Warhammer: Dawn of Annihilation

Guilliman's anger hung heavy in the air, a palpable force that made the grand hall feel searingly hot.

The gathered representatives trembled under the weight of his gaze, uncertain of what had sparked the Primarch's wrath.

"My lord, the Kalima family has served the Imperium loyally for three millennia," stammered the planetary governor of Sara. His voice quivered, a mix of desperation and fear. "We have never betrayed the Imperium. Surely, such a harsh decision cannot be the reward for our unwavering loyalty?"

"Loyalty?" Guilliman's tone sharpened as he fixed his gaze on the man. "Tens of billions have perished on this planet. Hundreds of millions turned traitor and embraced Chaos. The only reason you still draw breath is that your family did not openly rebel. That is your sole reward."

Another figure, a woman clad in opulent attire, stepped forward. "We were appointed by your father, given hereditary rights by the Emperor himself. You cannot strip us of our legacy on such grounds!"

Guilliman's eyes bore into her, his voice colder now. "Your titles were granted by the Senate of Terra. That body existed to represent the Emperor's will, nothing more. I formed the first generation of that Senate with my own hands, and now I wield absolute authority over it."

(The council created by the Emperor was dissolved during the Horus Heresy. After the war, Guilliman reestablished it upon being appointed Regent of the Imperium.)

"My lord, please, we—"

Their pleas were soon drowned out as other representatives clamored to speak, their demands and protests tumbling over one another in a chaotic symphony of self-interest.

Blinded by their threatened power, they momentarily forgot the reverence and fear the Primarch commanded.

Standing at Guilliman's side, Captain Sicarius observed the scene with growing disdain. Power, he thought grimly, is corrosive. It erodes respect, common sense, and morality. It breeds greed and selfishness.

The Primarch was striving to save the Imperium, yet these individuals dared to harbor resentment simply because their privileges were under threat.

If the loss of control over a single planet could provoke such madness, Sicarius wondered, what would happen when entire sectors or star systems were at stake? Would they go so far as to betray the Primarch himself?

The mere thought sent a chill through him. Someday, he realized, he might have to choose between Guilliman's vision of the Imperium and the stagnation perpetuated by the Terra Council.

Guilliman, for his part, had made his position clear. Since his awakening, he had openly condemned the Imperium's decay, vowing to pull humanity back from the abyss of ignorance and corruption. But the ancient power structures would not surrender without a fight.

With a wave of his hand, Guilliman dismissed the representatives from the hall. They filed out, cowed but still seething with discontent.

After a brief silence, Sicarius stepped forward. Bowing low, he spoke cautiously. "My lord, there is someone who may meet your requirements. However, he has been gravely afflicted by disease and cannot travel. If you wish, we could visit him at the hospital."

Guilliman nodded after a moment's thought. "Lead the way."

The streets of Sara were alive with fervor as word of the Primarch's presence spread.

Crowds surged from all directions, gathering outside the steel barricades erected by the Honor Guard. Cries of "Guilliman!" and "For the Emperor!" echoed through the air.

Tears streamed down many faces. Some knelt and kissed the ground where Guilliman had walked, while others wept openly, thanking him for delivering them from their nightmare.

"They're completely overwhelmed," Guilliman muttered, watching the scene unfold.

"They're simply overjoyed, my lord," Sicarius replied.

"If my father could see this, he would be deeply disappointed," Guilliman said quietly. "He despised such fanatical worship—any kind of worship, really."

Sicarius remained silent, uncertain how to respond. He had never known the Emperor personally, nor the age in which he ruled.

The makeshift hospital was a grim sight, yet the presence of the Primarch lifted the spirits of all within its walls.

Wounded soldiers and civilians alike straightened with pride as Guilliman addressed them.

"You have done well," he said, his voice steady. "You defended this planet and delivered a crippling blow to the forces of Chaos. Without your courage, victory would have been far harder to achieve."

Faces lit up with joy and pride at his words. For many, to be acknowledged by a Primarch was the pinnacle of honor.

One soldier, his leg amputated, was even permitted to clasp one of Guilliman's armored fingers—a privilege that brought him to tears.

Guilliman moved through the hospital, offering words of encouragement. Finally, he reached the deepest ward, where a single man lay dying.

Beeping monitors filled the room, their sterile rhythm underscoring the scene's somber tone. The air reeked of rot, a nauseating mix of decay and disease.

Guilliman entered, stooping slightly to fit through the doorway. The dying man turned his head slowly, his abscessed face contorting into a weak smile.

"Lord Primarch," he rasped, his voice barely audible. "The Holy Emperor has not abandoned me. You are too kind to visit a dying man like me."

"You are no ordinary man," Guilliman replied softly. "You are a hero of the Imperium, Colonel Jie'an. This world will remember your sacrifice; your name will be sung for generations."

Jie'an's smile faltered, tears welling in his eyes. "I failed them, my lord. So many died under my command. I should have protected them. If not for your arrival, my efforts would have been meaningless."

"You held this world long enough for us to secure victory," Guilliman said firmly. "Without your leadership, Sara would have been lost to the plague long before we arrived. In recognition of your service, I award you the Imperial Medal of Honor."

"Thank you, my lord," Jie'an said, his voice breaking. "It is the greatest honor of my life."

Guilliman paused. "Do you have any final requests?"

Jie'an's gaze turned pleading. "Grant me the Emperor's Mercy, my lord. My body is rotting from within, and the pain grows unbearable. Please, release me before I falter."

The room fell silent as Guilliman considered the request.

"If that is your wish," he said at last, his voice heavy with sorrow, "then I will grant it."