"Then what should we do with these men?"
One of the Adeptus Custodes stepped forward, his voice emerging through his helmet.
Behind him, more than a dozen warriors of the Eleventh Legion, including Acting Legion Master Maccabeus, had been disarmed and stripped of their armour, their hands secured behind their backs with specially made shackles.
They knelt silently in a row, their dark grey Power Armour battered and covered in dust and the scars of battle. Some faces bore resentful anger, others a deathly numbness. Only Maccabeus kept his head lowered, his expression hidden.
Dozens of Custodians encircled them with halberds and Bolters in hand, their golden armour radiating unquestionable authority in the corridor's dim light.
The Emperor barely spared the kneeling figures a glance.
He still stood at the edge of the raised platform with his back to them, looking beyond the garden toward the sprawling palace complex and Terra's sky.
At the question, he slowly turned. His golden eyes swept calmly over Maccabeus and the others. There was no scrutiny in that gaze, no judgment, only the absolute indifference of someone disposing of discarded components.
"Take them away." The Emperor's voice rang out evenly, quiet but clear across the silent edge of the garden, each word struck like an iron law.
"Execute them in secret. Leave no traces and make no records. Their gene-seed... recover and purify it according to protocol."
The command was brief, cold, and left no room for negotiation.
There would be no trial, no chance to defend themselves.
For the grave crime of participating in a "Primarch rebellion," there was only one possible end before the Emperor's will.
"Understood." The Custodian bowed and accepted the order without hesitation.
Captain-General Constantin Valdor, who had been watching in silence, also took a few steps forward.
His