strongly believe in. It's just that Terra is the seat of the Emperor's power. Humanity owes everything to it, and, as a result, the Imperium owes it." He recognized that this reason might seem somewhat simplistic. "That's not to say I wish for it to be the sole beneficiary. Every other world should benefit from their affiliation with us. This was the Emperor's vision for humanity. He has a plan for all of us, and if I had the opportunity to contribute to it, I'd like to see it realized."
Once more, Lars grappled with his thoughts. He told himself he believed in the Imperium of Man, but another part remained skeptical. Instead of wholly embracing or dismissing the idea, Lars assessed the reality of the situation. Before the Emperor assumed control, Terra, like the rest of the galaxy, had been in a dire state. The violence and death hadn't decreased, but Lars acknowledged that he could, at the very least, be grateful for the stability Terra enjoyed now.
"Hmm, I see," Oliver responded, presumably mentally taking notes. He then shifted the subject yet again. "What are your thoughts on taxation?" Lars let out a sigh, realizing that this conversation was likely to be a lengthy one.
By the third hour of questioning, Lars entertained the thought that a swift execution might be more palatable than this grueling interrogation. The lack of discernible pattern to the questions made the ordeal even more arduous. Oliver would inquire about taxation and expansion, only to suddenly pivot to topics such as abhumans and the Mechanicum. There were no straightforward or easy answers to such complex questions, and Lars found the process draining. Especially if he was expected to return to work after this "interview" concluded.
Finally, Oliver abruptly ended the questioning. "I've heard enough," he said, glancing at the time before rising from his seat. Lars followed suit. "You are free to return to your workstation, Mr. Scriveus."
"Oh, alright," Lars responded, feigning disappointment, though he was secretly relieved to be done with the ordeal. "So... I don't need to do anything else?"
"You'll be expected to keep quiet about this interview," Oliver instructed as he retrieved his dataslate. "Do not speak of it to anyone. Clear?"
"Clear as crystal." As if he wanted to tell anyone this, "Well, I'm sure you are busy; I'll take off then." As Lars moved to leave, Oliver spoke up.
"A piece of advice, Lars," Oliver began, "but trying to remain low-key hasn't done you any favors or made you unnoticeable." He pressed the button to open the office doors. "Showing off some aspiration from time to time might actually make you less likely to get noticed, as you'll just be another schmuck trying to get ahead of the crowd."
Oliver walked out of the office, leaving Lars alone with his thoughts. While the words had some merit, Lars had no inclination to heed them. Regardless of what transpired today, he remained perfectly content with his unambitious life. After all, what did it matter now? Lars believed he had clearly failed to impress Oliver and would likely be passed over in favor of someone else.
"I've got to get back to work…" Lars mumbled under his breath as he started his return to his workstation. He knew the office gossip would likely revolve around him for a while, but he expected to fade from the limelight soon enough, especially since he had made it back in one piece and remained part of the section.
Whatever had transpired felt like an oddity, a one-off event that had briefly placed Lars in the crosshairs of the higher authorities. Beyond that, it seemed to conclude within the office, and Lars was genuinely relieved that it hadn't taken a more concerning turn.
Terra.
The Inner Palace.
Hab Block 90-A.
Two months later…
As Lars had expected, he became the focus of office gossip for about half a week before people moved on to the next topic. Naturally, a few curious souls asked him what had happened, and Lars simply explained that the Head Overseer had admonished him for an error made in a particular portfolio. He insinuated that he was only spared due to someone higher up not wanting to escalate the situation. This garnered enough sympathy and a few snide comments behind his back, but those who knew Lars assumed he had been caught in someone else's mistake and had to take the fall for it. None of the higher-ups confronted Lars about the situation either.
Lars' life soon returned to normal, with the familiar mundanity and lackadaisical nature he had grown used to. He resumed enjoying the simple things and even contemplated asking Kim to see a show with him as a token of appreciation for all the raspberries she had brought him.
Yet, just as Lars was about to leave his apartment, he heard a loud knocking on his door. Initially assuming it was Kim or maybe the floor manager coming for their routine contraband scan, which had become a rather "unscheduled" event lately, Lars couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.
When the loud, insistent knocking echoed through the corridor outside his apartment, Lars knew he couldn't keep his neighbors from getting suspicious. Anxious, he hurried to open the door, only to be met by an unsettling sight: three uniformed men, armed and giving off an air of grim passiveness, focused their attention on him.
The leader of the trio held a dataslate, which bore what Lars could only assume showed his own photograph. "Scribe# 982-0A, Lars Scriveus?" he inquired, his gaze flicking between Lars and the image on the dataslate.
Uncomfortable and unsure, Lars replied, "Yes?"
The leader wasted no time. "We're here to escort you to the head offices, as instructed." He extended the dataslate, featuring a thumbprint scanner. "Please confirm your compliance by pressing your right thumb on this."
Lars complied without a word, his mind racing with questions about this unexpected turn of events. He wasn't arrested, or so they claimed, yet there were armed escorts for a sudden summons. To call this situation unprecedented was putting it lightly. With no further explanation, they began escorting him out of the hab block, leaving Lars with a growing dread and confusion about what awaited him at the head offices.
To add to the unsettling atmosphere, Kim emerged from her room, her face a portrait of confusion and concern. "What the hell?" She muttered loudly enough to draw Lars's attention. "Lars, what's going on?" Kim attempted to approach, but one of the guards swiftly raised a hand to halt her progress.
"Please return to your domicile, miss," the guard instructed, his right hand hovering dangerously close to his sidearm. "There's no reason to be concerned about Mr. Scriveus's situation."
Lars attempted to reassure Kim, "It's fine, Kim. I'm just heading to the head offices. I'll probably be back before you know it." He tried to sound self-assured. However, it was the head guard who delivered the real bombshell.
"Mr. Scriveus, you won't be returning here. A team of workers will relocate your belongings and items from your apartment to a new location by the end of the day."
"What?!"
"WHAT?!"
Both Kim and Lars cried out in disbelief. It had to be a misunderstanding. "That... that can't be right."
"It is, Mr. Scriveus," the guard affirmed, checking his wrist chrono. "I'm sorry, sir, but we need to get moving. The High Lord is expecting you." The urgency in his tone left no room for further discussion. Lars was still trying to get his wits about him from the last bombshell to have almost missed that he was meeting the High Lord.
As the guards ushered Lars away, he cast one final glance back at Kim. "I'll try and contact you later!" He offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me! I'll be alright! Looks like I'm finally going up in the world!"
Kim appeared deeply unhappy, and for a brief moment, Lars thought he saw tears welling up in her eyes. "Lars...""Her voice wavered. Once they were out of sight, Lars couldn't shake the feeling that he was leaving behind his best friend for whatever uncertain fate awaited him. Today was anything but a good day.
Instead of being led to the ground or the elevator, Lars was escorted to the rooftop of his hab complex. There, he was greeted by the sight of an expensive and intimidating-looking shuttle, which he assumed was meant for him. Seeing Oliver at the base of the loading ramp confirmed his suspicions.
"Mr. Scriveus," Oliver called out loudly over the noise of the shuttle's engines, "We meet again."
Lars glanced around and noticed three more uniformed and armed men nearby. "Did you really need to send armed guards to fetch me?"
"It's for your protection," Oliver responded with a stern expression. "Best get used to it." He gestured for Lars to follow him into the shuttle. "Come on, it's time for your follow-up interview."
As Lars entered the shuttle, his mind was buzzing with questions. The armed guards followed him, and he couldn't help but be surprised by the spacious and luxurious interior of the vessel. Oliver guided him to a table adorned with bottles of amber liquid.
Looking around, Lars couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. "Shouldn't we be strapping in?"
Oliver reassured him with a casual wave of his hand. "This shuttle is equipped with inertia dampeners and grav-locks. It could survive the blast of an AA missile and come out unscathed. You'll be fine if you feel a little turbulence. Now, have a seat. I'll pour us some drinks."
Lars raised an eyebrow. "It's like seven in the morning."
Oliver chuckled. "You'll get used to early-morning drinks. Trust me, it comes with jobs like this." He poured a measure of the amber liquid into both crystal glasses. Considering his situation, Lars wasn't a drinker, but a stiff drink might be good right about now.
Lars hesitated before taking a sip of his drink. "What's really happening, Oliver? Am I actually going to meet the High Lord, Malcador?"
Oliver nodded, taking another sip of his own drink. "The one and only Sigillite. As I mentioned, this is the final interview. And I have a feeling you're going to be chosen."
"Chosen for what?" Lars pressed, "You haven't told me what this is all about or why it has to be so secretive. Am I being promoted, recruited, or something else entirely? And let's not forget, you mentioned I was at the bottom of your list of potentials." There was no chance that Lars had impressed anyone with his responses.
Oliver offered a sly smile, "There were two other names on the list. You were the third choice. But one prospective scribe was found dead three weeks ago, and the other turned out to be a spy for certain elements we'd rather not have prying into your future work. So, by process of elimination, you'll likely be our First Scribe."
Lars furrowed his brow, still trying to grasp the situation. "First Scribe to what exactly? And are you telling me that I'm being chosen because I'm the last resort? Is that the only reason you're giving me such a vital role?"
Oliver leaned in, meeting Lars's gaze. "You've always had the qualifications for this position. The question has always been about your dedication and commitment to the role. You will serve as the first point of contact and communication, and your work will significantly impact future decision-making within the Imperium of Man."
Lars couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief. "This is unbelievable. I'm going to take on a pivotal role? You choose a disgraced son of a minor Terran lord among trillions of people across the galaxy? This seems like some bizarre loyalty test."
"In some ways, it is a test of loyalty," Oliver conceded. "But the truth is you meet the unique criteria for the First Scribe role, Lars. Because out of the countless potential candidates, you stand above them all regarding skill, capability, and intelligence. The only question remains if you are ready to do your part."
Oliver set aside his glass and spoke directly to Lars, his tone earnest. "Listen, I asked if you were ready to serve the Imperium. Here's your opportunity. We are ready to give you a chance to assist certain individuals in leadership positions who will help implement much-needed changes for the betterment of our galaxy."
Lars couldn't help but feel a sense of skepticism. "And I'm doing exactly what in all of this?"
Oliver's response was straightforward. "Essentially the same as what you did in your previous role: Recording, observing, analyzing, and providing context during high-level meetings and interactions, particularly when significant discussions, debates, or arguments occur. All while keeping your mouth shut when it needs to and speaking when you have something worthwhile to say."
"I'm getting mixed messages here. I didn't interact much with anyone at my 'old job,' especially not with those in leadership positions," Lars admitted, trying to unravel the purpose behind all this. "So, who exactly am I assisting as the First Scribe? These 'people in leadership positions,' as you put it."
Oliver didn't mince words. "Powerful individuals, extremely powerful. You'll be right amid them, recording their words and decisions and fulfilling any other duties that may arise. The silver lining is that you're just a man with a job, no more, no less."
"You say that right as I will soon meet the High Lord." This situation made Lars realize how little control he had over it now. It wasn't like he could say "no" to the man.
Oliver smiled knowingly, "Well, you've come this far, haven't you? Besides, it's not every day that you meet the Sigillite. Who, by the way, personally invited you to his office. Which means you get to see all the fun sights."
"Right, the home offices." But as Lars said, Oliver shook his head, "It's not there? Where is it then."
"Deep within the interior of the palace. As in, right next to the Golden Throne."
Lars looked very interested now, "Seriously? Well, we probably won't be able to see it then." No one ever got to see such a thing. The only reason anyone even knew about it was because there had been so many rumors that the Rememberancers had to come out and explain things before anyone got any crazy ideas in their head.
Oliver sighed before pouring more amber liquid into Lars's glass, "Lars, if you get this position as First Scribe, you will be working right next to it for the rest of your life." Upon hearing that and seeing it wasn't a joke, Lars waited until his glass was full and then drank most of it in one gulp to help calm his nerves.
"Listen, this is quite a lot, I'll give you that." Oliver started, "And I know you created this whole idea of being this unambitious guy living an easy life, but there is a point where opportunity comes knocking, and ignoring is just impossible. So it's better to embrace the chance and see where it leads because you might be surprised where you end up."
Lars rolled his eyes, "Not a great prep talker, are you." He shook his head, "Did I ever even have a choice in this matter?"
"Can't say," Oliver admitted, "Sometimes you just get dealt a bad hand in life, but this isn't one. If you want to go up to the Sigillite and tell him you aren't interested, be my guest. It ain't going to end well, though."
What choice did he have? You don't tell the second most powerful man in the galaxy "no" if you want to keep your life. "If I go through with this, what happens to me after I say yes? Because I heard one of my supposed guards say I will be moving into a new location."
Oliver nodded as he refilled his glass, "Have to keep you safe and close by. I wouldn't worry about it. You are a permanent stay in the inner palace. That means the lap of luxury." Lars tried not to wince at hearing this impending fate.
"I was happy where I was…" Thoughts of his humble and comfy apartment and spending time with Kim flowed through his mind, "There was a neighbor of mine that I was close with."
"Kim Cahya, daughter of Major Jones Cahya of the 17th Kopassus Unit." Oliver grinned, "Hey, settle a bet, would you? But were you trying to sleep with her?"
Lars glared at him, "We were friends. That's it."
Oliver snorted, "Not many female friends bring a male friend they know fruits and veggies daily." He shrugged before sipping, "But I guess I lost the bet." Lars was starting to believe that the man across from him was a bit of an asshole.
Unfortunately, Oliver was the only person who could give him answers, "I want to send a message to Kim. Explaining why I won't be coming back."
"That won't work, at least not right now." Oliver had the decency to sound sympathetic to Lars's plight, "Right now, your previous existence is going to slowly be erased from the record, and by this time next year, only a few people would ever know that the unambitious and mild-manner scribe that was Lars Scriveus was ever anything but the First Scribe."
Everything that Lars had been was seemingly gone now. He tried to lay low and enjoy a simple life, only for him to be thrust into whatever extraordinary circumstances awaited him by the most powerful people in the galaxy. Lars wondered how many others had been put in the same circumstances as him and for far worse cases and equally awful positions. He should have been a bit more grateful, but all Lars wanted to do was tear his hair out.
"Look, there are a lot of moving parts in what's happening here," Oliver continued, "We, and that includes you, need to keep things quiet for the next six to eight months. Forget about your previous life until then, and we can maybe, possibly, arrange for something."
"What's the point?" Lars's voice dripped with bitterness. "Kim will believe I've died or been left to rot in some jail cell. She'll never know unless someone tells her, which I highly doubt." His temples throbbed as a headache began to form. "All this just to become an over-glorified scribe."
Oliver shrugged, "You'll discover that most positions at the highest levels are just that: over-glorified." He took another sip from his glass and paused as the sound of vox-chatter emanated from a micro-bead in his ear.
"We're almost at our destination." He gestured to the glass in Lars's hand, "Finish your drink; it'll give you a little more spine before we meet with the Sigillite."
Lars quickly downed his drink, contemplating what lay ahead and wondering if his new apartment was luxurious enough to have booze cabinets for him to drown his sorrows in tonight. Still, a few questions nagged at him, "What's the High Lord like?"
"Direct and no-nonsense when it comes to people like us," Oliver commented with a hint of seriousness. "Don't attempt to be witty, humorous, or charming in your conversation. Stick to simple answers: yes, no, or 'I don't know.' Avoid saying 'maybe' or anything of the sort."
"Right." Well, that sounded straightforward enough.
"You might as well be briefed on this because your security clearance warrants it, but the High Lord is a psyker," Oliver bluntly clarified. "Don't mention that to anyone, or you will be terminated." The implication was clear, and the consequences were dire.
Lars couldn't help but express his disbelief, "The High Lord is a psyker? But he's the one who passes all the laws, which includes the anti-psyker laws." Considering the depths of fear and hatred directed towards them, he knew all too well how harsh the Imperium's treatment of psykers was. "I mean, those laws are rather…"
"Harsh? Yeah, they are," Oliver agreed, shaking his head. "I work with two psykers. I'm very much aware of what they entail for them. You best start realizing something here, Lars. The people in charge will do whatever is necessary to ensure the stability and survival of the Imperium. It doesn't matter who or what. Every decision made is for the good of humanity. So keep that in mind if you need to comment or criticize certain decisions made within these walls."
Lars frowned, absorbing the warning. "I know how to keep my mouth shut."
"Lars, by this time next year, you might be one of the few people in the entire Imperium who will be allowed to speak directly with the people in charge, as they are going to ask you questions, and you are going to need to answer," Oliver explained, emphasizing the significance of his role.
Oliver continued as the shuttle seemed to have landed, "You are one of the lucky few, Lars. You get to see history play out but won't be responsible for it. You'll be the man on the inside of it all." He patted Lars's shoulder gently before gesturing to the nearby agents and left the scribe to process this information.
Him, the man on the inside? Lars could only wonder why he, of all people, got the opportunity when he never wanted it. Oliver said he was lucky. Lars didn't feel that way.
Malcador, the High Lord, or the Sigillite, as he seemed to prefer, quietly perused a few documents on his desk while Lars patiently occupied the seat across from him. The atmosphere in the room was palpably tense, with Lars feeling as if he were about to embark on a life-or-death struggle. Then again, maybe he already had?
The overwhelming nature of this situation was still sinking in for Lars. The swift turn of events, from his ordinary life to being in the presence of one of the most powerful figures in the Imperium, had left him awestruck.
Things had taken a dramatic turn when Lars disembarked from the shuttle. He was immediately greeted by a pair of Golden Giants, whom Oliver introduced as the Adeptus Custodians—the personal Guard and Companions of the Emperor of Mankind. Each giant was adorned in the most spectacular armor and wielded weapons that surpassed anything Lars had ever seen.
Like most humanity, Lars had only heard rumors and legends about these golden warriors who carried out the Emperor's will. Kim's father claimed to have witnessed one of them during the Unification Wars, describing the golden warrior singlehandedly decimating an enemy infantry company. Exceedingly dangerous and capable didn't even begin to describe them.
Having two of them escorting Lars and Oliver felt incredibly surreal. "A necessary measure," Oliver claimed, saying that such extraordinary security was warranted around the most guarded place on Terra. Be that as it may, Lars felt like the two Custodians were specifically watching him.
Navigating through the most highly secured place in the Imperium, second only to Mars, was a surreal experience for Lars. He passed by an endless array of breathtaking artworks and depictions of historic victories and significant events. According to Oliver, this was the designated route for visitors.
One aspect that deeply unnerved Lars was several silent, bald-headed women stationed at various doors and lifts along the way. Their absolute stillness and intense focus made his skin crawl, and he couldn't help but wonder about their significance and role within this place.
Upon reaching the upper levels, Lars couldn't help but notice the scarcity of human activity. It seemed as though the bulk of the work was being carried out by servitors, and most inhabitants were likely concealed within their opulent offices. Oliver appeared unperturbed by the absence of people, which added to the overall eerie atmosphere.
There was an undeniable sense that this place was under constant surveillance. Lars couldn't help but feel like every object around him was equipped with pict-recorders, tracking devices, and hidden scanners, whether visible or concealed. It was a discomforting feeling that everything he could see was being monitored, and there were probably even more hidden surveillance systems that he couldn't detect.
Finally, the group arrived at a lavishly decorated corridor adorned with valuable tapestries, exquisite rugs, intricate paintings, and other priceless works of art. This opulent path led to colossal adamantium doors flanked by the formidable golden warriors. As the group approached, the doors swung open without any overt command, and the Custodians who had accompanied Lars and Oliver assumed a statuesque and silent sentinel posture on either side of the entrance.
Oliver led the way into an expansive room adorned with an awe-inspiring collection of relics, priceless art, and opulent treasures that served as trophies within the inner sanctum of the High Lord of Terra. The room's towering ceiling reached skyward, creating a sense of grandeur that was impossible to ignore. Amid this display of opulence and history, the High Lord remained seated at his desk, engrossed in the workings of a cogitator. His focus on the machine made it evident that he had no intention of acknowledging the arrival of the two men who had entered his sacred space. At least not yet.
As Lars fixed his gaze upon the figure of the High Lord, he couldn't help but recognize the presence that had graced countless newsreels and broadcasts across the Imperium. Malcador was a man who seemed to effortlessly exude an aura of wisdom, power, and unwavering authority. What made it all the more fascinating was that, despite appearances, he looked as if he hadn't aged a day over sixty standard years.
Lars suspected that rejuvenation treatments were undoubtedly responsible for this feat, but now, armed with the knowledge of Malcador's psychic abilities, he couldn't help but wonder if there was a hint of warp magic involved in preserving the High Lord's appearance.
"Lord Sigillite," Oliver spoke composedly, "I've retrieved our sole remaining prospect."
Malcador, engrossed in his cogitator, merely waved toward a nearby chair, not bothering to look up. "Take a seat, Mr. Scriveus," he instructed in a voice that held the weight of unwavering authority. "I will be with you in but a moment. Oliver, do you have his files ready?"
"Of course." Oliver stepped up to the desk, laying out several reports in an orderly fashion. A brief pause ensued before Oliver asked, "Anything else, Lord Sigillite?"
Malcador, not one to mince words, offered a curt response. "No." With that, he gestured for Oliver to leave the room, his tone conveying his expectation for immediate compliance. A fleeting glimpse of annoyance crossed the agent's face, but he didn't protest. Oliver nodded in acknowledgment and exited the office without uttering a word, leaving Lars alone with the enigmatic High Lord.
A not-so-small period of awkward silence forcing Lars to wait patiently. He didn't like this feeling. It reminded him too much of whenever his father called him into his study before either dishing out tongue-lashing or trying to instill some sort of "wisdom" in hopes of making Lars into a better man.
Then, without much preamble, Malcador finished his typing and turned to look at the documents left behind by Oliver. Another few moments passed while the tight-lipped and stoic High Lord quietly reviewed. He seemed almost bored, like this was a waste of his time. Lars didn't know if that was good or bad.
Finally, he sighed and tossed the report on his desk, "You'll do."
At this momentous juncture, Lars blinked in surprise at the seemingly abrupt appointment. "I'll do... as I'm now the First Scribe?"
Malcador, sitting behind the imposing desk, appeared to exude indifference. "Yes. You'll need to undergo preparation and training for the role. Mental and memetics conditioning, necessary cybernetic enhancements, and the finalization of your security clearance are in order."
Lars took in the magnitude of what was transpiring, a mixture of astonishment and uncertainty clouding his expression. "You certainly made your decision quickly."
The Sigillite shot him a slight glare, his patience waning. "Several factors influenced my choice."
Lars couldn't help but verbalize his perception of the situation. "Such as me being the only option now."
"Yes, that was certainly part of the consideration," Malcador admitted with the sincerity of a man constrained by time and protocol. "There is also a time constraint. But otherwise, your credentials and psych profile align with the requirements. So, congratulations," the Sigillite remarked, his words bearing the weight of a mandatory nicety.
"In any case, Oliver will get you settled. Tomorrow, you'll report back to my office to meet your instructors. They will mold you into what is needed to become the First Scribe of the Consilium."
"The Consilium?" Lars inquired, the term unfamiliar to him. Yet, the High Lord remained silent, and the doors opened once more as Oliver approached.
Suddenly, Lars felt a pressing need to make a request. "Wait!" he exclaimed, "I…I'd like to ask for a favor if you don't mind."
Malcador returned to his cogitator, his tone dismissive. "Mr. Scriveus, I sincerely hope you aren't thinking you can ask or request a favor at this juncture." Lars found the dismissal irksome, but he stood his ground.
"I'm asking for a favor to help me concentrate on the tasks ahead. Besides, it's within your power to arrange." Lars decided to push his luck. "I'd like to request that someone's family be assigned to a green section."
"Let me guess, the Cahyas," Malcador observed as he continued working on the cogitator. "You were deemed to have a romantic connection with Major Jones's daughter. You understand that, effective today, you will not be allowed further contact with her now, correct?"
"I do," Lars acknowledged. "I just thought that while I have the chance, I could use my position to do some good for someone else."
As Oliver approached, Malcador halted his work and fixed Lars sternly. "You possess no authority with your position that doesn't go beyond the Consilium. Keep that in mind before assuming otherwise." The warning put Lars on edge, but he refused to back down.
Shaking his head, Malcador sighed and put down his cogitator. "I will, however, grant your request if it will help you focus on your training and put these distracting thoughts behind you."
Lars felt a wave of relief hearing Malcador's agreement. "Thank you, Lord Malcador."
Malcador merely returned to his work, his focus seemingly undeterred. "You're dismissed." With a hint of impatient worry, Oliver gestured for Lars to follow him. They swiftly exited the Sigillite's office, leaving him engrossed in his tasks.
Once outside, Oliver turned to Lars, his tone filled with incredulity. "Did you seriously just ask the Sigillite for a favor and out of turn?"
Lars realized the audacity of his request, and a sense of embarrassment washed over him. "I'm sorry, but I just… I just had to. If I can't say goodbye to Kim, and it seems I never will, the least I could do is ensure she has a better future than spending the rest of her life in some hab-garden, picking oranges and olives."
In hindsight, he realized how foolish it might have been, but it felt like the right thing to do. His one brief moment of ambition had nearly put him on the wrong side of the High Lord, and he couldn't help but think he was off to a rocky start in his career as First Scribe.
"Stars above, next time, think before you act." Oliver admonished. "Or you might not get a second chance." He shook his head, "Keep having to handle a bunch of mavericks…"
Instead of offering an immediate answer, Lars studied the imposing adamantium doors and the motionless golden warriors guarding them. It was a surreal and unsettling experience that was still early in the day. He couldn't help but wonder, "So what now?"
Oliver took the lead, and Lars followed suit, embarking on what appeared to be a journey to his new and permanent residence. "We'll head to your new home so you can get settled in," Oliver replied as he walked beside Lars. "And then I'll fill you in on more details before I take off. Hopefully, we won't see much of each other for a while."
Lars couldn't resist a bit of sarcasm, "Gee, and here I thought our friendship was just beginning." At least Oliver was straightforward in addressing his questions. The agent shook his head, and they continued toward Lars's new home.
However, as they walked, Lars's thoughts drifted to what lay ahead. Training and augmentation? The mention of "memetics" by Malcador left him with a sense of unease. He had no prior experience with bionics, and it seemed his future would involve challenges he couldn't fully comprehend.
Should he be worried?
Six months later…
There was a bomb in his head. At least, that was what Lars thought—courtesy of his new augmentations. Then again, maybe it was all in his head, but Lars couldn't shake the feeling, which had come about thanks to the augmentations he had received for becoming the First Scribe. Lars had been given a cortex implant, an MIU, a subdermal communication organ, and enough security features that could hinder even a Vanus, whatever that meant. Then there were the non-cybernetic enhancements. The psy-wards, memetic countermeasures, and "Mnemonic Purging" would allow Lars to protect and compartmentalize everything he sees or hears.
By this point, everything had blurred together in Lars's memory. The names and faces of his instructors were a foggy recollection. Malcador assured him this was a deliberate aspect of his training to safeguard his memories and cognitive integrity.
This approach left Lars feeling uneasy. It was as if he had undergone a servitorization process unknowingly. While enhancing his abilities, the cybernetic augmentations under his skin gave him an unsettling sensation. In the quiet of the night, he could hear an eerie electric hum within his mind.
Lars couldn't shake the feeling that something elusive lurked in his thoughts. His every idea was under surveillance and control, a mental safeguard designed to ensure his compliance and prevent any escape, although escaping from the heart of the Imperial Palace seemed utterly impossible. With Custodians, Sisters of Silence, Solar Auxillia, and the High Lord's network of spies and agents omnipresent, he felt like a caged beast being trained for a performance.
Lars's new apartment defied his humble tastes, embracing grandiosity and luxury in a manner that awed and overwhelmed him. It occupied an expansive space within the Imperial Palace, furnished with an array of cutting-edge technologies. The ambiance was a striking fusion of opulence and functionality, with auto-adjusting temperature controls ensuring constant comfort, while holographic displays provided access to media output on Terra.
Of course, the real treasure was the apartment's gravity pool, a marvel of Imperial engineering that offered moments of rare respite and relaxation. A much-welcome amenity could not even stop the oppressive feeling in the air of his place. Anytime Lars moved through its opulent chambers, the apartment's imposing Gothic architecture loomed overhead, underscoring the weight of his new position.
Yet, what struck him most was the enforced serenity. The apartment was perpetually bathed in dim, artificial light, casting elongated shadows across the ornate walls. The thick, soundproofed walls and windows created an eerie silence, contrasting starkly with the ceaseless activity of the bustling palace beyond. The absence of sound amplified his solitude in this magnificent yet somber abode.
Finding sleep difficult amidst this newfound silence, Lars gravitated toward the apartment's regal library. Here, he immersed himself in the ancient tomes and rare data-slates, savoring the opportunity to delve deeper into the mysteries of the Imperial Palace and the ever-changing state of affairs in the far-reaching Imperium. So, at least Lars wasn't so blind regarding what might come next within this Consilium, which he still only had a vague idea about regarding what it was supposed to achieve.
A few days after Lars had received what was supposed to be his final bio-enhancement, a familiar face appeared at his apartment door. Oliver's stoic expression greeted Lars as he surveyed the entrance.
"Long time no see," Oliver remarked with a brief nod. "Enjoying yourself in the new place?"
Lars let out a scoff, his restlessness was apparent. "Not really," he admitted, his time in isolation starting to wear on him. Memories of simple pleasures like sharing fruits and vegetables with Kim were sorely missed. "I'm going stir-crazy in here. If I didn't have access to a library, I might have honestly considered doing something regrettable."
Oliver's stern expression softened slightly, but his tone remained serious. "Count your blessings. It could always be worse."
Sensing a purpose behind Oliver's visit, Lars asked, "Are you here for a reason, Oliver?"
A nod from the agent confirmed it. "I am. It's time for you to meet your new co-workers."
Navigating the vast and labyrinthine corridors of the Imperial Palace was a perilous endeavor when attempted alone. A single wrong turn could lead to hours of wandering, with encounters often far from helpful. Lars had once found himself face-to-face with a Sister of Silence, an experience that proved about as informative as he had expected.
Given this, it surprised Lars that Oliver could guide him so effortlessly. "How do you know where to go?" Lars inquired, his curiosity piqued.
Oliver's response held a touch of irony. "I've memorized the floor plans for several sections of the Imperial Palace. It becomes a necessary skill once you reach a certain level within the Sigillites." He added, "Tell me, do you remember the names or faces of your instructors?"
Lars shook his head, his memory of the past months a blurry haze. "No, it's all just a giant blur."
The implication didn't escape Lars, and Oliver's nod confirmed it. "Another security feature of training high-level operatives. It's a common experience."
Lars couldn't help but wonder aloud, "And that's considered normal? Doesn't it mess with our minds or our perception of reality?"
Oliver regarded Lars briefly before responding, "That's kind of the point." If he had anything more to say, he kept it to himself. The two men continued to walk in silence after that. As far as Lars was concerned, everyone in the palace was too vague. Oliver hadn't even told him who his co-workers were. Then again, maybe everyone kept their lips tight because they had no choice. Lars didn't want to think about what would happen if he did try to say something he shouldn't have.
After about twenty minutes of walking, passing through a seemingly nonstop series of galleries and treasures on display, they arrived at another non-descript door guarded by a pair of Custodians. Lars wondered why the Emperor used his supposedly most trusted soldiers and companions for such boring details. It wasn't like there weren't enough security features inside the inner palace.
The doors opened automatically, and Lars entered a room with only four others. Lars instantly noticed the large, muscular, stern-looking man sitting in one of the chairs next to a strikingly enigmatic individual whose gender was difficult to discern. The other two people appeared nondescript and somewhat annoyed at Oliver when he entered.
"Ah, Kara, Kochno. I hope you two weren't waiting long."
"Took your sweet time, Oliver." The woman, Kara, said, "The Judicator and Counselor have been waiting quite a while for you to arrive with the Scribe." If Lars had to guess, the stern man and the androgynous individual would be his co-workers.
"Got lost for a moment." Oliver remarked, which caused Lars to glance at him for such a blatant lie, "Still, everyone is now here." He turned and gestured to an empty seat right next to his co-workers. The good news was that Lars was used to working alongside complete strangers. There were so many rotations back at the old section that he rarely used to know anything beyond people's names for months before they went somewhere else. Even so, this felt considerably awkward.
"Alright, the Judicator and Counselor already know each other." The other man, Kochno, said, "So perhaps a quick introduction is in order for Mr. Scriveus?"
"Yeah, sure." Oliver nodded, "Lars, this is Darius Al-Malik and Sacha Nillefrant." Lars politely nodded back at the two people. If Lars had to guess, he was clearly the youngest of his co-workers. Darius certainly looked old, while Sacha had this strange aura that made Lars think they were much older than they appeared.
Lars did the polite thing, "Hello."
Sacha responded with a small smile and a warm, "Hello, dear," their voice carrying a mysterious quality left Lars still unable to discern their gender.
Darius offered a more straightforward nod, stating, "Greetings." The First Judicator, in contrast, had a deep and stern voice that hinted at the potential intensity of their anger, which Lars hoped he wouldn't have to experience firsthand.
Oliver seemed satisfied, "Alright, we're off to a good start. Now, let's get to the purpose of this meeting." With a data-chit in hand, he approached what Lars had initially considered an ordinary table in the center of the room. To Lars' surprise, a small projector appeared at the table's center, revealing its true nature as a holo-projector. As Oliver inserted the data-chit, a series of images sprung to life, showing highlighted guidelines, schedules, and various other pieces of information.
"The three of you are going to do a bit of reading and discussing things while we step out of the room for a few hours." Lars gave him an incredulous look.
"Oliver, aren't you supposed to be briefing or explaining things to us?" Lars inquired. Before Oliver could respond, Darius intervened.
"He doesn't have the clearance," Darius clarified. "This information is need-to-know, and neither of these three needs to know." The First Judicator sent a stern gaze towards Oliver, adding, "You need to work more on your diplomacy, Sigillite. It is quite frankly atrocious." Lars couldn't help but smirk at the chastisement.
"I can help you with that, Mr. Cohen," Sacha smiled. "It wouldn't be that difficult. I've worked wonders with all sorts of clients. I've even taught an Ogryn how to sing beautifully. So, I'm sure I can work something out."
Kara snorted and muttered, loud enough for Lars to hear, "Don't count on it." She also wanted to make sure Oliver knew her opinion before he gestured for Kara and Kochno to follow him.
"We'll be back in an hour or so. Please make sure to memorize everything important by then," The flustered agent stated before Oliver and the other two left the room, locking the door behind them. Lars couldn't believe Oliver thought either would try and "escape." It's not like Lars knew where to go.
After a few seconds of silence, Darius grumbled, "What a duplicitous and unctuous man."
"At least Mr. Kochno had the decency to pretend he wasn't some master operative," Darius continued.
"I liked Kara," Sacha mentioned with a wistful tone. "She was fun to play with." For some reason, Lars didn't want to know what constituted "fun" for this person.
Still, Lars agreed that this whole thing was annoying. He nodded slowly, agreeing, "Oliver is... yeah, I got nothing. He's a bastard."
Darius shook his head, "I must file a complaint with Malcador. This treatment is inexcusable."
Intrigued by the idea, Lars asked, "Can we do that? File a complaint to him?"
Sacha explained, "Darius can. He's the former Chief Justice of the Achaemenid Empire. He helped create the treaty aligning Achaemenid with the Emperor during the Unification Wars."
The First Judicator beamed proudly, "A feat I am most proud of! Because of our efforts, my nation and people have only since benefited here on Terra! The Imperium of Man rewards loyalty, and I shall return the effort with my position here."
Lars found Darius's background quite impressive and a bit intimidating. When Darius mentioned it, he was about to ask Sacha about their background.
Lars turned to Sacha and inquired, "What about you, Sacha?"
Sacha smiled and replied, "I just run a business."
Darius snorted at this, prompting Sacha to explain further. "If you consider Nillefrant Enterprises, which operates the most brothels, joy clubs, gambling houses, and servant programs, just a business, then we must have a different assessment of such things."
Sacha rolled their eyes but continued, "The Nillefrants have provided much-needed services across the entirety of Sol for over seven thousand years. Business has only boomed since the Imperium of Man took control of the warp lanes. I don't have the political, hehe, weight as Darius here."
Darius scoffed at the jest. Sacha said, "But I provide very discreet services to my clients. All their needs, whatever they are, are taken care of. Hence, I am here." Then they both looked expectantly at Lars, "And you, Mr. Scriveus?"
Lars merely shrugged, "I wish I could say I had something grand about me. I'm a scribe. I have some minor noble lineage but was emancipated from my family years ago. Oliver told me I fit a specific profile that Malcador was looking for as First Scribe. Six months ago, I was living an unambitious life... but I guess I answered the call to help the Imperium."
To his surprise, Darius seemed quite satisfied with that answer, "The High Lord has an eye for talent. He doesn't select people for positions on a whim or because of favoritism." That was somewhat a vote of confidence for Lars, although he was starting to suspect that Darius was quite the adherent to the Imperium.
"I can't say I'm familiar with your or Darius's duties," Sacha admitted after a moment, "I'm assuming that is why we were all sent here by our... handlers." They didn't seem to think highly of requiring an escort, and honestly, Lars agreed.
"Yes, yes." Darius remarked impatiently, "We should go over our duties and this information. There is much to discuss, and we evidently have little time." Darius was right; the three could chat while still going over everything. Lars was also curious about what exactly they were supposed to be reviewing.
The trio settled in and started going over everything. Darius took the initiative and started to loudly but clearly read aloud. That was fine with Lars. He was simply recording everything with his new bionics while processing everything. It was a good test run.
One hour later…
The First Judicator was either the most powerful man in the Consilium or just another figurehead. That was the read that Lars got on what duties and authority Darius Al-Malik had with the position. From what Lars gathered, Darius mediated and advised the Princips or High Lords, ensuring debates and discussions didn't reach a deadlock. While he didn't have a direct vote, Darius held the power to declare a final judgment on any matter in dispute. His expertise lay in Imperial law and political treaties, making him a vital source of knowledge within the Consilium.
Lars gradually grasped the significant role Sacha Nillefrant played as the First Counselor. Initially, it might not have seemed impressive, but as the three of them delved into the structure of a Consilium session, it became apparent that their responsibilities were rigorous and multifaceted. Sacha was entrusted with keeping the High Lords content and productive while safeguarding their secrets. This entailed a wide array of tasks, from ensuring the safety and satisfaction of their food and drinks to guaranteeing they didn't feel like their time was wasted during a session. Sacha's role was pivotal in maintaining the Consilium's functionality.
Lars began to comprehend the demanding nature of his role as the First Scribe. As Oliver had mentioned, his primary duty was to meticulously record, memorize, and summarize every aspect of the Consilium sessions. While he didn't have to engage with the High Lords or make significant decisions, he was expected to document every word, action, decision, and event during marathon ten-hour-long sessions that spanned an entire week. When this task was discussed among the three, even Darius, with all his experience, appeared somewhat apprehensive about the endurance required of everyone involved.
Lars couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the thought of multiple sessions a year, excluding emergencies. He turned to Darius and inquired, "Isn't this a bit much?"
The First Judicator, fanning himself with a silk handkerchief, said, "Well, we must all make sacrifices in these trying times. These Princips are entrusted with a prestigious and crucial duty. Besides, the Sigillite will undoubtedly select individuals with the discipline and determination to endure a few hours of talking."
Sacha chimed in, "I partially agree with Darius. Everyone will still enjoy the treasures of the Imperial Palace and have their needs catered to. I'm sure it won't be that bad." However, they couldn't hide their unease about other aspects, "The information blackout is a bit... worrisome. People may not like being informed that all outbound and inbound communication will be suspended."
Lars was taken aback by this revelation. Once a Consilium session commenced, those involved were effectively confined to the palace for an entire week, with no contact with the outside galaxy allowed. This was to prevent information from being transmitted prematurely and, more concerningly, to keep vital details from reaching the wrong parties.
Darius remained optimistic, offering, "It's just a week. Some of the Princips might even appreciate being cut off from the rest of the galaxy. They can call it a working vacation. Besides, if the Sigillite deems it necessary, he can always call off a session early." Darius had another point; it wasn't a prison. Those involved could leave a session but might risk losing their position if they weren't dedicated enough to the task.
The more Lars delved into the guidelines, parameters, and tenets, the more he realized that the Consilium sessions were tightly focused and controlled meetings of the minds. High Lords were prohibited from wasting time on frivolous topics, engaging in pedantic arguments and debates, or dragging discussions endlessly. If everyone agreed on a topic early, they would swiftly move on to the next and continue until the session concluded for the day, to reconvene tomorrow for further deliberations.
The consilium's rules and regulations baffled Lars as he delved deeper into the intricacies. "Silent voting? Time limits? Random seating?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. Then his eyes widened as he encountered a particularly intriguing clause, "No dueling allowed?"
Sacha sighed, exasperated by the notion, "Yes, the last thing I want to see is someone forcing my attendants to fight for my supposed honor. Honestly, some lords can be so childish." Darius seemed embarrassed, hinting at his possible involvement in past honor duels.
"I suppose they can be a little distracting," Darius muttered, wiping his brow, "Things get a little heated occasionally." Lars and Sacha exchanged knowing glances and rolled their eyes, recognizing the unpredictability of the High Lords' behaviors.
But a different point in the Silent Voting clause truly stunned Lars. "The First Scribe will identify the votes for recording," he read aloud, his voice filled with confusion, "I... I don't understand. It's a silent vote."
Darius clarified the matter, "It's not a blind vote, though. A blind vote can be called, but you'll typically need to record who voted for what."
"What?" Lars exclaimed, the implications dawning on him, "WHAT?!" He realized he would be the sole keeper of the knowledge about who voted for what. In essence, he was the only one to know the outcome of a particular vote with absolute certainty. Suddenly, he grasped the magnitude of the situation.
"Darius, that can't be fair to the Princips!" Lars confronted the Judicator, his frustration evident, "This undermines the very purpose of a blind or silent vote if I record who voted for what."
Yet the Judicator shook his head, offering an alternative perspective, "It's not about fairness to the Princips. Rather, it's designed to prevent arguments or backstabbing. As far as you should be concerned, it's perfectly fine to do."
Sacha interjected, reassuring Lars, "Lars, you aren't required to disclose anything. They won't know about you tallying the real votes if you don't share this with anyone else." Their calming words sought to ease his anxiety. It didn't help. Lars was starting to feel agitated.
Things weren't helped when there was a knock on the door, and Oliver stepped inside, "Alright, times up. You three can snag a copy on the way out. I hope you went over everything thoroughly." The agent then looked over at Lars and noticed how agitated he looked. "What's with him?"
Darius crossed his arms, "Lars believes that a few points put him in a potentially awkward position of knowing too much."
"He's about to be in the center of galactic policy-making; of course, he fucking knows too much." Oliver rebutted before turning to Lars, "Man in the middle, Lars." He repeated that point as if that brought Lars any comfort. "Besides, I need you all to get your heads on straight. Word just reached us. The first session of the Consilium Princips is in one week now."
"What?" Darius interjected again, "That can't be right. I was told that two spots aren't filled out yet on the Consilium."
Oliver shrugged, "That is no longer being considered for decision-making. The Emperor has ordered the first session be held within the next week."
"Is our glorious Emperor showing up?" Sacha asked with peaked curiosity, but they and Darius were both disappointed when Oliver shook his head. Even Lars felt considerable disappointment at not being able to see the Master of Mankind. Granted, there might be other opportunities next time.
Oliver walked back over to get the data-chit. "A reminder to everyone, but please keep this information to yourself. None of you want to be on the receiving end of whatever the Sigillite has in store if you break operational security."
Darius waved off the remark while Sacha rolled their eyes. Lars could only feel a headache coming on as he processed just how important his functionality was, starting to look beyond just recording a few exchanges. When he thought things couldn't get any more chaotic, the galaxy tossed this at him. The weight of his role in the upcoming session sank in, and Lars knew he had a lot to prepare for mentally.
One week later…
The past week had slipped by in a hazy whirlwind for Lars. Amid the blur, only his regular meetings with Darius and Sacha seemed to stand out. These gatherings had quickly become part of his routine. The First Scribe, Judicator, and Counselor had formed an amicable bond as they recognized the urgency of their mission.
It was indeed a blessing. Despite their contrasting backgrounds, Lars had no difficulty getting along with his new colleagues. Despite his loud and boisterous demeanor, Darius possessed a keen intellect and a fondness for engaging in conversations. On the other hand, Sacha had an endless trove of stories to share. Although Lars had not learned much about them, he found their company quite enjoyable.
It certainly helped relieve some of the stress that built up after their first meeting. Once Lars calmed down, he figured he didn't need to tell anyone that he was reading the silent votes and leave it at that. As far as anyone was concerned, it was completely fair. He didn't need to confirm or deny it either. Besides, he wasn't sure anyone would be looking to him for details, not when they could try their luck with Darius.
Nevertheless, the time came for the first session of the Consilium Princips. Lars knew he had to dress the part. After careful consideration, he asked Sacha to help, and they were able to send a few people over to help Lars, who were able to decide on attire that would befit his role and the importance of the event.
Lars was given an ornate robe, its deep blue fabric adorned with intricate embroidery and embellishments that symbolized the significance of the gathering. Beneath the robe, he wore a high-collared, crisp white shirt with delicate lace and embroidery, adding an extra layer of formality.
Matching the dark blue robe, he chose well-tailored trousers, ensuring that every element of his outfit exuded a sense of dignity and regality. He cinched the robe with a golden belt, adding a touch of splendor. Lars completed his ensemble with elegant dress shoes that harmonized with the overall attire, ensuring his flawless appearance.
He didn't look that bad, but Lars wouldn't make this his standard dress. As the appointed hour drew near, a Custodian arrived to escort Lars. It was late morning, and the anticipation was palpable. He had been informed that the inaugural session would occur within the Throneroom. The very thought sent shivers of excitement down his spine. Who wouldn't be eager to glimpse the Golden Throne?
Marching toward the Throneroom, Lars was plagued by a gnawing unease as if a storm brewed in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't help but reflect on his life's remarkable twist. He had aspired for a tranquil and uneventful existence, yet he now found himself part of something extraordinary, the fulcrum of an intricate design, the "man in the middle," as Oliver had aptly put it. A mixture of exhilaration and anxiety churned within him, trying to grasp the magnitude of it all.
As he proceeded, the Imperial Palace's vast corridors teemed with Custodians, servants, and the relentless hum of servitors, all of whom made way for him. Lars tried to remind himself that their deference wasn't directed at him as a person but at his station as the First Scribe. Nonetheless, the attention he received felt overwhelming and left him somewhat embarrassed. They treated him as though he were a herald of the Emperor or one of his esteemed sons, a role he wasn't entirely comfortable with.
As he moved further inside, the ongoing construction near the awe-inspiring Golden Throne didn't catch Lars entirely off guard. It seemed like the Imperial Palace was in a perpetual state of expansion and renewal, an ever-changing monument to the Imperium's might. However, he couldn't ignore the strange sensations that had begun to wash over him. It was as if something intangible, something beyond mere physicality, was gently brushing against his mind and soul as they approached the entrance to the Throneroom.
When they finally reached the entrance, Lars was perplexed by the absence of doors or walls. It was as if he had passed through an ethereal membrane, and the sight that greeted him was breathtaking. The Golden Throne stood in all its radiant splendor, almost blinding in its brilliance. It was like gazing upon the sun without the searing pain in his eyes, leaving him to grapple with the overwhelming beauty and significance of what lay before him. The sheer scale of the chamber, the towering statues, and the intricate details etched into every surface filled him with awe.
As the initial overwhelming sensation passed, Lars's mortal mind adjusted to the brilliant radiance of the Golden Throne. He shifted from a state of reverence to one of deep appreciation for the magnificent craftsmanship and sheer power that the Emperor's great work represented.
Still, Lars couldn't ignore the discomfort of the intense brightness. It was almost obnoxiously bright, and he wondered whether this was natural or if some artificial light source contributed to it. The thought of having a ten-hour meeting in such an environment made him reconsider the practicality of the Throneroom as a meeting place.
Lars reminded himself that he was here to fulfill his duties, record the proceedings, and serve the Imperium to the best of his abilities. He mentally steeled himself for the upcoming session, hoping his eyes would eventually adjust to the luminosity and allow him to focus on the matters at hand.
He was promptly guided to Darius and Sacha, who stood near a row of anti-grav platforms situated at the base of the Golden Throne. A nearby tech-priest explained these platforms would be utilized by the Princips and their staff, including Lars, Darius, and Sacha's attendants. Each platform had powerful short-range communication devices and featured enough creature comforts to qualify as a floating living room.
Despite the awe-inspiring surroundings, the trio remained focused on their preparations. After they had taken a moment to absorb the grandeur of their location and the significance of the event, it was time to delve into the business at hand.
Their attention shifted as one of the Sisters of Silence approached, presenting each of them with a tome containing instructions from Malcador, who was notably absent from these proceedings. The directives provided to Lars were clear and concise: stay vigilant for anything unusual during these proceedings and maintain silence unless directly questioned. It wasn't presented as a warning but as valuable guidance.
Following this brief exchange, Lars was guided to his designated anti-grav platform and instructed to establish a connection with its machine spirit. It took a few moments for the tech-priests to complete the necessary cybernetic connections, but once Lars had offered the required invocations, the platform's spirit yielded control to him.
Lars settled into his, thankfully, comfortable seat for the forthcoming hours, yet his mind was too preoccupied with adjusting to the newfound capabilities afforded by the platform's advanced technology. With this remarkable interface, he could "see" in all directions from multiple perspectives. Data flowed seamlessly into his consciousness, processed by his cortex implant. It felt as though he was performing the work of twenty individuals, and he marveled at the efficiency of his newfound abilities.
The moment the platform began hovering, Lars entered an equally surreal experience. He felt he had left his physical body behind and merged with the apparatus he now controlled. Voices and vox transmissions filled his auditory senses, allowing him to eavesdrop on conversations around him. At this moment, Lars grasped the extent of his augmented faculties, which included the capacity to overhear and analyze discussions without anyone knowing. That seemed too powerful for his position, but what could he do?
Because only a few moments later, a warning was sent to his implant. The Princips were arriving now. It was time to begin the first day of the first session of the first meeting of the Consilium Princips. The galaxy would never be the same after this.
As with the inception of any significant event, inevitable challenges arose. The initial hurdle was the orderly entry of all the Princips, which posed a minor inconvenience for the Custodians, barring a few exceptions. Naturally, the high-ranking attendees were filled with queries about the nature of the proceedings. They inquired about why this session was convened at the very base of the Golden Throne, why each gathering would span an extensive ten hours, and why the throneroom was to be hermetically sealed.
The initial arrival was marked by Edric the Steersman, the delegate for the Navigators. His presence was as unsettling as his unnaturally altered physiology, which made it challenging for some attendees to meet his gaze. Shortly thereafter, Tarasha Euten entered, the representative of the Primarchs. It was evident that her tenure among the Princips was likely temporary.
Following them, Lord-Militant Eli Lanatus, Voice of the Imperial Army, and Sota-Nul, the Voice of the Mechanicum, arrived in quick succession. Lord-Militant Lanatus assumed his position confidently, while Sota-Nul, representing the Mechanicum, displayed quiet authority.
In stark contrast, figures like Chief Custodian Constantin Valdor, the enigmatic Vandal Cartou of the Adeptus Scientifica, and the composed Grand Master of Assassins, Erevan, took to their platforms with an unwavering resolve, unburdened by doubts or concerns. They stood poised and waited patiently for the remaining Princips to gather.
On the other hand, the process was less seamless for individuals like Maria Polo, the Voice of the Rogue Traders, Anastus Corus, the Steward of the Imperium, and Julius Peius, Chief Officer of the Office of Strategic Services. Each exhibited signs of misconception or apprehension, particularly regarding the security measures implemented for this inaugural session.
As all the Princips took their seats, the anti-grav platforms gracefully awoke and ascended into the air, eliciting astonishment from a few attendees due to their theatricality. Once everyone was comfortably settled, a brief round of introductions commenced. Darius assumed the role of the host speaker, elaborating on the session's procedures, rules, and allowances available to each Princips. Everyone seemed to accept them, at least publicly.
Sacha was also introduced, to the surprise of those who knew of them. Their attendants stood ready and poised to cater to the Princips' needs, including serving food, drinks, and other amenities through a group of "angelic-looking" servitors who would efficiently transport any requested items to the respective platforms.
Lars was also introduced to the assembly. Darius emphasized that should anyone need to review specific spoken words or provide data; they could direct their inquiries to him, underscoring his role as the First Scribe.
Darius proceeded to unveil a speech written by the Emperor of Mankind, while the First Judicator apologized on the Emperor's behalf for missing this momentous occasion due to security concerns that had been brought to his attention. The speech was riveting and compelling, taking only a few minutes for Darius to deliver. As tradition and politeness dictated, the assembled members all rose to their feet, offering applause to honor the occasion.
To further underscore the significance of this event, Darius explained that each participant had been privately encouraged to bring a token of goodwill, intended as a gesture either for the Princips themselves or for the betterment of the Imperium. Lars observed quietly, pondering what each member had chosen to contribute to this gathering.
Darius randomly selected Tarasha Euten to be the first to speak. The Representative of the Primarchs began by announcing that Roboute Guilliman and Corvus Corax had pledged to continually deploy one hundred thousand Astartes to assist Imperial Army operations of a "substantial" degree. This commitment received widespread approval and set a positive tone for the proceedings.
Following this, Sota-Nul took the floor and declared that the Mechanicum had reached an agreement, signed by Kelbor-Hal and the Martian Parliament, to reduce prices for the Imperium by 5% across the board. The announcement was met with enthusiastic support from the assembled members, recognizing the significant benefits this would bring.
Eli Lanatus then had his turn to address the Consilium. He presented a substantial list containing the names of 10,000 generals, admirals, commanders, and other distinguished officers who had reaffirmed their loyalty to his position as Lord-Militant and recognized the authority of the Consilium. While less flashy than the previous announcements, this list demonstrated the considerable influence and respect the Consilium held over high-ranking military leaders.
Anastus Corus followed, revealing the Codices Consilium, a binding legal document granting the Princips sweeping powers and the ability to codify their laws into the very foundations of the Imperium of Man and the Administratum. The Codices Consilium also provided each Princips with a high degree of legal protection and political authority, including protection from prosecution—except by the personal guard of the Emperor or Sigillites—the ability to pardon non-treasonous criminals, and the authority to recruit or command Planetary Defense Forces and Enforcers in emergencies. This announcement caused some commotion, but the majority recognized the necessity of such measures.
Following that was Erevan, the Grand Master of Assassins, who made his offer without much preamble. He invited each of his fellow Princips, both at the current gathering and for the future, to receive a Callidus assassin as a personal bodyguard for an indefinite duration. He emphasized that those who did not wish for this service could explore alternative arrangements to suit their preferences.
Vandal Cartou's announcement was greeted with a smirk as he revealed that the Adeptus Scientifica had developed several new technologies to be shared with all members of the Consilium. These included something known as "the Boot" and many new vehicle designs. It was a relatively modest gift in comparison to the others.
Then Edric presented a compendium of maps obtained from 24 Navigator Houses. These maps contained valuable information on particularly perilous warp routes that could significantly shorten essential logistical lines across various points in the galaxy. It was a strategic contribution that garnered appreciation from the assembly.
Maria Polo's announcement resonated with intrigue as she revealed that an alliance of Rogue Traders had discovered the location of several immense and incredibly wealthy stockpiles of adamantium. She boldly asserted that these findings could provide enough precious material to build a small empire. The evidence presented, which Lars could observe, supported her claims, and the implications were not lost on the gathering.
Constantin Valdor rose when his turn came, exuding an air of authority and gravitas that was befitting his position. In his resonant voice, he declared that each member would be bestowed with five plates of forged Auramite, granting them the freedom to employ these precious materials as they saw fit. With this proclamation finished, the Chief Custodian returned to his seat without further elaboration, his message delivered with an air of finality.
Julius Peius took his turn to speak and, with a tone of stern authority, announced that the Office of Strategic Services had compiled a list of 258 individuals. Each name on the list represented an enemy seeking to undermine the unity and efforts of those gathered within the Consilium. As he continued to speak, he unveiled that the list contained names of notable individuals, including a striking accusation directed at the Lord Commander of Ultima, Soraya Van Sterk, and high-ranking members of the Imperial Army who are believed to be conspiring against the new Lord-Militant and the Assassins. This revelation stirred considerable commotion among certain members, sparking conversations and debates about the seriousness of such allegations.
As the host and First Judicator, Darius brought the gift-giving session to a close. He expressed his wishes that the Voices of Nobility and History seats were also filled, but several complications made it not so. Nevertheless, he emphasized that the gifts presented during this inaugural event were generous and bountiful, truly serving their fellow Princips and the entire Imperium. His words conveyed gratitude and unity, marking the occasion's significance.
Darius's tone shifted to a more serious note as he announced it was time to address the first item on the day's agenda: Primarch Vulkan's reforms. The members settled into their seats. It was going to be a long day.
Nine and half hours later…
Lars was on the brink of exhaustion. Given how taxing the day had been, he couldn't help but wonder how the others felt. Surprisingly, Eli, Valdor, Erevan, Vandal, and Sota-Nul managed to conceal their weariness, though their mental fatigue was apparent due to the constant debates and arguments. These giants of the Imperium even relied on the services of the First Counselor to bring some relief to the relentless discussions. The brief breaks allowed for stretching legs or a restroom visit but lasted no more than fifteen minutes at a time.
The entire session had felt like an unending barrage of discussions, often escalating into shouting matches that required Darius's intervention to maintain order. The divisiveness of the reform topic was evident, as the main argument against it revolved around the cost to the Imperium. It wasn't just about finances, although that was a significant concern. The opposition also considered the costs of manpower, time, resources, and the inevitable loss of life resulting from the ensuing chaos and uncertainty.
No one questioned the value of the lives saved through the reforms, but the price of depleted resources was a concerning trade-off. What would happen to the Imperium if it had a quarter million fewer regiments, half a million fewer tanks, and hundreds of thousands of fewer ships, all due to the reforms that would take at least a century to complete? The Primarch Vulkan's supporters believed firmly in the benefits outweighing the inevitable hardships, anticipating a previously unimaginable surge in production, quality, and morale throughout the Imperium. To them, a century was a speck of the Imperium's vast planning that lay thousands of years ahead.
Back and forth, the debate went. Every hour brought on new complaints or objections. Throughout it all, Lars had to repeatedly showcase his skills as members asked him to replay past conversations from hours ago to support or debunk their arguments. It had been a grueling battle, less of a chaotic circus and more of an intellectual arena where minds and wills clashed.
The Princips weren't individuals who had climbed to their positions through nepotism, greed, or murder. They had earned their places because they had the will and capability to be there. This assembly consisted of visionaries, idealists, pessimists, and determined individuals, each aiming to gain more than they might lose through participation in the Consilium.
Finally, it was time for the vote, which would be both silent and anonymous. Darius invited each member to make a final plea or objection before voting. The collective fatigue weighed heavily on everyone. Lord Militant Eli delivered an impassioned speech, trying to persuade others to choose the "pragmatic" path. Lars suspected he was putting on quite a show and might not truly believe in the reforms.
The First Judicator glanced only once at Lars, and the First Scribe felt a bit of weight upon his soul as the votes were tallied up in seconds. He saw the results.
5 vs 4, the majority was against the reforms.
So the Consilium decided. The Imperium would neither support nor condone the reforms.
The first session concluded, and everyone retreated to their prepared rooms for the night. However, the respite was brief for Lars, Darius, and Sacha. They had to spend another hour reviewing the day's events and assembling a compendium for Malcador. Lars had experienced taxing shifts before, but today had taken a toll like no other.
And they knew they would have to do it again tomorrow and repeat this process until the end of the week.
"This is insane," Lars remarked to Darius and Sacha as they enjoyed dinner together, "We have the Golden Throne practically blinding us, that persistent piercing in our skulls, and spending ten hours listening to arguments and debates? It's no wonder dueling wasn't allowed because if I was stuck in that room trying to argue my point, I might as well settle things with one."
But the First Judicator huffed as he poured himself more of some expensive wine, "Nonsense! The Princips handled themselves exceptionally well!" He then looked a little considerate at Lars' claims, "I will admit that the environment is unorthodox…but it is still entirely doable. Why, I remember presiding over a local election that lasted sixteen weeks, and we'd sometimes spend all day and night inside those political halls until a decision was reached!"
"Darius, don't you think this is still a bit much?" Sacha asked while they ate what looked to be an expensive and exquisite-looking dish of Neptune origin, "The Princips were exhausted by the fifth hour. I know this because all the orders at the halfway point were for recaff and even a few designer stims. I noticed the blood sugar, norepinephrine, and orexin levels were also low." This was the first time that Lars heard that Sacha could monitor the biometric readings of the Princips. Did that include the Custodian Chief?
"Is it truly wise or fair to have people make these decisions under what could be considered duress?" Sacha asked her companion, "Otherwise, future Princips might be picked solely based on having the necessary endurance and patience rather than capability or proper motivation."
The First Judicator grimaced but then slowly nodded, "Hrm, you have a point," Darius conceded after considering the matter, his eyes drifting over their exquisite meal. "I understand that the Princips need to consider their decisions properly…but perhaps not all topics require the full session length. I might consider adjusting the session lengths depending on the complexity and significance of the topic."
Lars seized the opportunity, nodding in agreement. "That's precisely what I was suggesting. It's about finding a balance. Those with far-reaching consequences should be closely examined and argued before being decided upon. However, not every topic is going to be as galaxy-shaking as something like the reforms. This has to be examined case by case. Because I mean, come on, at what point does this go from pragmatism to arguing semantics?"
Darius leaned back and sipped his wine; his thoughts clearly focused on the ethical dimension of the issue. "I do see where you are both coming from. But also, put yourself in the shoes of the people affected by these decisions. If it were your loved ones' fate at stake, your community, or even your entire world, wouldn't you want those in charge to examine the merits and consequences of each side thoroughly? What if the Consilium is asked to decide on the cost of exporting grains or who will now qualify for conscription for the Imperial Army or Armada? Should those be considered "low stakes" by the Princips and effectively handled within an hour or two so they can move on to more important topics? To me, that isn't fair to anyone."
Lars paused, contemplating Darius's words. As exhausting as the ten-hour sessions were, the gravity of the Consilium's decisions couldn't be understated. Their rulings were, by the words of the Emperor, absolute unless overturned by the Master of Mankind or the Sigillite. These Princips were not just debating policies but shaping the future of countless lives across the galaxy. And if it were his family, community, and world, he'd prefer those making those choices to be diligent, even if it meant enduring long hours of debate.
With a resigned nod, Lars conceded that Darius had a point, "Damn it. I can't say that I would want that to happen. But we have to do something to prevent exhaustion and frustration. Otherwise, we'll have Princips deciding on what is the most time-efficient for themselves."
"That or they will see the Consilium as a waste of time." Sacha warned, "Darius, I think it will be up to you to decide during a session. If the tone and feel of the Princips are aligned toward a particular ruling, it won't matter if we extend the debate. We can't force them to argue for or against a particular ruling."
Lars thought that was the best option, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth, "My chief concern is that…what happens if someone, mind you in future Consiliums, got to the Princips and convinced them all to vote on a particular ruling one way? The session starts, and everyone agrees right from the get-go? Wouldn't that be a little suspicious?"
Darius wiped his brow, looking uncomfortable, "Democratic solutions to government decision-making have an uncomfortable trend of exactly that happening, Mr. Scriveus. There is all manner of mischief that can come about. The best hope is to maintain a blind selection for future Princips. A recommendation I will make to the High Lord." The more Lars thought about it, the more he noticed just how much power the Emperor and Malcador still had with their supposed "replacement" government.
Setting his empty wine glass down, Darius started wiping his hands with a napkin, "I think we've all had enough 'shop talk' tonight. Finish your meals and then retire to your rooms for rest. It will be another long day tomorrow, especially with the topic."
Lars couldn't help but wonder, "Dare I ask what the Consilium is debating now?"
Darius grimaced, "The execution of Primarch Angron."
Day Two…
Yesterday had been a particularly heated series of debates. Lars suspected as much due to the wider implications the reforms could have had on the greater Imperium. Today was different, though. The Consilium was debating the fate of one man—a Primarch.
The atmosphere in the throneroom crackled with tension as soon as the topic for today was announced, and Lars suspected that everyone here would have a lot to say. The first was Constantin Valdor, who didn't bother waiting for his turn or direction from Darius.
His blunt stance was simple: "Angron has proven to be a failure. His actions, whether malicious design or gross incompetence, nearly brought the Imperium to the brink of civil war with the Desolation. There is only one fate that awaits him now." He finished shortly after that.
Tarasha Euten was picked next, this time by the First Judicator. She presented several testimonies from the Primarchs and other Astartes speaking on behalf of Angron. These words were stirring, but they did not seek to prove that the Red Angel was worthy of mercy. Instead, they appeared to be a compelling indictment of the Emperor for allowing Angron to command a domain and his legion. She believed that the only just course of action was to execute Angron.
Her argument centered on the idea that the Primarchs had been allowed to escape the consequences of their actions, time and time again. Everyone was willing to look the other way because it was necessary. But the Desolation was too much. Any ordinary individual would have already been executed for it long ago. While war was inherently brutal, there came a threshold beyond which such transgressions could not be forgiven or ignored, and the Desolation had certainly crossed that line.
When it was his turn to speak, Eli abstained from the vote. He explained that he didn't want to incur the anger of Primarch Mortarion, who had a close relationship with Angron. However, Eli did acknowledge that the consequences of the Desolation would continue to haunt the Imperium for generations, and he believed Angron to be at the root of the problem. His abstention reflected the delicate and intricate political dynamics within the Consilium.
Similar sentiments were shared with the Voice of the Rogue Traders, the Grand Master, and the Navigators. However, they did not feel the need to explain further.
On the other hand, those who advocated for executing Angron presented their arguments with fervor and conviction. Vandal highlighted the significant loss of life and extensive damage inflicted on numerous sectors that made up the Desolation. He pointed out that the massacres Angron and his forces committed, followed by the ones from Imperials cleaning up the mess, had sown the seeds for future rebellions that would plague the Imperium for the next thousand years.
Anastus focused on the economic costs that ordinary Imperial citizens would bear for the next two centuries due to the Desolation. He emphasized how the financial burden on the populace would lead to enduring hardships and challenges.
Julius provided a detailed account of the fallout from the Desolation, including the thousands of officers, millions of soldiers, and countless others who had gone rogue. He explained how these defectors would lead to tens of millions of deaths in future insurgencies, rebellions, and other conflicts, further emphasizing the long-term consequences of Angron's actions.
In contrast, Sota-Nul presented a unique proposal, advocating for Angron's imprisonment instead of execution. However, his argument was not grounded in altruism. The Mechanicum offered to pay the Imperium for the opportunity to "examine the Primarch under specific conditions." Sota-Nul argued that it was both logical and fair not to squander the chance to further understand and harness the potential that Angron's biology still represented, even if it had been tragically wasted until now.
By the sixth hour, everyone seemed quite finished making their arguments. Darius called for the vote after the Princips made their last appeals. Lars saw something interesting: Valdor, who appeared initially to favor execution, abstained from the vote.
Yet that didn't matter. It ended in a 4 vs 1 in favor of execution. Primarch Angron would be sentenced to death. Officially, his crimes would be determined by the Emperor and Malcador, but Lars saw that it was more than likely for charges of gross incompetence.
Darius ended the session before remarking, "Let justice be done though the heavens fall." It made Lars shudder.
Day Three…
The preceding night remained relatively calm, allowing some of the Princips to engage with one another. Surprisingly, the session ended four hours earlier than expected. Darius later confessed that he had wrapped up the session prematurely because the next item on the agenda pertained to the Lord-Militant's use of the Imperium's budget.
Another extremely contested topic, it seemed. More so than even yesterday. Again, this involved the fate of entire planets because the Lord-Militant had gone into extensive debt spending from what Lars was hearing during the proceedings.
Anastus was the first to speak, and he, as the Steward of the Imperium, acknowledged that the spending appeared, to put it mildly, extravagant when viewed from a budgetary perspective. However, he contended that debt spending was not necessarily detrimental to a government. Eli, who had thoroughly investigated the matter, declared that while the upcoming economic recession might be painful, the Imperium would ultimately endure. He further explained that the technologies acquired from lost technology, recovered worlds, and emerging industries would be capable of compensating for the downturn.
Julius was next to speak and echoed his support for Eli's spending decisions. The Office of Strategic Services believed that the substantial resources allocated to the Imperial war machine ultimately resulted in cost savings. The reason was straightforward: intelligence agencies had been significantly understaffed and underfunded, making it impossible to tackle the corruption and embezzlement issues that had been rampant. By increasing resources dedicated to defense spending, the Imperium was effectively rooting out elements within its own ranks that were diverting funds from more critical programs.
Darius then turned to Valdor, who fully supported Eli's spending decisions. The Chief Custodian believed the Imperium's economy was poised for explosive growth as more worlds and technologies were recovered. Moreover, the new economic procedures and practices developed by the Administraum and Primarchs would enable the Imperium to weather any financial challenges. Valdor mentioned that both the Emperor and the Sigillite were confident in this reasoning, though he directed his remarks towards the broader Imperium and not specifically towards the Lord-Militant. Eli, upon hearing this, rolled his eyes.
Maria was then called to make her remarks. She abstained. Then Edric was called. He, too, abstained. None gave any real reasoning. Lars suspected it was because neither the Rogue Traders nor Navigators were affected much by this. Eli seemed happy with this.
Sota-Nul was the first to diverge from the consensus, presenting a gloomy outlook by suggesting that the economic crash would drastically impact the Mechanicum. She backed her arguments with comprehensive data, painting a bleak picture where the production of new weapons, armor, vehicles, aircraft, and ships would come to a dead standstill for as long as two years. Production could resume only after extensive negotiations within the Martian Parliament and then with the Imperium of Man. She admitted that this was the nightmare scenario but warned the possibility of this happening, or even getting worse, could have a probability as high as 40%.
When it was Vandal's turn to speak, he didn't stop tearing apart several arguments by the "Yes" side. He presented many situations and examples to illustrate how debt spending could cripple the Imperium's economy. He emphasized that their fixation on expansion was suffocating the average citizen and raised a critical question: if they committed to economic self-destruction and then faced a new major threat, how would the Imperium be able to confront it? Vandal didn't especially didn't spare Valdor from his criticism, pointing out that while human courage and determination were admirable, the average trooper would lose the will to fight if they struggled to secure essential supplies like ammunition, food, fuel, or vehicle replacement parts.
When it was Tarasha Euten's turn to speak, she expanded upon the points made by Vandal and presented a bleak picture of the consequences. She mentioned that her son, Roboute Guilliman, had meticulously analyzed the data and conveyed his readiness to take "regrettable" measures to prevent the Lord-Militant from driving the galaxy off a cliff. Tarasha underlined that individuals in the middle and lower classes would experience a significant decline in their quality of life, possibly for a century. The nobility, too, would see their wealth dwindle by as much as 60%. Prices for essentials like food, fuel, and clean air would soar, with nearly a 300% increase within a decade of economic collapse, potentially lasting for a generation. As Sota-Nul had warned, entire planetary industries would grind to a halt, leaving trillions needing new employment opportunities and further exacerbating the scarcity of resources and positions.
Following Tarasha's detailed argument against the spending, Erevan supported Eli's decisions. The Grand Master of Assassins emphasized that debt spending was the right decision. The Imperium had been reeling in the aftermath of the Desolation, and the previous Lord-Militant's attempt to resolve these issues by reducing spending across the board had merely prolonged the crisis. Erevan didn't rely on hard data for his argument but rather on the notion that, sometimes, drastic measures were essential.
Finally, it was time for Eli, who adopted a confident smirk and stated, "The Imperium asked for leadership to make the hard choices. You all got me. Now, I can stand here and repeat the same things or argue against the opposition points, but let's face it…we're already on the way to a collapse. But I promise you that we will ride it out and survive. You are free to choose as you see fit, but I want you to keep this in mind: I have a plan, and so far, it's been working well for us all."
At nine hours and 48 minutes, the First Judicator called for the vote.
5 vs 3, the majority in favor of continuing the budget spending. The Consilium would stay the course and hope to come out on the other side relatively unscathed.
Lars sighed with a heavy breath as he collapsed onto his cozy and comfortable bed. Today was brutal for just about everyone. The Princips directed numerous inquiries at him, and Darius was likewise exhausted. Sacha seemed particularly frazzled this evening, so everyone had agreed to have dinner alone.
Lars, however, wasn't hungry. He honestly just wanted to sleep. His mind felt strange after every session, and sleep seemed to be the only thing that allowed his thoughts to straighten themselves out. Even then, Lars was having peculiar dreams. The Golden Throne might have been responsible for that.
Just as he started drifting into slumber, a sudden knock on his door pulled him back to the waking world. The First Scribe knew from Darius that ignoring anybody here wasn't ever a good idea. The last thing you wanted to do was keep a Custodian or Sister of Silence waiting.
Upon opening the door, Lars was quite confused to see none other than the head of the OSS, Julius Peius. The man had a neutral look, "First Scribe."
Lars politely nodded, "Chief Officer." There was an awkward pause, "May I help you with something?"
"Let's take a walk, if you don't mind." Lars did mind, but something told him that telling a Princips to fuck off wasn't a good idea. Still, this was quite brazen of Julius to request from him.
As Lars stepped into the hallway, he briefly noticed a smirking Lord-Militant Eli a short distance away, shaking his head before turning back around the way he came. It seemed like Julius hadn't been the only one to seek out the First Scribe.
The two started walking, with Julius keeping his voice low, "You've been doing a great job, son."
Lars stiffly nodded, "Thank you, sir."
"I want you to know that the OSS has your back," Julius continued. Lars blinked at this, "Don't act too surprised. Our division might be new, but the founders are highly skilled at recognizing talent."
"I can imagine," Lars replied. He didn't know who the founders were, but he suspected they were likely quite dangerous if they were anything like Julius. "And I appreciate the positive standing I have with the OSS."
The two arrived at a small garden, which Lars noted had no safety railings. The First Scribe was starting to feel a bit nervous. "The founders wanted me to ask if you'd be open to extending a hand of friendship."
Oh, great. Lars made sure to keep his back away from the railing. "I'm not at liberty to accept such things."
"This isn't a gift or a bribe. It's simply a confirmation that we are on the same page."
If Lars survived this, he might start carrying around a gun when he leaves his room, "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."
"That you are loyal to the Imperium. I already know you are, but the founders need confirmation from a vetted member." Julius tapped his head with a smirk, "Trust but verify, Mr. Scriveus."
Lars stared momentarily, "So this just all a formality then?"
"As I said, I just wanted to tell you that you are doing a good job, and the hand of friendship has been extended. The OSS could have used someone like you. How you slipped by our fingers or even the clades is a mystery."
The wind blew across Lars, although that wasn't what made him shiver, "It's a mystery, alright."
Julius's hand reached out, causing Lars to tense as the chief officer simply patted his shoulder in appreciation, "It's good to know that we have someone like you who can keep so many secrets for us in the Consilium. It's good to know that everyone can…speak freely."
"Just like now?"
The man stared at Lars before smirking, "Yes. Just like now." Turning, He walked away, "You have a nice night, Mr. Scriveus. You keep what I said in mind. You have allies in the Consilium. You just don't know it yet."
"Right." Lars waited until the man was out of sight before letting out the biggest sigh of relief possible and holding himself up against the railing.
"Shit." He swore under his breath, "They think I'm an asset. Fuck."
Day Four…
As much as Lars wanted to confide in Darius or Sacha, he decided against it. Perhaps after the Consilium had concluded for the week, but for now, he didn't want to risk angering any Princips. Evidently, they were all seeking to harness his talents as an asset, a tool to advance their agendas.
Nonetheless, Lars knew he needed to focus. Progress was being made, and Darius assured him the next agenda topic wouldn't be as challenging. In fact, it might even be a relatively swift matter for everyone involved. When Lars learned what it was, he felt a wave of relief. This topic was something they could all agree on, especially after understanding the context behind it.
Though Lars wasn't familiar with the Eldar, it was clear they were deemed a significant menace to the Imperium, necessitating the Consilium's intervention. The fact that these aliens posed a threat to humanity had Lars hopeful that the Princips would have a comprehensive plan to address the issue. Aliens couldn't just be allowed to do as they pleased.
Darius seemed to pick up on the reservations among the Princips. Instead of randomly selecting one to speak, he invited the assembly to offer their suggestions and solutions. The first to step forward was Valdor, expressing his readiness to deploy a third of the Custodians to confront the internal Eldar threat. Julius and Erevan voiced their support without hesitation, proposing to allocate additional resources and operatives to help root out this menace.
To Lars's surprise, though, he detected an undercurrent of uncertainty among several members, even if no one openly expressed their reservations. Eli, however, candidly raised concerns, primarily regarding resource allocation. He believed that assigning the Custodians to more critical endeavors should take precedence, but he conceded to Valdor that the Eldar threat couldn't be ignored. In response, he offered the assistance of the Black Brigades to the Chief Custodian.
Tarasha Euten, on the other hand, saw the proposed course of action as an overreaction, especially considering that the Eldar's whereabouts were unknown until after the fact. She argued that dispatching a massive strike force comprising assassins, soldiers, operatives, and Custodians might incite significant chaos. This notion led to the term "witch-hunt," causing a stir among the Princips. She argued that it might be best to examine patterns of the Eldar infiltration and respond accordingly.
Sota-Nul joined in expressing her reservations about the proposed strike force, sharing that it was an excessive response to a potentially overexaggerated Eldar threat. She emphasized the significant resources required for transportation and logistics to support such a massive group, which, in her opinion, could be better directed toward more pressing and tangible threats. Despite acknowledging that the Eldar situation had escalated beyond expectations, she still advocated for a more measured approach. However, the prevailing sentiment among the Princips was a desire for a more aggressive response.
The swift decision had been made, and the Princips overwhelmingly voted to launch a Custodies-led strike force to root out the Eldar from their worlds. The unity among the Princips on this matter was clear, and it seemed the Imperium was committed to dealing decisively with the perceived Eldar threat. The assembly had reached a consensus, showing a strong stance against the menace they believed the Eldar posed to the Imperium.
With a swift resolution to the matter, the Princips dedicated the next three hours to discussing the practicalities and execution of their plan to root out the Eldar from the Imperium. The groundwork for this operation had been thoroughly laid out, and the Princips were ready to move forward. Darius decided to conclude the session early, given that there was little left to deliberate or decide upon for the time being.
Day Five…
It had been a rather uneventful day within the Consilium, with the topic centered around appointing a new garrison commander for Sol. Recent leadership changes have left the position vacant, prompting the need for discussion. As the session unfolded, it became apparent that most of the Princips were not engaged in the conversation. However, a handful did begin to propose their ideas and suggestions on the matter.
Maria Polo advocated for a pragmatic approach: hiring a qualified outsider to serve as the interim garrison commander for Sol. Her argument centered on the expertise required for the role, suggesting that the Imperium could attract a capable candidate by offering a competitive salary. Once the appointed individual successfully completed their assignment, the transition back to Imperial Army command could occur seamlessly. This approach highlighted the importance of competence and emphasized the plan's flexibility, citing that political mischief would not hinder such an individual if they were insulated.
Although Maria's idea had some merit, others like Sota-Nul found the idea of putting the safety of the entire system in the hands of the highest bidder outrageously foolish. Instead, she proposed the creation of a specialized apparatus designed to assist garrison and defense planners. This device's primary function would be identifying potential vulnerabilities through simulated war games and strategic simulations. However, her idea faced significant resistance, primarily due to concerns about the intrusive nature of such technology. The proposal required mind-machine interfacing, raising questions about security that the Princips found difficult to condone.
Tarasha Euten proposed removing the human element from the defense planning of Sol, suggesting that Astartes should be granted complete control over the defense strategy with a rotating position based on Terra. She argued that the Astartes had a proven track record of success in defense operations and were more likely to contribute innovative ideas and strategies. Furthermore, she believed that granting the more heroic Astartes officers the opportunity to participate in this rotation would enhance the overall effectiveness of Sol's defense.
Eli, Anastus, and Valdor vehemently objected to these ideas, leading to Darius's intervention. For the first time, the Judicator had to mediate and make decisions regarding the proposed suggestions.
In this case, Maria's and Sota-Nul's ideas were outright rejected on legal grounds. The first idea, proposing an outsider's involvement in Sol's defense, violated a treaty with Saturn and Io in which the Emperor had committed to using only officers from his military to defend Sol.
Sota-Nul's idea was dismissed due to its controversial nature. It involved the mandatory cyberization of qualified individuals who refused augmentation and posed a potential vulnerability to internal attacks. Darius cited a section from the Treaty of Olympus, which explicitly prohibited the Martian Parliament from creating unified defense network systems.
Tarasha's proposal presented a more complex challenge. It had significant merits but conflicted with the requirement of keeping the Imperial military involved in defense planning. Various treatises from the Unification War stipulated that Terran armies should be allowed to defend their homeworld, while Mars and Saturn had similar clauses. The only exception to this was in an emergency situation within Sol. However, Darius pointed out that no specific rules prevented the Astartes from having an advisory command role, allowing them to contribute without violating these treaties.
The Consilium continued to engage in heated arguments, debates, and refinements of Tarasha's idea for a few hours. Eventually, after six and a half hours, all the Princips came to a consensus that it was time to put the matter to a vote. Darius granted each member the opportunity to make one final plea, but to Lars's surprise, the First Judicator emphasized that decision-making within the Throneroom should not be solely influenced by external politics—a strange time to make such an appeal.
When the vote was finally called, Lars was surprised to see the outcome. The First Scribe made sure to triple-check that the votes were input correctly, but the results were still the same.
5 vs. 4 in favor of allowing Astartes to have a dedicated advisory role in the defense of Sol. What puzzled Lars was that Julius and Sota-Nul had voted in favor of the proposal. Lars also noticed that once again, for the fifth day in a row, Edric abstained.
Day six…
It was disappointing to know that just as Lars was getting used to things, they were already on the second to last day of the Consilium. The Princips gathered for another open-floor discussion where they could propose topics for review and approval.
The first five hours, they reviewed various economics-related topics, uniformity, handling new discoveries, and establishing political procedures for recently compliant worlds. The fear of preventing incidents like the Desolation remained an underlying concern in the background. Unlike previous sessions, Darius called for several votes, but discussions and debates persisted after each concluded.
Around the seventh hour, Lord-Militant Eli proposed collecting genetic material from individuals with "high-value traits" for something called Project GI. The Princips were puzzled by this unusual idea, and many sought clarification on the purpose behind collecting such samples.
As Eli began to explain the details of Project GI, Lars observed a mixed reaction among those who weren't previously aware of it. Some were uncertain, while others became deeply intrigued by the prospect of creating these "GIs" for the Imperial Army. The concept of gathering "seeds and eggs" from across the Imperium remained unconventional, even with the context behind the proposal.
Eli requested the Consilium's permission to collect genetic samples from various sources, including legion homeworlds, deathworlds, and penal colonies. He argued that individuals merely provided a substance that their bodies could naturally reproduce. This proposal triggered a brief but heated argument among Eli, Valdor, and Euten regarding acquiring genetic samples from legion homeworlds. Once again, Darius was called upon to mediate the discussion.
Darius ultimately ruled that Eli could not have blanket permission to collect genetic samples from the legion homeworlds without the approval of the respective Primarch who ruled that world. However, Darius believed that it was within the rights of the Imperial Army and Administraum to gather genetic material from deathworlds and penal colonies, as these fell under their exclusive jurisdiction.
When the tenth hour approached, the final vote was called. Once again, Lars was surprised to see the results.
5 to 3, the majority in favor of this proposal. Maria abstained, as did Edric once more.
Later that day…
Bags had formed under Lars's eyes, and his sleep had been fitful in recent nights. It seemed that every time he closed his eyes, the blinding light of the Golden Throne and the strange thoughts echoing in his mind would haunt him. His cortex implant played data incessantly, creating a cacophony of introspections in his head.
As Oliver had predicted, Lars found himself turning to alcohol more frequently, seeking solace and respite for his tormented mind. He eagerly anticipated the conclusion of the Consilium, yearning to escape the ceaseless glare of the Golden Throne. Lars couldn't fathom how the Custodians endured being in its presence day in and day out, a question he was in no hurry to have answered.
Gazing at his reflection in the mirror, Lars pondered the path that had led him to this moment and couldn't help but reflect on it all. What troubled him the most was his growing indifference to the person he had once been and the life he had left behind. The six months since he entered this world felt like an eternity, and he was acutely aware of how complex and tumultuous the galaxy had become.
Once again, Oliver had astutely noted how Lars would eventually find himself at the center. The man in the middle. He might not have been the one pulling the strings, but he was a firsthand observer of the unfolding events, and that gave him a degree of power. A power he still didn't fully comprehend.
A knock at the door interrupted Lars' thoughts, providing a welcome break from his contemplation. He had his doubts that it was Darius or Sacha at the door. Upon opening it, he found Grand Master Erevan on the other side.
"Lars."
"Erevan." He was starting to drop titles and pretenses around the Princips. "Can I help you with something?"
"Actually, I'm here to maybe help you," Erevan remarked with a subtle upward twitch of his mouth. "Might I come in?" Dare Lars invite a self-proclaimed assassin into his home?
"My room might not be the best for a conversation," Lars admitted. He was aware that his room was most likely bugged. "I'd rather not put either of us in an awkward position."
"It's fine," Erevan said before holding up a device that looked strangely advanced but also archaic. "This will ensure we can speak freely."
Lars glanced at the device and then opened the door, stepping aside to let the Grand Master into his temporary apartment. Erevan walked inside, and Lars closed the door.
"Do you want a drink?" Lars asked.
"No, thank you," Erevan answered as he sat on a luxurious couch. "I won't be here long." He placed the device on the table and pressed a button to the side. Lars felt a previously unnoticed humming in his head go silent.
"Take a seat, Lars," Erevan said, gesturing to the other couch across from him. The First Scribe complied, still holding his brandy.
"I wanted to speak with you about something that came to my attention," Erevan continued, "or someone else." Lars tensed as Erevan pulled out what looked like a letter and a picture from his coat pocket and placed them on the table. He slid them across to Lars.
Lars looked at the items, puzzled. "What's this?"
"A gift from the Sigillite," Erevan said with a small smile. Lars cautiously examined the picture and was shocked to see a recent image of Kim standing in the middle of a lush forest or jungle with a bright smile on her face.
"Her family was relocated to the Hy Brasil," Erevan explained, "one of the green sections involved with reintroducing macro plant life for Terra. She's doing well and moving up the ranks quickly."
Lars nodded, recalling Kim's talent for growing things. He still remembered the taste of the oranges she cultivated. "She seems really happy."
Setting the photo down, Lars looked at the letter. "Is this from her?"
Erevan nodded. "It is. I was instructed to give that to you and that I have the authority to relay a message back to her from you."
Lars was skeptical. "Why? What do you gain from this?"
"Your hand in friendship," Erevan replied, an amused grin on his face. "I'm sure you've heard that already, right?"
"Julius made the same pitch a few nights ago. But I figure you knew that?"
Erevan snorted, "The OSS thinks they can blindside the Clades. We let them enjoy this fantasy."
"Good for you, but I'm not interested in getting involved in your game, Erevan." Lars remarked, "And I'm not going to be someone's pawn."
Erevan leaned in, his voice low, "You already are one, Mr. Scriveus. Nothing you can do will change that. But I can tell you that sometimes the pawn can evolve into something else if they play the game well enough."
Lars scowled, feeling increasingly trapped by the Princips. "So what are you getting out of this?"
"Information," Erevan replied. "That is something I am quite good at getting. Sometimes, I need another set of eyes, ears, and even a voice to ensure everything is in order. But it goes both ways. You don't have to accept just my hand in friendship. You can do that for all the Princips."
Lars raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "That sounds like a fast way to get me killed."
Erevan chuckled, "Only if you're bad at playing the game. Now, read the letter, because you'll need to burn it and the photo when you're done. You don't want to leave any evidence of someone you care about in this business."
Lars glared for a moment but reluctantly opened the letter. Kim's message was bittersweet. She had been worried about his disappearance and had received orders to relocate to a green section. She was convinced to go by her family, but Kim wanted to know Lars's fate before leaving. A rude man claiming to be an agent of the High Lord had told her that Lars was in good health, working an important job, but he could never return, and she was better off forgetting about him and moving on. Lars made a mental note to confront Oliver about this when they next met.
But Kim did leave, and from the sounds of things, she had moved on in some sense. Her work was challenging but rewarding, and her family's health had improved thanks to the green environment of the relocation. Kim expressed her gratitude for what Lars had done to get her family to the green section. As he read the final parts of the letter, Lars felt heartbreak at some of the words spoken. Kim admitted to having certain feelings for him. This made the next choice difficult.
Lars took another sip of his brandy and then broke the silence. "So... am I supposed to thank you for this?"
Erevan simply shrugged in response. "I just wanted you to know. In fact, I'm ready to deliver a message back to her if you'd like."
The words in the letter held many things Lars wanted to address and convey to Kim. He had spent six months contemplating what his life had become and the losses he had suffered. But as he pictured a future where he might leave his role as First Scribe, something held him back.
"That won't be necessary," Lars finally replied, finishing his brandy. "What's done is done. Kim has her life now, and I have mine. It'd be cruel to both of us to try and pretend otherwise. We both need to move on."
Erevan's response didn't surprise or disturb Lars, although his emotions remained well-guarded. "Very well. I will respect your decision on the matter. Have you considered my... heh, hand of friendship as well?"
Lars tried to maintain his composure, avoiding eye contact with the letter and photo on the table. "I will consider it."
"That's all I ask for," Erevan replied, then stood up. "Well, I should get going. I've finished what I came here to do."
Lars pointed to the device on the table. "You're forgetting this device." To his surprise, Erevan smiled at him.
"Keep it," the Grand Master suggested. "Just remember that I've given you something free of charge, First Scribe, when others will eventually ask for something in return." The Princips chuckled before exiting the apartment, "See you tomorrow, First Scribe." He finished his exit before leaving Lars alone.
Looking down at the letter and photo, Lars grabbed them before heading to one of the windows and opening it. He took a small lighter out of his pocket and, for a moment, hesitated at what he was about to do. Perhaps if he wanted, he could reach back out one day. However, Lars knew when something was over.
He lit the letter and photo, ensuring they both burned properly before letting the wind pick up the ashes. Someday, the memory of Kim might fade, but for now, she was a ghost that haunted his thoughts, a reminder of the life he had left behind. The thought kept him up all night.
Day Seven…
The anticipation of the final Consilium session filled the room. Princips and advisers alike were likely eager to conclude their business, at least for now, and return to their respective duties. Darius and Sacha's comments about Lars' appearance might have been intended to prepare others for a more extended session, but the First Scribe was, in fact, ready and able.
Like all things that neared their end, the Princips were eager to get this last agenda topic over, so when it came to the final discussion, Lars could sense that everyone was a bit disappointed when they learned it was over the nature of counter-operations against assassins within the Desolation and toward the Death Guard. These were believed to be surviving elements of the Delta factions supported by the Eldar.
Julius made a strong case for an aggressive approach to dealing with the surviving elements of the Delta factions. He emphasized the need for the OSS to lead the efforts and employ strike companies, with Astartes detachments, to root out weapon distribution centers and dismantle civilian support for these factions. His argument was built on the assumption that the conspiracy within the former Desolation was more extensive than initially believed.
Maria's approach focused on strategic blockades and leveraging the Zanzibar League for military support, emphasizing the need to make it difficult for the Eldar to operate without taking significant risks. On the other hand, Vandal argued for a subtler approach, emphasizing the importance of a delicate touch to remind the survivors that they were being manipulated by aliens, much like during the Age of Strife. He believed excessive force would only breed resentment among the survivors.
Sota-Nul advocated for outright genocide, citing that the resources being put into the Desolation had reached a "farcical" level of waste, and it was time to admit that they would quickly lose control by attempting any sort of action. She would only advocate extracting useful individuals and populations to other worlds before approving for virus bombing the entire region.
Eli, Euten, Anastus, and Valdor leaned towards a more direct military intervention using the Imperial Army and Astartes forces. Euten emphasized the need for additional humanitarian aid, while Eli proposed the construction of fortified positions to act as bait for the Deltas, suggesting a proactive approach to lure out the enemy factions.
Edric said nothing, opting to give his time to Erevan. The Grand Master of Assassins proclaimed that he could end the threat within ten years if he were authorized to play all available assets of the Vanus, Callidus, and Culexus clades, along with support companies of highly trained and dangerous Officio Assassinorum soldiers. He agreed that a more subtle approach was necessary but that a proportional response of strength was needed when it came time. Erevan only needed the go-ahead to do whatever was required without causing further embarrassment to the Imperium. If this didn't work, he'd resign his position as Princips.
If Lars had to make a guess, he would have assumed that Erevan's proposal had garnered the most enthusiastic response from the other Princips, as when the moment for the vote arrived, it was quite evident that everyone, except for Edric, who abstained from the vote once again, was in unanimous agreement with Erevan's plan.
The Grand Master received the go-ahead to proceed with his counter-operations against the conspiracy that had grown within the former Desolation.
And with that, the meeting was adjourned. Therefore, in the 8th hour of the Seventh Day, Darius officially concluded the inaugural session of the Consilium Princips.
Lars couldn't linger to observe the Princips' reactions to the votes. Instead, he found himself guided by a Custodian who discreetly signaled for Lars to follow amidst the celebrations and faux well-wishes within the Consilium.
To his slight surprise, Lars recognized the path leading him to Malcador's office. As he entered, he realized that his intuition had been correct. He stood before the Sigillite, who was engrossed in reviewing a data slate. After a moment, Malcador looked up and gestured for Lars to sit across from his desk.
A moment lingered in the room before Malcador finally spoke, "You've exceeded expectations." His tone, however, lacked enthusiasm. "I'm impressed, and I've received glowing reviews for Darius and Sacha, along with my operatives on the ground, particularly in your ability to maintain discretion."
Lars should have known better but couldn't resist asking, "Did you send Julius and Erevan to test me?"
"Hardly," the Sigillite replied. "They acted of their own accord. I was merely an observer. Nevertheless, had you been identified earlier by the Vanus or the OSS, you might have shown promise as an operative at the outset of your career."
Lars couldn't help but let a hint of amusement creep into his voice, "Is that praise I'm hearing?"
Malcador didn't respond to that comment and continued, "You'll keep your position as First Scribe. Given your youth, you have a long career ahead of you, assuming no unforeseen consequences."
Lars felt a sense of unease gnawing at him as he asked, "What about this... court intrigue?"
The Sigillite appeared bemused at the question, "You'll manage it in your own way, of course."
"You expect me to play their game?" Lars questioned.
The Sigillite nodded, "If you want to make it your own, yes."
"What's the point, though?" Lars pressed further, seeking to understand Malcador's perspective, "If you are aware of everything that is or can happen here, you don't gain anything from me doing this."
Malcador shook his head, "You still think this is about me gaining something? Your lack of ambition is making you blind now. If you want minuscule power, you must seize it for yourself. Otherwise, you will not survive as the First Scribe. There will be others looking to get your position soon enough. Eventually, you'll want to move up in influence. Perhaps once Darius passes on, you could attempt to become the First Judicator."
Malcador paused and examined a few reports while lecturing Lars, "In any case, you'll need to eventually defend your position. Allying yourself with those who call themselves Princips will give you a lot of resources in the years to come. I highly recommend you start networking now rather than later."
Lars stared at the High Lord, "What exactly do you think I'll become by doing all this? And what do you really gain from me doing it?"
"Ambitious. Motivated. Inspired. In other words, useful. That is what I gain from setting you on this path. But now I see you were already on it before we spoke." Malcador remarked before gesturing to the Custodian who had brought Lars here, "We will speak later, First Scribe. Please be sure to relax and enjoy the accomplishment that we all share today with the success of the Consilium. You'll be back in the Throneroom soon enough for much is to be done in the coming years, and we've only just begun to see the unfolding disasters before us."
Seven hours later…
Everyone was celebrating. The Princips were eager to talk to him, Sacha, and Darius. Lars made sure to put on a pleasant facade while hesitantly accepting invitations for meetings and discussions at a later date. He saw a few unhappy faces, likely because of the voting results, but overall, everyone seemed satisfied with how the Consilium had unfolded. Lars told himself that was a good thing.
When he stumbled back into his apartment, the one further away from the Throneroom, Lars decided to continue the celebration by having a few more drinks. He couldn't help but accept that he was developing bad habits, the stuff he had once promised himself he'd never get into. Worse yet, Lars was enjoying himself.
Not just the drinking, but the reality of what he had become started to set in. He had been told that to survive, he needed to have aspirations for more. He had more power and influence as the First Scribe, and he could only keep the position and stay alive, but Lars needed more. He understood that soon, there would be those who coveted his position and all the authority that came with it.
He had gotten a taste of it and found it delicious. Yet the Sigillite said Lars had been on this path far before ever coming here. What did he mean by that? Everything he had done in life had been for a good reason, leading to him abandoning his name and lineage to be someone else. He did honest work and could have had a good life with Kim.
Instead, he found himself alone in this fortress of gold and power. Surprisingly, Lars almost felt content in the solitude. Here, as the First Scribe, he could do things he never thought possible, and perhaps, someday, he could rise to ranks previously undreamed of. He had been unambitious and uninspired for too long.
What good was the mundane without real purpose? What was powerlessness, if not inevitable demise? The galaxy sought to put Lars here, and it won. Best to make use of his time with the opportunity given.
He was now just the man in the middle of it all.
---
@Daemon Hunter Alright, this took way longer than it should have. But it's done.
Well, I really like this one. Lars is someone who in the centre, a man who is connected with the very highest of people in the Imperium but have yet to be firmly aligned with any factions in particular. I am hoping to see more from him, making him becoming a power in his own right yet working to help the Imperium in any way he could. I wonder if Chaos or Eldar will have plan for this guy.
Some background fluff. Daemon already had the votes decided upon for most of the agenda topics prior to me writing this, granted I homebrewed two of these votes up to fill out the time slots. Edric the Navigator abstained from all seven, though Daemon has not explained why. Erevan is making a politician's promise, but then again, he might be able to succeed by throwing hundreds of assassins at a problem.
Eli was enjoying himself quite a bit during the Consilium. Political animals always have fun in these environments, so I don't advise that Kelbor-Hal become Princips, ever.
Most of the unanimous votes were done purely for political reasonings; namely, it would be tantamount to political suicide to vote against the current anti-Eldar-related operations. Granted, I did explain why some of the Princips were hesitant, although Lars doesn't have the full picture since he's an outsider.
Regarding those strike forces, their composition is as follows: 2 squads of Custodes (10), 4 Assassins, 20 OSS operatives, and 10 thousand Black Brigades per strike force.
The general vibe of the omake was more focused on Lars and the idea of how power "corrupts" individuals, but also how it only really does so to people who already had ambition. Lars is like a character in a series who basically swore off killing because he knew he was exceeding good at it and didn't want to go down that path, but the sad truth was that he was destined to return to it. You can't always take the fight out of the dog. Lars is someone who could go from being an incredibly useful asset to perhaps someone who could have significant power, but that's far in the future and beyond the scope of the quest unless Daemon gets a wild idea in his head.
The Consilium was likely regarded as a massive success by all parties involved, even if it was pretty much backroom dealing. One of the things that makes the Consilium so "unique" is that it's a political arena and playground in one. There is an element of people trying to beat the security features in place to have more productive conversations. Writing this omake out, the feel I have for the Consilium and Princips, in general, is that the system itself is geared strangely towards anyone that can either make their point or stand their ground.
Or you be like Edric. Showing up to fill a seat and abstaining from votes unless someone comes up to you with an offer you cannot ignore so they get your vote for something important.
But yeah, just some cursory observations after writing this.
Eli was enjoying himself quite a bit during the Consilium. Political animals always have fun in these environments, so I don't advise that Kelbor-Hal become Princips, ever.
Most of the unanimous votes were done purely for political reasonings; namely, it would be tantamount to political suicide to vote against the current anti-Eldar-related operations. Granted, I did explain why some of the Princips were hesitant, although Lars doesn't have the full picture since he's an outsider.
Regarding those strike forces, their composition is as follows: 2 squads of Custodes (10), 4 Assassins, 20 OSS operatives, and 10 thousand Black Brigades per strike force.
The general vibe of the omake was more focused on Lars and the idea of how power "corrupts" individuals, but also how it only really does so to people who already had ambition. Lars is like a character in a series who basically swore off killing because he knew he was exceeding good at it and didn't want to go down that path, but the sad truth was that he was destined to return to it. You can't always take the fight out of the dog. Lars is someone who could go from being an incredibly useful asset to perhaps someone who could have significant power, but that's far in the future and beyond the scope of the quest unless Daemon gets a wild idea in his head.
The Consilium was likely regarded as a massive success by all parties involved, even if it was pretty much backroom dealing. One of the things that makes the Consilium so "unique" is that it's a political arena and playground in one. There is an element of people trying to beat the security features in place to have more productive conversations. Writing this omake out, the feel I have for the Consilium and Princips, in general, is that the system itself is geared strangely towards anyone that can either make their point or stand their ground.
Or you be like Edric. Showing up to fill a seat and abstaining from votes unless someone comes up to you with an offer you cannot ignore so they get your vote for something important.
But yeah, just some cursory observations after writing this.
- Location
- USA
Uh oof, where exactly did you fall off? Also do you want everything or only the major story beats? The former can be gained from just reading the thread marks, but if you want everything then we have to delve deep into omake land.
Emps handed out the promise of boons, which so far he's following through on, slowly.
We picked up notes on the warp, right to read our brothers in on all this chaos nonsense, psyker awakening, and a warp genetics study session with big E and we managed to rope Bile into it, but that last one hasn't hit yet.
Aside from that we've mostly been just trying to keep the imperium from imploding in outright civil war due to Emps mishandling of Anggron coming home to roost, and his increasing distance from Horus. Unfortunately Malcador has somehow interpreted this as hostile action.
On top of this we have the side stories involving increasing interaction between the primarchs and the Eldar, which Malcador also doesn't approve of. Then there's the increasing economic instability, which is being used as cover to resist vulkan's reforms despite the fact that they're absolutely necessary to keep the imperium from collapsing like a house of cards when the BaTW spills out of the warp, or for that matter to keep going as the logistics get ever more stretched out, and the authorities ever more distant.
Malcador is making rash moves, the emporer is just plain gone half the time, and when he's not he's made a cabal of 'loyalist' primarchs that didn't get involved in the little 'let's figure out how to unfuck shit' session, one of whom is harboring not just Eldar, but fucking Drukhari. The proto-highlords have been set in motion to ... I dunno counter the influence of the primarchs? Vect is making overtures at Oricarius. Balder found all sorts of problems he can't tell us about. The twins are in a shitty spot between Malcs and Kesar. Vulkan is about ready to patricide. Mortarion is accepting that denial and execution is not the best way to deal with psykers, and also plotting patricide while playing the reasonable one, which to be fair he kind of is at this point, which is terrifying in and of itself.
Oh also the new lord militant or whatever has decided we're a role model for financial decision making.
We picked up notes on the warp, right to read our brothers in on all this chaos nonsense, psyker awakening, and a warp genetics study session with big E and we managed to rope Bile into it, but that last one hasn't hit yet.
Aside from that we've mostly been just trying to keep the imperium from imploding in outright civil war due to Emps mishandling of Anggron coming home to roost, and his increasing distance from Horus. Unfortunately Malcador has somehow interpreted this as hostile action.
On top of this we have the side stories involving increasing interaction between the primarchs and the Eldar, which Malcador also doesn't approve of. Then there's the increasing economic instability, which is being used as cover to resist vulkan's reforms despite the fact that they're absolutely necessary to keep the imperium from collapsing like a house of cards when the BaTW spills out of the warp, or for that matter to keep going as the logistics get ever more stretched out, and the authorities ever more distant.
Malcador is making rash moves, the emporer is just plain gone half the time, and when he's not he's made a cabal of 'loyalist' primarchs that didn't get involved in the little 'let's figure out how to unfuck shit' session, one of whom is harboring not just Eldar, but fucking Drukhari. The proto-highlords have been set in motion to ... I dunno counter the influence of the primarchs? Vect is making overtures at Oricarius. Balder found all sorts of problems he can't tell us about. The twins are in a shitty spot between Malcs and Kesar. Vulkan is about ready to patricide. Mortarion is accepting that denial and execution is not the best way to deal with psykers, and also plotting patricide while playing the reasonable one, which to be fair he kind of is at this point, which is terrifying in and of itself.
Oh also the new lord militant or whatever has decided we're a role model for financial decision making.