Chapter 12: The Planetary Governor and the Wandering Merchant
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Chapter 12: Planetary Governors and Rogue Traders
The Five Hundred Worlds, controlled by the Ultramarines, could be called the brightest jewel of the Imperium.
Law and order prevailed there, and the general standard of living ranked among the highest of all Imperial worlds.
During the Horus Heresy, when the loyalist armies were scattered across the galaxy, Guilliman had even considered making the Five Hundred Worlds humanity’s second base of resistance against Chaos. Together with the primarchs of the Dark Angels and Blood Angels—Lion El’Jonson and Sanguinius—he would establish a Second Imperium.
Of course, before that vision could become reality, they discovered that the Emperor was not dead after all.
The three primarchs dissolved the Second Imperium, led their forces to Terra, and sealed away all records concerning the affair.
Even though it had never been realized, the potential of the Five Hundred Worlds was plain to see.
The Five Hundred Worlds were the foundation of Guilliman’s confidence. They could not be allowed to fall.
Upon hearing of his resurrection, several planetary governors and capable Rogue Traders from worlds that had not yet fallen into complete ruin had already come to Macragge.
The rest were either trapped by the disastrous situation or unwilling to respect the command of a resurrected primarch and travel to Macragge.
The Emperor and the primarchs had long since become legends of myth. Ten thousand years were more than enough to change countless things.
The Imperial Truth of old had been swept into the dust of history, while the hated Ecclesiarchy had become a member of the High Lords of Terra.
The Adeptus Mechanicus had grown ever more closed-minded and reactionary, while the Terran Council had become increasingly corrupt and ossified.
After the disaster at Cadia, the vast Imperium bled rapidly like a wounded zombie, scarcely capable of responding in time.
Nourished by ten thousand years of power, the various factions had long since become hopelessly entangled, embedding themselves deep within the Imperium and constantly draining it in an attempt to devour it completely.
Those who refused to come were waiting to see what would happen. They did not want their authority seized by a primarch who had suddenly returned from the dead.
Centuries, even millennia, of rule had convinced them that the power in their hands was something they had been born to possess—a symbol of their superiority.
Anyone who challenged that belief had, without question, become their enemy.
For the moment, Guilliman had no time to deal with them. His first priority was to properly manage the worlds that were still willing to support him.
He had to reform and purge the old system, transforming the Five Hundred Worlds into an impregnable bulwark. Only then could they support the plans he intended to carry out.
He needed to optimize the population structure, provide soldiers for recruitment, rebuild the system of wealth distribution, and encourage the people to produce more food and weapons.
The bloated administrative departments and aristocratic system had to be streamlined, reducing the financial burden while improving efficiency.
Education for the entire population also needed to be expanded. Independent research institutions, separate from the Adeptus Mechanicus, had to be established to provide more troops and reserve technical personnel for his coming campaigns.
The Adeptus Mechanicus and the Imperium were merely allies, though the Mechanicus held a seat on the Terran Council.
Guilliman was not the Emperor. He had no way to guarantee that the Mechanicus would never suddenly slip beyond his control.
He also had to consider another possibility: if the Emperor were to awaken and declare Guilliman a traitor to the Imperium, which side would the Mechanicus choose?
Would it choose the Omnissiah, the Machine God—or the resurrected Thirteenth Son of the Emperor?
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The answer was obvious. Some members of the Mechanicus might choose him, but they would unquestionably be a minority.
He had to possess his own scientific institutions, as well as a complete research system capable of assimilating the vast knowledge stored within the database.
To accomplish all of this, he needed the assistance of the planetary governors.
The soul born beneath the crimson radiance should never have permitted the existence of families that stood above the common people.
But the complexity of this world far exceeded that of the one he had originally known.
Even though he was a transmigrator and a primarch, and could obtain unimaginable abilities with the aid of the governance template, he still had no way to control every world completely.
The Imperium was simply too vast, while its methods of communication and travel were far too inefficient.
Nor was there any sufficiently powerful artificial intelligence available for use.
The Chaos Gods could corrupt not only beings of flesh and blood, but networks as well.
This universe could not be managed with the kind of intelligent systems used in the Super God universe.
Nor could a single intelligent system be allowed to control too many combat units.
If one blindly pursued automation, then the moment daemons infiltrated the system, even the units under intelligent control could be corrupted by flesh and turned against humanity.
Among the servants of the Chaos Gods, there were countless viruses and daemons capable of infecting intelligent systems and networks.
To develop large-scale artificial intelligence in this universe and entrust the entire world to a single intelligence would be nothing short of suicide.
All these limitations meant that every human-colonized planet possessed a certain degree of autonomy. The position of planetary governor was therefore unavoidable.
Besides them, another important group was the Rogue Traders.
The history of the Rogue Traders was equally ancient. Their tradition had begun with the Great Crusade ten thousand years ago. After the Emperor issued the first Warrant of Trade, they had taken the stage of the Imperium and assumed an extraordinarily important role.
They were responsible for trade between star systems and even possessed the authority to trade with xenos. Their wealth was beyond imagination.
Some Rogue Trader dynasties extended their influence across a dozen or even hundreds of star systems. The implications were terrifying.
Wherever the Imperial Navy went, the Rogue Traders went as well.
Wherever the Imperial Navy did not go, the Rogue Traders were even more certain to venture.
They salvaged wrecks from war zones, explored regions untouched by the Astronomican’s light, and searched for the ruins and lost civilizations of humanity’s Dark Age of Technology.
Far from the Emperor’s light, they traded with xenos.
This group kept the Imperial economy active while providing a vast amount of tax revenue to sustain the immense armies and bureaucracy.
Without their assistance, Guilliman estimated that he would have to raise the funds himself.
After all, the Ultramarines under his command had no time to pursue wealth.
Simply dealing with xenos and Chaos already consumed all their attention.
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Within the magnificent hall, Ziller and the many planetary governors and Rogue Traders dressed in finery all expressed their loyalty to Guilliman.
Seated at the head of the round table, Guilliman showed no excitement at their words.
He tapped the table before him once, then slowly began to speak.
“I need a council. This council will help me put my policies into practice and carry out my will. Which of you is willing to serve me?”
Guilliman looked at the people before him.
As he had said, he needed a council to help formulate policy and spread his will and convictions.
When he set out this time to reclaim each world, every one of them would have to be reshaped according to his wishes.
He would no longer leave them to their own devices.
Such actions would earn him the hatred of a vast number of opposing forces within the Imperium.
The Terran Council, the Adeptus Mechanicus, the aristocrats of the various sectors, the merchants, and countless others would come to hate him because he had disturbed their interests.
But Guilliman had no choice. In this age, when the Four Gods had returned to power and the Emperor still slept, it was utterly impossible to continue leaving the various planets to govern themselves as they had before.
Law and order had collapsed on many worlds. Gangs were rampant, vast numbers of the lower classes were treated as expendable material, the powerful abused their authority, and when the crucial moment came, they abandoned their posts and fled.
On some worlds, the average life expectancy was as low as thirty years!
Just imagine what a damned situation that was.
There were far too many worlds like this. Living amid such injustice and cruelty, why would their people refuse the power of Chaos?
They had already reached the bottom of the abyss. No matter how terrible Chaos might be, how much worse could it truly make things?
He had to take control of and transform every world, establishing a system that was relatively equal and offered everyone the opportunity to rise. Only then could he eliminate his worries about what might happen behind him.
Only the worlds he rescued could provide him with a steady stream of talent and soldiers, thereby helping save the human Imperium.
Ziller and the others could not help exchanging uneasy glances. Those words had already crossed a certain line.
Could this gene-forged primarch be planning to follow his brothers and rebel against the Emperor’s rule?
They did not know whether he was speaking the truth or testing them, attempting to lure them into revealing their intentions.
Guilliman saw their hesitation.
“This is not an act of rebellion. Though I have only just awakened, I have already grasped the state of the entire Imperium. Ignorance and superstition have spread throughout its every corner. The glory and rationality of the past are gone, and the Imperium has become like a corpse that refuses to die. Mere repairs may prolong its life, but they will only carry it farther from my father’s dream. Necessary reforms can strengthen us. Only then can we stand against Chaos and the rampaging xenos.”
When he had finished, Guilliman looked toward the planetary governors and Rogue Traders and asked in a solemn voice, “Are you willing to serve me? You may make whatever decision your hearts dictate. I will not harm you for refusing. But there is something I must tell you.
“Chaos has grown unimaginably powerful. On our side, the Imperium has been torn apart by the Great Rift. Nearly half of humanity’s territory has lost the protection and guidance of the Astronomican, leaving it exposed to the depredations of xenos and daemons.
“You have all seen the bloated corruption of the Terran Council, as well as the closed-minded rigidity of the Adeptus Mechanicus. If we do not change, my father’s dream will be shattered by our own hands, and humanity itself will march toward extinction because of us.
“As Imperial Regent, Lord of Ultramar, and primarch of the Ultramarines, I sincerely hope that you will become my allies.”
The moment Guilliman finished speaking, the many planetary governors and Rogue Traders exchanged uncertain glances.
End of Chapter
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