Facing a star chart as large as a cargo crate, the High Lords planned the defense or assault of various regions, their work taking much of the burden off Guilliman.
Yet as he looked at the chart of the entire Segmentum Solar before him, the red markers representing enemies multiplied while the green markers representing friendly forces dwindled, and the weight on Guilliman's shoulders steadily grew.
Especially over the past fifty years, as the enemy drew ever closer to the Solar System, numerous white strands had appeared in Guilliman's golden hair. The situation was dire.
Tyranids, Orks, Necrons, Men of Iron, and cultists had all poured into the Segmentum Solar. Every defensive line was crying out for help, and every world was under threat.
Who knew what had gotten into these xenos? They had swarmed in as though their movements were coordinated, and according to the intelligence reports, they were all heading for Terra!
Had these enemies of the Imperium not also been enemies of one another, attacking and wearing each other down, then-to say something disloyal-the Segmentum Solar might already have fallen...
A flock of ravens appeared out of thin air and gathered at Guilliman's feet, finally forming a human figure-Corax, Lord of Ravens and Primarch of the Nineteenth Legion, the Raven Guard.
The Raven Lord's ability to move in such an uncanny fashion showed just how deeply he had merged with his Warp Essence, but that also made Corax himself somewhat unpredictable.
Guilliman did not entirely approve. He frowned briefly, then carefully concealed his displeasure.
"My brother, I hope you've brought me good news. Things are dire... I thought the return of the Primarchs, of our brothers, would save the Imperium." Guilliman's voice was heavy with exhaustion.
"I never imagined that not only would the Imperium be riddled