Capítulo 23: The High Lord of Terra
At this moment, a routine session was underway.
"The Inquisition considers him a dangerous individual. He must remain under observation and surveillance. We cannot allow him any power or position," declared one of the attendees, an elderly man with a voice as sharp and cold as a winter wind. He wore a luxurious robe adorned with skull motifs of various sizes, their grim presence enhancing his air of authority. His white fur collar reflected his high rank, while his piercing eyes—like those of an eagle—seemed to pierce through any lie or pretense. This man was the Lord Inquisitor, a figure who embodied the Emperor's judgment and the will of the Ordo Hereticus.
"In the Inquisition's eyes, everyone is dangerous," countered another attendee, an older man seated opposite. His face was hidden beneath the hood of a plain robe, giving him an air of mystery. In one hand, he held an elegant quill, which he used to annotate an ancient tome resting before him. He was the Master of the Administratum, the Imperium's chief administrator, overseeing a labyrinthine network of officials and managing the vast data that kept the Imperium running. "The High Lords of Terra have already issued an ultimatum. By decree, we can only detain him for three more days. After that, he must be released."
The Lord Inquisitor's expression darkened. "The High Lords? Those bureaucrats care for nothing but their own influence. They'd sell their souls for a scrap of power! What do they know of danger? Their complacency blinds them."
"They are safeguarding their authority," the Master replied calmly. "In doing so, they maintain the cohesion of the Imperium. Besides, this individual has already undergone extensive scrutiny. The results show no issues. The Inquisition must let this go—he is, after all, a hero from a legendary age."
"A cursed warrior is no hero," the Lord Inquisitor snapped. "Even Horus, once beloved, fell into treachery. If a son of the Emperor could succumb, why should we trust this man?"
The Master of the Administratum leaned forward, his tone unyielding. "The establishment of an Astartes chapter and the appointment of its leader are the Emperor's will. Are you questioning the Emperor's authority?" His gaze swept over the room as he placed a heavy document on the table. "And it's not just military power we're discussing here. He will also gain significant control over several territories. Take a look for yourselves—this is the decree from the Senatorum Imperialis."
With a deliberate gesture, he slid copies of the document to the three others seated at the table. As they read, their faces darkened, their expressions betraying a mixture of shock and unease. "This is unwise," muttered the third member of the group, his voice laced with frustration. "I don't follow politics much, but even I know this is risky. We've seen this kind of centralization before in the Imperium, and it always ends badly. This is practically inviting rebellion."
The speaker's voice was distinct—steady, mechanical, and punctuated by faint static, as if the words were being broadcast from an ancient vox-caster. His tone carried a strange detachment, reflecting his nature. He was the Fabricator-General of Mars, a powerful figure who embodied the Mechanicum's devotion to the Machine God. Their forge worlds supplied the Imperium's armies, overseeing the production of weapons and machinery that fueled the Adeptus Mechanicus's endless forges.
The followers of the Cult Mechanicus worshipped the Omnissiah, a manifestation of the Emperor as the Machine God. Their devotion extended to modifying their own bodies, replacing flesh with metal in pursuit of enlightenment. The General himself was a prime example. His throat had been irreparably damaged two centuries ago—a death sentence for most humans. But for him, it was merely an inconvenience. With a simple operation, he replaced the ruined organ with a mechanical vocal system. Since then, his voice had carried the cold resonance of artificiality.
"We can't allow this," the General continued, his words deliberate. "Granting one individual such immense authority—a leader of an Astartes chapter who also holds the title of Imperial Commander—is reckless. This person would oversee three entire star systems, not to mention commanding an elite military force that answers only to him. Such autonomy invites disaster."
The room fell into a tense silence. No one needed further explanation to grasp the implications. The Fabricator-General's concerns were shared by all present.
In the Imperium, the separation of military and civilian power was a cornerstone of stability. Consolidating both in one person was a direct threat to order, effectively creating a rogue governor. The High Lords of Terra had long used this principle to maintain control, ensuring no one could amass enough influence to challenge imperial authority.
The Astartes chapters, despite their independence, were not exempt from oversight. While they managed their own domains, traditions, and internal affairs, their holdings were deliberately barren, harsh, and resource-poor. This ensured their reliance on the Imperium for support, preventing them from growing too independent or too strong. The unforgiving environments they operated in served dual purposes: forging their warriors' resilience and curbing their logistical capabilities.
"Three star systems?" The Lord Inquisitor frowned deeply, breaking the silence. "That's excessive. Is this man of noble blood?"
The Master of the Administratum shook his head. "The name Shrike doesn't belong to any prominent house. His father was a minor noble, more interested in indulgence than governance. But his grandfather—ah, now there's a name you might recognize: Veyron Shrike, one of the explorer."
"Veyron?" The Lord's brows lifted. "The renowned explorer?"
The Master nodded. "The same. He's credited with charting over five percent of the Eastern Fringe—worlds, warp routes, preliminary surveys, all thanks to Veyron and his fleet. His influence inspired others to map an additional fifty percent of the region. The Emperor himself rewarded him, and among the gifts were the three systems in question."
He paused, then listed the names of the systems. The others exchanged blank looks. "It's not surprising you don't recognize them," the Master said dryly. "The Imperium's vastness makes it impossible to recall every territory."
The sheer scope of the Imperium stretched far beyond what mortal minds could fully comprehend. As beautiful as the constellations appeared in the void, every visible star was within the Emperor's dominion. Yet, what the naked eye could see was but a fraction of the whole.
In the depths of the galaxy lay countless stars, their light too faint or distant for even the most advanced telescopes. Beyond these, in the infinite reaches of the warp and the uncharted expanse, were territories claimed by humanity that defied conventional mapping. The Imperium's size was so immense that even the most dedicated archivists could never catalog every world under its protection.
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