Edict of Egress
The various factions were either on their feet, bellowing in outrage, or sitting in stunned silence. The Torvanders were amongst the most vocal, both of them howling and tearing at their vestments. The Astraneus, by contrast, sat and smiled their hollow smiles. It was as though this was no great surprise to them, simply another unfolding of the Emperor’s designs.
There were savage whoops and jeers from the Helvintr contingent; the fact that myths walked anew seemed not to faze them, but to invigorate them. Katla was grinning savagely, punching the air, as ale-filled horns clattered together. Absalom Norastye seemed to have shrunk in on himself, lost in some logical reverie as he tried to process the new and revelatory information. Even Gunther had fallen silent, whatever narco-pipe he had been snuffing slipping from his slack mouth.
None of this mattered to Erastus. He saw and understood it all, he took in their reactions as the chamber was rocked by jubilation and shock. But he was lost in his own sudden burst of betrayal.
He never told me. How long could he have known? Carried such a secret? And never told me. The galaxy changed, fundamentally, and he never told me. She would have known, of course. Wouldn’t she, Father?
His hands clenched into fists, and he bit his tongue. He looked up at his father; the older man’s face was locked in a determined grimace, as though he might outlast the tumult. As he surely intended to outlast all things.
‘Be silent!’ The king’s words rang out as he stood, Edict in hand. ‘This is the word of the primarch. Carried to us through the ether by those who wear the gold. Delivered to my hand, that our enterprise be directed. By his will. For the sake of all humanity.’
The hush that followed was absolute, and Erastus could see that his father took it as a tacit sign that he could continue.
‘The galaxy is changed, my friends. It burns from end to end. The Great Rift has split the heavens. We have all lost, in this. I do not speak of mercantile concerns, or favoured hunting grounds.’ He paused, and Erastus was surprised that his father might actually be collecting himself. ‘We have not only lost kin, as my own heir has been taken from me. Humanity has lost. Been wounded. Half the Imperium is silent, and suffers beyond a barrier of spite.’
He put the Edict down, and spread his hands.
‘But it need not be so. The primarch proposes a grand crusade, of the kind that once forged our galactic domain. It shall split the darkness, and bring succour to those who languish beneath the lash of heretics and the predations of the xenos.’
His father had them, Erastus knew. In the palm of his hand. A rapt audience. Even as Erastus trembled with barely suppressed rage at how removed he was from his family’s plans, he could not look away. He would not stop listening.
‘We will be outriders, seeking advantage ahead of the main advance. We shall seek, fortify, and hold the mostly likely points of egress across the Rift, and wait for the crusade fleets to begin their translation. In return for this service and the joining of our strength with the Imperium’s military might, we shall be rewarded. Not merely in Throne gelt, but with Throne-sanctioned undertakings. As the Emperor once gave unto us, so too shall His son, with the primarch’s seal upon your Warrants of Trade and new Letters of Marque. The galaxy is changed, and we shall change with it. We shall have advantage undreamed of. The rights and responsibilities of our houses renewed! As they were in the earliest days, when the first of us could sail the void unchallenged and seize anything in His name.’ He tapped his cane against the dais as he paced. ‘Can you imagine? The God-Emperor’s own son promises us access, power and authority undreamed of. We will not merely be the void’s princes. We shall stand exalted by the favour of a demigod, and the gratitude of the Imperium.’
‘Why us?’ a voice called from the crowd, dwarfed beneath the carved marble of the columns that ridged the chamber. The acoustics carried it up, and soon it was joined by others. ‘What brings this favour to our door?’
‘The Compact is old. Laid down in first principles when the first fleets left Terra. When so many were lords militant, by design or circumstance. Our oaths are ancient. Perhaps he remembers.’
Laughter echoed that pronouncement, loud and bitter. Erastus was almost surprised when eyes turned towards him; it had been his laughter. His father ignored it.
‘Tomorrow I will lay out my plans for determining the optimal points of crossing. I will present my astrocartographic observations and seek insight from my noble fellows. This is a grand opportunity for all of us.’ His wizened features curdled into a smile. ‘This–’
‘This is blasphemy!’ Mara Torvander screamed. Her eyes were red with tears, and she had torn at her own hair. Her retainers were likewise dishevelled, her brother silent and drawn. ‘You claim to speak with the will of the primarch, a being of legend, a very fragment of the divine gracing the galaxy anew with their presence! And we have only your word? Where is the Primarch Reborn?’
Mara swept her arm round, and the pilgrim throng of the Torvander dynasty fell to their knees, prostrating themselves before her ebbing outrage.
‘How can you say that this is so, and expect us to follow meekly? The Great Rift has birthed lies and abomination! Deceit that walks! I shall not believe that His son has risen from death unless I see it with my own eyes. My father, and the concerns of faith which he follows, would think me a fool or worse, to hurl our family headlong into this… this heresy!’
She turned her back upon Davos, and stormed from the chamber. A trail of shell-shocked, confused and babbling zealots followed after her. Barisan sheepishly brought up the rear, withered beneath the enormity of the situation.
‘If there are no further interruptions?’ Davos said simply.
None challenged him. The chill quiet that descended was like a shroud. Perhaps, Erastus mused, that was why the Astraneus remained so calm. Bloodstained and utterly content, as though the galaxy had not changed at its core.
His father stood, waving away the support of attendants as he left the dais, parading out beneath the marbled arches of the hall and towards his own private chambers. Erastus waited a moment, for the voices to rise and the clamour of the feast to resume. He caught the eye of others as he moved to follow his father’s path. Astrid Helvintr nodded to him, as stern as the first frosts. Gunther Radrexxus offered him a tired wink.
Erastus shook his head.
I fear whatever course you set, Father, with this ship of fools.