Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 604: Turbulent Clouds and Trouble
The holographic image in the center of the round table silently switched, presenting a series of complex and constantly fluctuating psionic spectrum diagrams, with dark blue and dark purple light patterns intertwined, like some kind of tide beyond human intelligence breathing in the void.

“Within a few standard hours before and after the arrival of Medusa’s official message,” Cassius’s voice was as deep as a rock, making the air almost stagnant, “our deep psionic observation array detected several unusually powerful, non-standard psionic fluctuations.”

His face was deathly pale, his gaze sweeping over every face around the round table.

"They do not belong to any known astro-language encryption mode, and their spectral characteristics are also quite different from common warp storms or... signs of known demonic entity activity."

“These fluctuations are more concentrated, more…deliberate.”

"It's as if some extremely powerful and purposeful will is conducting organized spying or communication."

“And its psychic signature…” He paused, as if weighing a dangerous word on his tongue, “ancient and unfamiliar.”

He looked around at the crowd, a cold fear hidden deep in his eyes.

"The return of the Primarch is already beyond reason, and do these accompanying phenomena, which cannot be explained by existing knowledge, suggest that some unknown force... or technology is involved?"

"Before the facts are ascertained, any hasty contact or promise could bring unforeseen disaster upon us—and the entire Empire."

“I have ordered this discovery to be classified as ‘Throne-level’ secret and will not be disclosed for the time being.”

Quintus Arabik, the patriarch of the Arabik family and representative of the Navigator family, remained as silent as a statue.

His ornate and ancient mask concealed all his expressions, except for the tightly closed, inhuman navigator's eye in the center of his forehead, which emitted a faint, eerie light in the shadows.

When he spoke for the first time, his voice, filtered and altered by the mask, sounded unusually flat and distant, yet every syllable exuded a calculated coldness.

"Danger and opportunity, Your Excellency, are like two sides of the same coin, always coexisting."

He tilted his head slightly, as if using his third eye to sense the turbulent flow of invisible energy around him.

"The return of Gorgon is undoubtedly a tremendous force that will inevitably disrupt the existing balance of power."

"Our family of navigators serves the Empire by following an ancient pact with the Emperor, guiding ships across the stars for generations."

"But the people we serve are the emperor and his designated, stable ruling structure."

He paused deliberately, letting the weight of his words sink into the silence.

"We need to ensure that any changes will not harm the rights, privileges and status we have enjoyed since ancient times."

"This is the cornerstone of maintaining the empire's shipping lifeline."

Then, a barely perceptible hint of probing crept into his tone, like a pebble dropped into a deep pool.

"Perhaps, the friendship and recognition of a Primarch is more valuable in the long run than the capricious policies and petty rations of the bureaucrats in the deep palace of Terra?"

"His fleet must need the best navigators."

But almost immediately, his tone changed abruptly, becoming icy and full of vigilance.

“Of course,” his gaze seemed to suddenly sharpen beneath the mask, “all of this is predicated on the fact that his return… its nature and intentions can withstand the most rigorous scrutiny.”

“Our family will never place our future on an uncertain miracle.”

The debate in the sealed room lasted for several hours.

The expensive incense smoke swirled and coiled in the air like ghosts, trying to mask the smell of sweat from tension, but only making the atmosphere more stagnant and heavy, reflecting on every face filled with anxiety, ambition, and cold calculation.

The various factions clashed like swords, their interests intertwined like a spiderweb, and anxieties and greed roared silently in the dim light. Finally, the most senior High Lord, the elder statesman who had always been responsible for coordinating the opinions of all parties—Titus von Delkas, the Lord's Guide and a senior member of the High Council—slammed his withered knuckles heavily on the smooth, mirror-like obsidian tabletop.

The sound wasn't loud, yet it strangely silenced all whispers and arguments.

His voice carried the weariness and hoarseness of years, but its inherent authority was unbreakable.

"enough."

"At this point in the debate, the facts are clear."

Von Delkas's gaze, like a slowly sweeping searchlight, swept across every face present, as if to burn through all pretense and reach straight to the heart.

"The return of Feralus Manus is by no means a simple increase in military strength."

"He is an extraordinary variable, a being capable of overturning the balance of power we have painstakingly maintained for ten thousand years."

“He is not one of those local warlords who needed the Empire’s goodwill during the Great Expedition; he is the Emperor’s genetic son, a living legend.”

"The natural legitimacy of its authority, on some levels, even surpasses that of us... a parliament composed of mortals."

He leaned forward slightly, his thin hands pressing down on the cold table, his tone becoming even heavier, each word like a nail driven into a coffin.

“We cannot, and are not capable of, directly confronting a Primarch on the open, especially one who is being fanatically supported by his Legion’s offspring and has just achieved a glorious victory.”

"That would be tantamount to political suicide, and could even trigger a catastrophic civil war, which the Emperor would never allow."

“But,” he suddenly emphasized, a cold, sharp glint in his eyes like a tempered steel blade, “we must understand him, restrain him, and guide him.”

“We must ensure that his power is directed in the ‘right’ direction—that is, in accordance with the overall will of the Parliament and in service to the ‘stability’ and ‘unity’ of the Empire, rather than becoming yet another wedge that tears the Empire apart.”

"How to restrain them?" Marshal Walton frowned, his voice rough and hoarse. "Send troops to monitor them? Or use official documents to restrain a Primarch?"

Elder von Delkas's lips curled into a cold, almost imperceptible line, and the chill in his eyes intensified.

"We don't need to wield swords ourselves, Marshal."

"That's a crude approach, and it's doomed to fail."

"Within the courtroom, there is never a shortage of suspicious eyes and fanatical hands."

"Especially those judges who belong to the extreme branches of the Inquisition or who call themselves 'purists'—such as extremists in the Montano or Amarasius factions."

“They view all supernatural phenomena as potential heresy, especially ‘miracles’ like ‘resurrection’ which completely defy the laws of nature. They firmly believe that behind them must be witchcraft, alien technology, or… something worse.”

He slowly uttered that dark decision, his voice low yet clear, like a venomous snake gliding across a stone surface, lingering in the confined space.

“Using the secret resources held by Parliament—budgets, intelligence, access rights… to covertly support these factions.”

“Encourage them, give them the green light, let them go to Medusa, let them investigate in the name of ‘censoring heretics’.”

“Go and dig out any possible clues—clues about his return to the truth, clues about the weaknesses of his form of existence, clues about his possible ideological differences with Terra, clues about any suspicious aspects or dark past of the mysterious judge Chen Xi by his side.”

"Anything that could be used in the future to check, influence, or control this Primarch, whether it be a technological flaw or a word that could be misinterpreted, is a necessary weapon for us."

"We need to plan ahead."

(End of this chapter)