Chapter 207: Contradiction?
The post-battle cleanup on Drune progressed swiftly. Partly because there was no need to worry about lingering rebel forces, and partly because the various Imperial factions involved were actually working together fairly well.
This included not only coordination between the two Space Marine Legions, but also negotiations with the Adeptus Mechanicus.
As for the Imperial administrative departments? They didn't bother to show up. Instead, they simply issued a thirty-Terran-year tax plan for the planet.
Given that production on this world had completely halted, the bureaucrats had graciously exempted the first year's taxes.
In the Imperium, only death and taxes are inevitable.
In the Luna Wolves' meeting room, Hades stared at the electronic tax bulletin with a blank expression, mentally preparing to figure out how to file for exemption or reduction. The Imperial bureaucracy was a nightmare of tangled red tape, which made even the exemption process extremely tedious.
Vorx, Abaddon, and Sejanus were also hard at work amidst towering piles of documents. The good news was, all three were battle-hardened warriors, which meant Hades could afford to stare into space for a while, arms crossed, dazed by the screen.
A soft click echoed through the room.
The door was opened by a servitor, whose bowed head was nearly scraping the floor. Following him into the room came that all-too-familiar platinum-armored giant.
It was the Lupercal.
Everyone instinctively rose to their feet to salute, but Horus quickly waved them down. He wore his usual inspiring smile and offered greetings to the two Death Guard present.
Perhaps because he hadn't managed to win Hades over during their last conversation, the Lupercal didn't immediately turn his attention on him.
"This must be Vorx? I remember Mortarion mentioning you—a fast-progressing warrior. It's a shame we didn't see you in action on the battlefield."
Hades immediately noticed Vorx freeze up. He sighed inwardly. Don't let him sway you, Vorx.
"Thank you for the praise, my lord," Vorx quickly murmured, then went completely silent, his posture subtly shifting just a hair closer to Hades—like he was seeking backup.
Apparently pleased with the reaction, Horus moved on.
"It's been a while, Hades."
Then, as naturally as breathing, the Lupercal's gaze shifted to the tax report behind him. Hades could feel Horus's brow crease ever so slightly—a flicker that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"You're looking at the tax notices?"
"Yes, my lord."
Hades nodded and shifted slightly to give Horus room to approach. The Primarch quickly scanned the tens of thousands of words on the screen and then stood upright in visible discontent.
"According to Imperial Tax Code Revision 7, Article 54, this planet should be tax-exempt for fifty full Terran years."
"Yes, my lord. But it appears they're still using the fifth revision for assessment."
Hades silently pulled up a few key phrases from the document—phrasing unique to the older law.
This time, Horus frowned for real. The Lupercal no longer tried to hide his dissatisfaction—or perhaps he wanted them to see it.
"This is truly disheartening, Hades. I'm sorry you have to witness this side of the Imperium. The inefficiency of those bureaucrats is... troubling."
Hades quietly coughed in his mind.
Horus didn't know—because the details of the Galaspar incident hadn't been made public—that the Death Guard had already had a screaming match with the Administratum once before. That time, Galaspar had received two completely different tax law documents. Thankfully, Hades hadn't been in charge of that mess. Vorx and Garo had suffered through most of it.
"I understand, my lord," Hades replied, diplomatically.
"No, you don't need to be so humble, Hades. I know the Death Guard wishes to bring this planet under their Legion's jurisdiction, and this notice clearly complicates that goal."
"Don't worry. I'll have the Imperial personnel attached to the Luna Wolves inquire about this on your behalf."
Hades opened his mouth slightly—it was clear Horus had not given up on trying to build a connection with a Death Guard officer. He quickly sorted through the pros and cons, Horus' motives, and the possible consequences afterward… and concluded: It's acceptable.
So—better to accept gracefully than refuse stiffly. Besides, it would give Vorx and the others a break.
"My lord, on behalf of the Death Guard, I offer my sincerest thanks for your help."
Hades shifted his gaze to the tax notice.
Since the other party had offered to help, it was only right to let him talk a bit more—fulfilling a kind of psychological need.
Those who help others often seek emotional and spiritual affirmation in return.
"This part of the notice is especially puzzling. I originally thought we'd receive a tax exemption. Perhaps it was a clerical error—after all, humans make mistakes. I only hope that next time, the Death Guard won't have to face these issues again."
Hades deliberately laced his tone with a faint hint of discontent. As expected, it opened Horus' floodgates.
"A clerical error… Let's hope that's all it is. But the inefficiency and chaos of these mortal bureaucrats truly infuriate me."
"The Imperium, under the Emperor's leadership, is marching confidently toward victory. My brothers lead their Legions in campaigns across the galaxy, triumph after triumph. The greatest endeavor of humanity is within our grasp—yet some continue to hold us back."
"These mortals can't comprehend the scale of the Imperium's mission. Their chaotic minds cling to their petty ranks and titles, jealously guarding scraps of personal power, trying to leech crumbs fallen from the giant's table while hiding in its blind spots."
Hades blinked. 'Macro-Astartesism.'
That term slowly floated up in his mind, like rotted driftwood surfacing from a swamp.
The Lupercal was known for being warm and encouraging. He would walk among mortal auxiliary troops after battles, delivering rousing speeches. He would even smile at the civil administrators who submitted to Imperial rule.
What Horus truly disliked were the self-indulgent mortal officials who stayed in the rear and issued foolish commands—and frankly, no one liked those types.
But with the advance of the Great Crusade, such people would only grow in number. Their appearance, even their existence, was an inevitable byproduct of the Crusade's rapid expansion.
In the original timeline, Horus' conflict with this class of people reached its peak when the Emperor returned to Terra and established the Council of Terra—a governing body led by Malcador, composed entirely of mortals.
That Council would eventually control nearly all Imperial affairs—including those of the Legiones Astartes. It had no place for Primarchs… nor even for Space Marines.
Hades blinked slowly.
He couldn't truly guess what the Emperor was thinking.
To remove all military representatives from the empire's central governing body? That seemed certain to inflame tensions.
Maybe the Emperor trusted Horus too much.
Maybe He believed his "best son" would manage things.
Maybe He just didn't care about the Legions anymore.
Or maybe He truly believed the Imperium's future wouldn't need the Legions at all.
In any case, the Emperor had walked away—leaving behind the chaos of the late Crusade. Some have even suggested that even without the Ruinous Powers' corruption, the tensions of the late Crusade alone could have driven Horus to rebellion.
Compared to the glorious Great Crusade that Horus spoke of, both of them—Horus and Hades—knew the truth: the Crusade was far from glorious. It was brutal, rushed, and sloppy.
And the seeds of disaster had already been planted—just waiting for time to ferment them into poison.
Not every planet was lucky enough to encounter a governance genius like Guilliman.
Not every world was fortunate enough to receive tax exemptions.
Forests back home were razed, hive cities belched waste into the skies, people were destitute—or saddled with debt.
Meanwhile, the Imperium-appointed elite feasted lavishly… or, sometimes, were just as crushed by the weight of imperial taxation.
For those pocket kingdoms that had once governed themselves well, the Imperium was nothing short of a natural disaster.
And it wasn't just the mortals—even the Forge Worlds of the Mechanicum often grumbled about the scientific restrictions imposed by their treaties with the Imperium.
This, too, was why the Horus Heresy, when it came, could rally so many so quickly.
The grey rhino (the bureaucratic problem) slowly stomped into the room—and everyone pretended not to see.
After all, in the Emperor's grand promises, everything would be fine once the Great Crusade was over.
But only a few knew the truth.
Hades blinked.
The Emperor's promise… was made to counter the higher-dimensional threat of Chaos.
Against what the Four Gods would one day bring, everything else was meaningless.
Hades sighed again inwardly.
Rotten. That was his verdict.
Completely rotten.
This wasn't something one person could fix.
This wasn't a personal issue—this was a species-wide issue.
Even the Emperor couldn't pull it all together.
Even after creating twenty Primarchs, the Emperor still couldn't pull it together.
A god descending from the heavens still needed a base of popular support—and unfortunately, this fractured Imperium simply couldn't provide one.
In this era, someone who could just manage one single planet was already called a god.
And the Emperor's playing field was the entire galaxy.
Thinking about how beneath the surface brilliance of the Imperium was a swirling chaos of disorder, Hades once again felt unwell.
And yet the Emperor and Malcador still had the composure to keep convincing the Primarchs with straight faces.
Hades had to respect that.
While Hades brooded, Horus was far from idle—the Lupercal launched into an impromptu speech titled "The Great Crusade Is Glorious: On the Post-Crusade Cleanup Work".
It was passionate. Stirring. Delivered with visible sincerity and magnetic charm.
To Hades, it was like the man was literally sparkling beside him.
As soon as Horus finished speaking, the room erupted in thunderous applause.
Hades hurried to join in, clapping along.
The good news? After surviving a one-on-one interaction with Horus earlier, Hades' resistance to the Lupercal's charisma had improved significantly.
Now, he could at least partially resist.
Besides, unlike Horus' flowery speech, Hades knew just how beyond rotten the future of the Imperium would actually become.
'No more overthinking. Thinking too much only brings sorrow. The priority now is to get that tax exemption for Drune approved.'
—That said, when Hades turned and saw Vorx beside him—practically glowing, as though he were ready to hurl himself into the Great Crusade and die a hero the next second—he felt a surge of dread.
This is bad.
Unlike Hades or Mortarion, Vorx had never faced Horus before.
'You're Mortarion's kid! Snap out of it, Vorx!'
'Sure, I've had my own moments of weakness, but you can't be this easily swayed!'
'Wake up, Vorx!'
'Mortarion would be heartbroken!'
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