He was a tall, broad-shouldered figure, brimming with virile strength, like a statue. He was imposing as a mountain, broad and forgiving as the sea.
But to Duchess Gaereibean, he seemed like a vast universe.
Before a universe, she felt its unfathomable mystery and boundless immensity. More than anything, though, she felt a deep fear rising from her soul, as if an ordinary person were seeing the starry sky for the first time. In that moment, after the overwhelming sense of mystery, all one could feel was how insignificant, small, and powerless one was. In the end, only immense fear remained, along with the instinctive urge to prostrate oneself in worship.
It was like an ancient, instinctive reverence for the higher-dimensional, born of the nature of living things.
Even though His Majesty had never gone out of his way to display his might.
Curiously, the higher a psyker's ring, the more directly he seemed to sense the Emperor's majesty. Yet to young knight-apprentices, ordinary soldiers, and the common people, the Emperor always appeared especially kind, tolerant, and warm. He could even be called benevolent.
"I already know, Gali." The Emperor's voice was as calm and natural as ever, without the slightest hint of displeasure.
Even so, Duchess Gaereibean remained on one knee, not daring to raise her head.
"From the moment the plan began, our failure was inevitable. It was as if someone had seen through everything we did. From the Warp to the material world, from the Domain of Strife to the warships, we failed at every turn. Your Majesty, it was all my fault," she said.
The Emperor laughed heartily. "Oh? You're asking for forgiveness, but you're clearly blaming me. Yes, your Chrysalis plan was a mess, and its odds of success were indeed low. Without my tacit