First day of the last month of 895.
The Emperor had left Terra, heading for the Eastern Galaxy.
At the intersection of the First and Second Avenues surrounding the Imperial Palace, in the rented villa of Count Barad of House Brobeil, clad in silk robes, he stood on the second-floor stairs, looking down at the guests below.
As the Imperium's borders expanded and the Great Crusade progressed, with the Emperor spending more time on Terra, and he and the Sigillite beginning to support their voices, the rent for prime real estate had risen.
Barad's rent was 1,308,400 Aquila coins per month.
But he continued to pay it, wanting to stay close to the center of power, and also for the security it provided.
In the last decade, assassinations had become increasingly common among nobles to settle political disputes, and the cost of hiring good bodyguards had risen.
After the first noble was killed, the violence escalated.
Fortunately, there had been no assassinations around the Palace.
Barad took a glass of wine from a servant and walked down the stairs, his two bodyguards following.
He walked towards Viscount Reinardo, head of the ancient House Rieger.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows of a marble column.
Barad paused, recognizing him from his narrow, aristocratic jawline as Heitleruda, from a fallen noble family.
He frowned. Heitleruda should have been someone he would only greet politely as host late in the party. He should have waited.
'Rude.'
He held his head high, deciding to brush past Heitleruda, to teach him the etiquette of noble gatherings.
As they neared, Heitleruda suddenly swung his arm. The expensive wine, which he would never have tasted otherwise, splashed onto Barad's silk robe.
He was about to rebuke him when a flash of light struck.
His bodyguards sensed the danger, but the assassin, augmented at the Luna gene-center, had already struck with the broken glass.
As blood gushed from his throat, amidst the guests' screams, he saw the crystal chandelier above Viscount Reinardo fall.
...
Malcador, after a busy day, rested for only five minutes before hearing hurried footsteps.
He rose. The door was knocked.
"Come in." He spoke.
"Sigillite, forty-eight nobles were attacked in their homes. All are dead."
"The attacks occurred within five minutes."
He paused for a second, then asked, "Were the assassins caught?"
"Two patrols, nearby, arrived within a minute and sealed off the area."
"But the assassins detonated their explosives before they could be surrounded."
He quickly reviewed the report, thoughtful.
Moments later, he looked up at the Northwestern Galaxy, murmuring.
"Are you expressing your displeasure to me?"
"You've guessed the mastermind?" His aide's eyes widened. "Who?"
He couldn't believe anyone would dare to assassinate the heads of forty-eight families simultaneously.
After a long silence, the Sigillite spoke.
"Stop the investigation."
"Send teams, under the guise of investigation, to take over the assets of the affected families."
"House Traore..." He named one hundred forty-seven families. "They will also be attacked."
His aide understood. "My Lord, I understand."
At the same moment, in the ancient House Pyke mansion.
Konkonda, former Chief Priest of the 28th Expeditionary Fleet, looked through her spectacles at the giant in the black robe before her.
"Lord Nareth's meaning is to share House Brobeil's transport assets with me?"
"Yes. Both our houses will benefit from the route between Terra and Berelia." The Shadow Guard said calmly. "I trust you won't miss this opportunity."
He waited calmly for the elegant, elderly woman to decide. He knew Konkonda was far older than she looked, yet she was still the most powerful person on Terra.
He also knew who stood behind her: the two most powerful figures in the Imperium, the Sigillite and the Emperor himself.
Konkonda's voice was considered the Emperor's own.
As a guard, accompanying the Navigator of House Orsellio to a banquet, he had been shocked to hear a count say that Konkonda, as Chief Priest of the Emperor's Children, had once confronted Fulgrim, making the proud Primarch admit his mistake.
Rumor had it she had also challenged another ill-tempered Primarch.
After a few seconds of thought, Konkonda rose, raised her aquiline nose, and extended her hand.
"Pleasure doing business."
The Shadow Guard's large hand took her small one. "Pleasure doing business."
The first week of the 12th month was bloody for the Terran nobles.
Death. Asset seizures. Restructuring...
A thousand families vanished. Tens of thousands of their affiliated factions were destroyed.
Many nobles privately called this month the Bloody Month.
For Flamini, the Bloody Month was also an unlucky month.
He put aside other matters, following the Black Emperor's orders.
He chose to go to Numino, to personally oversee the port's construction.
He chose this place not only because Numino was the third-largest port in the Coronid New Zone he planned, after Abyss Port and Moab, but also because Master of Chaplains Pat had requested it.
Pat had made a deal with House Visscher and House von Valancius, supporting their megastructure platform project.
Pat hoped to be luckily rewarded during this unlucky month.
The Chaplain's friendship was the best reward.
He stayed in the port area for an entire standard month.
Even without carrying a bolt gun, to avoid a machine-spirit's angry accident, he still faced gantry collapses, falling cargo from broken slings, and many other mishaps.
He relied on his transhuman reflexes to evade, unharmed.
After a month of constant vigilance, on the last day, amidst black mist, he received the Black Emperor's gift.
He sighed with genuine relief as he swallowed the brilliant golden liquid.
Moments later, the newly promoted "Winner" saw an image.
"My Lord, the Fate Lord is most suitable."
As the image shattered, his eyes lit up.
.....
In the eighth month of 896, at Shadowhold.
Pat, holding his staff, spoke respectfully.
"My Lord, four hundred eighty-one nobles who spoke blasphemy against You and the Legion have been assassinated."
Arsena Dunn glanced at the fervent Chaplain, then continued.
"My Lord, we have taken over most of these families' assets, in cooperation with Houses Visscher, Orsellio, and Pyke."
"But someone acted quickly, seizing the assets of one hundred sixty-two families, including House Lebris's pharmaceutical business..."
Nareth, thoughtful, asked, "Who?"
"The Shadow Guard's report indicates those behind it are the Sigillite." The silver-haired Primarch's Aide continued.
"Five unscheduled fleets have been formed this year."
'Malcador is more 'greedy' than I thought. I gave him so much through Konkonda Pyke, yet still couldn't satisfy his appetite.' He thought silently.
'Hmm, his pressure must be immense.'
'As the Great Crusade progresses, his pressure grows. Otherwise, he wouldn't have forcibly imposed taxes against Horus and others' objections, over a century from now.'
'Horus saw the signs of rebellion. Malcador must have seen them too. He just had no solution.'
"To hold the Imperium together, he has used many unsavory means, even he would be ashamed of." Nareth was referring not only to now, but also to the future.
Arsena, without checking his data-slate, stated his own "Detective's" conclusions.
"Indeed. At least one hundred twenty-five families were destroyed by forces other than us and the other nobles."
"They all shared one characteristic: they were wealthy, but to some extent, uncooperative with the Sigillite's demands."
"It can be foreseen that You will bear the blame for the Sigillite's actions in some circles."
Anger flared in Pat's eyes. Nareth smiled calmly.
"No matter."
After his Aide finished his report, he continued.
"The Emperor, after finding the 8th Legion's Primarch, Konrad Curze, on Nostramo, returned to Terra."
"He has summoned a War Council for tomorrow, to discuss how to respond to the xenos threat on the Imperium's western frontier."
.....
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