Emperor's Bane

Chapter 742 High Lords Council

"Are you still with Morro, Apocalypse?"

Malcador stood in the shadows, his dark brown robes blending perfectly into the unlit midnight realm, his whispers echoing between the paintings and bookcases that stood like giants, and finally drifting to the other side of the Milky Way, to the dark star that Holy Terra could not see.

"No, I have no interest in knowing why you went into the warp again."

"I'm not interested in what happened on Nikaea."

A dry palm rested on the icy marble table. The seal bearer slightly adjusted his standing angle and faced the only source of light in the room: it was a single-sided transparent floor-to-ceiling window, and on the other side of the glass was the debate round table in the parliament hall.

"I want to talk to you about one of your dear sons: he is giving us trouble now."

The seal bearer sighed. He didn't even bother to pay attention to the sharp arguments between the high lords at the debate table.

"Yes, the situation is under control. We all know that Guilliman alone cannot accomplish anything."

“It’s the other people I’m worried about.”

"Your Warmaster obviously wants to intervene in Badab's affairs. Horus's ability and power are far beyond Guilliman's. I am not exaggerating. The envoys of the Luna Wolves are waiting outside the palace."

His dry knuckles drummed on the table, telling of the ups and downs in his heart: Obviously, whether it was Horus or the Luna Wolves, their interruption was unwelcome.

"Yes, so far only Macragge is keeping the commotion going, your other sons are keeping their sanity, they all know what it means to support Guilliman at this time: Guilliman has not asked for help."

"The Far East is stable, but the direction of speech in the Five Hundred Worlds is already very dangerous."

"You mean Morgan?"

The knocking stopped.

"It is clear that Guilliman does not wish to involve his beloved Lady Macbeth."

The seal holder chuckled.

"Yes, I know, it's a bad metaphor for Lady Macbeth: but it's very apt."

The curled knuckles slowly relax.

"And everyone is using it: even Ferrus looked it up."

"Let's not talk about this: how long will it take for your fleet to return to Holy Terra?"

"..."

"One year?"

The voice suddenly became sharp: as if this was Malcador's original tone.

"That's too much."

The Seal Bearer gritted his teeth and rubbed it up and down bit by bit. He obviously did not expect that the Lord of Mankind would give such a confusing answer. Even as the de facto vice king of the Human Empire, Malcador needed to think silently for a few minutes before he had to sigh in compromise.

"Okay, then I'll go take care of that little problem over at Badab."

"Yes, I plan to go to the front line of the Maelstrom in person. Guilliman should be more anxious than me now. After all, he knows that he is the one who is at fault. I plan to sign a gentleman's agreement with him in private so that he does not feel that he has lost everything."

"Also: If you have finished your personal affairs on Morro, then before you return to Holy Terra, you must tell me so that I can arrange the next things: at least we have to make sure the time is right."

"Yes, that's right."

A chilling light was reflected in the old pupils.

"The memory distortion of Magrus and the Thousand Sons Legion is going smoothly."

"The first batch of rumors about Nikea have been released. The Randan Empire is indeed a good material worth recycling, and the charge of colluding with the aliens is also appropriate: at least most people can accept this statement."

"It is perfectly safe: no High Lord knows of this except myself."

"Don't worry. I have selected the most skillful agents. No one can find out where the rumor came from. It is a good idea to remove Magnus at the right time. At least the Primarchs will be more accepting of this: they can accept the incompetence of their blood relatives, especially when you personally confirm this incompetence."

"Yes, I know. Horus and Sanguinius are the ones who need the most attention. The Archangel seems to have believed most of it. The Ninth Legion is conducting an internal review, but Horus still reserves his attitude. He still believes that this change is my work, just like the Eleventh Legion that he has been thinking about."

"Ok, I know."

There was some disdain in the Sigillite's voice: it came from the Emperor's suddenly anxious tone.

"Don't worry, I won't do anything to your beloved Warmaster. Just let the Wolf Gods figure it out on their own. Even if you tell them the truth, they won't believe it. Instead, your precious sons will firmly believe in the results of your reasoning, which is based on scraps of information and rumors."

At this point, the seal holder could no longer suppress his contempt.

"Okay, that's it: remember what I told you before."

"Also, continue to control the Imperial Guards and Jonson and the others. At least before I can solve the problem of Badab, I don't want to see more forces intervene in the situation of the Maelstrom. I know I didn't do a good job this time, but I didn't expect that kind of thing would happen in Nikea."

"Yes: I did not pay enough attention to the death of Commissioner Maelstrom in time."

The seal bearer shook his head: there was still swelling in his brain from several months of high-intensity work.

"But it's impossible."

"You know how bad my condition is on Nikea: your troublemaker son caused at least three irreversible damages to my soul and brain. I didn't suffer such serious injuries during the Age of Strife. It's a miracle that I can still work now."

"Besides, I admit that the crisis in Badab was caused by my negligence, but I didn't slack off. After Nikea, I never slept again. The entire Holy Terra government has tens of thousands of hidden dangers and holes that need to be temporarily filled by me. Compared with them, the Great Vortex is really not an important place."

Malcador laid one arm flat on the glass window in front of him. He certainly had no reason to lie to the Lord of Mankind, and the Emperor certainly could not fail to understand these simple truths: in the tacit relationship between the monarch and his subjects, this was just the opportunity for the Sigillite to take advantage of and vent his grievances to his lord who was more ambitious than the sky.

As he said, the Badab Crisis was essentially an "accident within necessity": the Imperium was already in an extremely sensitive period of power transfer between the Emperor and the Warmaster, and this always turbulent period was completely disrupted by a loud noise on Nikaea, which completely disrupted the entire Great Crusade and even the operation rhythm of the entire Human Empire.

Chaos, errors, crises, and all the hidden dangers that were usually suppressed by the glory of the Great Crusade and the military force of the Imperium of Man: some of these would have been dug up from the ground because of this huge black swan event, but it was only fate that favored the first gunshot that was heard in the Badab System.

Seriously, if in the end, the turmoil caused by Nikea was limited to the unrest in Badab and the Five Hundred Worlds, Malcador even felt that they should reduce Magnus's crime by one level: you see, in his original worst-case scenario, Terra might now face the challenge of at least three legions.

Moreover, among the Primarchs, there are many who are more troublesome than Guilliman.

Of course, speaking of tricky things: who could be better than the Lord of Mankind who had just hung up his psychic communication?

The seal holder just felt a little tired.

He rested for a while: a rare five minutes off work in the past few months, but he still had to go through all the notable names in the galaxy in his mind.

Primarchs, Legions, Mortals...

None of them are easy to deal with.

The seal holder discovered that the frequency of his sighs seemed to be increasing day by day, and the scar in his mind was also aching slightly.

He ignored all this, walked out of the dim secret room, and appeared in a corridor leading directly to the conference hall: silent monks had already been waiting for him, they loudly embraced the steps of the Vice King of the Empire, and then pushed open the door decorated with fine gold and bright red satin in unison.

Malcador walked in. Dozens of officials in the hall had already stood up and saluted him in unison. The high lords present followed his figure with their eyes. When Malcador looked into their eyes, he could see the elements that pleased him the most in their pupils.

loyalty.

Loyalty to the Emperor.

These imperial beasts of power, no matter what means they used to step into the highest ladder of Terra, no matter whether they were the first choice in Malcador's mind, no matter what their advantages and disadvantages were: but they all had one thing in common, a reason why Malcador chose them.

That's loyalty.

They are perhaps the most loyal people in the entire galaxy to the Master of Mankind: every man here is willing to give up their lives and power for a word from the Emperor, and compared to their dedication, some of the Emperor's children are like adopted children.

But this also brings problems.

After the Sigillite took his seat, his eyes first focused on the Marshal of Justice: he was the toughest one among all the people present. While Malcador was watching, the Lord of the Ministry of Justice had been persuading others to pass tougher sanctions on the Five Hundred Worlds.

This is certainly not a good thing: but that is the side effect of pursuing loyalty.

The most loyal person may not necessarily have the most suitable abilities and attitudes: but extreme loyalty can offset this problem.

Or maybe not?
Makado stopped thinking about it. Now was not the time to be distracted.

"Dear friends."

His eyes swept over the forge commander and the director of the Star Torch Court at the far end.

"I am pleased to see that you have been able to maintain order in this sacred temple while I have been away for some time."

"..."

As soon as the voice fell, embarrassed brows and low glances spread across the table.

The seal bearer naturally had a meaning: the various high lords present, as spokesmen who could represent the huge forces behind them, included some with brutal or arrogant personalities, and the arguments and quarrels in the parliament hall had never disappeared since the day it was completed.

"Marshal of Justice."

Malcador nodded, and the Lord of the Ministry of Justice immediately stood up and bowed his head like a child to obey.

"I heard everything outside the door. It seems that you have a new conflict with the Finance Conference."

"I dare not." The Marshal of Law admitted his mistake, but still held his neck straight.

"Ok."

The seal bearer waved his hand.

"Tell me, Lord Advocate: what did you come up with?"

"One thing is acknowledged, my Lord."

The marshal held his neck high.

"Now, no matter whether it is right or wrong, no matter what the cause of the incident is, since it has evolved into a public event watched by all forces in the galaxy, we must win this confrontation. It doesn't matter if we have to pay something in private, at least we must win on the surface."

"I can understand."

The palm bearer nodded.

"I remember that similar things happened quite a few times on Terra. One time, it involved two superpowers that almost destroyed the entire world with their nuclear weapons. Although the crisis was resolved by both sides taking a step back, because one of the superpowers took a step back on the surface, even though it did not lose, the world believed that it was the loser of the crisis."

"IMHO."

The Arbitral Marshal made the sign of the eagle over his heart and bowed his head.

“We’re in a much worse situation.”

"I have no intention of insulting the Primarchs, but to the current Terran government, we are like a young hunter who has just left the guidance of the Emperor."

"Before leaving, the Emperor gave us a total of 19 hounds. But these hounds are essentially wild wolves, beasts tamed by the Emperor from the wild. Although we hold the collars of these hounds tightly in our hands, the way they look at me will never be as submissive as when they looked at the Emperor."

"And now, we have only slightly tightened one of the collars. Although I admit that there must be misunderstandings, the reality we have to face is that one of the 19 hounds has dared to bare its teeth at us. He is gradually becoming like a wolf."

"If we retreat, if we get bitten off, if we are frightened and let go of the collar, then how will the remaining 18 hounds look at us? They can turn back into wild wolves at any time."

"So, I think we need to wield the whip at all costs and beat back this hound that dares to bar its teeth at us, and prove our ability to others. Especially when the Terra government is inherently weak, majesty is particularly important to us."

"The weaker you are, the stronger you have to be."

"That's what I said."

Without Macador saying anything, the finance minister on the other end shook his head.

"Have you ever thought about this? Do we have the ability to make a legion retreat?"

"Of course!"

The Law Marshal's leather boots made a harsh sound as they scraped against the floor.

"The Emperor left us a naval fleet of the largest scale, larger than any five legions combined. He also left us an equally large and elite mortal auxiliary army. Even if the total forces of the Five Hundred Worlds and the Far Eastern Frontier were stacked together, I have the confidence that I can crush them with my absolute numerical advantage."

"What's more, Mars will definitely stand on our side on this issue. The Forge Commander has just confirmed this. This means that we have more Titan Legions and Knight Families than all the Legions combined, as well as a steady supply of logistical supplies. The Solar Star Region is the richest place in the entire galaxy. There is no reason for us to lose to the Five Hundred Worlds in terms of size."

"Besides, I haven't even counted the Astartes Legions we can mobilize. As long as Terra is still the orthodoxy of the Empire recognized by the Emperor, then all the Astartes Legions will have no reason to reject our quarrels: Isn't that the case with the Imperial Fists Legion?"

“That’s different.”

The Rogue Trader shook his head.

"Lord Dorn and his Imperial Fists clearly have their own logic."

"My informants told me that even if the Imperial Fists have already set out for the Maelstrom, they will not confront the mortal legions of the Five Hundred Worlds. They will only forcefully take over any area where the Ultramarines are present, ensuring that every Astartes standing opposite will also be an Astartes, not a mortal."

"Smart thing to do."

The head of the Ministry of Internal Affairs cleared his throat.

"Obviously, Dorn didn't decide to intervene in Badab in a fit of rage."

"Quite the opposite: He was trying to prevent this from spiraling out of control."

"I hope the Lord of Macragge understands what Lord Dorne means."

The head of the Imperial Finance Ministry was still fiddling with his magnifying glass.

"But then again, we obviously can't count on the Imperial Fists to help us solve the problem in Badab, but bloodshed would be too extreme: more and more legions and primarchs are turning their sights to the Maelstrom region, and each of them remains uncomfortably silent."

"For sale: every neutral person is supporting the Five Hundred Worlds."

It can be seen that the Law Marshal is very dissatisfied with the current situation.

"That is why I suggest a tough approach: these Primarchs clearly hold Terra in contempt."

“But there may be other opportunities.”

The head of the Ministry of Internal Affairs interlaced his fingers.

"Perhaps, and I mean maybe: we could try to negotiate with Guilliman."

"He must have his demands. Badab is not his fundamental interest. As long as we are willing to show goodwill in private, we should be able to get an offer from Guilliman, an offer that will make him give up the Maelstrom."

"You still need to guess?"

The Law Marshal laughed contemptuously.

"His offer must have been a tax."

"We only have to stop collecting taxes, and Guilliman will immediately admit his mistakes."

“But the question is: is it possible?”

"This tax is not what we want to collect!"

As soon as these words were spoken, the entire conference hall fell into unimaginable silence.

That's right.

Throughout the galaxy, High Lords are associated with stupidity and arrogance, and among all the criticisms of the Imperial people against them, the unreasonable tithe tax is the original sin of almost every High Lord: but it seems that no one has ever thought about this issue.

Do they really want to collect taxes?

Did they really voluntarily set such an outrageous tax amount?
No one cared: not even the High Lords themselves.

After all, they knew better than anyone who needed the tax: although they did not know what the tax was used for, as Malcador had just said, loyalty was the only criterion for selecting the High Lords, and the loyalty of these High Lords made them willing to become the objects of scorn of the entire empire.

Let them be willing to do stupid things.

“The tithe is unshakable.”

The second most senior finance minister among all the people present shook his head and sighed.

"Even if we have to make the entire galaxy our enemy, even if we have to give up any other administrative functions, we must collect enough taxes for the Emperor: everything can be compromised, but sufficient taxes are absolutely not compromised, not even if Guilliman asks for it."

"What should I do?"

The Law Marshal's brows were gloomy.

"How can we get the Five Hundred Worlds to take a step back without mentioning taxes?"

"Who has the magic power to use the hollow white fangs to make Macragge retreat without a fight?"

"And defeat the entire Five Hundred Worlds?"

"Can anyone do this?"

"..."

"I do know..."

"There is such a person."

In silence, everyone looked towards the top of the round table in shock: because the person who said such ridiculous words was actually the figure in the black robe.

"that person……"

"Guilliman himself."

The seal holder smiled: It was as if he was just talking about an ordinary thing.

"Alright everyone: I am aware of your loyalty to the Emperor."

"Leave Badab's problems to me."

"I will go speak to Guilliman."

"Trust me: the Lord of Macragge will understand the good intentions of Holy Terra."

(End of this chapter)