Chapitre 22: Chapter Sixteen: The Court of Destiny (Part III)
Location: Astartes Candidate Reception Zone XVI, Luna
Date: 798.M30
Uriah Olathaire was both old and young. The Guardian of the Imperial Truth was reaching nearly triple the age he was expected to live too. This, of course, was thanks to the gilded energy gifted from the Emperor that coursed through his body and soul. At fifty he felt ancient, now he wondered how he would feel at five thousand. Despite his vastly extended life and a plethora of experiences Uriah still felt like an overeager wet behind the ears child when compared to the other members of the Emperor's inner circle.
For in truth that comparison was rather accurate. Malcador had been a respected member of his order even before the Old Night. Taranis and Valdor were both as old as the Imperium and had fought in its first battles. The Ancient Squat Zamora had traveled with the Emperor during the Old Night and Uriah could only guess the origin and age of the Golden Women who he had witnessed within the Emperor's quarters
Even so, this comparable youth was respected by the Imperium for his wisdom and skill. The skills of the clergy and his own natural charisma had ended battles before they had even started. Uriah had preached before millions, conveying the Imperial Truth to the masses. Explaining how any being that demanded worship was unworthy of it. How the god-things the unenlightened worshipped and sacrificed so much for were at best myths and at worst, parasites feeding off of them.
His duties and roles within the growing Imperium were almost as varied as Malcadors. The groundwork for the Iterator Corps and other public faces of the Imperium had been laid with his assistance. Zealots and Cult Leaders had been debated publicly as a way of showing the masses the ease that their arguments and insanity of their ilk could be dismantled and rebuked. A mastery of rhetoric and a near-supernatural charisma had been gifts from the Master of Mankind to assist Uriah. Even after decades of using them the notion his mind and soul had been altered to better suit the Emperor's needs rather disturbing.
The fact it did not fill him with horror and disgust at the violation and manipulation just went to show the skill that was used in the act. Uriah was conscious of this and privately wondered how much of the Priest of the Church of Lighting Stone was left within him.
That soft-spoken old clergyman had been steadily replaced by a confident Imperial Elite. The advocate primus for the Imperial Truth who illuminated the masses to the bright future awaiting humanity and the Imperium. How the Emperor's sons and the Legions would drive back the darkness and make the Galaxy a place safe for humanity. A place where the wonders of the Golden Age could be surpassed and humanity would become what they had always been destined to be.
Recently Uriah had his hands full not just with his typical duties but helping smooth Martian-Terran relations, along with dealing with one of the more curious effects of the Astronomicon. The Beacon could be detected anywhere in the Galaxy by most psykers worthy of the designation. To the surprise to all except maybe the Emperor. (it was always hard to tell with him) A surprising number of these Psykers had managed to organize exoduses from the hellholes they originated from.
Massive migrant fleets had followed the psychic beacon to Terra. Not using it as a point of focus and mapping like a navigator but a simple lighthouse to draw them to port. Every month a few more ragged vessels unworthy to be called Voidships appeared at the outskirts of the Solar System. At first, these refugees had been forced to run a gauntlet of Xeno Slavers to reach Imperial Space. Now the Emperor had adjusted the Astronomicon so its beacon would lure the ragged fleets to protected positions.
These refugees had in many different forms worshipped the Astronomicon. The more psychically aware had even identified its source as a being and pledged undying rapturous loyalty to the Emperor. The Psychic light of the beacon had a strange effect on humans, all but the most psychically dull could in some way feel it. A calm soothing warmth on the soul that cushioned all those exposed to it from the horrors in the Warp.
This power while advantageous in reducing the influence of the Four and making dark rituals significantly harder the closer one got to Sol it made Uriah's duties much harder. The refugee fleets were vindicated fanatics whose faith had become adamantium clad. Convincing them that the Emperor was not a God and that worshipping him as such went against everything the Imperium stood for had been extremely difficult.
Difficult but mostly successful. The Neologian Corps, an organization founded by Uriah to handle Emperor-Worship and other such salvageable cults had managed to rehabilitate the vast majority of the Refugees. The only notable group of refugees who rejected the Imperial truth no matter the tactics used to illuminate them was ironically the first group.
The Bearers of the Saving Light as they called themselves had fled an Orkish WAAAGH into the void and warp at the behest of the cult's founder and Saint, Petronilla Dorovna. Dorovna had started her life as the daughter of scrap merchant, and had through sheer luck underwent her Psychic awakening the moment the Astronomicon light had washed over her homeworld. This confluence of fate had linked her to it. She could sense the beacon, as well as any navigator and the constant presence of its golden light, had convinced her utterly of the Emperor's divinity.
This unshakable belief had infecter her followers and she presented a massive ideological danger to the infant Imperium. They had been sequestered away within the Palace and spent their days debating the Neologians and resisting any attempt to rehabilitate them. Uriah had personally debated Dorovna on multiple occasions and was reminded of himself at a younger age to a certain extent.
These debates had been long arduous affairs that eventually ended with Uriah being called away on some other business and the women's conviction not wavered in the slightest. This and most of his other duties put a strain on him, the only exception, the only he viewed as more than a duty was his role as counselor and confesser. The living legends and living legends to-be that formed the Emperor's family and court sought both his wisdom and humanity.
That role he relished of being able to aide and provide guidance to those around him was why the Emperor had sent him to Luna, the Master of Mankind and the Court of Destiny had realized someone of his talents (and clearance level) was required to help guide a young boy who would be arriving soon to the Genelabs onto a brighter path.
Leaning on his cane that acted as both badge of office and support for a leg wound that despite healing thanks to the Emperor's power decades ago still bothered him with psychosomatic pain Uriah watched as hundreds of scared children were corralled off the loading dock. Collected from Chthonia under the pretense of slave raids, which in a sense these harvests were, thousands of children displaying atypical physical and mental fortitude had been brought to Luna.
Chthonian genetic makeup led to atypical compatibility with the V and XVI legions. Allowing for massive numbers of Astartes to be created from the Ganger children rounded up by the Imperium. The information gleaned from the Court of Destiny told Uriah one of the vessels docking today would hold a boy who could either become an exemplar of the Legio Astartes or a despoiler of countless worlds.
A series of screams and feral animal-like noises pierced the quiet murmuring of the Void-Dock. Uriah knew at once that was his cue. Moving quickly to the source of the commotion the man who had once been the Last Priest was greeted with a sight that would have almost been amusing if blood and brain matter were not splattered upon those involved. A boy of barely half a Terran decade in age was cornered by a trio of Wardens. A fourth warden lay dead at the child's feet, still slightly twitching as his blood pooled around his burst skull.
Somehow the feral youth had managed to escape the processing procession and ambush his pursuers. An improvised leaver had been used to drop cargo onto the Wardens, killing the one and stunning the others long enough for the boy to steal his victims buzz-baton. While still outnumbered the child had turned the batons settings up to a seizure-inducing voltage and kept his foes at bay with it. All while screaming what Uriah assumed were particularly foul Chthonic curses.
The Wardens, in turn, responded with what Uriah assumed from the tone were equally dire threats in Chthonic. The men and women who sailed to Chtonia and ran the harvests were oftentimes natives of that world or at least could speak their language in passing. This was important in not only establishing positive relations with the youths but for Uriah's mission.
Approaching the situation the Guardian of Truth placed his hands on the Wardens shoulders and with confidence born of decades of practice convinced them to leave. He would handle this, the other reason he touched them was to use a psychic gift granted to him by the Emperor in order to assist his duties. By touching a speaker of a language unknown to him Uriah could for a time speak it fluently, as the knowledge was copied over to his brain and usable for a few days.
As the Wardens backed away he spoke to the youth: "Hello Ezekyle, we have much to discuss"
Momentary shock flared across the shaggy-haired boy before he regained his composure. Snarling Ezekyle Abaddon answered: "Who the Frak are you and how the Frak do you know my name?"
Calmly Uriah responded while edging closer to the boy: "My name is Uriah Olathaire, I was sent here by the Emperor to ask you a few questions. Would you mind putting down the baton so we can speak?"
Charisma be it supernatural or natural no matter how powerful was not enough to break through survival-fear and Ezekyle did not budge. Uriah doubted his words would have had the desired effect but figured it was worth a shot.
"Do you know why you are here young one?" asked the former Priest as he eased his body weight onto his cane and prepared to speak to the youth at weapon-point
Shifting his stance slightly while still holding the crackling buzz-baton Ezekyle spook softly "The gang-grabbers said there was a fight, a big fight. It needs Tough-Bastards to win it."
A sneer of slight derision passed over the boys face as he continued "What sort of limp-necked gang needs to kiddenap to fight its fights? You have these big movers and plenty of Grabbers to steal us and keep us so why not use them for your fight?"
Smiling softly Uriah was not surprised the perspective of those born within the depths of hives was often incredibly limited. Abaddon's answer was technically correct so Uriah continued. "Not a fight my child, a War. A conflict that will only end with humanity ruling the galaxy or dead. Tell me Ezekyle who would you fight and die for?"
Almost instantly the steely-eyed child answered with conviction and sincerity disturbing for one so young. "My gang and my family. I would kill for them and die to protect them"
With that statement Uriah knew his mission would be a success, now all that needed to be done was ensure the Child knew the truth of what constituted his tribe and family. "So if a bigger gang attacked both your gang and your neighbor gang would you work together to defeat the threat and become one stronger gang?"
Tentatively Abaddon nodded in agreement and Uriah went on: "So what if an even worse gang threatened to take your hive away from you and kill your family? Would you fight and die for your entire Hive?"
Ezekyle Abaddon's young hive-born mind could scarcely imagine such a devastating conflict but if it were to occur he knew he and his Gang would kill to keep their home. Abaddon said as much and Uriah initiated the final push.
"What if monsters from beyond the stars invaded your entire world? Things that sought to eat you and your family alive for the sick enjoyment of it? Would you and your world unite to drive off those monsters? I imagine you would, well what if such monsters threatened every human on every world? Would you fight and die to protect another human you never met across the galaxy because they were part of your gang?"
Still unsure of what the old man was getting at Ezekyle responded "Yeah, if they are part of my gang they would die for me and I would die for them"
"Well that is the nature of it Ezekyle, our species is one gang, one tribe, one people. There are nightmares that seek to break us and consume us. Simply because we dare to live, we dare to survive and thrive. That is the war you have been chosen to fight. To unite the millions of gangs and worlds of humanity against the coming darkness." this Speech and countless versions of it had been spoken by Uriah to help sway entire nations to the Imperiums cause.
Preparing to finish Uriah could sense his words entering the boy's mind and soul. "That is what the Imperium is, that is what the Emperor's dream is. To bring unity to Humanity. We must stand together as a people against the darkness or be swallowed piecemeal by it. Will you stand as a Warrior of Humanity? A Soldier in the Legion of Light?"
Slowly lowering his stolen weapon the illuminated child answered Uriah and denied the Dark Gods their greatest champion "Yes, I will stand and fight."
Approaching and placing his hand on the child's shoulders Uriah thanked Ezekyle for his strength and willingness to fight. He walked the boy who would be a legend to the Processing center and prepared to leave Luna. For his countless other duties awaited.
Uriah was not privy to the events he had set in motion but others were. Within the Imperial Palace as he watched his sons and their legions practice the Emperor of Mankind felt the fates shift. Soon Ezekyle Abaddon would become one of humanity's greatest heroes, instead of one of its greatest foes.
The boy would undergo the implantation of Gene Seed and by a one in a billion odds become greater than virtually any Astartes. He along with a few other names that would go down in the histories of the Legio Astartes was uniquely compatible with his Primarchs genes. Abaddon would be empowered to become something greater than an Astartes but less than a Primarch. Similar to Ghota's relation to Arik Taranis, Abaddon would become the greatest Son of Horus.
Peering into the Future the Emperor let out a deep sigh and thought to himself. "Fourteen Years till the Crusade is ready. Any longer and our window is too short."
Focusing for a moment the Master of Mankind manipulated the Astronomicon. Golden Psychic-Fire that washed through the Warp started to pulse at a strange frequency. Only a being of the Warp and incredibly powerful could determine the message conveyed by viewing these fluctuations in their entirety.
The Four self-proclaimed Gods detected the message and howled in fury and just a hint of fear as the Emperor's words crashed into them. "Your Doom is coming"
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone