Guilliman sat in silence, his eyes scanning the assembly before him.
The time for words had passed. Either they would join him—or be left behind. His vision for reform was a storm ready to break upon the Imperium. It demanded a leader both loyal and incorruptible, someone whose will wouldn't fracture under pressure or be twisted by Chaos.
Such a massive reform would inevitably face immense resistance. No one yields power willingly.
Back when Terra was still Earth, even minor dynasties fought bloody wars for supremacy over scraps of land. Now, among the stars, ambition was far greater. Ambitious men and women vied for dominion over entire systems, over the fate of billions. The same hunger for power burned brighter than ever.
After a moment of contemplation, it was Ziller who first broke the silence. He stood, bowed deeply, and declared, "The Hitler family is willing to serve you, honored Regent. Please accept our unwavering loyalty. Our oath will burn as fiercely as Terra's sun."
One pledge was all it took. Like dominos, others followed.
"The Valens family is also willing to serve you."
"The Balthan family swears loyalty to the Regent."
Kneeling, they touched their prosthetic limbs and flesh to the cold floor, offering loyalty not to the High Lords of Terra—but to Guilliman himself.
The Rogue Traders exchanged uncertain glances. Eventually, they too knelt.
"The William Commerce Guild will follow your will."
"The Nancy Trade Alliance stands with you."
By the end, half the assembly had sworn fealty. The rest remained standing, their expressions guarded. Some tensed, hands brushing the holsters at their waists, as if expecting Ultramarines to crash in and execute them with power axes.
Their fear wasn't unwarranted. Guilliman's words, by Terra's standards, bordered on heresy. Challenging the High Lords' authority, even suggesting a redistribution of power—this was treason in all but name.
From Terra's viewpoint, Guilliman's ambitions could only be seen as betrayal.
Guilliman, observing the nervous holdouts, offered a calm smile.
"Relax. I don't intend to do what you fear. My goal isn't to seize Terra or dismantle its authority, but to save the Imperium from decay. Ten thousand years of stagnation have twisted my father's vision. I must correct our course—before it's too late."
He gestured politely.
"Those who did not kneel, please leave. I need space to discuss reforms with those who will assist me. You won't face retaliation. I'm not seeking revenge—I'm seeking survival."
Reluctantly, the others exited. Guilliman turned back to the kneeling assembly.
"Rise, all of you. I'm glad you chose to stay."
They stood, taking their seats again. Guilliman regarded them solemnly.
"The Imperium spans tens of thousands of light-years. Reforming such a vast entity is no simple task. Navigation is slow. Communication unreliable. But we must begin—cautiously, deliberately."
His plan was simple in its structure, yet monumental in scope. Reforms would begin in Ultramar, seeded alongside new technologies provided by Archmagos Kaurr. From there, they would slowly spread—changing the Imperium over the course of centuries, subtly but irrevocably.
Each policy would be introduced with care, minimizing disruption. Those who refused to follow would not be openly removed, but rather have their authority slowly eroded—like frogs in warm water, unaware they were being boiled.
Once everyone had settled, Guilliman's tone softened.
"I'm grateful for your support. What we are about to attempt is unprecedented—but necessary. If we do nothing, our people will be swept away by the tide of Chaos, and my father's dream will turn to ash."
"I hold no desire for titles or power. Only results."
"You have our loyalty, Regent," one planetary governor replied quickly. "We harbor no such ambitions."
Guilliman nodded. "Good. Many of the worlds I've visited since awakening have broken my heart. Entire planets left to rot, abandoned by an Imperium that was supposed to protect them. People starving, ignorant, exploited—and still expected to tithe what little they have."
He clenched a gauntleted fist.
"This isn't betrayal. It's the consequence of negligence and greed. I've seen nobles feasting in palaces while others scavenge through toxic ruins for food. How can we expect people to resist Chaos if they already live in hell? Why would they not embrace the false salvation offered by the Ruinous Powers?"
Guilliman's anger was barely restrained. From anyone else, such words would have meant death. But he was no ordinary man—he was a Primarch. His authority carried the weight of a god, and his words were tolerated where others would be executed.
Those seated shifted uncomfortably. Qi Le and others dared not speak, uncertain if Guilliman's words might one day be used against them. For now, they simply listened.
"I will issue an edict," Guilliman continued. "A new system of wealth distribution will begin in Ultramar. From there, it will slowly expand. We will establish imperial academies, enforce compulsory education, and teach a new generation the truths of the Imperium—not just the dogma."
"We will root out Chaos not with purges, but by starving it of victims."
"The law will be standardized. Feudal lords, despots, slave masters—these roles must be abolished. They weaken us, fracture us. Unity is our only shield."
His audience took notes, recording every word. These reforms would become the foundation of a new era.
During the Great Crusade, planetary governors were granted autonomy if they pledged loyalty and paid their tithes. That era's urgency demanded compromise. But the result had been a fractured empire—some planets ruled by tyrants, others by corporations, some even functioning under anarchist or primitive systems.
The Emperor's fall and the Horus Heresy left Terra in the hands of politicians too timid for true change. As long as taxes flowed, the High Lords turned a blind eye.
Now, the Terra Council was bloated and ineffective. Every session a war of political interest. The noble families poured resources into getting their own appointed to the Administratum, the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and other critical offices. All to protect their wealth and influence.
Guilliman had no patience for this. While he fought the forces of Chaos on the front lines, he refused to be stabbed in the back by petty bureaucrats. What he needed was control—total control.
After hours of discussion, a preliminary reform plan was finalized. Guilliman dismissed the meeting, authorizing those present to form a new advisory body—one that would answer to him directly and assist in refining the reforms.
When the last Rogue Trader and planetary governor left, Guilliman finally relaxed. Rubbing his eyes, he let out a long, weary breath.
Since his awakening, there had been no rest.
He had driven back Chaos forces, listened to endless reports, met with all corners of Imperial leadership—and now, launched a plan that could either save or shatter the Imperium.
He stretched, trying to release the tension in his joints, and closed his eyes briefly.
A soft chime echoed in the chamber. The voice of Sicarius, Second Company Captain of the Ultramarines, crackled through the comm-bead.
"My lord," he said. "The other battle groups, having heard of your return, request an audience with you."