Over the course of the next hour, Sanguinius provided an exhaustive, verbatim recount of everything that had transpired on Aurelian IV.
He spoke of Governor Harrington's gross incompetence, the fractured infighting of the local factions, and the sudden outbreak of Warp corruption. He detailed the successive interventions of the Iron Hands and the Blood Angels.
He described the emergence of Crimson Dawn, explaining how Governor Cage Lawrence and his companions employed highly effective governance methods that felt radically out of place within the Imperium.
He recounted the full-scale demonic incursion, the dual-front crises at the City of the Holy Anthem and the Aru Industrial Zone, and how he himself became trapped within a localized logic cage.
And finally, he spoke of the descent of the so-called Adeptus Custodes covert inquisition unit.
"Demetrian Titus"... stood nearly three and a half meters tall, clad in bespoke, ornate golden armor, and wielded a power axe.
The task force he commanded consisted of over three thousand Astartes, bearing a wild assortment of liveries and originating from entirely different gene-seed lineages.
There were over two hundred "Grey Knights" in silver-grey power armor, specializing in psychic suppression and Warp purification.
There were over three hundred entirely silent, male Blanks projecting potent anti-psychic fields... Sanguinius placed heavy emphasis on the word male.
There were hundreds of Tech-Priests, mass deployments of Contemptor Dreadnoughts, and operatives from various Assassin temples, including Vindicare and Eversor.
They had fought with terrifying, synchronized efficiency, utilizing an entirely unprecedented tactical paradigm. The silent Blanks blanketed the area with anti-psychic fields to suppress Warp activity, while the Grey Knights bound high-value targets with psychic chains. The Tech-Priests and Dreadnoughts laid down heavy covering fire, leaving the Astartes and Assassins to sweep and clear the battlefield.
In a shockingly short span of time, they successfully purged the massive Warp entity in the Aru Industrial Zone, and then provided the necessary support for Sanguinius to slay the two colossal Warp entities besieging the City of the Holy Anthem.
Sanguinius also brought up the little girl. Armed with a silver staff that unleashed purifying moonlight, she had played a critical role in exorcising Sacken of House Alar from his warp possession.
And then there was Tribune Titus himself. During the final phase of the battle, he had publicly chanted the True Name of the Warp entity Aetaos'rau'keres, establishing a psychic binding that severely crippled the daemon's power.
Sanguinius even mentioned the post-war inspection that he, Guilliman, and Ferrus Manus had conducted in the Kent Hive. He described the neatly restructured hab-blocks and the rare, genuine hope shining on the citizens' faces.
Ultimately, it culminated in Guilliman personally signing the decree that granted Crimson Dawn a ten-year mandate to govern Aurelian IV.
...When Sanguinius finally concluded his report, the silence in the grand hall was downright terrifying.
The Emperor stood with His back turned, gazing up at the holographic starmap on the vaulted ceiling. His white-robed silhouette felt as immovable and silent as a mountain.
A long time passed.
"A psychic orphan of House Alar falling to the ruinous powers of the Warp," the Emperor slowly began, His voice devoid of any readable emotion. "An unknown entity masquerading as a Custodian Tribune, commanding a specialized, anti-heretic strike force comprised of multi-legion Astartes, grey psychic warriors, male Blanks, various Assassins, and Dreadnoughts... They intervene in the name of the Emperor, highly efficient in quelling a warp incursion, alongside a local organization driven by bizarre ideologies..."
He turned around, the light in His eyes shifting and swirling as if calculating and simulating countless data points and possibilities.
"Sanguinius," the Emperor continued, a trace of almost helpless bewilderment bleeding into His tone. "Do you realize just how... utterly absurd the composition of this force you've described is?"
Sanguinius fell silent.
Of course he knew how bizarre this army was.
A mixed detachment of multi-legion Astartes? In the era of the Great Crusade, where Legion culture was distinct and each fought strictly under their own banners, such a thing was virtually impossible. Temporary coordination might be achieved under direct Imperial mandate, but the level of unspoken, flawless tactical synergy he witnessed was out of the question.
Grey psychic warriors? Astartes specialized entirely in fighting the Warp? Unheard of. Not even the Thousand Sons possessed that kind of specialized efficiency.
Male Blanks? Operating in standard formations?
The Emperor's gathering and training of untouchables was an absolute, top-secret endeavor, and the overwhelming majority of them were female. Male Blanks were astronomically rare. Given the agonizing aura of discomfort they inflicted upon nearby psykers, integrating them into conventional combat units was nearly impossible—let alone assembling a centralized tactical cluster of three hundred men.
Then there was the seamless, flawless coordination of the Tech-Priests, Assassins, and Dreadnoughts...
"Such a massive undertaking, such heavily tailored deployments, such terrifyingly efficient execution..." The Emperor spoke as though He were murmuring to Himself. "It certainly sounds like an operation that only I could orchestrate."
A chill gripped Sanguinius's heart.
"Father, you mean..."
"But the problem is..." The Emperor interrupted, His gaze fixed directly on Sanguinius. "...I am temporarily incapable of doing such a thing at this moment. I do not possess a readied, mixed detachment of that nature. I do not have a Custodian Tribune named Titus. Furthermore, I have absolutely no reason to order your return to Terra to ask these questions after the incident had already been resolved... These are matters that should have been communicated via astropath or standard channels."
Sanguinius felt a chill shoot up his spine.
If it wasn't Father... then who? Who could disguise themselves as a Custodian so flawlessly that even a Primarch couldn't tell the difference? Who could mobilize such a bizarre and devastating military force? What was their ultimate goal? Why... why deliberately send me back to Terra at the very end to face this exact scenario? Was this all a meticulously crafted deception? A targeted misdirection? To use me to misdirect Guilliman and Ferrus in turn? Or... is it some deeper, more insidious conspiracy?
The Emperor's gaze turned as sharp as a blade.
"Valdor," He suddenly spoke, His voice not loud, yet resonating through the grand hall like absolute law.
Rumble...
To the side of the grand hall, the colossal outer doors ground open.
Heavy footsteps echoed like beating war drums.
An immensely towering figure stepped into the hall.
He stood over three meters tall, slightly edging out even Sanguinius in height. He was clad entirely in golden power armor, its opulence and mastercrafting far surpassing that of any ordinary Custodian. His broad pauldrons were deeply etched with the Imperial Aquila and complex heraldry. His heavy breastplate hummed, faint circuitry of energy flowing across its surface. His helmet's faceplate was a smooth, dark-gold curve, save for two narrow, glowing slits for eyes.
In his hand, he gripped a crackling Guardian Spear. It was the Apollonian Spear, the symbol of the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes, its tip dancing with the ghostly blue arcs of a disruption field.
Constantin Valdor.
Commander of the Custodes, Shield of the Emperor, the First of the Ten Thousand.
He marched up to the Emperor and Sanguinius, dropping to one knee. He raised his helmeted head to look at the Emperor.
"Sire," Valdor's voice filtered through his vox-caster, cold and utterly devoid of excess emotion.
"Valdor," the Emperor asked calmly. "Is there a member among my Ten Thousand by the name of... Demetrian Titus?"
Valdor did not hesitate in the slightest. He didn't even need to think.
"No, Sire," the Captain-General stated with absolute finality. "From the inception of the Ten Thousand to this very day, across all registries of active, retired, fallen, and missing personnel—triple-verified and confirmed... there is no record of anyone by that name."
Sanguinius slowly closed his eyes.
The last spark of hope in his heart was completely extinguished.
He had been played.
Fooled from start to finish by an unknown entity disguised so flawlessly they could even emulate the unique aura and majesty of the Adeptus Custodes. Not just him, but all of his sons... everyone present had been kept completely in the dark.
In the face of this truth, the pride of the Imperium's Great Angel was crushed to dust.
The Emperor waved His hand. Valdor rose wordlessly and stepped aside, standing still as a golden statue. Yet his eyes remained locked onto Sanguinius, as if evaluating whether the Primarch might succumb to instability from being so thoroughly deceived.
"Father..." Sanguinius opened his eyes, the flames of sheer humiliation burning in his amber-gold pupils. "I would not mistake the Custodian aura on that Titus. And those Astartes... their gene-seed signatures, combat doctrines, wargear patterns... they were undeniably real. This was no simple illusion or cheap disguise. They... are a very real, very tangible force."
The Emperor slowly walked back to the steps of the dais, though He did not sit. With His back to Sanguinius, He gazed up at the intricate, staggering architecture of the Golden Throne.
"That is precisely what is most disturbing, my son," His voice returned to that detached, inhuman resonance. "If it were merely an illusion, a simple deception, things would be much simpler. But you say they are a tangible reality, and that they purged Warp entities with terrifying efficiency."
He turned His massive frame around, His countenance dead serious.
"Then, the question becomes: who has mastered that which even I have not fully realized? Who could cultivate or collect such a massive number of male Blanks and grey psychic warriors? Who could replicate the Adeptus Custodes so flawlessly that they blur the line between fake and real?"
With every question the Emperor posed, the atmospheric pressure in the grand hall grew heavier.
Sanguinius clenched his fists.
"Father," his voice was hoarse, yet it carried an unshakable resolve. "Grant me permission to return to Aurelian IV. I will unravel this mystery myself. I will uncover the truth behind this. The honor of the Blood Angels Legion will not be sullied. Your will shall not be forged. When I find them... I swear I will deliver judgment upon these heretics."
The Emperor looked at him in silence.
He studied the swirling mix of fury, humiliation, and determination burning in the eyes of His proudest son. After a long contemplation, He let out a soft sigh. The sound was so faint it was nearly imperceptible.
"Go, Sanguinius," the Emperor said slowly. "Go and seek your answers."
Sanguinius slammed his right fist against his left breastplate in a deep bow. Turning around, he marched toward the grand doors. His pristine white wings trembled slightly behind him, radiating an icy aura.
He walked until his silhouette vanished past the threshold. The colossal doors ground shut once more, sealing the inside and outside off into two entirely separate worlds.
Within the Sanctum Imperialis, only the Emperor and the mountain-like silence of Valdor remained.
The Emperor sat back upon the Golden Throne. His white-robed figure seemed to bleed into the monstrous mechanical structure, cutting a somewhat lonely, solitary silhouette. He raised His head, gazing in the direction Sanguinius had left. Deep within His golden eyes, countless stars were born and extinguished; infinite threads of destiny tangled, snapped, and rewove themselves.
"The Warp... the four Chaos Gods," He murmured softly. "Nurgle? Tzeentch? Khorne? Slaanesh? Or... some newborn Warp entity we do not yet comprehend? Or perhaps... a lost xenos civilization? Some lingering relic of the Dark Age of Technology? Some... stray possibility bleeding out from a displaced timeline?"
Seated atop that supreme Golden Throne, He shook His head in resignation.
"It is not that your father wishes to keep you in the dark, my son," His voice was almost entirely inaudible, accompanied only by the mechanical hissing of the Throne's operations. "It is simply that the darkness of this galaxy is far more terrifying... than any of you can possibly imagine. The daemons, the xenos, the species cowering in the shadows... and now this Titus, appearing completely out of thin air..."
His fingers gently tapped against the armrest of the Throne.
"...Nurgle's taint was purged, Tzeentch's machinations were thwarted... but is it truly over? A seemingly righteous intervention, a seemingly mutually beneficial outcome... Sanguinius, the moment you left Aurelian IV, you were destined to stray further and further from the answer."
The Emperor was intimately familiar with the methods of these ruinous powers.
"Titus... Nurgle... Tzeentch... a new god... just what exactly are you all plotting? Why can I no longer see a definitive future? Why, in the last future I foresaw, was there no sign of this variable?"
These words were never spoken aloud... instead, they were forever buried deep within the heart of this solitary, great Emperor of Mankind.