Chapter 213: Local Problems |
751-M41
After nearly three years of grueling meetings, the High Lords had waited with bated breath—even outliving an Arbites Grand Provost in the process—and finally saw the departure of the Dawn Fleet.
According to the report transmitted by Imperial Navigator Envoy Kadak Mill, the leaders of the Dawn Fleet had officially finalized the transfer of power with the various Space Marine Chapters stationed in Ultramar. After boarding a selection of Imperial officials and Adeptus Custodes representatives, they departed immediately.
They retraced the latter route of the Dawn Crusade, swiftly making their way to the Voronin Cluster in the heart of the Segmentum Ultima—now designated as the Dawn Sector.
The Adeptus Mechanicus was fraught with anxiety, and the Sector Nobles lived in a state of paranoia, terrified of losing their grip on power. The High Lords, ever eager for a spectacle, watched the drama unfold. All the while, with the assistance of the Custodian Guard Valerian, they sluggishly pushed forward reforms in the Great Rift region while keeping a close eye on the situation in the eastern fringes of the Imperium.
However, nine months later, when the Dawn Fleet—spearheaded by an Emperor-class Battleship—finally entered the Sector, what unfolded left everyone utterly dumbfounded.
There were no anticipated bloodbaths or purges, no iron-fisted suppressions, and no forceful shifts in power.
On the contrary, the Dawn Fleet maintained its expeditionary stance, devoting all its energy to exterminating the marauding Ork warbands and pirate armadas ravaging the Sector.
For six solid months, the fleet crisscrossed the Sector, answering every distress signal like a wandering legion of guardians.
Yet, he never once issued a mandatory decree.
Meanwhile, Karna frequently made his presence known in the preaching halls of the Underhive and the isolated mission stations of remote worlds.
As he moved, food and clean water were delivered into the hands of every human. He preached the light of the Emperor to exhausted civilians and lost believers, and the doctrines of the Church of Dawn quietly spread alongside his charity.
Following this, the fleet would simply depart. They did not even bother to resupply, content to let the various departments continue operating according to their past regulations.
This left the Adeptus Mechanicus factions, led by the Forge World of Incaladion, in a rather awkward position.
Leveraging their absolute monopoly over the Industrial Complex, they had been subtly feeding the Sector Nobles rumors that the Primarch did not trust Mortals. They even distributed a few choice technological boons, hoping to throw a wrench into the Primarchs' governance and pave the way for their own subsequent schemes.
However, the Dawn Fleet's utter lack of aggressive action caused this plan to fall flat.
The only rumor circulating was that the Primarch was currently evaluating the conditions of the various worlds in order to select a future Sector capital.
Yet half a year had passed, and the Dawn Fleet was still cruising through the sea of stars, acting more like a silent observer than a conquering ruler.
The High Lords and the senior Magos of the Mechanicus found themselves in a state of subtle bewilderment.
The events that had transpired on Macragge were still fresh in their minds. The Primarchs were by no means gentle shepherds; they were dormant lions.
None of these figures at the absolute pinnacle of power would ever underestimate a Primarch. They could only wonder if Romulus was truly planning to pull off some massive, earth-shattering maneuver.
"A superstructure dominated by Nobles and bound solely by the ties of bloodlines is completely incapable of being entrusted with heavy responsibilities."
In orbit above the Cardinal World of Astorgius, Romulus flipped through the documents in his hands.
These were reports submitted by his covert agents, detailing their exhaustive investigations into the political, military, and cultural systems of the various Planets within the Dawn Sector.
The documents painted a vivid picture of the political corruption, military negligence, and cultural decay festering on every world in the Dawn Sector.
The Nobles were addicted to endless banquets. The Planetary Defense Force had been practically privatized into aristocratic family guards. The priests of the Imperial Cult colluded with local power brokers to squeeze the very last drops of wealth from the Underhive masses.
The intelligence-gathering framework of the Alpha Legion proved to have immense reference value, particularly when it came to cultivating Mortal sleeper agents.
Meanwhile, the Mortal operatives of the Dark Angels remained deeply embedded within the missionary groups of the Imperial Cult. The official channels of the Cult and the hidden network of Mortal spies wove together—one operating in the light, the other in the shadows. This dual intelligence system laid the naked truth of the Sector bare before the Primarch.
Honestly speaking, as the regent of the Sector, Romulus was profoundly dissatisfied with the sordid details presented before him.
In order to sustain his imports of luxury goods, the governor of an agri-world had deliberately suppressed grain purchase prices, leaving billions of serfs teetering on the brink of starvation. On a certain Hive City, a family of enforcers had monopolized the judicial system for generations, twisting the law into an auction where justice simply went to the highest bidder.
And whenever he grew dissatisfied, he felt the urge to start killing.
His gaze drifted downwards, settling on a report detailing a major gathering of the Nobles.
The Sector Nobles were still gleefully immersed in their optimistic delusions.
In their eyes, this newly arrived Primarch was nothing more than a "more capable and amicable Sector Governor." He had even been generous enough to grant them a multi-year tax exemption.
Crystal goblets clinked with a light, melodic chime at their banquets. The Nobles laughed and gossiped about their "accommodating" new ruler, treating him as though he were just another typical bureaucrat who could be easily bribed, stalled, and manipulated.
The High Lords, on the other hand, possessed a far sharper sense of discernment.
After all, they knew how to run the numbers. Just the steel-willed Astra Militarum regiments forged in the fires of the Dawn Crusade possessed enough Combat Power to outweigh the tithes of countless worlds combined.
Rather than bickering over a meager sum of taxes, it was much wiser to go with the flow and sell him a favor.
Romulus had made a very poignant remark, and they silently agreed: the High Lords truly were incapable of effectively utilizing the vast majority of the tithes they collected.
Yet, the Primarchs had not used this as an excuse to fracture the Imperium. Nor had they marched on Terra to seize power and reorganize the council. Instead, they were actively searching for ways to resolve these local problems. This realization allowed the High Lords to breathe a massive sigh of relief.
After sacrificing one Arbites Grand Provost, both sides had successfully reached a consensus.
Their core interests fundamentally opposed those of the local Nobles. Had they not been shackled by the Imperium's dire predicament, the High Lords would have completely wiped out these Sector Nobles ages ago.
The High Lords were the absolute elite of the elite, unparalleled talents chosen from among trillions. However, as the old saying goes, "those in power are often blinded by their privilege." They had their own tangled webs of self-interest, which sometimes made them appear terrifyingly incompetent.
Only when operating from an objective vantage point could these shrewd operators truly demonstrate their vast foresight and unparalleled political acumen.
At least in Romulus's eyes, dealing with the High Lords was far less agonizing than putting up with these Sector Nobles.
The tax exemption decree acted like a potent stimulant, intensifying their decadence and debauchery. Inside their resplendent, gold-gilded palaces, fine wine flowed like rivers, and exotic delicacies were piled high into literal mountains.
Draped in the most luxurious silks, the Nobles reveled and laughed boisterously around long, jewel-encrusted tables. It seemed as though their eternal banquet would never truly end.
Oddly enough, the Sector's economic metrics were actually surging. The constant stream of pollutants spewing from Hive City factories had visibly decreased, the granaries on agri-worlds overflowed with unlevied grain, and the internal trade routes of the commercial fleets were bustling more frantically than ever.
However, this newfound prosperity had absolutely nothing to do with the Imperial Nobles.
They disdained the very concept of engaging in production, nor did they care a whit about the fate of the Underhive masses. They simply gorged themselves, greedily funneling the surplus profits from the tax breaks into even more luxury goods, grander estates, and increasingly depraved entertainment.
Only a meager handful of Nobles, those armed with a particularly keen political intuition, managed to spot the terrifyingly precise implications hidden within Romulus's seemingly innocuous "political advice."
It pinpointed exactly which families monopolized planetary power, which worlds were rotting from rampant corruption, and which defense forces had long since devolved into private mercenary bands.
These clever few immediately began to quietly liquidate their non-core assets and rigidly strictly enforce their family discipline. Some even went as far as "voluntarily" donating vast swathes of wealth to the Imperial Cult, desperately attempting to drape themselves in a cloak of piety before the impending storm made landfall.