Warning : this chapter contains one spoiler for the War of the Beast series. Nothing too major (at least nothing galaxy-shattering), but I thought it would be polite to put that here.
Verifying credentials … Access granted.
Initiating recording 9257B-9527.
Recorded by scribe-servitor designation 698708A "Thot", 270M33, Terra.
The Angel came to me in my dreams last night, and told me I would die soon.
This was no surprising revelation to me, of course. I have known of my coming death for a long time, even if I have never let its looming shadow prevent me from doing my duty. But the Angel told me too that it was enough – that I had served, and served well. I need no longer resort to ever-more desperate means of prolonging my life : it is time for me to accept the inevitable, and trust that what we have built will endure even after I pass from this life and into the arms of the God-Emperor.
I am an old man. I was an old man when this all began, when the galaxy burned and the dream I believed in with all my heart was shattered. I have seen an empire rise, fall, and rise again. I have lived far longer than any mortal man should, and seen far too much. I am tired. So tired. My body is breaking down on a cellular level, rejuvenat treatments no longer able to keep the ravages of time at bay. Half my flesh has been replaced with cybernetic prosthetics designed by the finest artisans of the Mechanicus. But it is not enough. Immortality was not meant for those such as I.
And so this is to be my testament. One last confession, dictated to a servitor because I do not even trust my hands to hold a pen anymore. Once I have died, it will be logged into the archives of the Inquisition, where those worthy of knowing the truth may access it.
All Inquisitors have secrets. It is part of the weight of our mandated task. But I have a great deal of them even by that standard – more, I believe, than almost any others.
Those who think themselves my peers know me as Lastan Neemagiun Veritus, Lord Inquisitor of the Holy Ordos. I have born that name for the longer part of my life, if not the greater one. I took the name of Veritus in the ashes of the Siege of Terra, when the Arch-Traitor and his cohorts fled from the wrath of the Imperium after failing to claim the Throneworld but succeeding in crippling its Master. Before that, before I became one of the first to bear the mantle of Inquisitor, I was known as Kyril Sindermann. I was an iterator of the Great Crusade, tasked with bringing the Imperial Truth to compliant worlds.
I was part of the Warmaster's own entourage. I was there when he fell on Davin, and rose anew, filled with corruption none of us could see. I was there when Isstvan III burned at his command, murdering those of his sons he knew would not follow him into rebellion. I saw miracles and horrors untold, in those darkest of days. The man I was died, and someone new rose in his place.
But the tale of the Heresy is not what this is about. There exist records already of that grim era, even if they are fragmentary and incomplete, purged of that knowledge deemed to dangerous to remain. I understand the need for such wilful ignorance – I was there when it was decided. And so, I shall not speak of the days of Horus' rise, of the civil war that tore the Imperium in two.
I shall instead speak of what happened after. The history of the Imperium is a maze filled with mist and mirrors, some of it by design, the rest by accident and the sheer passage of time. So much of the past has been replaced by myth and legends, known only to those few of us who lived it and endure. The Imperium is built on a million lies, and I have helped craft many of them. It would be just, I think, for my last deed in this life to be done under the aegis of the Truth I once sought to serve.
Let this, then, be the tale of the Imperium after the Siege, after the sons of the Emperor clashed and decided the fate of Humanity. We found ourselves amidst the ruins of the Great Crusade's dream, with the Master of Mankind silent on the Golden Throne and the traitors fleeing.
It did not feel like victory.
We believed Horus dead. It must seem foolish now, to those Inquisitors who were born in a galaxy in which the consequences of the Proclamation echo forevermore. But we had seen the traitor Warmaster's broken body carried away by his sons, just like the Emperor's own shattered physical form was brought off the Vengeful Spirit by Dorn. We had felt the clash of divine powers in the heavens above Terra as the Master of Mankind battled His renegade progeny. If the Emperor had emerged from this conflict in such a state, how could Horus, for all his infernal might, have survived ?
The disappearance of the Sons of Horus only reinforced this belief. Remnants of the other Traitor Legions lingered in the galaxy, but of the Sixteenth there was no sign. We took this as proof that their Primarch had died, and that without him, those who had damned themselves in his name no longer had anything left to fight for.
Yet even if Horus was dead, there remained plenty of threats. The Scouring took decades, even with Sanguinius leading the fray, but eventually the last of the Traitor Legions was forced into the Eye of Terror and the last of the tainted worlds was purged of Chaos' vile influence. It was not without cost : billions of lives were lost, either in the conquest of renegade strongholds or in the purges of planets that could not be saved.
Even the Primarchs were not spared the cost. Lion El'Jonson, Primarch of the Dark Angels, fell alongside his homeworld of Caliban when elements of the Traitor Legions destroyed the planet in the name of spiteful hatred; and Jaghatai Khan, lord of the White Scars, vanished when he pursued the Dark Eldars that had preyed upon Chogoris during the Heresy.
The Inquisition, founded by Malcador the Sigillite, then began its appointed task. The forces of Chaos had been defeated in the field of battle, but such had been necessary only because they had succeeded in turning half the might of the Imperium against itself. It fell to us to keep watch against the Archenemy's pernicious influence – a grim and thankless duty, but a necessary one.
And so began the new Age of Imperium. The remaining Primarchs withdrew from the daily running of the Imperium, letting it in the hands of the Council of Terra, where the High Lords gathered. Dorn went to Cadia, the jungle-world that stood before the gate leading into Eye of Terror. The Praetorian remembered his defeat at Perturabo's hands in the Iron Cage, where only the intervention of Sanguinius and Guilliman had prevented his Legion's slaughter. Under his direction, Cadia was remade into a fortress, one that would stand against even the might of the Iron Warriors and the other Traitor Legions, should they ever return.
Most of the Iron Hands who had survived the Isstvan Atrocity had vanished during the Heresy, cast adrift without clear leadership after the mysterious death of Shadrak Meduson. Guilliman went looking for them, and several years later, he returned with the fragmented forces of the Tenth Legion with him, their oaths of loyalty to the Imperium renewed.
Russ returned to Fenris to brood, while Sanguinius left his Legion to take up the mantle of knight-errant and messenger of his father's will across the stars. Vulkan remained on Terra, to help rebuild and then defend it. And Corax … well, the Ravenlord has his secrets, and it is not my place to tell them, not even now.
For over half a millennium, we rebuilt what had been torn down. Much of what was lost in the flames of the Heresy was gone forever : the knowledge of the Mechanicum had been broken in the Martian wars, their priceless libraries set ablaze by the abominations of the rebels.
Most of all, though, we had lost our innocence. The passage of a few generations was enough for the horrors of the Heresy to fade from memory, for the truth of the Warp and those that dwell within to turn to myth and legend. The Inquisition helped bury the truth, one execution and autodafe at a time. I was there when the decision was made that Mankind was not ready to face the reality of the universe, and it is a decision I stand by to this day, despite its terrible cost.
But despite these terrible losses, we endured. Planets whose populations had been wiped out were colonized anew. Ruined cities were rebuilt, spires raising atop the buried remnants of civilizations that had weathered the horrors of Old Night only to fall to those of the Heresy. The Imperial Army was broken between the Imperial Guard and the Imperial Navy, and the loyalist Legions no longer gathered in the tens of thousands, instead operating in smaller Chapters more suited to the task of keeping the peace and serving as the spearhead of the Emperor's armies.
It was in those days that the Ecclesiarchy rose. I, who had been one of the first preachers of the God-Emperor – despite knowing that the Lectitio Divinatus had been written by none other than Lorgar himself – played a part in its creation. I believed then as I do now that faith in the God-Emperor would be a shield against the depredations of the Ruinous Powers, and for all the destruction caused by failed priests, I remain steadfast in my conviction that it is a cost worth paying. The Primarchs disagreed, of course – how could they not ? I would have worried if they had encouraged the rise of a creed that saw them as demigods and archangels. It is to their credit that they tried to stop us, just as it is that they eventually gave up and accepted the inevitable.
With the pacification of the galaxy, the rebuilding of the Imperium and the mortar of the Imperial Creed, a golden age began. What threats remained were small : alien forces trying our borders, and minor rebellions sprouting on isolated worlds. The Warp Storms that had raged during the Heresy had vanished, and ships sailed the Sea of Souls with greater ease than, according to the records of the Navigator Houses, had been seen since before the Age of Strife.
And then, after over seven centuries of relative peace and prosperity, came the Proclamation.
Those who didn't live it cannot imagine the shock it brought us. I myself nearly perished when I heard the news from Cadia, my centuries-old cardiac system shutting down and requiring the immediate aid of my medicae to bring me back from the brink. I shivered in fright when I heard that hateful voice and the lies it carried across the stars.
But the reaction of the Imperium was much worse. Trapped behind Dorn's walls, Horus had known exactly where to hurt us. The Proclamation did not sunder the Imperium like the Heresy had, but it sent cracks running across its foundations. The High Lords, who had grown used to ruling over a peaceful domain, were terrified at the return of what too many of them had thought to be a mere myth used to justify the power of the Inquisition. I remember hearing cries across the Senatorum Imperialis for negotiations to be opened with the powers of the Eye of Terror, though that particular heresy was but the most shocking of countless traitorous thoughts and plans that were made on Terra in the wake of Lupercal's declaration.
In the end, it fell to the Primarchs to restore order. As world after world burned to those of my peers who vainly sought to silence Horus' voice, the sons of the Emperor returned to the Throneworld. They stood in judgement of the High Lords and their squabbling, and found them wanting. The Senatorum Imperialis was purged, with Sanguinius himself leading it as the Emperor's own wrath. I had seen the Angel fight before, yet even I trembled that day.
With order restored on Terra, the commands were sent across the galaxy. The purges were stopped, and renewed focus was given to preventing the rebellion of Imperial worlds. Sanguinius called the Sisters of Silence, who had fallen out of favor after the Scouring, back from their exile.
The Inquisition branched out, evolving beyond Malcador's framework. Several Ordos were founded, each focusing on one specific aspect of the threats facing Mankind. I myself am a member of the Ordo Malleus, dedicated to stamping out any and all infernal influence upon the soul of Humanity. Other Ordos include the Ordo Xenos, whose members hunt down alien menaces with the Space Wolves serving as their enforcers and champions. But most importantly in those days, the Ordo Hereticus was created to serve as the hunters of witches and heretics, the latter category now including all those who rejected the rule of the Imperium due to Horus' poisonous demagoguery.
The Ecclesiarchy's role was also reinforced in the wake of the Proclamation. No longer could we hide the existence of the Traitor Legions, not when the words of Horus echoed in the Empyrean. In a grand conclave, the Imperial Creed itself was modified. Once more I was there, and helped design the new dogma that would hopefully limit the damage caused by the Proclamation. The Traitor Legions were branded as fallen angels, champions of the God-Emperor who had turned from His grace and been corrupted by daemonic powers. As the nine Traitor Legions began to appear across the galaxy once more, we wove stories of their fall, mixing truth and fiction to paint them as pathetic and tragic figures, who had succumbed to the worst impulses of Humanity and in doing so lost the divine spark granted unto them by the God-Emperor.
The loyal Primarchs and their sons did not appreciate this, nor did they the renewed adoration of the Imperial people for them that followed. But they relented again in the end, unwilling (in this as in many other things) to risk a civil war between the Legiones Astartes and the Armies of Faith. There was little doubt that the Space Marines would win such a conflict, but tear the galaxy asunder anew in doing so. Sanguinius especially was displeased, for we framed the Siege of Terra as Horus fleeing from him, the anointed champion of the God-Emperor and inheritor of His wrath.
The Proclamation raised many questions, and caused much debates among the ranks of the Inquisition. Not on its veracity, of course – any who dare raise that question as anything else than a devil's argument are promptly executed. But faced with this new approach of the Arch-Traitor, we must ask ourselves : is the tyranny of the Imperium the best way forward ? By enforcing the rule of the God-Emperor with an iron fist, do we not facilitate the very rise of rebellion and heresy ?
If Horus were only an exiled prince, only a rebellious warlord who sought to overthrow the Imperium and sit himself upon his father's throne, then yes, perhaps such would be the case. But he is much more than that. We Inquisitors are not enforcers of a cruel and tyrannical regime akin to countless others in Humanity's history, using propaganda and fear to maintain our rule. Horus and his cohorts are the champions of actual infernal powers, daemonic entities of immense power and limitless malice who seek to drag our entire species into damnation. The totalitarian regimes we empower across thousands of worlds are the only way to keep the corruption of Chaos from taking root, even if their ruthlessness breeds discontent and rebellion. It is tempting to rule with a lighter hand, but even in Ultramar, where Guilliman's rule brings prosperity and relative freedom, there is still dissent, as petty tyrants seek to build their own empires in the Avenging Son's shadow – only to be mercilessly crushed at the first sign of Chaotic influence or once diplomacy has failed.
And so began the Age of Vigilance, amidst tyranny and paranoia, in which we all yet live.
Since the Proclamation, the Imperium's borders have more or less remained constant, with our attention focused inward. Fewer colonies are established every year, as it is easiest for heresy to take root on frontier worlds where the Imperial infrastructure isn't yet fully developed. Those few new settlements created on resource-rich worlds discovered by Rogue Traders are heavily monitored by the Ordo Hereticus – a heavy-handedness that, once again, causes much resentment and fear from the population.
The Iron Hands were brought in to handle the purge of rebellious worlds, performing their task with cold rigour and mathematical precision. The Iron Fathers judge rebels and heretics by exacting standards, deciding alongside Inquisitors how much of the local population must be exterminated to remove the rot. Theirs is a dreaded name, and not one invoked lightly.
The Imperial Fists are the defenders of Cadia and the Aegis Ocularis, keeping close watch on the Eye of Terror. Information on what transpires within that realm of madness is scarce, extracted from the few Chaos Marines who have been captured over the centuries. Even what these traitors tell us is often contradictory, but we do know that, after a time of conflict known as the "Legion Wars", the Traitor Legions have settled into an uneasy peace and focused their efforts on the corruption of the Imperium in preparation for the day they break free of the Eye and return to the Materium.
The White Scars have become hunters of pirates, laying traps and ambushes for renegades and alien reavers. They hate the Dark Eldar above all others, and still search for the location of their lost gene-sire. With the bulk of the Imperial Navy dedicated to internal security, the denizens of Commoragh must plan their raids in realspace very carefully, and it is believed by the Ordo Xenos that the Dark City has been going hungry for centuries now. I have spoken with colleagues belonging to that Ordo who fear that, in the coming years, the highborn of that hateful xenos breed will be forced to take drastic action to satisfy the gnawing hunger at the core of their darkling souls.
The Five Hundred Worlds are the pinnacle of the new Imperium. Under Guilliman, this sector of space is the most prosperous, peaceful and advanced area of the Imperium. From within it come the armies of Ultramar, under the leadership of the Thirteenth Legion, bringing support and succour to other parts of the Imperium. But even there, even now, there is dissent. The Traitor Legions know of Guilliman's importance in the new order, and there are many Inquisitors stationed in the Five Hundred Worlds, dedicated to protecting them from the schemes of the Archenemy.
With the memory of the Primarchs' purge after the Proclamation, the High Lords have remained focused on their duties, with only minor corruption, focused on venal pursuits at levels that are to be expected from people holding such power. Vulkan remains on Terra as a further remainder of the peril of failure, and his genius has helped transform the entire Sol system into something that is almost completely self-sustaining, without the dependency on imported resources that was the norm during the Great Crusade. With our borders secured, there is less need for military resources than during the Great Crusade – indeed, any Governor gearing up for war without due course will draw the eye of the Inquisition, as this is a warning of potential rebellion – and the tithes across the Imperium have lowered accordingly. Even so, the prosperity of the post-Heresy era has yet to return, let alone the utopia that was promised during the Great Crusade.
The disappearance of Russ was another blow to the Imperium. Even if the Wolf King had remained on Fenris since the end of the Scouring, knowing that the Traitor Legions could strike at one of the Legions' homeworld was a sobering thought. All loyal Legions redoubled the defenses of their own homeworlds in the wake of the Crimson King's attack, and the ties between the Sixth Legion and the Ordo Xenos were reinforced as the Space Wolves sought to safeguard their place in the Imperium without their Primarch.
The Long War continues. Through their heretical sorcery, scattered across the galaxy by the thrice-accursed cult-ships of Horus, Chaos Marines hailing from all nine Traitor Legions walk the worlds of the Imperium once more. Never in great number, thankfully, but even a single fallen Astartes is a force to be reckoned with, capable of turning a conspiracy of grumbling nobles into a planet-wide rebellion that can only be put down with Exterminatus. I have faced these tainted grandchildren of the God-Emperor several times during my career, and lost friends and parts of myself to them.
I have witnessed horrors that nearly matched those of the Heresy – for even now, after so many centuries, the memories of those days are still burned in my mind, in my very soul. The Chaos Marines who are sent from the Eye are cunning ones, capable of hiding the true extant of their corruption, but when their back is at the wall – or when their foul plans finally unfold – their true nature is revealed for all to see. I have seen men, women and children offered up as sacrifices to the Dark Gods, seen disciplined armies turned to blood-crazed hordes, seen cities reduced to ash and less than ash. But through it all, I have endured, I have kept going on.
For the dream of the God-Emperor may have died, but hope yet remains, so long as there is breath left in us to defy the cruelty of Fate, to stand against the tides of Ruin, to spit in the eye of Chaos.
Only in death does duty ends, and my duty will soon be ended, after over two thousand years.
… I wonder, will she be waiting for me ?
AN : Happy new year, everyone ! You voted for it last chapter, and a large majority of you wanted this chapter to come first, so here we are.
Next will be Firsts of the Damned, and then The War of the Infernal Suns.
I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. If you have further questions about the situation in the Imperium in this timeline, don't hesitate to ask them : I am thinking of putting a Q&A in the next chapter, for the questions that couldn't be answered in-story (Prince of the Eye, after all, is mostly a story about what happens in the Eye of Terror).
I had the notes for this chapter down about a month ago, but it wasn't until yesterday I started actually writing it in its proper form. You can thank A Practical Guide to Evil for that, a webnovel of truly exceptional quantity that I recommend to anyone who enjoys reading fantasy stories with well-written characters, background, drama, and generally everything. Yes, my muse is truly a fickle creature.
The recent drought of content on my part comes from several things, first among which was a sickness which has thankfully passed for now. Here is to hoping that continues !
Zahariel out.