The Emperor watched it all in silence.
From the moment Huron entered the banquet hall, every detail had unfolded beneath His gaze.
Seeing the Sister of Battle covered in prayer scripts from head to toe, He was reminded of “The Last Church”—an ordinary chapel He had personally burned to the ground at the end of the Unification Wars on Terra.
He had hoped to sever the shackles religion placed on human civilization, allowing all of mankind to perceive the world through the lens of reason.
Yet now, He was being worshiped as a “God,” and this very cult had become the “State Church” of the Imperium of Man.
Seeing the Sister being prepared as food in the manner of a sacrificial offering, He recalled the various barbarian tribes and Black Kheta warlords He had eradicated during the Unification Wars.
Those barbarian tribes universally believed that devouring an enemy allowed one to seize their strength and courage.
Such customs were rampant across the wastes of Terra, representing the peak of the ignorant savagery He sought to eliminate.
The Black Kheta warlords, meanwhile, were obsessed with blood sacrifices to their gods, delighting in the creation of ritual implements from human blood, bone, and skin.
What He loathed most was their practice of sacrificing to gods through cannibalism.
He had destroyed them all, attempting to lead humanity out of the darkness of ignorance and persuade them to abandon such bloody, savage, and anti-social behavior in favor of mutual cooperation.
And yet, here were the nobles of the Imperium of Man, openly treating humans as sacrifices and ingredients, to the point where it had become a mundane routine.
It was as if the Imperium of Man had simply become a larger version of those Black Kheta warlords and barbarian tribes.
Even with the Emperor’s legendary pride, seeing this caused His composure to slip, and a flicker of regret surfaced in His mind.
If He hadn’t stopped the Astartes from participating in politics back then—if He had allowed the Astartes to monitor and manage these “vermin”—would the Imperium have fallen to this state?
But that sliver of regret was quickly dismissed.
He knew that letting posthumans rule mortals would only result in a different flavor of perversion.
However…
The Emperor looked at Huron—who was obsessed, but perhaps not entirely lost to madness.
With that unknown power as an aid, perhaps this soul from another world could change things.
Perhaps he could alter the ignorant, cruel state of the Imperium.
Unconsciously, the Emperor’s estimation of Huron and the System rose slightly.
At the same time, His evaluation of the “vermin” nobles of the Imperium hit rock bottom, placing them at the same table as the Ruinous Powers of the Warp.
Meanwhile, good news arrived over the Chapter’s vox-channel.
“Raid on the Villa family successful.
Family members resisted fiercely; 389 dead, 122 captured.
Patriarch Klaus Villa was killed on-site.”
“Raid on the Mercer family successful.
Family members attempted to flee; 113 dead, 344 captured.
Patriarch Silas Mercer was killed on-site.”
“Raid on the Salom family successful.
Most family members chose to surrender; 89 dead, 455 captured.
Patriarch Marcus Salom has been taken into custody.”
Thanks to the element of surprise and the overwhelming breach capabilities of the Terminators, the High Nobles of the Spire had no time to react.
The small-scale void shields meant to protect the family fortresses weren’t even activated before the Terminators, leading squads of standard Astartes, stormed the interiors and ruthlessly suppressed all resistance.
“Well done.
Secure the captives for the upcoming trial.”
Though it was strange that the Salom family—the ones who had been most vocal in their rhetoric and intent to retaliate against the Astral Claws—had surrendered the fastest, Huron didn’t care to dwell on their logic.
Given the actions of these nobles, they didn’t even need to be judged by the yet-to-be-published Badab Charter.
The Lex Imperialis and the Imperial Decrees issued by the High Lords of Terra—laws that had been added to and amended since the Great Crusade—were more than enough to see these people damned.
Even though the Lex Imperialis was so bloated and complex that no one could fully master it, leading various regions to interpret and edit it as they saw fit, there were certain constants.
At the very least, “cannibalism” was a universal standard for heresy.
It was the kind of crime that might seem small on paper but weighed heavier than a thousand tons once brought to light.
However, while the primary Great Houses were under control, countless lesser nobles, honorary knights, and the factory owners and merchants who relied on them continued to resist fiercely.
As a result, the lockdown of the entire Hive lasted for over a week before the curtains finally fell.
Once the blockade was lifted, the citizens of the Hive were informed of a monumental event: a public trial of the nobility.
The Palatos Hive Central Square served as the makeshift execution grounds.
This area had originally been the exclusive parade ground for the nobility.
The ground was paved with expensive black granite shipped from other planets, each slab polished to a mirror-like finish.
The square was once lined with statues of the patriarchs of the Great Houses, but those had all been torn down.
In their place stood massive holographic projection screens and broadcasting equipment.
It was nine o’clock in the morning.
The sunlight shining down on the square brought a warmth most of the audience had never felt before, but it did nothing to warm Marcus Salom.
He was currently kneeling in the center of the trial platform, looking down at the audience—most of whom were Underhivers.
He felt a visceral disgust at their presence and their lack of proper etiquette.
“How are these people even qualified to enter the sacred Central Square?
This is a desecration of the God-Emperor!” Marcus felt a profound sense of contempt and humiliation.
It was only because the Emperor was currently incapable of delivering a physical blow that Marcus wasn’t spinning like a top from a divine slap to the face.
To the side, Odinson stood in ceremonial power armor, adorned with sashes and ornate decorations.
He looked down at the crowd.
The Central Square was massive, capable of holding millions of people at once, but compared to the total population of Palatos Hive, this was a mere drop in the ocean.
Fortunately, it could be broadcast over the vox-networks.
After emergency construction, the Underhive had been fitted with enough network channels to ensure coverage for ninety-nine percent of the residents.
In other words, at this very moment, tens of billions or more were watching this broadcast.
“Citizens of Badab, good morning.
I am Odinson,” he introduced himself to the masses.
“Most of you have likely never heard of me.
I was once a member of the Chapter Serfs, and now I am an Adeptus Astartes—one of the ‘Angels of the God-Emperor’ you know so well.”
He continued, “As the delegated Acting Planetary Governor authorized by Governor Huron, I stand here on behalf of the Astral Claws Chapter to judge the nobles of Palatos for their numerous crimes.
In the name of the Astral Claws and the Emperor, I hereby declare them heretics.”
He looked at the audience; most of them wore expressions of total bewilderment.
Aside from the few Serfs and auxiliary personnel who had received a general education, most of the Underhive audience had no idea what this meant.
It was too far removed from their previous lives.
Odinson was not surprised.
He continued the sentencing.
“The first prisoner to be tried is the Patriarch of the Salom family, Marcus Salom.
You may not recognize his name or his house, but the Starch Guild under his family’s control monopolizes nearly ninety percent of the Hive’s food supply.”
This time, the audience reacted.
The Starch Guild was a household name to every Hiver.
Many even felt a strange sort of gratitude toward it.
After all, without the Starch Guild, they would have nowhere to buy food.
They would be forced to risk eating dangerous mutants or…
resort to cannibalism.