Within the amphitheater's private boxes, Perturabo's ice-blue eyes fixed on Nareth as he walked towards the dais.
His steps were calm and deliberate, neither laced with malice like Mortarion's, nor bearing the lecturer's flair of Magnus.
He clenched his fists. Scenes flashed through his mind: Morningstar, and the vibrant spirit of Magnus.
At the galactic core, He and Magnus entering the Shadow's Sovereignty, witnessing a palace that was chaotic and disorderly, yet exuded artistry.
Nareth gifting him the Rangdan homeworld, a tribute to his iron defenses against the xenos horde.
...
Before his departure to garrison the western frontier, Nareth had built him a grand theater on Vostroya, filled with dazzling performances from a dozen worlds.
Perturabo's eyes blazed with fire. He nearly threw caution to the wind, ready to burst from the box and stand with his two accused friends.
Boom!
A chill, starlit radiance extinguished the burning flames.
A powerful bull charged towards him.
"My son, do you remember what I told you when we first met?"
"I remember. You said, 'Your path will be fraught with hardship, but few are worthy of it.'"
"You also said, 'I have prepared many trials for you, tireless, unyielding, relentless. You will be my Lord of Iron.'"
Golden light pierced his eyes. "And how did you answer?"
"I said, 'I ask for nothing else! I swear, I will always be loyal, always serve You. I swear it.'"
"Good. Today, I will also tell you that you are not only my Lord of Iron; you are my Taurus. You have shown your resilience, but that is not all..."
His father's words, calm and firm, cooled the flames.
"The Taurus is steadfast and devoted. He serves only one."
"Do you understand?"
"I understand. I will always serve You." Perturabo murmured.
First Captain Forrix, his trident in hand, looked at his father in confusion.
"Father, what shall we do?"
"Nothing." Perturabo's voice was cold. He stared at the armor Ferrus Manus had forged for Nareth, tracing lines in his mind.
Nareth's calm voice reached his ears. "Before Aristarchus of Samos, people believed Terra was a flat disc, with the oceans cascading off the edges."
"Later, we learned the planets are spheres. Yet, religious scholars declared Terra the center of the universe, with the sun, moon, and stars revolving around it."
Nareth's obsidian gaze swept over the tiered councilors. None dared meet the Bloody Monarch's eyes.
Those who had accused him felt a chill, lowering their heads, as if trying to hide in the shadows.
'He wouldn't dare! I spoke by the Emperor's command.'
'I've read his biography. He's not the savage Russ, not the bloodthirsty Angron. It'll be fine.'
'...'
"Those who dared question these foolish notions were branded heretics, tried."
"They were denounced as deviants, the corrupt and wicked, witches, heretics, and liars. They were tied to stakes, thrown into lava lakes."
"Tens of thousands perished."
Nareth's gaze swept over Ohthere Wyrdmake, his anger unmasked.
He knew that even if Magnus's speech, as brilliant as in his memory, had made the accusations less damning than their accusers had hoped, the outcome was already decided.
The Emperor would not change his mind.
He was convinced that banning psychic powers was a powerful means of preventing Chaos corruption, that he could complete the Webway project and free humanity from the Warp's grip.
He could not change the Emperor's mind.
What he wanted to emphasize was that the Librarians should not be condemned.
No one would be convicted. The Emperor could do as he pleased; his ban would be about as effective as a sheet of tissue paper.
"Later, Copernicus revealed the truth: Terra revolves around the sun."
"Today, his statue stands at the entrance to Terra's Grand Observatory. One of Vostroya's three work shifts is named after him."
"The barbarism of the past should not be repeated. Self-destruction is no way to placate the ignorant."
Nareth looked up at the dais. "A plasma gun can overheat and explode. A well-maintained bolter can misfire."
"Does that mean warriors should discard their weapons?"
"To condemn all psykers as evil is to forget the Imperium's dependence on them."
His obsidian gaze swept over the dais: Lauren Visccher, the Paternal Envoy in her black robes; Nemo Zhi-Ming, Master of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. Finally, his gaze rested on Malcador and the Emperor.
"Blades are forged into shape by blacksmiths; Psykers are trained to become Librarians."
"Astartes hone their skills in training cages; Psykers bring unbound psychic power under control in the Librarius."
"What I speak is the truth!"
Nareth's voice was firm. He turned to leave.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
His boots had struck the ground eleven times when he stopped.
A figure approached, bearing a skull-topped staff, his winter-pale armor's edges newly painted black.
"I am Targutai Yesugei, of the Talskar tribe of Chogoris, Stormseer of the Great Khan."
"I have listened to the words of the noble. I solemnly swear that all Lord Nareth has spoken is truth. The Stormseers are the masters of the Way of Heaven."
One by one, Chief Librarians stepped from their boxes, standing before Nareth.
Dio Promus of the Ultramarines.
Umojen of the Salamanders.
Fel Zharost of the Night Lords.
Elikas of the Dark Angels.
Thomas of the Shadows of Order.
Balsar Kurthuri of the Raven Guard.
Hathor Maat of the Thousand Sons.
Fourteen Chief Librarians surrounded Nareth, like fourteen guardians bearing staffs.
Nareth was taken aback, looking at the fourteen Librarians. The scene seemed familiar.
'Magnus had twelve standing with him. I have two more.'
'One is Ahriman, who was too proud of Magnus to step forward; Hathor has taken his place. The other is my son, Thomas, quick to react.
'Hmm... compared to Magnus, I, who proposed the Librarian project, am the one regarded by the Librarians of all Legions as the flag-bearer bearing the pressure.'
Nareth turned.
From the dais, a procession descended. His biographer, Petronella Vivar, in her black dress, led the way.
Behind her followed dozens of Council of Terra members, including fifteen unfamiliar faces.
Nareth committed the fifteen to memory, his gaze tracking to the end of the line.
Two Council Lords, Barton Drake and Lauren Visccher, rose without hesitation, walking side-by-side down the steps, amidst the gasps of the assembly.
'The jury has sided with me.'
Petronella reached him, performing an elaborate curtsy before falling in behind him.
The others bowed and took their places to the right. The fourteen Librarians stepped aside, forming a line to his left and rear.
Barton and Lauren stood to his left and right, looking up at the dais.
The Emperor looked down, having heard all.
His gaze rested on those around Nareth. He weighed his decision, then stepped to the edge of the dais.
"Hear my judgment."
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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