The curtain fell on the Warmaster election in the hall, but its echoes spread like ripples through the Imperial Palace's countless corridors and silent chambers.
The public ceremony was over. The deeper undercurrents and private summons were where power truly changed hands.
As the other Primarchs returned to their quarters with differing thoughts, some discussing events excitedly, some reflecting in silence, and some being carried away still drunk, a silent summons of the highest priority came directly from the Throne Court. It pierced the Imperial Palace's complex communications barriers and reached Lorgar's senses with unerring precision.
"Come see me."
Lorgar was not surprised.
He walked alone along the broad corridors leading to the very heart of the Imperial Palace, which grew ever quieter and more deserted. His boots struck the mirror-bright floor, producing clear, monotonous echoes.
The magnificent murals depicting humanity's epics and the solemn statues lining the walls cast long shadows beneath the eternal energy lights, like silent witnesses. He knew where he was going, and roughly what they would discuss.
At last, he passed through a final invisible gateway, one that needed no guards but was protected by powerful force fields and ancient Runes. He stepped into a space both familiar and forever humbling: the Emperor's private audience chamber.
It lacked the supreme grandeur of the great hall outside, yet it was more restrained, more tranquil, filled with an almost tangible, unsurpassed pressure emanating from the very being within it.
The air seemed like congealed gold. Every breath demanded an extra effort of will.
The Emperor stood at the far end of the chamber, his back to the entrance.
His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture straight as a pillar holding up heaven and earth, as he quietly gazed at the suspended Throne before him, its