Glory

Inside the tactical briefing room of the Macragge's Honour, three Ultramarines had just finished another high-intensity combat training exercise.

Calga, Katoscalius, and the chief think tank member Digglis are gathered in front of a galactic star map that covers an entire wall.

On the star map, a striking golden flight path.

From the heart of Ultramar, it stretches straight toward that unmarked but universally known destination: Holy Terra.

"Father is about to lead his troops to Terra,"

Calgar's voice broke the silence of contemplation, carrying an undeniable decisiveness:

"This is not a military secret, but a direction that all of us, and indeed all the people of Ultramar, know."

"Then, at least there should be some 'sense of ritual'."

Sicarius polished his Power Sword, which had just been "enhanced" by the Primarch, his movements elegant, but his tone equally serious:

This is not vanity.

This is what the father deserves; this is the solemn declaration that the King of Ultramar, the Imperial Regent, should make before embarking on this journey destined to be recorded in history.

His return has shaken Five Hundred Worlds, but the expedition to Terra... requires a grander, more unifying 'symbol' that can unite everyone's hearts and minds.

Tigurius nodded, a faint glimmer of Psionic Energy in his eyes:

"The <Ultramar Expedition Proclamation> that my father previously issued was intended to integrate the internal organization and eliminate Chaos."

Now, we are about to step out of Ultramar to fulfill a greater mission—to take over the responsibilities left by the God-Emperor and rebuild the entire Imperium.

This requires an equally, or even more, resounding declaration.

Not against the enemy, but against all those within the Imperium who are still struggling in the darkness, waiting for hope, and against ourselves."

At this moment, a relatively young company commander hesitated before speaking:

"Chapter Master, esteemed officers... such a high-profile announcement of our departure for Terra... won't this be seen by some traditionalists as some kind of... 'hint'?"

After all, the High Lords of Terra and...

His words were interrupted by Calgar's sudden, icy gaze.

The Chapter Master didn't roar, but the oppressive aura contained in his calm gaze made the temperature in the entire room seem to drop several degrees.

"'hint'?

Or do you mean 'usurpation'?

Calgar's voice wasn't loud, but every word struck like a hammer blow to an anvil:

"Then let me ask you, Company Primarch, which Milky Way is currently confirmed to be alive and capable of traversing the Realspace?"

Which other 'descendant of the God-Emperor ' is clearly fulfilling the duty to defend humanity and perpetuate the Imperium?

He stepped forward, surveyed all the officers in the room, and spoke with resounding conviction:

Only him!

Our father, Robert Guilliman!

"Only he, ten thousand years after the Emperor sat on the Golden Throne and his other loyal brothers were either missing or had fallen, awoke alone and single-handedly shouldered the burden of this crumbling Imperium!"

Only he is qualified to inherit this responsibility!

Only he possesses the strength and will to carry out this almost impossible mission!

Calgar placed his hand on the hilt of the sword "Loyalist's Glory" at his waist, as if drawing faith from the holy sword bestowed upon him by his father.

"By the Emperor!"

Even Saint Celestine, the Living Saint who carried the divine spark of the Emperor and walked the earth, clearly stated that his father's return and actions were all under the will and protection of the God-Emperor!

What are we still hesitating about?

To question the legitimacy of one's father is to question the will of the Emperor and the last remaining hope of humanity!

His words were like Mars thrown into an oil depot, instantly igniting the loyalty and enthusiasm in the hearts of all the officers.

The crowd roared in unison, punching each other in the chest; the clanging of their armor blended into a resolute thunderclap.

For Macragge!

For the Emperor and Guilliman!

"Then," Sicarius spoke again, bringing the topic back, "We should prepare a 'gift' for Father."

This was no ordinary congratulatory gift, but a symbol worthy of the King of Ultramar and the Imperial Regent embarking on this Great Crusade.

A 'token' that could demonstrate his authority and unite the hearts of hundreds of millions of people.

The proposal was approved by everyone.

The message was strictly confined to the Supreme Command, but the idea of "preparing a symbol of honor befitting the Primarch for the Primarch" seemed to have a life of its own.

It began to quietly spread within a carefully selected, absolutely loyal inner circle.

Three star systems away from Macragge, in the deepest part of the Planetary Governor's mansion on "New Harvest," a newly transformed and lush Agri World.

The new governor Arabel Wayne.

A former civil service official who was promoted for his outstanding governance skills during Guilliman's reforms.

He was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of his luxurious office, looking down at the brightly lit city below.

In the shadows unseen by anyone, the corners of his mouth slowly stretched upwards, forming an exaggerated, almost grotesque smile.

In the shadows behind him, the air twisted and rippled like viscous honey being stirred, shimmering with a decadent and ever-changing violet luster.

A voice resounded directly in the depths of his mind, a voice magnetic and husky, with a sweet, soul-numbing quality, yet harboring an abyss of endless madness:

"Well done... my loyal little pawn... go on... use your carefully crafted words, use your impeccable facade of loyalty... to push it forward..."

"Prepare a 'gift' for my lovely, serious younger brother who always tries to shoulder everything..."

"A crown he 'deserves'... to welcome him back..."

"This is my way of expressing, as his elder brother, a little bit of 'care' and 'joy' for him finally awakening after his millennia-long slumber..."

The rational light in Governor Arabel's eyes was completely replaced by a Chaos, euphoric frenzy.

He slowly turned around, his face now displaying the standard expression of shrewdness, competence, and boundless admiration for Guilliman.

He straightened his crisp governor's uniform and strode confidently toward the communications array.

Shortly afterward, in the conference room where Calgar and others were discussing the specific details again, Governor Arabel Wayne appeared via a highly confidential holographic projection.

With an excited yet solemn expression, he performed a flawless virtual kneeling salute to the three highest-ranking Ultramarines.