The Bizarre Adventure of the Warhammer Guard

The Imperial fleet is anchored in orbit around the Throne World. The Battle Moon, which was hovering in Terra's orbit, is now less than a tenth of its original size, and all the scrap metal generated by the space war has disappeared.

The space station and defense platform hovering in orbit around Terra are being rebuilt, with thousands of transport planes shuttling back and forth, constantly delivering supplies.

Just a few months after the alien invasion, people seemed to have returned to their former peace and prosperity.

Several heavy transport ships bearing the imperial eagle emblem roared as they landed on the heavily guarded landing platform outside the palace.

A team of imperial physicians, dressed in pristine white robes and with solemn expressions, were already lined up and waiting.

Vulcan's medical pod was carefully moved out and transported via an anti-gravity platform to the medical center in the palace area, which housed the empire's most advanced medical equipment and was even rumored to possess medical technology from the Golden Age.

The Primarch's medical pod was placed in the center of a circular hall filled with soft light. Surrounding it were sophisticated instruments and pipes flowing with nutrient solutions, and the air was filled with a mixture of disinfectant and incense.

The high lords of the Empire have already made a symbolic visit here; now, only the state priests, chanting prayers in hushed tones, and the physicians, who have been monitoring every change in the Primarch's vital data, remain.

Vulcan's body has fully recovered; his muscles are full, his skin is intact, and his breathing is steady and strong. The only problem is that he is still unconscious.

No one knows exactly what the Primarch experienced when the energy core exploded, but all the physicians are certain of one thing: his vital signs have returned to normal, and it is only a matter of time before he awakens.

The high lords once again held a grand celebration to commemorate the Empire's victory over the orcs.

The horns of victory resounded throughout the hive capital, and countless people poured into the streets, praising the greatness of the Empire and the Primarchs, the strength of the expeditionary force, and listening to the Imperial propaganda machine's summary of the expedition's victory.

The people of Terra listened to how the mortal auxiliary forces built defenses with their flesh and blood, how the Space Marines swept through armies like gods, and how the Custodians and Primarchs swept across the Orc homeworld, beheading their leaders.

These legendary experiences, every detail of them, are rendered like an ancient heroic epic.

However, the Empire's propaganda apparatus deliberately concealed the damage suffered by the expeditionary force, the endless number of orc armies, and the fact that orc fleets were still ravaging the Empire's territory.

This is the High Lords' unchanging strategy, a tradition followed since Primarch Guilliman left Terra. The ordinary people of Terra don't need to know the horrors of the enemy; they only need to know one thing:

The empire has once again achieved a glorious victory.

After all, the victory propaganda plan was already in place the moment the Primarch and the Imperial Guard set off. As long as any news came back, they would hold a victory celebration, regardless of whether the news was good or bad.

In the inner courtyard of the palace, far from the clamor of the celebrations, in a spacious hall, two golden-armored giants walked side by side. Under the high dome and dim light, the surface of their golden armor still shimmered with dazzling golden light.

There are busts all around, and murals on the walls on both sides, giving people a sense of indescribable historical atmosphere.

"A thousand years have passed, Diocletian," Elpis broke the silence, his voice echoing through the hall. "We guard this palace, this throne, but what about outside?"

Elpis's gaze swept over the faded murals on the wall depicting the Great Crusade, those glories now seeming so distant.

"The High Lords are preoccupied with their foolish power games, oblivious to the reality of the Empire's downfall. The Xenomorphs are ravaging the Empire, even invading the Throne World. And we're just going to stand here and watch?"

"You know why, Elpis," came a barely audible sigh from beneath Diocletian's helmet, "it's our duty."

“We failed to protect him,” Diocletian continued. “Many of us felt guilty, believing we were no longer worthy of this armor. They took off their armor, put on black robes, some hiding within the Empire, silently guarding it, others choosing to guard the underground prison.”

"Some of us have become stubborn after this blow. They feel that only the inner palace is the area that should be protected, and the suffering outside the walls is no longer related to them."

They stopped in front of a bust with a majestic face, below which was inscribed his name: Constantine Waldo.

This is the name of the first Grand Marshal of the Imperial Guard. He disappeared from the Empire long after Guilliman left Terra, as he himself said, to go among the stars and fulfill the mission given to him by the Lord of Mankind.

They continued walking, and Elpis saw many familiar faces. He saw the bust of La Endymion, which brought back many fond memories.

Here are not only statues of the fallen members of the Imperial Guard, but also statues of those who made outstanding contributions. Behind La Endymion is a statue of Diocletian.

Of course, Elpis's own statue is also among them, right behind Waldo, hidden in the shadows.

"Aside from retired soldiers, we now have just over a thousand Imperial Guards protecting the throne," Diocletian interrupted Elpis's thoughts. "In the past thousand years, we have thwarted thousands of attacks on the Throne Room. Faced with threats to the Empire, many times we could only watch helplessly."

"This is not the Emperor's will," Elpis said firmly. "He entrusted us with protecting humanity, not just this throne."

"And then there are the Silent Sisters. The sorority created by the Emperor himself, yet due to the shortsightedness and fear of the bureaucracy, they have been forgotten, isolated, and even antagonized throughout the empire. This is unacceptable."

Diocletian paused for a moment before slowly speaking, "You want to recall them?"

“That’s right,” Elpis said. “They must be found. Without them, the Emperor’s Hand will no longer be complete. The High Lords don’t care, we will.”

"We will publicly search for Sister Silent, using the excuse that 'the siege of the orcs requires anti-psymal units' to shut up those high lords and force them to agree, or at least not dare to openly oppose it."

"Alright, go ahead and do it," Dirk nodded first, deciding to support Elpis's choice. "The Soulless Queen may still be in her Silent Fortress."

That was the core stronghold of the Silent Sisters in the past. After they were marginalized, there should theoretically still be a very small number of steadfast members, and possibly even the long-silent leaders of the order.

"This is your responsibility," Elpis said, looking at Diocletian. "If the High Lords dare to question us, tell them we are simply fulfilling the duties entrusted to us by the Emperor."

Elpiston paused, "To ensure that the Emperor's legacy is not squandered."