Emperor's Bane

Chapter 857: Rumors Do Not Surround Wise Men

"They actually suspect the Sigillite and his Council of High Lords of being involved in treason?"

"What a ridiculous idea!"

The desk carved from a bluestone top is simple and sturdy, with no additional decorations except for the necessary tools.

The dry and cold breath lingering on the table all year round shows that it is a product of the ice and snow world Invert: the home planet of the Imperial Fist Legion and the unknown hometown of the Lord of the Imperial Fist.

This was the first work that Rogal Dorn carved when he was three months old. It was also one of the few souvenirs he took away from his homeland when he left Invert and chose to embrace the Great Crusade and the Human Empire.

For more than a hundred years, this table has stood guard by the Primarch like the most loyal Imperial Fists warrior, carrying his duties and dreams: but today, its watch may finally have come to an end.

Even the Primarch's own creations could not have survived Rogal Dorn's sudden rage: by the time the Master of the Imperial Fist had swung his fist in anger, it was too late.

Even if Dawn realized what he was doing, even if he wanted to stop it, even if he regretted it in his heart: of course, this was basically impossible, it would be too late.

This desk, which was older than most Imperial Fists fighters, finally failed to hold. In the face of the Primarch's enormous force, it shattered into pieces in the blink of an eye, like a piece of dry chocolate being smashed by a hammer. The fragments rolled all over the floor, and there was no possibility of restoration visibly.

Among them, the fragment inlaid with the Iron Fist mark of the Seventh Legion flew particularly far because of its position: it started from the edge of Dorn's iron boots, swept past the piles of documents with the seals of the High Lords and Primarchs, turned a corner in front of the star map of the entire Solar Star Field, overturned a whole row of military expansion report forms, and finally rolled to the feet of the only person in the entire office who dared to face the Primarch's anger.

Sigismund picked it up and put it aside.

He was not surprised by the situation.

By the Emperor, they had known what was going to happen when he and Pollux walked side by side to the door of Dorn's private office, ready to hand over the fatal intelligence to their Primarch.

Rogal Dorn's anger did not surprise his two sons.

Of course he would be angry. Any Primarch who still had a little concern for his blood brothers in his heart would be outraged by this information: the lord of the Imperial Fists would naturally be among them.

No one would think that Rogal Dorn was an easy friend to get along with, but no one would deny that the Lord of the Imperial Fist was cold on the outside but warm on the inside: he had helped his brothers with all his might countless times after using critical words, and then wiped out this kindness with even more critical words.

In the beginning, such behavior might have been met with some resentment, but with the passage of time and the end of the Great Crusade, when glory was no longer fought for, and when a peaceful mentality replaced the sense of competition and became the mainstream, everyone belatedly realized what a reliable brother they had.

Then again: Even someone like Perturabo would no longer deliberately compete with Dorn, so how could other primarchs dare to do the same thing?

Even Sigismund, who usually turned a deaf ear to the outside world, understood these things: Rogal Dorn certainly would understand them.

But he just didn't care.

He has never been a person who would change himself because of what others say.

In his fortieth year of officially assuming the heavy responsibility of Terra's Guard, and also the fortieth year since the Emperor left for the Great Crusade, the Primarch of the VII Legion was essentially no different from the day he had just left his home planet Invert.

He is still as stubborn as a rock, and as reliable as a rock. He still restrains everyone around him with an almost harsh attitude: including himself, of course.

He still would become enraged at the slightest affront to the Emperor, would still seize every opportunity to ensure the effectiveness of the Imperial Fists, would still place the safety of Terra above the prosperity of his own realm.

Likewise, Dorne's cold heart would be ignited with a rage that would make Angron and Jonson pale in comparison to any vicious rumor that could split the Empire, destroy the magnificent order created by the Great Crusade, and destroy the peace that he, his father, his brothers, his descendants, and his comrades had fought so hard for.

Even if this is just something that most people regard as a joke.

But Dorn never joked.

"Polax."

The rage of the Lord of the Imperial Fist came and went quickly: he knew that simply being angry would have no effect, and tracing the source of the matter and nipping it in the bud was more important than anything else.

So he turned his attention to the intelligence manager he had temporarily appointed.

Polux: He was originally a mediocre captain and fleet commander in the Seventh Legion. In fact, he was not an excellent candidate for intelligence work. However, Dorne's subordinates were indeed short of corresponding talents, and he did not trust the people recommended by the High Lord.

Compared with them, Pollax is an option worth considering: anyway, the main content of intelligence work is not like in the movies, requiring all kinds of strange spy props or incredible infiltration work. The real intelligence system is just to filter out the real and useful information from the massive amount of information received.

Super agents are not the mainstream of intelligence. It is the traveling merchants who can get all kinds of strange information at any time.

And Pollax is undoubtedly well suited for this job: as a talent personally recognized by Jonard, the fleet lord of Dorne, his talent in data management is unquestionable, and his loyalty and efficiency are also foreseeable.

Just like now: when most of the Lords of the Imperial Fist, like their father, set their sights on building more fortresses to defend against possible threats in the starry sea, only Pollax realized that the so-called rumors of regicide circulating in the streets of Terra were potential dangers worth collecting and worthy of their vigilance.

Especially when they heard that these rumors had gradually infiltrated the middle and lower levels of other Primarch realms along with the various merchant fleets and diplomatic missions traveling to and from Terra: this meant that as long as the intelligence agencies of the various Primarchs were not fools, the Emperor's children would sooner or later hear the same rumors.

And Dorn also knew that given the personalities of some of the Primarch brothers, it was impossible for their subordinates not to know about this: So, one day, even the most remote Imperial Governor would probably whisper in private, wondering if there were other reasons why the Emperor had not appeared for so long?

This is a very serious question.

Because: No one knows the answer.

Even Dorne didn't know.

"This is my mistake……"

After quickly sorting out the relevant logical chain in his mind, even on Dorn's face, which was famous for its perseverance, a trace of cold sweat of fear slowly dripped down. The Primarch sat down on the chair with some difficulty, and it was unknown what he was thinking about with his cold eyes.

"I should have realized that we weren't the only ones keeping an eye on the palace."

"With all due respect, my Lord."

Seeing the Primarch's actions, Sigismund and Pollax looked at each other. Finally, it was the company commander who was more familiar with the Father of Genes who stepped forward courageously and began to persuade him.

"You don't have to blame yourself for this. This matter really has nothing to do with us."

"It is a rumor: it arises outside the scope of our responsibility."

"I am a Terran Praetorian." The Primarch stared at his son.

"Any problems on Terra are related to me and are my fault."

“And that’s not what’s most important.”

Dawn took a deep breath.

"Most importantly, if one day one of my brothers came to me with this rumor and asked me why the Emperor had not shown up for so long, how do you think I should respond to them, to everyone?"

"..."

Sigismund was silent.

Because he knew that Dorn couldn't respond.

The reason is simple, because Dorne has never seen the Emperor:

In fact, apart from Malcador, the guards who protected the palace, and those "professionals" who had never been seen since entering the palace, no one dared to say that they had seen the Lord of the Empire in the forty years since the end of the Great Crusade.

For forty whole years, Dorn had worked diligently in his post, but had never been granted permission to meet with his Gene-Father again and report his work in detail: it was always Malcador who greeted him in the end, and in the words of this Imperial Sceptre holder, the Emperor was always busy and he never had time to see Dorn.

To be honest, if Dorn had not been very sure of the loyalty of the Sigillite and the Guards, and through his own observation, he was also very sure that those high lords who seemed to be acting recklessly had never seen the Emperor and were worried about it from the bottom of their hearts, the Lord of the Imperial Fist would probably have believed the rumor himself.

After all, this is too weird.

The Primarch rubbed his temple.

He is not a fool, nor is he a nerd who only cares about his work. As someone who needs to defend Holy Terra, Dorn knows better than anyone the necessity of keeping an eye on all directions while keeping his ground: this is also the reason why he would try to establish an intelligence department.

At the same time, although it sounds very inconsistent with his style, Dorn has actually been infiltrating Malcador's government: the impact of the Nicaea Crisis on the Terran government that year was far beyond everyone's imagination. Even Dorn could seize this opportunity to slip some sand into the Sigillite's ranks.

Of course, the ultimate goal of the Lord of the Imperial Fist is not sinister, nor are the means despicable: among the tens of thousands of senior officials temporarily promoted by Malcador, there are always a few young people who still have passion and impulse in their hearts. Compared with their lifeless and scheming colleagues, they are naturally closer to the diligent Terra Guards.

Dorn has been deliberately protecting these friends of his, ensuring that they always retain their loyalty and passion in their hearts: under his protection, they will not be crushed into dust by the power struggles within the Terran government. In return, the Lord of the Imperial Fist also ensures that he will not be deceived by the High Lords and the Terran government from the truth.

Because of this, Dorn's knowledge of Holy Terra and the Imperial government actually far exceeds that of most of his brothers.

He knew that the so-called tithe that had caused suffering to the entire galaxy was not actually the idea of ​​the high lords. They were merely carrying out orders from deep within the palace, and they always doubted the legitimacy of the tithe.

What is ridiculous is that the tithe tax, which seems so absurd to outsiders, is actually a preferential price that the high lords have fought for in various worlds by sticking to their bottom line and fighting with the imperial guards from the palace.

The high lords had to consider the actual situation for the sake of their power and the continuation of the empire, but the imperial guards did not care that millions of galaxies thousands of miles away would die for their orders.

It is said that the upright Marshal of the Ministry of Justice who directly suggested sending troops during the Badab Crisis even knelt at the gate of the Imperial Palace and asked the Emperor to revoke the foolish tithe order: otherwise he would not mind spilling blood on the Road of Glory.

The Lord of Mankind's response puzzled others: he neither punished nor responded to the loyal minister's direct advice, but ordered the imperial guards to take him away: the Marshal of the Ministry of Justice was still in his position, but his mood and state were getting worse day by day.

How could a high lord like this plot to murder the Emperor?

They have neither the motivation nor the ability to do so.

Even for Malcador himself, his all-out attack might have seemed like a tickle to the Lord of Mankind: although Dorne had not participated in the legendary Randan War, he was an eyewitness to the Battle of Ullanor and knew how powerful the Emperor was when he gave his all.

A conspiracy? Absolutely impossible.

So: Why did their genetic father trap himself in the palace?

and……

The Primarch took a deep breath.

At this moment, he thought of a lot: countless details of the past, every unreasonable place he observed and summarized, every event that happened in the core area of ​​the human empire that was worth remembering by the Primarch, all of which emerged in his mind one after another.

He remembered the tithes, which had never actually been brought to Terra.

But he also remembered those rare materials that even he himself could not name: their quantity was so huge, and they were transported to the depths of the palace day and night, as if there was a huge mouth inside swallowing these priceless treasures.

Dorn had no doubt that the cost of mining these precious materials, combined with the quantities of them shipped to Terra, would more than make up for this ridiculous tithe: a tax that would have been used to force the mining of hundreds of thousands of mineral worlds at all costs.

In addition, the Lord of the Imperial Fist also remembered more things.

He remembered those mysterious members of the Adeptus Mechanicus and the various weapons, unknown tools, and even the terrifying Titans they brought into the Terran Palace.

He also remembered the strange earthquake on Terra twelve years ago.

He still remembered that shortly before the earthquake, his Imperial Fists Legion had been transferred away from Terra for no reason by orders of the Emperor brought by the Custodians. That was the only time that happened: they were away for a month, and no one knew what had happened on Terra during that month.

But the only thing that is certain is that after the earthquake, the Emperor, who used to write letters to Dorne himself, never sent back any message.

Dawn remembered this incident.

But he was worried that the Wolf God, who was thousands of miles away, would also remember this incident.

If it was Horus who came to question him...

……

The Emperor Fist Master didn't dare to think further.

(End of this chapter)