The Planetary Governor and the Rogue Trader

The Five Hundred Worlds controlled by the Ultramarines could be called the most brilliant jewels in the Imperium.

Public order was good, and the living standards of the people generally ranked among the foremost of all Imperial planets.

During the Horus Heresy, when loyalist forces were scattered across the galaxy and cut off from one another, Guilliman had even considered making the Five Hundred Worlds humanity's second stronghold against Chaos. Together with the other two Primarchs—the Primarch of the Dark Angels Legion and Sanguinius, Primarch of the Blood Angels Legion—he formed the Imperium Secundus.

Of course, before this plan could be realized, they discovered that the Emperor was not yet dead.

The three Primarchs dissolved the Imperium Secundus, led their forces to reinforce Terra, and sealed away all records of the matter.

Even though it never came to pass, it showed the potential of the Five Hundred Worlds.

The Five Hundred Worlds were Guilliman's foundation, and they could not afford to be lost.

Upon hearing of his revival, some Planetary Governors whose situations were not too dire, along with a few quick-handed Rogue Traders, had already arrived.

Others were either trapped by the current dire circumstances or unwilling to obey the commands of a revived Primarch and come to Macragge.

The Emperor and the Primarchs had long since become legends and myths. Ten thousand years was enough to change many things.

The Imperial Truth of old had been swept into the dustbin of history, and the despised Ecclesiarchy had become a member of the High Council of Terra.

The Adeptus Mechanicus grew ever more insular and conservative, the Council of Terra ever more corrupt.

After the catastrophe at Cadia, the vast Imperium bled like a gushing corpse, losing blood rapidly, barely able to react in time.

Ten thousand years of nourishment had allowed all manner of powers to become deeply intertwined, rooted deep within the Imperium, ceaselessly draining it, trying to devour it completely.

Those who refused to come were waiting and watching. They did not want their authority taken away by a Primarch who had suddenly revived.

Hundreds, thousands of years of rule had long made them believe that the power in their hands was theirs by birthright, a symbol of their superiority.

Anyone who offended this principle had undoubtedly become their enemy.

Guilliman had no time to deal with them for now. He first had to stabilize those worlds still willing to offer him support.

He had to reform and transfuse new blood into the old system, forging the Five Hundred Worlds into a solid foundation. Only then could he support the plans he would set in motion next.

Optimize the population structure, provide conscription, re-establish a system of wealth distribution, and spur the people to produce more food and weapons.

The bloated administrative departments and the aristocratic system had to be streamlined to reduce the financial burden and increase efficiency.

He also needed to further promote universal education and establish a research structure independent of the Adeptus Mechanicus, to provide more military forces and reserve technical personnel for the expedition he was about to launch.

The Adeptus Mechanicus and the Imperium were merely allies, holding a seat on the Council of Terra.

Guilliman was not the Emperor. He could not guarantee that the Adeptus Mechanicus would not suddenly slip from his control.

He also had to consider this: if the Emperor were to revive and declare Guilliman a traitor to the Imperium, which side would the Adeptus Mechanicus choose?

Would they choose the sacred Omnissiah? Or the revived Thirteenth Son of the Emperor?

The answer was obvious. Perhaps some members of the Mechanicus would choose him, but they would definitely be a minority.

He had to have his own scientific research institutions, with a complete research system, to digest the various knowledge within the Database.

To accomplish all this, he needed the help of these Planetary Governors.

Souls born beneath crimson light should not, in principle, have allowed the existence of these families that lorded over commoners.

But the complexity of this world far exceeded that of his original one.

Even though he was a transmigrator and a Primarch, with the help of the Dominion Template, he could obtain unimaginable abilities.

Still, he could not completely control every world.

The Imperium was too vast, and the means of communication and travel were far too inefficient.

Nor was there sufficiently powerful artificial intelligence available for use.

The Chaos Gods could not only corrupt flesh-and-blood beings but could also invade networks.

This world could not use the intelligent systems of the Super God Universe to manage itself.

Nor could it allow a single intelligent system to command too many combat units.

If he blindly pursued an intelligent path, once demons invaded, the units controlled by intelligence would also be corrupted by flesh and blood, turning their guns on humanity.

Under the command of the Chaos Gods, there were truly many viruses and demons capable of targeting intelligence and networks.

Developing large-scale intelligence in this universe, entrusting the entire world to a single AI, was suicide.

These various constraints meant that every human-colonized planet had a certain degree of autonomy, and the position of Planetary Governor was unavoidable.

Beyond that, another important role was the Rogue Trader.

The history of the Rogue Traders was equally ancient, dating back to the Great Crusade ten thousand years ago. From the moment the Emperor issued the first Rogue Trader charter, this role had stepped onto the Imperial stage, playing an extremely important part.

They were responsible for trade between star systems, and even had the right to trade with Xenos, possessing unimaginable wealth.

Some Rogue Trader families had influence that could spread across a dozen or even hundreds of star systems. One could imagine how terrifying that was.

Where the Imperial Navy went, Rogue Traders would go.

Where the Imperial Navy would not go, Rogue Traders would go even more.

Salvaging warship wrecks, exploring places where the light of the Astronomican did not reach, searching for the lost ruins and civilizations of humanity's Golden Age.

Far from the Emperor's light, they trade with xenos.

This group acts as the lifeblood of the Imperial economy, providing the Imperium with vast tax revenues that sustain its colossal armies and bureaucracy.

Without this group's help, Guilliman estimated he would have to raise the funds himself.

After all, his Ultramarines had no time to earn coin.

Simply dealing with xenos and Chaos consumed all their focus.

Within the grand hall, Ziller, clad in fine robes, along with many Planetary Governors and Rogue Traders, all conveyed their loyalty to Guilliman.

Seated at the head of the round table, Guilliman showed no excitement at their words.

He tapped the table before him, then spoke slowly.

"I need a council. This council will help implement my policies and carry out my will. I ask you: who among you is willing to serve me?"

Guilliman looked at the assembled crowd, just as he had said.

He needed a council to help him formulate policies and spread his will and convictions.

This time, when he marched and conquered each world, every one of them would be reshaped according to his design.

No more laissez-faire.

Such actions would earn him the hatred of countless Imperial opposition forces.

The Council of Terra, the Adeptus Mechanicus, nobles from every star sector, merchants—all would resent him for encroaching on their interests.

But Guilliman had no choice. In this era where the Four Gods had awakened and the Emperor still slumbered, Leaving planets to their own devices, as in the past, was utterly impossible.

Many worlds were plagued by chaos, gangs rampant, the masses used as expendable resources, the powerful indulging in tyranny, and at critical moments, they would cut and run.

Some worlds had an average lifespan as low as thirty years!

Think about it—what a damnable situation that was.

Such cases were far too numerous. Living in such worlds, with such injustice and cruelty, why wouldn't people accept the power of Chaos?

When you're already at the bottom of the abyss, even if Chaos is terrible, how much worse could it get?

Every world must be controlled and reformed, establishing a system of relative equality where everyone has a chance to advance, so that he could have no worries behind him.

Only then could the liberated worlds continuously provide him with talent and soldiers, saving the Imperium of Man.

Ziller and the others exchanged uneasy glances. Such words had already crossed a line.

Was this Primarch planning to follow his brothers and rebel against the Emperor's rule?

They didn't know if he was speaking truth or testing them with bait.

Guilliman saw their hesitation. "This is no act of betrayal. Though I have only recently awakened, I have already seen through the entire Imperium. Ignorance and folly have filled every corner. The glory and reason of old are gone, replaced by a zombie-like state. Patching things up might prolong the Imperium's life, but it drifts further from my father's dream. Necessary reforms can strengthen us. Only thus can we fight Chaos and the rampant xenos."

With that, Guilliman looked at the Planetary Governors and Rogue Traders, his voice heavy. "Are you willing to serve me? You may decide according to your hearts. I will not harm you for this choice. But I must tell you one thing:

The power of Chaos has grown immense. On our side, the Imperium is torn apart by the Great Rift. Nearly half of human territory has lost the protection and guidance of the Astronomican, ravaged by xenos and Daemons. The Council of Terra is bloated and corrupt, the Adeptus Mechanicus closed-minded and rigid—you have all seen it with your own eyes. If no change is made, my father's dream will shatter in our hands, and humanity itself will perish because of us. As Imperial Regent, Lord of Ultramar, and Primarch of the Ultramarines Legion, I sincerely hope you will become my allies."

At Guilliman's words, the Planetary Governors and Rogue Traders exchanged glances once more.