At this moment, a routine session was underway.

  “The Inquisition siders him a dangerous individual. He must remain under observation and surveilnce. We ot allow him any power or position,” decred one of the attendees, an elderly man with a voice as sharp and cold as a winter wind. He wore a luxurious robe adorned with skull motifs of various sizes, their grim presenhang his air of authority. His white fur colr reflected his high rank, while his pierg eyes—like those of an eagle—seemed to pierce through any lie or pretehis man was the Lord Inquisitor, a figure who embodied the Emperor’s judgment and the will of the Ordo Hereticus.

  “In the Inquisition’s eyes, everyone is dangerous,” tered atendee, an older maed opposite. His face was hiddeh the hood of a pin robe, giving him an air of mystery. In one hand, he held a quill, which he used to annotate an aome resting before him. He was the Master of the Administratum, the Imperium’s chief administrator, overseeing a byrinthiwork of officials and managing the vast data that kept the Imperium running. “The High Lords of Terra have already issued an ultimatum. By decree, we only detain him for three more days. After that, he must be released.”

  The Lord Inquisitor’s expression darkened. “The High Lords? Those bureaucrats care for nothing but their own influehey’d sell their souls for a scrap of power! What do they know of daheir pcy blinds them.”

  “They are safeguarding their authority,” the Master replied calmly. “In doing so, they maintain the cohesion of the Imperium. Besides, this individual has already undergoensive scrutiny. The results show no issues. The Inquisition must let this go—he is, after all, a hero from a legendary age.”

  “A cursed warrior is no hero,” the Lord Inquisitor snapped. “Even Horus, once beloved, fell into treachery. If a son of the Emperor could succumb, why should we trust this man?”

  The Master of the Administratum leaned forward, his tone unyielding. “The establishment of an Astartes chapter and the appoi of its leader are the Emperor’s will. Are you questioning the Emperor’s authority?” His gaze swept over the room as he pced a heavy dot oable. “And it’s not just military power we’re discussing here. He will also gain signifit trol over several territories. Take a look for yourselves—this is the decree from the Senatorum Imperialis.”

  With a deliberate gesture, he slid copies of the dot to the three others seated at the table. As they read, their faces darkeheir expressioraying a mixture of shod uhis is unwise,” muttered the third member of the group, his voice ced with frustration. “I don’t follow politics much, but even I know this is risky. We’ve seen this kind of tralization before in the Imperium, and it always ends badly. This is practically inviting rebellion.”

  The speaker’s voice was distinct—steady, meical, and punctuated by faint static, as if the words were being broadcast from an a vox-caster. His tone carried a straat, refleg his nature. He was the Fabricateneral of Mars, a powerful figure who embodied the Meicum’s devotion to the Mae God. Their fe worlds supplied the Imperium’s armies, overseeing the produ of ons and maery that fueled the Adeptus Meicus’s endless fes.

  The followers of the Cult Meicus worshipped the Omnissiah, a maion of the Emperor as the Mae God. Their devotioeo modifying their own bodies, repg flesh with metal in pursuit of enlighte. The General himself rime example. His throat had been irreparably damaged two turies ago—a death sentenost humans. But for him, it was merely an invenience. With a simple operation, he repced the ruined an with a meical vocal system. Sihen, his voice had carried the cold resonance of artificiality.

  “We ’t allow this,” the General tinued, his words deliberate. “Granting one individual such immehority—a leader of an Astartes chapter who also holds the title of Imperial ander—is reckless. This person would oversee three ear systems, not to mention anding ae military force that answers only to him. Such autonomy invites disaster.”

  The room fell into a tense sileno one needed further expnation to grasp the implications. The Fabricateneral’s s were shared by all present.

  In the Imperium, the separation of military and civilian power was a erstone of stability. solidating both in one person was a direct threat to order, effectively creating a rogue governor. The High Lords of Terra had long used this principle to maintain trol, ensuring no one could amass enough influeo challenge imperial authority.

  The Astartes chapters, despite their independence, were not exempt from ht. While they maheir own domains, traditions, and internal affairs, their holdings were deliberately barren, harsh, and resource-poor. This eheir relian the Imperium for support, preventing them from growing too indepe or to. The unfiving enviros they operated in served dual purposes: f their warriors’ resiliend curbing their logistical capabilities.

  “Three star systems?” The Lord Inquisitor frowned deeply, breaking the silehat’s excessive. Is this man of noble blood?”

  The Master of the Administratum shook his head. “The name Shrike doesn’t belong to any promi house. His father was a minor noble, more ied in indulgehan governance. But his grandfather—ah, now there’s a name you might reize: Veyron Shrike, one of the explorer.”

  “Veyron?” The Lord’s brows lifted. “The renowned explorer?”

  The Master nodded. “The same. He’s credited with charting over five pert of the Eastern Fringe—worlds, routes, preliminary surveys, all thanks to Veyron and his fleet. His influenspired others to map an additional fifty pert of the region. The Emperor himself rewarded him, and among the gifts were the three systems iion.”

  He paused, then listed the names of the systems. The others exged bnk looks. “It’s not surprising you don’t reize them,” the Master said dryly. “The Imperium’s vastness makes it impossible to recall every territory.”

  The sheer scope of the Imperium stretched far beyond what mortal minds could fully prehend. As beautiful as the steltions appeared in the void, every visible star was within the Emperor’s dominio, what the naked eye could see was but a fra of the whole.

  In the depths of the gaxy y tless stars, their light too faint or distant for even the most advaelescopes. Beyond these, in the infinite reaches of the and the uncharted expanse, were territories cimed by humanity that defied ventional mapping. The Imperium’s size was so immehat even the most dedicated archivists could never catalog every world us prote.