The hall of the royal palace of Macragge was made of pristine while marble, the outsides decorated with brightly painted frescoes and statues depicting the tales of its historic rules and mythology. Tapestries hung, showing both pastoral scenes and images of the common folk fishing and working, as well as the dramatic battles, most of them navel in nature, that had taken place in the Five Hundred Isles. Gardens and fountains decorated the interior, with plants taken from many of the various islands, some tropical, some temperate, and several succulents from the various biomes of the isles were present, showcasing the skill of the caretakers.
In the North wing of the palace sat the throne room, high atop a cliff that looked out into the Bay of Macragge, where the Ultramar Fleet lay at anchor. There were a few pleasure craft that used sails or oars to traverse the waves, but the fleet itself was composed of modern warships that were made with steel and powered by fossil fuels or nuclear reactors. It was the most powerful naval force in the entire world, and it was commanded by the Princepts of the Isles, the supreme ruler of Macragge, and thus the world's oceans.
Upon the Throne of the Isles reclined a young woman, dressed in purple robes that were trimmed with ultramarine blue, a crown of olive leaves resting upon her brows. The throne itself was composed of stone taken from each of the Five Hundred Isles, and was a rainbow of colors. From marble quarried on Macragge itself, to red granite taken from Konor, the throne was a testament to the unity and power of Ultramar.
Around the room stood the Honourblades, the personal guard of the Princeps. They were armored in ceremonial armor that resembled the legion lorica segmentata of the past, though it was made of modern adamantium and ceramite, and their weapons were force pikes and bolter pistols. The guards shifted slightly, a sign of their turmoil, but their mistress appeared to be at ease, her head resting upon one hand, her posture one of indolence.
The doors to the throne room opened, and one of the palace heralds cried, "Presenting Her Glorious Eminence, the Empress of Mankind of Terra."
"Presumptive, is she not?" the occupant of the throne drawled to the young woman who stood at her elbow.
The aide was dressed in a blue tunic, with the badge of House Calgar upon the breast of her toga. "She has conquered much of the known world, Princepts," the woman replied. Both spoke in the antiquated formal language of the Isles, known as Greek because I'm not making up a conlang.
The shining golden figure that ascended the steps to the throne room was truly impressive to behold. Encased in her power armor, the self proclaimed Empress of Mankind stood three meters tall, towering over even the tallest of the Honourblades. The warriors that circled around here were also dressed in the finest golden adamantium armor, and were composed of the tallest and strongest that humanity had to offer. Even they came up only to the shoulder of their mistress.
The woman on the throne stirred, but did not stand, regarding her visitor in silence.
"I HAVE FOUND YOU AT LAST," the golden Empress boomed, voice amplified by her armor, and by something else. Something that commanded awe in the listener on a primal level. "WHEN I HEARD A YOUNG GIRL HAD ENDED THE ULTRAMAR CIVIL WAR AND UNIFIED THE ISLES AGAIN, I KNEW IT MUST BE ONE OF MY DAUGHTERS."
The young woman beside the throne leaned over to murmur in the ear of her liege, apparently translating the words of the Empress.
"Daughter? You are is daughter of Konor Gulliman and Tarasha Euten, Robouta Guilliman, Princeps of the Five Hundred Isles," the translator stated, though her mistress had spoken not a word.
"WHY THE LIES? EVEN IN TERRA IT IS KNOWN THAT KONOR GULLIMAN ADOPTED HIS HEIR, A YOUNG FOUNDLING GIRL. YOU ARE MY DAUGHTER, ONE OF THE LOST IMPERIAL PRINCESSES."
"I was under the impression that you had come here to treat with me on matters of state, madam. Not to make ill concealed presumptions upon my throne," Robouta said, shifting in the throne, but maintaining a disinterested expression on her face. Her aide translated the words dutifully into the universal language: Japanese English.
"WHY BE CONTENT WITH FIVE HUNDRED ROCKS IN THE SEA, WHEN I CAN OFFER YOU THE WORLD? I AM GATHERING MY HEIRS, PREPARING THEM TO RULE THIS WORLD AND GUIDE IT INTO THE FUTURE," the Empress stated. "I CAN SENSE YOU TO BE MY PROGENY. CAN YOU NOT FEEL IT?"
"What I sense is an arrogant ruler who thinks she can make Ultramar kneel to her without spilling a drop of blood by overawing a young and presumably grieving young woman," Guilliman said languidly, sighing and, reclining further into her seat. "Your prattle bores me. Are you here to treat with me, or make proclamations as though this is your palace, not mine"
"YOU WISH TO BE STUBBORN? YOU MAY HAVE THE FLEET OF ULTRAMAR, BUT I HAVE THE LARGEST AIR FLEET EVER CONSTRUCTED. I HAVE SHIPS THAT OUTSTRIP YOURS IN QUALITY, FORGED BY THE MECHANICUS. IF IT COMES TO WAR, GIRL, YOU WILL LOSE, AND YOU WILL KNEEL ALL THE SAME."
"Ultramar does not kneel," Guilliman drawled, but her eyes flashed with anger. "And it would not be my fleet alone that you would face."
"OH? AND HOW WOULD COME TO YOUR AID? YOU ARE THE LAST NATION OF SIGNIFICANCE WHO HAS NOT BEEN BROUGHT UNDER MY BANNERS."
"The last human nation, perhaps." Guilliman sat up, and clapped her hands twice.
A door on the far side of the chamber opened, and what appeared to be a very tall young man of extraordinary beauty and grace swayed forward, slippered feet softly pattering on the stone floor. He was dressed in dark robes of a rather different cut than the togas of an Ultramaran, and the golden weeping eye of Ulthwe stood out on a chain about his neck.
"WHAT IS THIS? WHY IS THERE A XENOS HERE, HIDING FROM ME?" the Empress rumbled as her Custodes grasped weapon hilts.
"Why, do you mean that the Goddess of Mankind could not sense simple little me?" The young man laughed, his voice bright and clear. He then ignored the glowering Empress, turning a radiant smile to the young woman.
Guilliman returned the smile, extending her hand for the young alaedari to bow over and kiss, before taking his place beside her throne on the right.
"My fiance, Yvraine Ulthran of Ulthwe," Guilliman stated in a serene tone.
The Empress digested this for a minute, and Guilliman allowed a small smile to quirk her lips. So. Her opponent had not seen this coming. Excellent.
"SO, YOU MEAN TO STAND AGAINST ME? ALONE, OR WITH XENOS AT YOUR SIDE, IT WILL MAKE NO DIFFERENCE. I WOULD HATE TO HAVE TO DISCIPLINE YOU MOST HARSHLY, DAUGHTER. BUT YOU WOULD KNEEL."
"Ultramar does not kneel. But we may be willing to negotiate, as equals, with a power that recognizes us as their peer," Guilliman stated in a matter of fact tone. "Now. Do you wish to begin again, Empress? I am not unreasonable. Our two nations have much to offer one another."
The Empress was silent for a moment, her glowing eyes boring into Gulliman. At last, she threw back her head and laughed. "SO, I FINALLY FIND A DAUGHTER WHO DOES NOT SIMPLY FANCY HERSELF MY EQUAL, BUT ACTS LIKE IT! VERY WELL, GUILLIMAN. LET US PARLY."
Sweat that had been beading on Gulliman's brow shone as she nodded serenely. "Very well. Let refreshments be brought for myself and my Mo- guest. We shall adjourn to the private solar."
Smiling up at her Mother, Guilliman forced herself not to tremble. She would not betray Ultramar. She would be the greatest Princeps that the Five Hundred Isles had ever seen.
But not the last.