Irthu's contradictory words momentarily stunned the High Lords present, but they quickly regained their composure.
Isn't it normal for High Lords to have some mental issues? In fact, those without mental illnesses are a rare minority among the Imperium's high-ranking bureaucrats.
Individuals like Tieron, who served as Imperial Chancellor in such a high position for eighty years without developing any mental problems and even retaining their conscience, are truly one-in-a-million gems.
Irthu's expression faltered slightly; he realized his words had been somewhat foolish.
He rubbed his temples vigorously, gritted his teeth, maintained his focus, and dispelled the fogginess brought on by the nerve pain in his head.
"My apologies," Irthu said, expressing regret for his momentary lapse.
No one attacked Irthu for this. If a lapse in decorum at the High Lord Council should be criticized, then Fabricator General Oudia, who occupied most of the council hall with his humming mechanical sounds, should be the one criticized.
In fact, Irthu felt that he was currently in his best state in recent days.
The wave of reforms recently initiated by Roboute Guilliman was too fierce, and this work would ultimately fall on the Adeptus Administratum. Whether Irthu opposed or supported those policies, he had to undertake more work.
Irthu even suspected that Roboute Guilliman's goal was to work them, the Conservative Party, to death in their positions, clearing obstacles for his reforms.
Monster, Irthu thought in his heart, staring at Roboute Guilliman. A twisted, hideous, terrifying monster composed of overtime, administration, and pushing a new order with single-minded determination.
Irthu had once thought Roboute Guilliman was merely a mortal, but he had changed his mind. How could he be considered a mortal? He was a monster.
Although this was Irthu's first time seeing Roboute Guilliman in person, Irthu had read all the edicts Guilliman had issued.
For an Adeptus Administratum official like Irthu, reading a person's edicts revealed more about them than seeing the person themselves.
Guilliman was a monster full of ideals, hope, and so-called ambition. He used his almost blasphemous and terrifying administrative ability to force his established order upon others.
If only such a Primarch were willing to uphold imperial law, how good that would be! Then imperial law would operate in its most rigorous and perfect form, just like the most exquisite machine.
Irthu sighed inwardly.
But Irthu would not sit idly by. As a mortal, he had to fight against Guilliman, this administrative monster.
He had a weapon, a weapon that could counter Guilliman.
This weapon was forged by Guilliman himself ten thousand years ago.
Ten thousand years ago, after the Great Heresy ended, Guilliman inherited the political legacy of the hero Malcador and established the current High Lord Council system.
This system was so rigorous that even Guilliman himself could not bypass the High Lord Council to implement his reforms.
Irthu intended to use the High Lord Council, this weapon forged by Guilliman, to destroy Guilliman's own reforms.
"Diligent work inevitably leads to exhaustion, and a small lapse should not be condemned."
Guilliman spoke at this moment, smiling slightly at Irthu and saying:
"And as Lord Irthu said, let us begin the first item on today's agenda."
Irthu was slightly surprised by Guilliman's cooperation.
His gaze fell on Roboute Guilliman, noticing that the Emperor's son possessed a common handsomeness.
Although Irthu called Guilliman a monster in his heart, compared to Sanguinius, who stood beside Guilliman with a perfect, sculpted smile, Guilliman indeed seemed more human.
It was like the images of leaders on the ancient coins Irthu once collected, possessing a charm akin to that of a mortal monarch.
Even if Irthu regarded Guilliman as an enemy, he had to admit that he possessed an instinctive, convincing aura.
But Irthu did not let emotion influence his judgment. His fingers lightly tapped on the table.
This was a gesture, a gesture to launch an attack.
"My Lord," Admiral Melida Perez interjected, almost preemptively, "The Navy has observed you assembling fleets at shipyards on Mars, Saturn's moons, and Jupiter's orbit. You have also submitted vast orders for war materiel and vessels to the Adeptus Mechanicus."
"Based on my duty as High Admiral of the Imperium, please allow me to inquire about your reasons for doing so."
Guilliman smiled. He now looked even more like a monarch's head engraved on a coin.
His gaze did not fall on the twelve High Lords, but rather lifted slightly, as if looking towards the ceiling, at the star-studded firmament, awaiting to be traversed.
"You should not ask me the reasons for doing so; you should ask me what this will bring us."
"I will bring you only one thing. This is my answer to this fragmented and decaying era."
"When I returned from death, when I awoke from slumber, all I saw was war and sorrow. I saw the Imperium torn in half by the Warp's evil forces. I saw the galaxy ravaged by traitors. I saw the Imperium of Man once again on the brink of extinction."
"Were it not for Saint Doraemon and my brother Sanguinius standing before me, my eyes would have seen only despair."
"From the day I awoke, I have been contemplating what I can do, what I must do, how I can save this dark age, and how I can overcome all difficulties."
"And my answer is but one, High Lords. I ask you, on behalf of humanity, to listen to this answer."
Guilliman's gaze slowly withdrew from the stars and fell upon the mortal High Lords.
"Expedition. My answer is only Expedition."
Instantly, the air grew cold and silent, still as the world's genesis, before anything had uttered its first cry.
Irthu felt dizzy. His greatest fear had come true. This monster would bring a cruel Expedition and transformation to the Imperium.
"My Lords, why are you silent?"
Guilliman's questioning voice thundered through the council hall:
"I will not tell you how glorious this Expedition will be; this Expedition will not begin for glory."
"This Expedition begins to counter the calamity of the Old Night. This Expedition begins to counter the malice in the galaxy. This Expedition begins for the survival of humanity."
"This Expedition begins to declare humanity's unyielding spirit. It begins to reclaim the stars."
"If you, my Lords, ask me to abandon this Expedition, then I will tell you, never."
"Horus did not make me yield, Lorgar did not make me yield, Fulgrim did not make me yield. I will never yield."
"Just as the Dark Gods did not make humanity yield, alien daemons did not make humanity yield, and the darkness of Old Night did not make humanity yield, humanity will never yield."
"This is the Unbowed Crusade."
"We do not have enough ships, not enough war materiel, not enough soldiers and Astartes," Admiral Melida Perez stammered to Guilliman.
"Build the ships we don't have, forge the weapons we don't have, train the soldiers we don't have, and for the Astartes, I have my own preparations."
Guilliman did not turn his gaze to Admiral Melida Perez, but simply continued:
"My Lords, we are not more destitute than the Emperor was ten thousand years ago."
"Are you comparing yourself to the Emperor? Are you comparing yourself to a god?" Minister of Justice, Avellisha Drachma, said, almost in terror.
"..My Lords." It was not Guilliman who spoke, but Alexander, who sat behind Guilliman.
Alexander's fingers lightly brushed the hot clapperboard & robot director in his pocket, looking at the High Lords whose gazes were fixed on him.
The prop endowed him with an acting ability that exuded a convincing aura, and Alexander slowly began to speak:
"Some of you are familiar with me, some of you are still relatively new to me, but I believe you all know—some people call me a god."
"Although I am not, I certainly understand what a god is better than anyone present, and I understand the Emperor better than you do."
"I will now tell you what a god is. A god is not inherently something greater than a human; a god is something worse, more despicable, more extreme than a human."
"Look at what the gods of this galaxy are: a delusional, schizophrenic fitness fanatic, a supernatural toilet old father conned by numerology, a hyper-aggressive hyperthyroid antisocial madman paralyzed on the Brass Throne, a drug-addicted and sex-addicted individual, two hyperactive mushrooms, a bean sprout version of a schizophrenic hyper-aggressive antisocial madman, the toilet of the supernatural toilet, a lying clown, a useless individual beaten by medieval knights, a galaxy-level autistic, a grim reaper without a scythe, worse than a clown, a multi-species weakling Frankenstein, and a starving ghost from outside the galaxy."
"You would compare the Emperor to those things? Have you considered what the Emperor himself would think?"
"The Emperor never—even if he truly were a god—he never claimed to be a god."
"On the contrary, he proclaimed himself a man, the same as you, the same as us."
"Humanity is the Emperor, and the Emperor is humanity."
"It is not Guilliman comparing himself to the Emperor, but rather the Emperor believing that humanity can stand shoulder to shoulder with the Emperor."
Alexander's voice carried a peculiar power of persuasion, like the most eloquent orator:
"This is the imperial will. The Emperor believed that humanity is the most excellent race, with a manifest destiny to unify the galaxy."
"How dare you defy the imperial will, defy humanity's manifest destiny, and reject an Expedition for humanity to reclaim the galaxy?"
Alexander's words left the Minister of Justice and the High Admiral speechless.
Such matters of faith should have been rebutted by the Pope of the Saint Church, but the previous Pope of the Saint Church, Baldo Strait, who belonged to the Conservative Party, was dead.
At this moment, the three High Lords of the Conservative Party suddenly realized that losing the Pope of the Saint Church was not merely losing a High Lord's vote.
They had, in essence, lost the power to interpret what the imperial will truly meant.
Irthu's face darkened. He knew he had to launch a more direct attack.