"Traitor?"
Tieron showed a hint of mockery, which quickly vanished, well-concealed.
After all, having mingled in the great melting pot of Terra for many years, his ability to control his emotions was near perfection.
"Why do you say that?" Tieron asked, looking at Iltus, the head of the Departmento Interior.
Iltus waved his hand in the air.
An image appeared with his movement, suspended in the air.
It was a recording of Tieron meeting with Hast and others.
And various letters exchanged.
Clearly, Iltus had investigated Tieron and knew everything he had done.
"Why would you do this? Tieron, I once thought you were a good ally."
Iltus looked at Tieron and asked in a cold tone.
"I haven't done anything. I merely performed my duties," Tieron said calmly. "Just as I did before, fulfilling my responsibilities, doing my own thing. Now, I have my own things to do."
A voice popped out from the side.
It was a projector that had fallen during the silent struggle, connected to Tieron's private database, which stored a large amount of data, intelligence summaries from various regions of Terra, and requests from different forces.
The projector was pressed down, hitting the play button, and a voice played from it.
"Chancellor, we request some support. There are refugees here. They look starving. The rioters took everything, and terrible monsters lurk in the shadows."
Iltus showed a mocking expression, "I didn't realize our esteemed Chancellor was so kind."
"This is work," Tieron said expressionlessly. "This is my job."
"Is betraying the Emperor also your job?" Iltus asked with a cold laugh.
"I did not betray the Emperor. Everything I did was for the Emperor's long-term interests," Tieron said. "I have absolutely no selfish motives."
"You incited those people to betray Terra, to betray the High Lords of Terra. Tieron, is this not treason? You incited those ignorant people to betray Terra and throw themselves into the arms of that sinful Primarch." Iltus roared, raising his bolt pistol, appearing extremely agitated.
"This is to avoid civil war. For the current Imperium, the threat of a civil war is immense. We must be cautious," Tieron argued reasonably.
"This is a necessary sacrifice. We must stop the Primarch's mistakes. He is harming the foundations of the Imperium, and that is the biggest problem. Undeniably, he was once the supreme commander, but he was also part of the Great Betrayal that almost destroyed us. To prevent such things from happening, he limited his own authority to prevent such a crisis from erupting again. But people change. He has slept for ten thousand years. The Imperium has prospered under the High Lords for ten thousand years. Everything has changed. He should stay in the stasis field. We resisted enemies, expelled enemies, and prevented crisis after crisis."
"No, the Imperium did not prosper under the High Lords," Tieron retorted. By now, he knew his impending fate, and there were some things he no longer wanted to flatter about. "Humanity has suffered greatly due to the High Lords' sluggishness and inefficiency. Terra is one example. This is the Holy World, the Emperor's abode, yet the people here are tormented, plagued by famine and despair. There has never been any prosperity, Iltus, that is just you deceiving yourself."
"You." Iltus showed a hint of anger, his face turned grim, revealing danger and malice.
Tieron spoke indifferently, as if he didn't see the other party's resentful expression: "I am someone who rose through political games. I know the cruelty and complexity of this game. You think I am a part of this game, but you are wrong. I hate this game. I deal with Imperial affairs every day, and I know how seriously ill this Imperium is. Over thirty percent of the army is on paper, not actualized, its interests divided among you and several other families."
"The many influential families you represent control the rogue trader organizations, trade pricing rights, and numerous fleets. You seize the most profit and wealth, yet because of your special status, you never pay taxes. All the taxes fall upon those planets without connections, making life on many planets unspeakably poor and difficult, unable to even guarantee basic food and clothing. This is not at all like an interstellar empire, but rather like a feudal dynasty."
"Is this loyalty to the Emperor? Is this the glorious age of the Imperium? Is this the prosperity under the rule of the High Lords? What connection do the High Lords of Terra have to every battle that decided the fate of the Imperium, which the Imperium of Man won?"
"The War of the Beast was initiated by Koorland activating the High Wall Protocol. The destruction of New Terra was a campaign led by the Dark Angels. The Age of Apostasy was ended by the Black Templars and the Custodes. Tell me, what role did the High Lords play in these events? What else can you do besides dividing up interests?"
Tieron's tone was full of mockery and taunting.
Clearly, he had long been dissatisfied with the High Lords of Terra.
How foolish and inefficient.
Iltus looked at Tieron, "But people still rebuilt the Council of Terra and restored the positions of High Lords time and time again."
"That is because the High Lords of Terra were restored by the Imperial Regent as the governing body of the Imperium while he was away on his Great Crusade. People continued this tradition out of trust in the Emperor and Guilliman. And now, you are planning to betray the Imperial Regent, aren't you? Betray the one who granted you power."
"I can't convince you, Tieron," Iltus said.
"Perhaps, you never convinced me."
"Perhaps. You betrayed us, causing a massive army to defect to Guilliman. This is an unforgivable crime," Iltus said. "You will pay the price for this. But you were smart, you let your family escape. But you cannot escape. We have decided to make you pay the most terrible price, Tieron. You will be tormented and die in agony. No one will pity you."
"Aren't you afraid of retaliation?" Tieron said. "I have established contact with the Primarch. If something happens to me, you won't be able to escape either."
"No one will know it was us, Tieron. The defenses of your mansion will soon fall. Your corpse will be torn apart by those rioters. If you had lived until the day the Primarch arrived, perhaps he would have favored and appreciated you. Unfortunately, that day will not come. You are destined to die today."
"Other High Lords have changed their plans. They will switch to supporting the Primarch to ensure their own survival. Although their families will decline and their positions will be stripped, they will still live. At that time, we will kill your children and family one by one, ensuring no bloodline remains."
"This is the reward for your loyalty, Tieron. I will ensure the Primarch knows nothing about this. No one will know that your descendants were slaughtered by us. A foolish fellow like you is destined to have no children or descendants. Even if you do, we will completely erase them. Weep for your children and wife, Tieron. They will soon join you."
Iltus shot Tieron in the legs.
The searing beam caused Tieron to scream, his corpulent body collapsing weakly to the ground.
Iltus injected a neurotoxin into Tieron's neck, then turned and left.
In the darkness, Iltus's assassins also followed closely.
They all held blood-stained blades in their hands.
That blood was left by Tieron's personal guards.
These assassins had been lurking everywhere, protecting their master and monitoring Tieron's every move, ensuring he had no escape.
Tieron, lying on the ground, watched the retreating figure, his lips trembling.
Soon, the pain of his flesh and nerves dissolving filled his mind.
Uncontrollable screams of terror erupted from his throat..
Neuro-dissolving toxin is an extremely terrifying and inhumane poison.
This poison slowly destroys neurons and cellular gene chains.
It causes the victim to die slowly in the unbearable pain of nerve dissolution.
This is an extremely cruel and irreversible method.
Such toxins were once widely used by various departments of the Imperium to intimidate their enemies.
That was until the assassination of a High Lord by Vangrich, the Grand Master of the Assassinorum, during the War of the Beast war.
After that incident, such poisons were sealed away by the High Lords.
Their use was no longer permitted in official Imperial departments.
They feared that these poisons would eventually be used against them.
Unfortunately, many rules are not meant to bind those who create them.
Iltus, the head of the Departmento Munitorum, was clearly a rule-maker.
Keeping assassins and using various prohibited poisons or weapons.
For a figure of his stature, these were not major issues.
Under the ravages of the neuro-toxin, Tieron's eyes gradually blurred.
At first, he could still scream, but as the poison slowly entered his nervous system, he lost even the ability to cry out.
"No, this is not true, master."
An old voice rang out.
Before Tieron closed his eyes, an elderly servant who had luckily escaped the slaughter by Iltus's assassins rushed to his master's side, his voice choked with sobs.
The servant had served Tieron for eighty years, a length of time equivalent to a normal person's lifetime.
If you were to delve deeper, it would be even more astonishing.
The family from which this old servant originated had actually served Tieron for four generations.
His father and grandfather were both Tieron's servants.
If nothing unexpected happened, his children would also be Tieron's servants.
Tieron had lived for centuries, thanks to various life-extending technologies.
However, his servants did not have the qualifications or access to enjoy the same life extension and could only accept the cycle of birth, aging, sickness, and death.
Because of this, Tieron watched as familiar people and things slowly vanished from his life.
Now, he himself had reached the end of his life.
The old servant, holding his master, wept uncontrollably.
He did not know what Tieron's reputation was like outside.
But within the Chancellor's residence, the servants' lives were quite good.
They were not punished or killed for minor mistakes.
In many noble families, the lives of servants were like roadside weeds, their fate resting solely on their master's whim.
The old servant had served Tieron his entire life, attending to his every need.
He knew deep down that this man, who held immense power in the Imperium, was a good person.
Why couldn't this world give good people a better ending?
Tieron's head rested on the servant's withered legs, his eyes slowly dimming.
It was just like a boy lying on his father's lap centuries ago.
"I will become the greatest servant of the Emperor, and my name will be remembered by all."
The boy said to his father.
"That's very dangerous. Many people don't like doing that, and they don't like anyone doing that. They hope everyone stays in the mud like them and becomes rotten. A vibrant flower blooming in a rotten swamp will only attract jealousy and targeting."
His father's face was filled with a benevolent smile, gently teasing his child's dream.
"I'm not afraid. I'll defeat those bad people. I'll be worse than them, so they won't be my match," the boy said.
"I lost, Father," Tieron thought as his final thought before death.
Memories from his life flashed through Tieron's mind like a rapidly turning kaleidoscope, allowing him to quickly review all of them.
The life of a base climber, manipulating power, trading interests, moving step by step, finally reaching a position unimaginable to the world.
He was about to die, dying in countless torments.
All power and wealth would vanish like smoke, turning into nothing.
If it were someone else, they would undoubtedly use any means to survive, in order to continue enjoying unimaginable wealth and power.
But Tieron had never cared about those things; he was only saddened that he couldn't hold on until the day the Primarchs arrived at Terra.
In the eyes of his political enemies, Tieron was cunning, cruel, and skilled at manipulating hearts.
But no one knew that deep down, Tieron was still the passionate youth who wanted to become the Emperor's most outstanding servant.
Tieron had experienced many things.
He knew very well that the galaxy was a cruel place.
The countless worlds of the Imperium of Man were filled with suffering and disease, and all that could be seen was wickedness.
Chaos ran rampant, and the foolish who were tempted were innumerable.
xenos constantly lurked, and the human blood on their blades had never dried.
Yet, the upper echelons turned a blind eye to all of this.
They only cared about manipulating power and showcasing their family's glory.
The Imperium was critically ill.
The flame of human civilization had long flickered precariously, in danger of being extinguished at any moment.
"Cough, cough, cough." Tieron coughed a few times, blood flowing from the corner of his mouth.
Seeing his master's pain, the old servant was filled with despair.
He continuously used a clean handkerchief to wipe the blood from his master's mouth.
"What can I do?"
"Oh God, why is this happening!!"
Looking at Tieron, whose breathing was becoming increasingly difficult, the old servant's heart was torn. What a vicious world this was, why did good people never seem to get good rewards?
A shrill alarm sounded.
The outer defenses of the Imperial Chancellor's residence were breached by rioters, and countless rioters, unable to bear the soaring prices and hunger, surged into Tieron's mansion.
Clearly, this was also part of their plan.
As the Imperial Chancellor, the security measures at Tieron's residence were extremely high-end and strict.
Now, they were destroyed by rioters.
It was clear how significant the security breaches were.
Such a thing could never have happened without others intervening.
The old servant, suppressing his tears and grief, chose to abandon his master's cold body before the rioters arrived and hid in a secret room.
He was too old; he couldn't possibly move a body.
He knew he had to survive.
He was the only survivor of the massacre at the Chancellor's residence.
If even he died, the truth of the matter would be buried with him.
No one would ever know the truth of Tieron's death.
Everyone would assume that the Imperial Chancellor died at the hands of rioters.
People would mourn and grieve for him, but they wouldn't be able to do anything.
No one would suspect that the High Lords could be so ruthless, directly killing everyone in the Chancellor's residence and even injecting the Imperial Chancellor with something as malicious as neuro-dissolving toxin.
They would live on safely, perhaps even gaining rewards or retaining their current positions by pledging loyalty and fawning over the Primarch.
How unfair that would be.
The old servant knew his mission; he had to make this matter public.
He had to seek justice for his master and avenge him.
Every High Lord involved in this matter had to pay the price.
Tieron was dead.
He died on the eve of the era he had dreamed of.
He had once strongly advocated for reform and the restoration of human glory.
To this end, he had entered the political arena of Terra and climbed up step by step.
He had considered lifting the restrictions on the Custodes, breaking the rules of the Codex Astartes, and mass-producing Space Marines.
He wanted to revive the lost technologies and political structures that allowed humanity to traverse the stars.
But the achievements in these years were few.
The opposition was too strong, and the resistance was too terrifying.
He had originally planned to push for the lifting of the Custodes restriction to reinforce Cadia.
But just as the vote was happening, news of Cadia's fall arrived.
This had made Tieron feel frustrated at one point.
Guilliman's appearance had given him hope again, seeing the glorious future the Imperium might have.
He had done his best to remove the obstacles to the Primarch's arrival on Terra, to turn those wavering generals, to speak with the Chapter Master of the Imperial Fists, and to advise the captain-General of the Custodes, urging them to side with the Primarch.
But despite doing so much, he couldn't witness the Primarch's arrival with his own eyes, couldn't witness the day humanity once again soared through the stars.
He died.
He died in his own residence.
His head was cut off by the rioters and hung in the garden of the Chancellor's residence.
His body was hacked into pieces, impossible to find in its entirety.
The Chancellor's residence was destroyed by the rioters and then suffered a massive explosion.
Meanwhile, in a luxurious room located in the outer court area of the Departmento Munitorum building, the Head of the Departmento Munitorum, Iltus, the Head of the Adeptus Arbites, Draco, and the Ecclesiarch, Bardo, stood together.
A large crystal chandelier hung overhead, casting a soft light throughout the luxurious and exquisite room.
The room had a window that faced the area where the Imperial Chancellor's residence was located.
The three stood by the window, watching the thick smoke rising from the direction of the Chancellor's residence, a faint smile on their lips.
Everything was so seamless.
No one would be able to discover that the fall of the Imperial Chancellor's residence was due to their instigation, or even their deliberate removal of troops and opening of defenses.
The truth would vanish forever.
It would never be mentioned again.
"Have people start publicizing the arrival of the Imperial Regent. We need to show a loyal appearance. Accuse the heads of the Imperial Daily and make them bear the blame for slandering the Imperial Regent."
Iltus toyed with the wine glass in his hand, the red wine within as crimson as blood.
"Indeed, we must find a way to retreat unscathed," the Ecclesiarch said.
In the skies above Terra, screeching fighter jets occasionally streaked past.
Nearby forces were rushing towards the Chancellor's residence.
Terrified screams and helpless wails came through the communications.
Tieron never discriminated against others and didn't mind helping people when it didn't inconvenience him.
This behavior had earned him good relationships.
The attack on the Chancellor's residence touched many hearts.
They prayed that Tieron, being a good person, would be blessed and protected by the Emperor.
It was only after they drove away the rioters and saw Tieron's shattered remains that they had to accept the fact that a great servant of the Emperor had departed.
Amidst the severe situation of rioter unrest and daemonic invasions.
The morale of many troops and civilians on Terra was dealt another heavy blow by Tieron's death.
Many fell into despair.
Some wondered if Terra would fall because of this.
However, a report in the Imperial Daily once again boosted people's morale.
Although it was significantly disconnected from the previous news, it still gave people a little hope.
"The Emperor's Son, Roboute Guilliman, has arrived in the Beta-Garmon system, only a week's warp travel from the Sol system. The High Lords have ordered the arrest of several editors of the Imperial Daily, who are accused of slandering and insulting the Primarch."
"A new storm is brewing. Internal sources reveal that the Adeptus Arbites will settle accounts for the recent acts of slandering the Primarch. Let us wait and see."