"The Librarius issue has troubled us for a long time, but all divisions will be resolved here." Malcador gripped the manuscript tightly, looking around the private boxes on the lower level.
Attendants had already guided Nareth and the others to their boxes, awaiting their turn to speak.
"Some believe sorcery is the greatest threat to our dominion over the galaxy."
"Others disagree, insisting the accusations are born of ignorance and fear."
He infused his words with conviction. "This is indeed the greatest crisis facing the Imperium. It must be resolved before we continue the Great Crusade."
"We cannot suffer internal strife."
Malcador straightened, looking around, "Then, who among you will speak first?"
"I will." A harsh voice came from the box opposite the Shadows of Order.
He wore a snarling wolf-head helm, its forelegs resting on his chest.
A long staff rested on his shoulder. His mechanical leg clanked as he walked.
He crossed the amphitheater, stopping at the foot of the Emperor's dais, and removed his wolf-head helm. "I am Ohthere Wyrdmake of the Space Wolves. I fought alongside the Shadows of Order on Stafford Prime and Indra-Sul."
"I declare that Sanchez and his ilk are a cabal of warlocks, wielding unclean magic, each a sorcerer abusing forbidden powers."
"I swear, all I say is true."
He looked around. The Council of Terra members on the dais murmured, their eyes turning towards the Shadows of Order box.
Malcador struck the ground with his staff, drawing their attention.
"Ohthere Wyrdmake, you are making grave accusations against a brother Legion."
Wyrdmake turned towards the Shadows of Order, his face contorted with hatred.
Nareth laughed softly. 'I didn't expect that, because of my intervention, Magnus didn't have Ahriman trust Wyrdmake. He still emerges first, pointing his finger at Sanchez.'
He watched Wyrdmake's creaking mechanical limb. 'His hatred for Sanchez runs deep. However, because of the oath Russ swore to me, he didn't speak in the name of Leman Russ's son, and lacking 'evidence,' his accusations carry less weight.'
Pat gripped his crozius. 'Heretic!'
Thomas looked at Wyrdmake. 'Sanchez and Okafor should have torn him apart. But his accusations are weak.'
Having ascended to the Third Level of the Thelema mindstate, he could finally free himself from the blinding golden light and gather his thoughts.
"Is there anyone to support your claims?" the Regent's voice asked.
"I will."
Thomas's "Eyes of Mystery Prying" shifted, watching Mortarion emerge from his box. He took exactly twenty-eight steps from the moment he left.
Thomas and Ahzek Ahriman, nearby, both saw the same number from a mystical perspective, seven.
"I have witnessed the disasters wrought by sorcery. Worlds reduced to ash, civilians enslaved, foul xenos corrupting all."
Toxic fumes churned in Mortarion's mind. The pale form of the Sorcerer King appeared.
Necare's hideous head suddenly loomed before him. He caught his breath, looking towards the Thousand Sons' box.
Whoosh!
He exhaled heavily, his respirator humming.
He turned to the dais. "We all know the horrors of the Old Night. I will now pose a simple question: what caused that galaxy-wide cataclysm?"
"Psykers. Uncontrolled psykers."
"You all know the threat they represent."
Mortarion stroked the ring on his right little finger, its worn surface barely revealing the image of a gaunt but sturdy goat.
A brilliant light blazed in his eyes.
His father's words, spoken two months prior, echoed in his ears.
"Lord of Death, you are my Capricorn. You march in silence towards your great purpose, persevering through hardship."
"You have conquered new worlds in silence. Now, it is time to swing your scythe and shatter the darkness."
Mortarion straightened, gripping the pale handle of his scythe.
He was not the Warmaster, but he was the righteous hand of justice, the one to cut down the witches.
He would fulfill the sacred task his father had given him.
"Our beloved Emperor foresaw this. The psychic engines and the Eye of Truth stations on Terra can search the galaxy for the psychic gene."
"The Black Ships of the Sisters of Silence protect us from the dangerous mutants who abuse sorcery."
Mortarion looked to the dais, knowing the Navigator envoy and the Master of the Astropaths had both sided with Nareth.
They were not the fences the goat's horn would break.
Of the two, Lauren Visccher was deeply tied to Nareth's interests, while Nemo Zhi-Ming could be won over.
"The Imperium needs Astropaths and Navigators. They allow distant worlds to communicate and guide the Expedition Fleets across the stars."
He naturally placed the Astropaths first, nodding to Nemo Zhi-Ming.
"But we do not need warlocks. Their abuse of power will only bring ruin."
"You may have heard of the Old Night's terrors, but who among you has witnessed them firsthand?"
Mortarion surveyed the dais. "The Death Guard have. On Kayor."
"My Legion encountered a human civilization that had fallen to sorcery. They had no advanced technology, yet it still took my Legion six months to subjugate that world."
"What allowed these primitive barbarians to resist the Death Guard for so long?"
He paced, the butt of his scythe striking the ground, forcing every eye upon him.
"They were able to stop us because they wielded foul power and had abominable allies. Every night, strange, sorcerous creatures came from the shadows, seeking pleasure in slaughter."
"Thunderous beasts repeatedly broke through the Death Guard's lines. Brutal, crimson hounds dragged my sons into the dark forests."
The Council members paled at Mortarion's grim account. The Death Guard's lines being broken was unheard of.
"They were all summoned by Kayor's warlocks. The fallen also called down fire, summoned lightning, and split the earth. Yet, no power comes without cost. In the center of every city we conquered, there was a building the locals called the Blood Temple, filled with piles of bone."
He finished his final story, returning precisely to the foot of the dais.
"I do not intend to accuse any of my brothers. I do not believe they would condone such barbarism. But sin begins with small acts."
"Evil, like walking, is a journey of a thousand miles."
"Even noble goals can lead us astray, thinking small evils are acceptable for a greater good. But there is no distinction between good and evil."
Mortarion, thinking of Nareth's many achievements and everything on Barbarus, delivered his final indictment.
"The Thousand Sons are renowned for their deeds, but rumors of their sorcery are equally widespread."
"I have led my warriors alongside Magnus's sons. I have seen it with my own eyes. It is sorcery."
"Like the warlocks of Kayor, the Thousand Sons' cults crush their enemies with invisible force, summon fire and lightning."
He looked towards the Thousand Sons box. "I am afraid. I fear I have defeated one army of witches, only to find another at my side."
"I have always harbored deep misgivings about the Librarius program. The Death Guard is untainted by it."
"Until now, I have remained silent but I realize I can no longer hold my tongue. Even if it pains me to accuse my brother, I cannot stand by while his recklessness drags an entire Legion into the abyss."
Mortarion bowed to the Emperor. "My words do not spring from hatred, but from brotherly love for Magnus."
Bang!
Molten flame erupted from Magnus's clenched fists, melting the obsidian railing like candle wax.
His primal fury clashed with his transcendent intellect. The forces of anger and hatred swirled, breaching the arcane techno-shielding, radiating outward.
A flicker passed through Nareth's obsidian eyes, falling upon Mortarion's right little finger, upon the spiritually charged ring.
'The Emperor gave Mortarion a ring. It's his usual method, when He needs it, He chooses someone to play a role. Mortarion is the goat's horn He drives, the scythe He swings against the Librarius.'
'Hah... He has a psychic form, a tall, handsome peasant... hmm, He calls him Revelation.'
He remained calm, watching accuser after accuser take the stage.
Most accused the Thousand Sons of being sorcerers, but a few also accused the Shadows of Order of being warlocks, and some accused the Blood Angels of being blood-mages.
No one mentioned the White Scars. They were forgotten again.
The accusations lasted for nearly four hours.
After the last accuser spoke, Magnus, draped in a feathered cloak, strode from his box, his eye blazing gold as he faced the dais.
He bowed to the Emperor and Malcador, smiled towards Nareth, Sanguinius, and Fulgrim, and then magnanimously gestured towards Mortarion.
He ascended the dais, as if mounting a lectern on Prospero, his hands resting on the wooden podium.
"The precious memory of questioning all things is the source of all knowledge. If we forbid the exploration of the mysteries we do not understand, the flame of enlightenment will be extinguished."
"Imagine how future generations will view this absurdity."
His eye shifted to blue.
"If we abandon psychic powers lightly, we will surely fall into decay and ruin, plunging the Imperium into darkness."
"It is not the Imperium I believe in, nor the one I wish to live in, where those who selflessly seek knowledge are met with suspicion."
"Knowledge is the food of the soul. No knowledge is illegitimate, as long as those who seek the truth can control what they learn."
Magnus raised his head, his eye blazing silver.
"In this, there are no greater scholars than the Thousand Sons. We have studied what others fear, while we fight for the Emperor in the Great Crusade."
"No knowledge is forbidden. No path is hidden. An ancient Terran tale illustrates this perfectly."
Magnus's tale was more compelling than any Expedition Fleet's Iterator.
"Three Egyptians lived in a cave in the mountains, isolated from the world, living by a small fire. They believed it was the only light in the world."
"One day, a fierce storm swept over the mountains. A breeze entered the cave, making the fire dance."
"One of them rose and walked out alone. The other two called him back."
He raised his head, his mutable eye blazing with flame.
"The walker shook his head. He followed the breeze, climbing the cliffs."
"He struggled through hardship, reaching the summit, looking up at the blazing sun."
"His eyes stung, but they soon adjusted. He looked down, seeing the cave in the mountainside."
Magnus raised his arms, as if embracing the light.
"He looked out at the vast green sea, the endless golden fields. He realized, with sorrow, that he had wasted his life in darkness, knowing nothing of the magnificence so close at hand."
"The world had always been there. He had just been blind."
His eye shifted to a melancholy grey. "He returned to the cave, telling his friends of the world outside."
"They mocked his madness, and stayed by the fire."
"He returned to the world of light and began to dig. A century, then another, he carved a tunnel, showing them the real world. They saw its beauty and realized what a brilliant light they had missed."
"They praised the pioneer who had led them to the light."
Magnus's eye blazed with gold. "The Thousand Sons and I have seen the brilliant light of the Great Ocean."
"This light can free us from the shackles of reality and make us masters of the galaxy."
"Those who huddle by the fire must realize that a glorious future is within reach."
"I ask you not to abandon this opportunity to enlighten humanity. We stand at a turning point in history. Think of how future generations will judge us."
Thunderous applause erupted. Magnus's tale had moved the councilors.
He bowed to the audience, accepting their praise.
He descended from the dais with a smile, nodding to Sanguinius and Fulgrim, who had stepped from their boxes to applaud.
Nareth also stepped from his box, applauding Magnus, and strode towards the dais.
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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