On Terra, in an auxiliary palace near the Emperor's Imperial Palace,
Alexei Lev Tieron, the Imperial Chancellor or Imperial Council Chancellor, or one of his thousand other titles, awoke from a brief sleep.
He moved his pale, swollen body and opened his eyes in the dim room. Compared to the reception halls he had meticulously decorated during his eighty years of service, his own room was simple and monotonous.
There were no sandstone fireplaces from the former French Federation, no luxurious gilded clocks of American aristocrats, no rare and exquisite porcelain from the Dragon States, no original poetry manuscripts from the Great Crusade era. Here, there was only a small bed, a floor and desk piled with documents, and a window so small it could barely be called a window.
Even though he was the Chancellor and Chief of the Imperial Senate, the convener of the High Lord Council, and according to the imperial law written on parchment, he was not among the twelve High Lords but had the right to attend the High Lord Council, and his power was second only to theirs, a bureaucrat fully capable of obtaining a better room.
In fact, the most imperceptible fraction of the money Tieron himself had embezzled would be enough to buy the most opulent palace on any planet outside of Terra.
But ever since the years known as the "Blind Sun" descended, Tieron had craved the sense of security that such a dim room provided.
It was as if this could avert the gaze of those things that stirred like blasphemous, defiled blood beneath the veil of reality.
Even in this dim room, Tieron had to rely on hypnosis and large doses of sedatives to sleep, only to wake up every half hour from nightmares, then tremble in the grip of real fear.
He often dreamed of butchers in sharp iron helmets chopping off his head, often saw his reflection in the mirror revealing a sinister smile, often heard the cawing of birds out of nowhere, often suffered the pain of inflammation and fever, and often saw in hallucinations a blue, round doraemon claiming that xenos were a subspecies of humans.
These terrifying scenes often suffocated Tieron; several times he almost committed suicide.
Tieron took a deep breath, calmed his fragile, violently beating heart, and slowly emerged from the covers.
He watched his ugly, swollen body exposed to the air and felt cold, but he did not wake Jackie, who lay beside him, instead, he personally put on his clothes.
Although work would begin soon, Tieron couldn't help but look down at Jackie's sleeping face; that not-so-pretty face gave him a little peace of mind.
The two had huddled together last night, enduring the long and painful night.
Jackie was not Tieron's wife. In fact, after Tieron personally buried his second wife and watched six of his seven children killed in political struggles, with one sent beneath the Throne, Tieron never married again.
Jackie was merely Tieron's assistant, but this did not mean that their sleeping together was a surrender to biological instinct.
In fact, Tieron was already two hundred years old and had not undergone deeper rejuvenation therapies to extend his life; he no longer had that function.
Tieron and Jackie huddled together simply because, over their long years of working together, they had come to completely trust each other, and it was this mutual trust that allowed them to barely get through the nights after the Blind Sun.
Most of the time, Jackie brought Tieron some peace of mind. Well, most of the time.
Tieron recalled the day the Blind Sun descended, the day what people on Terra called the Great Rift, and what Khayon, a Black Legion member imprisoned by the Inquisition, called the Crimson Path, arrived.
Frankly, Tieron had done more in his eighty long years as Imperial Chancellor than the sixty-four Imperial Prime Ministers whose names were still remembered over the past five hundred years combined. This was, of course, why he had held his position for eighty years.
When the plea for help from Cadia arrived, and the Thirteenth Black Crusade attacked, Tieron, through a series of bribes, deceptions, and quid pro quos, successfully rallied five High Lords to support a proposal.
He proposed lifting the restriction that the Adeptus Custodes could not leave Terra, allowing them to support Cadia and protect that crucial gateway.
However, Ialtu.Simotriane, the Minister of Adeptus Administratum and Chief High Lord, opposed Tieron's proposal, or rather, he opposed any proposal that sought to change imperial law.
Tieron could understand. Although most High Lords derived their power from every parchment scroll and every line of text in the imperial law, the Adeptus Administratum was most deeply intertwined with imperial law. Even a slight change would cause a torrent within the Adeptus Administratum.
Countless people might lose their ancestral positions because of it; countless people would die suddenly in front of parchment scrolls; Terra's parchment import would increase by several percentage points, and the resulting trade fluctuations could bankrupt several nobles and planets that relied on it.
The livelihoods of billions of Adeptus Administratum employees were at stake, so Ialtu, as the Minister of Adeptus Administratum, naturally had to defend it with his life.
Tieron knew this so clearly because his father was an Adeptus Administratum official, but shortly after Tieron was born, he was informed that his department had been disbanded 1,560 years ago, and Tieron's father and ancestors had been doing useless work for a thousand years. They were required to transfer to new positions.
And when Tieron's father spent two years finding a new position, he discovered that the department he was supposed to be transferred to had been disbanded five hundred years ago. Tieron's father thus lost his ancestral position in the Adeptus Administratum.
After his father's death, Tieron was sent to the Schola Progenium, and then it took him one hundred and twenty years to climb to the position of Imperial Chancellor, only then did he realize that all of this was because the High Lord Council had corrected a small spelling error in the imperial law 1,560 years ago.
Tieron understood that in wanting to abolish the Adeptus Custodes' restrictions and send them to support Cadia, he would face the entire Adeptus Administratum and the forces represented by other High Lords who opposed the proposal.
But just as Tieron, having exhausted all his wisdom, finally pushed everything to the point of a vote and was about to succeed,
Jackie burst into the High Lord Council with the latest news.
There was no need to discuss the Adeptus Custodes going to support Cadia anymore; Cadia no longer existed.
In fact, Jackie's notification was completely unnecessary, because minutes after her words fell, the sky was pierced by the Great Rift.
All of Terra, all of the galaxy, plunged into madness and chaos.
Tieron tremblingly walked to his desk. Before starting work, he took out a small picture book from inside the desk.
It was a religious pamphlet he had received from an Adeptus Ministorum priest in his childhood, depicting the figures of the nine loyal Primarchs.
Every child on Terra was told to constantly pray to these images, not to let these glorious figures leave their minds, not to let these examples of human spirit and hope disappear from their hearts.
Tieron slowly opened the scroll, looking at the nine figures on it—Lion El'Jonson, Leman Russ, Jaghatai Khan, Vulkan, Corax, Rogal Dorn, Ferrus Manus, Roboute Guilliman, and Sanguinius.
"My thoughts might be a bit heretical, but I've had a strange feeling since childhood that they will return one day and lead us again,"
Tieron said involuntarily, his voice loud, almost a shout.
Strangely, this childhood fantasy could now give him some strength.
"Is it because of those recent Astropathic messages?" Jackie's voice sounded behind Tieron. She had efficiently dressed and was sitting at the desk next to Tieron, starting her work.
"Perhaps. Perhaps those somewhat bizarre Astropathic messages have given me false hope."
A grim smile flitted across Tieron's lips.
The recent Astropathic messages were truly bizarre.
Some claimed that Guilliman and Sanguinius had been resurrected and had formed the Second Imperium, now fighting their way back to Terra.
Some claimed that Leman Russ had brought back medicine to heal the Emperor.
Some claimed that Rogal Dorn had returned and was preparing to lead the Imperial Fists to attack Terra and stage a coup.
There were also claims about some Eldar calling themselves sub-humans, Erebus declaring he would await the birth of the fifth god of the Warp, and Lion King's adoptive father Luther reappearing and seeking to resurrect Lion El'Jonson.
There were even more blasphemous, malicious, and bizarre rumors, even claiming that Horus had returned.
Of course, the most bizarre and blasphemous was the sudden emergence of a cult in the galaxy that worshipped an entity called "Saint Doraemon."
That cult actually claimed that Sanguinius and Guilliman had both submitted to the authority of Saint Doraemon.
And the image of that Saint Doraemon was a blue, round doraemon with a red nose and no ears, looking somewhat cute.
If this weren't some heretical faith, it might be very popular with children.
It's just that they were truly too heretical; according to their doctrine, even Sanguinius, the purest Primarch, had been corrupted into Saint Doraemon's daemon Prince.
Tieron took a deep breath, expelling these fragmented thoughts from his mind. He had to start work.
Although the galaxy was dark, and hope seemed to no longer exist, he still could not abandon his work.
"Our Imperium of Man is flourishing!" Tieron encouraged himself.
Tieron worked for over four hours straight, until eight o'clock when his first guest arrived.
"It's Ms. Mowan. Val, the Great Canoness of the Adepta Sororitas, Abbess of the Convent Sanctorum, and Supreme Commander of the Battle Sisters."
"Accompanying her is High Sister Magda from the Battle Sisters' Order of the Sacred Rose."
Jackie announced the visitors' identities to Tieron. She hesitated slightly before saying:
"It's a bit strange, but when did the Adepta Sororitas' power armor change to a metallic blue livery?"
Battle Sisters' power armor painted metallic blue?
There are six main Orders within the Sisterhood, and their armor is painted silver, black, or red, but never metallic blue.
Does this mean there have been some noteworthy changes within the Battle Sisters? Is it related to the Saint Girl mentioned in that intelligence report?
But Tieron had no time to ponder. Regardless, he could not neglect Ms. Morven Vahl, the Great Canoness of the Adepta Sororitas.
The Great Canoness of the Adepta Sororitas holds one of the most esteemed positions in the entire Imperium, even having the chance to become a member of the High Lords. Even if not a High Lord, her authority surpasses Tieron's.
After all, Tieron's authority only came from the rights granted by imperial law. Without imperial law, even a hive city thug could kill Tieron.
Ms. Morven Vahl was different. Her power came from herself, from her exemplary power armor, 'The Armor of Contrition,' and from the Battle Sister sisters who followed her. Of course, it also came from her burning faith and the Emperor's blessing.
Although Ms. Morven Vahl was young, having been in office for less than a year, Tieron had already heard many miracles attributed to her.
She was a lady blessed by the Emperor, without a doubt.
However, this lady was straightforward, preferring to remain on the front lines and rarely returning to Terra to get involved in politics. Why was she coming to see him now?
Tieron felt strange, but he still straightened his attire, walked out of his somber room, and crossed the gilded threshold to the reception room he had spent eighty years building.
He saw the metallic blue power armor Jackie had mentioned, worn by High Sister Magda.
This High Sister of the Order of the Sacred Rose had returned from Lexio in the Netherworld Star System and then entered seclusion at the Sisterhood's headquarters, the Convent Sanctorum on Terra, claiming she would meditate there to perceive the Emperor's guidance. But Jackie's spies had helped Tieron obtain some different information.
High Sister Magda had brought back a girl covered in burns from the Netherworld.
No one knew where the girl came from or what her identity was; not even the Pope of the Saint Church knew.
But Tieron knew that High Sister Magda claimed she was the Saint Girl, and that the Emperor's will had once descended upon her.
This intelligence, of course, did not come from Jackie's spies; Jackie's spies could not enter the Battle Sisters' cathedral under any circumstances.
This was known through Tieron's cooperation with the Custodian Guard. The Custodian Guard seemed intent on revealing this information to him, but they themselves took no action regarding it. Did the Custodian Guard truly believe that the girl had once been possessed by the Emperor's will?
However, a girl who had been possessed by the Emperor's will seemed no less incredible than the unbelievable rumors from the Astropathic Choirs.
Tieron looked at High Sister Magda, who was guarding the reception room door.
Did Ms. Morven Vahl bringing her mean that the Sisterhood also believed in the existence of the Saint Girl, and had the Custodian Guard and the Battle Sisters reached some kind of private consensus?
"High Sister Magda." Tieron nodded slightly to Magda in greeting, "Is this new power armor? A very unique color."
"This is the posture of faith." Magda merely stepped aside, gesturing for Tieron to enter.
Tieron gave a faint, unnoticeable wry smile. This was clearly his reception room, yet he felt like an outsider.
He pushed open the door and entered the reception room, where he saw Morven Vahl sitting before a sand-and-stone fireplace with a burning fire.
This fireplace was a relic of the former Gallic Alliance. Tieron had once been keen on preserving these ancient relics, to declare to the things in the galaxy and beneath the veil of reality that humanity was not only darkness, decay, and war, but also light, history, and culture.
But in these days since the Astronomicon almost extinguished, Tieron had forgotten this former hobby.
Morven Vahl did not look very old. Her hair was interwoven with black and silver, reflecting orange in the firelight of the fireplace, and the light of the fire also reflected in her eyes.
No, it wasn't the firelight reflecting in her eyes; it was the spirit filling her eyes that was truly burning fiercely.
Tieron had not seen such eyes in a long time. After the Great Rift opened, after the Astronomicon extinguished, he had never seen anyone whose eyes still burned with fire.
It was as if the Astronomicon no longer guided humanity. Tieron thought of Leoph Frank, the Lord Commander of the Astronomicon Court, one of the High Lords, who had always clashed with Tieron on political views.
But he was dead. After Cadia fell, he tried to reignite the Astronomicon, but all his attempts ultimately brought only disaster, and eventually killed him.
The Astronomicon was the domain of God, not something mortals could touch. Tieron thought with some sadness.
Perhaps, as those chaotic Astropathic Choirs said, only the return of a Primarch could reignite the Astronomicon and bring hope to humanity.
"Only when the sun extinguishes do mortals remember how much they need fire."
Tieron had just sat down and had not yet opened his mouth when Morven Vahl spoke first.
"Are you referring to the Astronomicon ?" Tieron asked, slightly startled.
"The Astronomicon , faith, the Emperor, and hope."
Morven Vahl looked up at Tieron and said,
"These are all in it, all things mortals rely on to survive."
Her gaze left the fireplace, but her eyes still burned fiercely, intensely dazzling.
"After the Astronomicon extinguished, I could only rely on my faith in the Emperor to fight in the galaxy."
"When I returned to Terra, I was horrified to find that the sisters had begun to worship other things."
"I was furious and rushed to the Saint Girl, but the moment I saw her, I knew there was truly a divine presence within her."
"Besides faith and the Emperor, another fire has been lit, and it is about to burn towards Terra."
"Chancellor, are you ready to welcome the arrival of hope?"
Hope? In this dark age, what could be called hope?
Unless... unless a Primarch truly returns.
Tieron's heart suddenly pounded. He suddenly thought of the Primarchs, of the recent rumors in communications about Primarchs returning, of the prophecies echoing in the streets of Terra, of his childhood fantasies.
"Could it be...?" He spoke with a glimmer of hope.
Hope, hope suddenly sprang up in his heart.
At the thought of that possibility, the possibility of a Primarch returning, the sound of bloody war cries, the sounds of debauched moans, sharp bird calls, corrupt flies and maggots—the auditory hallucinations that surrounded him seemed to diminish.
Uh, it seems not all of them diminished.
"Every day is the same, occasionally I have a sudden whim."
"As long as there's Doraemon, fantasies will extend infinitely, happy times shared with me."
"When sad, he stays by my side, just rummage through his magical pocket and worries are forgotten."
"Searching for legendary treasures, adventuring far away, look at my anywhere door."
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Doraemon and I together make dreams shine."
That song, that song praising the new Chaos God Doraemon, seemed to have gotten a little louder.
But it didn't matter, as long as a Primarch returned to Terra, everything would be fine!
Tieron's aged, swollen hands trembled uncontrollably.
"Exactly!" Morven Vahl's tone suddenly became excited: "The Saint Girl has conveyed the Emperor's prophecy to us!"
"He is here! The hope of humanity! Hope from the ancient era!"
"The great Saint Doraemon will descend upon the moon! He will return with his Living Saints, Guilliman and Sanguinius!"
"Praise Saint Doraemon! Praise Saint Doraemon!"
"..Huh?"
"Huh? Huh? Huh?"
Faced with the Great Canoness' words, which were nothing short of heresy, even Tieron, who had experienced centuries of political turmoil, felt his heart suddenly clench. Years of accumulated fatigue and the mental trauma of recent days surged into his heart under the stimulation, clogging his main artery.
Tieron's vision instantly went black.
"Eh? Chancellor? Chancellor, are you alright?"
"Rejuvenators! Where are the rejuvenators?! The Chancellor seems to have died of old age!"
*********
Alexander couldn't help but rub his ears.
Recently, he had always heard some sounds: prayers, pleas, cries for help, and praises for him.
It seemed the more intense the emotion in the voice, the clearer he could hear it.
For example, when Ultramar had not yet been fully recovered, the Astra Militarum and residents of different planets would cry out to him for help at their most critical moments.
When Alexander heard it, he would go and help, and as a result, the rescued Astra Militarum and residents would begin to loudly praise him. This repeated process seemed to make the sounds in his ears more and more numerous.
Only this time the sound was a bit different; the accent didn't sound like it was from near Ultramar, and the voice was fragmented. Also, it seemed to be in high gothic, which Alexander still had some trouble understanding.
"'Your faithful Morven to you...'
"'Bless... loyal Chancellor Tieron...'
"'Let him... overcome illness and old age...'
What the heck is this? Alexander rubbed his temples, listening to the prayer in his ear.
At the same time, Alexander was sure this was definitely not a prayer from his own Saint Doraemon Sect.
He had clearly written in the doctrine that prayers must at least include the name of the planet, and if possible, the specific location. Violators would have their Holy Communion dorayaki quota canceled for the next ceremony.
This way, Alexander could quickly find the location of the prayer using the anywhere door and the person-finding staff, and then respond to the prayer.
Also, obscure high gothic was not allowed; all prayers were to be in the local low gothic of Ultramar or the Netherworld Star System.
"Praying without an address, how is that different from seeing Guilliman and not letting him work overtime?" Alexander couldn't help but mutter.
Hearing this, Guilliman, who was writing a plan with an auxiliary tool nearby, looked up wearily.
"This is the two hundred eighty-fifth one I've written, number 13285."
Guilliman handed the plan to Alexander but didn't waste time explaining its specific contents.
Alexander also didn't waste time asking questions; he simply took it, quickly grabbed it, and placed it in front of the Truth and Falsehood Divination Machine.
"The plan numbered 13285, just written by Guilliman, will be the plan that best meets our needs."
Then Alexander used a series of words to explain each word in it, to prevent any loopholes in his statement.
A cross mark flew into the air, indicating that this statement was incorrect; document number 13221 was not the plan that best met their needs.
Guilliman couldn't help but sigh, and continued to lower his head and work.
"Try my one hundred thirty-second one, number 09132." Sanguinius also handed Alexander a plan.
Alexander nodded, took it, and repeated the process, but the result was still a cross mark.
"My number starting with 09 is unlucky." Sanguinius shook his head softly, saying, "This is not appropriate in numerology!"
"Then, according to you, the one I'm writing now must be the most perfect solution."
Guilliman said in a tired voice as he wrote,
"This is the two hundred eighty-sixth one, number 13286. 286 is the product of thirteen and twenty-two, which is very compliant with numerology."
A moment later, Guilliman finished writing the plan and handed it to Alexander.
"..Should we build a statue of Mortarion in the office?"
Guilliman said, looking at the red circle floating in the air, indicating that this plan was the most perfect plan.