Upon hearing the conversation between the Custodian Tribune and the Ecclesiarchy's Living Saint, Mortarion, imprisoned within the golden coffin, went numb.
She could accept being executed by her other Primarch brothers, just like the erased Second and Eleventh Primarchs had been.
In a sense, Perturabo was the Primarch most like the Emperor, because both of them had carried out decimation upon their own sons.
But... a Living Saint of the Ecclesiarchy?
What the hell was that? A mortal? An insect playing tricks with faith? What right did she have to judge a gene-Primarch?!
Having been imprisoned in the eternal darkness of the Shadow Prison for a century, Mortarion's understanding had become completely disconnected from the outside world.
She could not even comprehend how the human Imperium, which had once upheld the Imperial Truth, had somehow produced a department reeking of rotten superstition.
During the glorious days of the Great Crusade, her Death Guard had been at the forefront of striking down xenos races and destroying heretical religious beliefs.
Because of her early experiences on Barbarus, she loathed Psykers—especially the likes of Lorgar and Magnus.
In the Pale King's eyes, all sorcery should have been eradicated, and every existence connected to the Warp should have been scorned and destroyed.
"Decius, you idiot!"
Mortarion's roar echoed dully within the adamantine sarcophagus.
"My father told you to guard Terra and the Imperial Palace, yet you stood by and watched this damned cancer of faith grow and spread?"
"What right do they have to judge me? Who gave them the authority? Who gave them the nerve? They even want to burn me to death in Terra's greatest judgment square?"
Decius did not answer Mortarion's questions. As he had just said, he had already transferred custody of Mortarion to the Ecclesiarchy and the Living Saint.