"No! Please! Mercy!" The wretched old man begged for his life. His face was decrepit, wrinkled and dirty, nails long and yellowed, his teeth withered and worn, and yet this... this was the one man whose word and presence loomed over the entire world. Once, this foolish, frail thing, had been the tyrant of the largest and most powerful Hive City of the entire world, the last and greatest of those who referred to themselves as the True Masters, despots and slavers, men who thought themselves above everyone else, who themselves gods in the flesh.
How wrong they were when he tore their flesh from their bones and threw them from the balconies of their grand palaces.
How horrible their cries of sorrow and fear and frustration and anguish when the system they'd built, a system that'd stood for thousands and thousands of years, beyond the light of the Imperium, beyond his father's light, collapsed almost overnight. It was glorious and, if Konrad was being honest with himself, more than just a little satisfying. Truth be told, after everything he'd gone through during the Great Crusade and the... betrayal that followed afterwards, taking over an entire planet with nothing but a ragtag insurgent group and a dream was easy. It was more than easy, actually; it was downright relaxing.
Surrounded by all those who fought by his side, by the people who fought to reclaim their freedom from the True Masters, Konrad stepped forward and knelt down. At first, it was only the Green Keepers, but more and more groups joined their rebellion as they conquered more and more cities, until – suddenly – he was leading an army of angry and vengeful souls. It was difficult to meet the wretched man's gaze – for there was nothing behind his eyes, nothing but empty words and fear. The thing before him, in the shape of a man, was less than an animal, incapable of rational thought, thinking only of survival. And so Konrad did not meet the man's gaze. Instead, he sighed and announced his judgment. "Galor Markarth, you have committed grave crimes against the people of this world. You stand guilty of murder, genocide, slavery, the degradation of the human spirit, and mass torture. Your tyranny has led to the suffering and deaths of millions. The whole city stands witness to your atrocities. What say you in your defense?"
"Spare me!" The convicted said. "I'll give you anything, everything that I have! Please, just leave me alone!"
"There is nothing that you have that doesn't already belong to the people. Your Shimmer Refineries have been reclaimed, alongside all your wealth. Truly, all that is still yours is whatever is now still attached to your person." Konrad said, before standing. He then turned to the gathered mob, who only stayed themselves at his command. It was easier to control his aura now. Though, to be certain, Konrad did not like the idea of influencing their minds, no matter how subtly, but this ability came naturally to him – to every Primarch. As the sons of a being that could only be described as a god, it was only natural for folk to look at him with fear and awe, clinging to every word he spoke. He'd not accepted or discovered this back in Nostromo. Pacifying the planet would've been far easier if he had more control over his powers. But that was neither here nor there. What mattered now was this world and the fact that, through his leadership, its people, former slaves, trodden and abused, were able to enact justice upon their former tyrants and masters.
And now, under his leadership, they would flourish.
"The people will render judgment," Konrad said, looming over the wretched creature. Not a man. Not a human being. Less than a hound – for, at least, a hound was useful and loyal. Sighing, Konrad turned to the crowd, "Do onto him as you see fit. Those who were wronged should judge those who've wronged them. Let justice be delivered onto you by those you've wronged."
Konrad walked forth and ignored the old man's screams as the mob tore him limb from limb and cast his remains over the balcony, where his bloody limbs plummeted a thousand meters. That creature was the last of the True Masters, the last of their enemies. And now came the hard part. The people of this world had been enslaved for so long that, beyond their anger, was a lack of a distinct plan for the future. Without his guidance, the people would fall. They'd mismanage their resources and govern themselves to oblivion. Konrad Curze was not at all an administrator or a governor; he was an avatar of justice and vengeance. But, he also held memories of Guilliman and Dorn, both of whom were, perhaps, the best at managing their own worlds. He didn't learn directly from them, but he learned distantly, from indirect observation.
And, if Guilliman were here, now, in his place, then his first act would be to unify all the cities he'd already conquered, declaring himself as sole and absolute ruler over the populace, ensuring peace and prosperity and, most of all, stability; as the figurehead of the rebellion, the people – his people, now – would not bat an eye if he took reins of leadership and led them to a golden age. And, with his Primarch Aura, Konrad figured such a thing would be easy. On the other hand, they'd clash against each other if he backed away from the prospect of leadership. And so, the choice was clear. He wanted this world to endure and prosper, to become powerful in its own right. Shimmer was... an interesting narcotic that may be of great use to the Imperium, especially once its formula was better understood and refined even further, hopefully to remove its side effects and addictive components. Konrad knew little of chemistry and machinery. So, for now, the creation of Shimmer would have to be halted, even at the risk of angering those who were far too addicted to its effects. The substance was simply too dangerous and, really, only a handful of those who ingested it were granted visions of the future; the rest experienced highs that lasted for hours, euphoric pleasures, before an untimely withdrawal that'd see them crawling about on the streets, puking blood from their mouths, only to consume more Shimmer later on, until their bodies gave out.
No. Nostromo had a similar affliction among its citizens, an affliction brought forth by the spread and manufacturing of dangerous substances, addictive and destructive to all those who imbibed them. Konrad would not see this world suffer the same fate.
Simply banning it, however, would not be enough. Medical facilities would have to be erected for those who needed aid, for those who suffered diseases, and for those who suffered the pains of withdrawals. Luckily, the True Masters maintained a robust medical system, which was fully automated by incredibly advanced machines, ones that certainly did not exist in the Imperium as far as Konrad could remember; it was available only to the upper class, those who held sway over the Hive Cities and ruled portions of it, alongside the True Masters, usually the rich and powerful families. For access to incredibly advanced medications, they would pay. No longer. The medical facilities across the entire planet, Konrad checked, were numerous and spacious and robust enough to handle the entire population; of course, not all at once, but the efficiency of the medical machines meant that it'd take only three months, at the most, to service every single person on the planet.
Not bad, all things considered. The Imperium, during his father's time, at least, could've used such a thing. The Mechanicus, those misguided, machine-worshiping fools, would likely and willingly wage a gruesome war for the schematics of the medical machines. It'd certainly be a bargaining chip once they inevitably came into contact with the Imperium. The other was Shimmer.
"Lord Konrad," One of the Green Keepers, Lara, who followed him from the beginning, suddenly spoke from behind him. Well, he'd known of her presence moments ago, when she walked into the same chamber, where the last of the True Masters had kept his records, books, and other objects of information and knowledge, artifacts that would otherwise be discarded by anyone else. In particular, Konrad was curious about off-world shipments. There were only a few of those, a few dozen tons of Shimmer being shipped off, which were often hinted at in the ledgers of the other True Masters, but never written of in great detail. Who was buying the Shimmer? Was this world involved in interstellar trade? Konrad needed to know, because, as far as he was aware, not even the True Masters maintained a fleet of void-capable ships. They had primitive rockets, of course, likely to carry off the exports of Shimmer, but no more than that, which also meant this planet was vulnerable to invasions. "What should we do now? We've torn the tyrants from their seats of power and exacted vengeance for the people. Many of us... we... well... many of us feel lost, Lord Konrad."
Konrad turned to her, forcing out a practiced smile. He wasn't happy or in the mood for smiling, but he found that humans responded better to positive reinforcement, much like how Sanguinius acted with his Legionnaires. So, if it got him better results, then he'd smile as much as necessary. It wasn't a big deal anyway. "Worry not, Lana. For I will lead our people into a brighter future, a golden age of freedom, prosperity, and peace. There shall be no slavery and no suffering under my guidance. However..."
More and more people gathered around him, listening to and clinging onto his every word. Konrad saw it in their eyes, gazes he'd never once received before, not even from his own sons. They looked to him with admiration and awe, but there was no fear in their eyes. Instead, Konrad saw hope. They believed in him. They believed that, through his leadership, their children's children might just witness a golden sunrise on a peaceful and prosperous world, one that'd left behind its shackles, a world that was free of all the ailments that plagued them now.
"The road... the road of our people shall be long and arduous, and fraught by many dangers and challenges," Konrad addressed the crowd, looming over them like a father to his children. It felt right, he mused; it felt natural. This... this was what he was supposed to be. This was who he should've been, a paragon of virtue. "We shall fall – many times, we shall fall. But, each time, we shall rise harder and stronger, until nothing can stand in our way. I promise you, all of you, and your children and their children, who shall come after them, that I shall lead this world to a golden age of prosperity and peace, an age of freedom, enlightenment, and justice."
The crowd cheered and... for a moment, Konrad found himself smiling truly. He raised a hand and the cheers ceased. "But I can't do it alone. I will need your help – all of you, each of you – in building this new world. All of us must come together and unite under a single banner, working towards a single goal. Only then can we achieve the greatness that is already ours, only then can we reach our destiny!"
He'd turned on the speakers for that one, allowing every single person on every single city across the entire planet to hear his voice, his proclamation. This world was theirs now, liberated, and there was still more work to be done. Still, that did not mean they weren't allowed to celebrate their victory. When he finished speaking, it was as though the whole world shook as billions of people roared and screamed and cheered in happiness, their cries reaching the heavens. Finally, they said, we are free.