Clerical Office.
Eden stepped into the residence at the heart of the Cathedral of the Emperor Ascendant. The moment he entered, he noticed the stark difference from outside. Sunlight shone through the stained-glass dome, illuminating lush greenery, and birds chirped softly. The air carried the fragrances of a forest.
He could sense that this air showed almost no sign of artificial filtration; likely it was transported wholesale from some distant, unspoiled planet. Compared to the dazzling, over-the-top luxury he had witnessed on his way here, this place felt simple, even rustic.
"Huh, so this Cardinal truly knows how to stay healthy," Eden mused, appreciating the natural setting that he personally found quite appealing.
He followed a small path for a few dozen steps until he finally saw his target for this meeting—Cardinal Lauren Tis, the Ecclesiarchy's Legate.
In Eden's field of vision stood a table made of rough gray limestone, devoid of any carvings or ornate details. Some documents lay upon it. An elderly man in a grayish-white robe—hair and eyebrows also white—sat there squinting as he read a letter. Beside him rested Donnie's signet ring.
Suddenly, the old Cardinal's frail voice sounded: "Please, have a seat, Mr. Eden…"
At the same time, Eden felt a raptor-like gaze settle on him, as if stripping away every layer of concealment. His heart skipped a beat.
Good grief. This old Cardinal is exactly like Donnie—same laser-sharp eyes and all.
Still, Eden wasn't too worried that his identity might be compromised; Donnie had no doubt revealed certain truths in that letter. If Donnie had chosen to be forthright with his mentor, it meant the man was trustworthy.
Eden strode over and sat at the Cardinal's side, closer now. He got a good look at the old man and was surprised to see no sign of mechanical augmentation on him. That was exceedingly rare in the Imperium. Beneath that withered body, though, Eden sensed a hidden reservoir of strength.
So, indeed this Cardinal walked the same path as Donnie, but he seemed far more measured in his ways.
From what Eden had read,
This Cardinal began his life as a lowly priest on a frontier world, steadily rising to his current position, influencing countless billions of believers throughout the Imperium. The man was at least four centuries old. For a mortal without mechanical augmentations, that was an extraordinarily long life. A figure like that was certainly no simpleton—clearly far more lucid than many of the lunatic demagogues in the Ecclesiarchy's past.
Eden collected himself and said, "Your Eminence Tis, Donnie misses you deeply…"
The old Cardinal waved a hand, gently setting the letter aside:
"I know full well what that rascal is thinking. Deep down, he's still resentful and eager to prove himself, to make this old fellow yield. Otherwise, he wouldn't have vanished without a word to a place even I couldn't find him."
He shook his head and sighed slightly. "With his personality, he'd never write a letter admitting defeat. If you've managed to coax him into sending word, it means the bond between you two is deeper than I thought."
The Cardinal's gaze turned kinder. "Which is why you've earned some measure of my trust. Speak your mind."
Eden wasted no time in getting to the point: "Very well. Donnie indeed hopes to achieve something real, and as part of that, he's established a local Ecclesiarchy on Urth. But that new church has run into serious obstacles…"
He laid out the predicament facing the Urth Holy Site and explained the purpose of his visit.
"So that new Urth Ecclesiarchy is the doctrine that rascal put together. No wonder it seemed familiar," the Cardinal murmured, nodding. He then pulled out a document from the stone table.
"A few days back, some pilgrims were spreading teachings of Urth Ecclesiarchy in the Holy City—speaking of a new saint. They were arrested by the Crusaders. After investigation, we confirmed it was an unapproved variant of Ecclesiarchal doctrine.
Such actions aren't permitted, and so the Council of Bishops concluded it must be suppressed. You're lucky you got here before the suppression order was enacted."
Any ecclesiastical ban had to receive the Cardinal Legate's approval. Even if it was just a local interdiction, it was still a significant exertion of power—effectively control over how the Emperor's sacred will was interpreted. In an era when the Emperor could not speak, the highest echelons of the Ecclesiarchy served as His voice. Right or wrong, they decided.
Of course, the Inquisition and other bodies kept them somewhat in check, but that hardly stopped individual clergymen from leveraging faith for political gain. History recorded at least one Ecclesiarch-turned-High Lord who seized ultimate power through foul means, ruling in blood and tyranny with final say over all.
He claimed personal protection by the Emperor, reassigning the Adepta Sororitas under his direct command as his private guard. He even twisted the Sisters' core beliefs from "Daughters of the Emperor" to "Brides of the Emperor" and committed all manner of further vile acts. Attempting to dodge oversight, he dissolved the Council of High Lords. Thankfully, the Mechanicum, several Space Marine Chapters, and the Custodes united to end that mistake.
Such historical lessons had deeply impressed upon the Ecclesiarchy how potent the power to interpret faith could be. Thus, the Church guarded that interpretive authority with extreme rigor; only a handful of individuals possessed it. The old man before Eden was one of them.
"Your Eminence," Eden said sincerely, "we need your help…"
The Cardinal gave a faint smile: "In the past, I failed to protect Donnie from harm. I won't let history repeat itself. I'll grant your Urth Ecclesiarchy and that so-called Saint official recognition within the Ecclesiarchy's broad pantheon, along with legitimate rights to preach."
As Cardinal Legate, he had the authority to bestow that localized license for missionary work.
"But that's all I can offer. Donnie mentioned in his letter that all he wants is a lawful right to spread his doctrine and no other support from me."
The Cardinal sighed. "Same old temperament. Hasn't changed a bit."
A right to preach was only the most basic step. Without backing or official promotion from the Ecclesiarchal headquarters, most local variations in doctrine never spread beyond their home sectors—of which there were many tens or even hundreds of thousands in the Imperium. What difference did one more minor sect make to the Ecclesiarchy at large?
"Praise the Emperor! Simply being allowed to preach is enough!" Eden said, brimming with excitement.
That was the best outcome. If the Ecclesiarchal headquarters got too involved, it would create trouble. Eden preferred that they stay out of it so that, so long as the Urth Ecclesiarchy didn't violate standard doctrine, it could flourish freely.
"You people hold many secrets," the Cardinal suddenly remarked, his falcon-like gaze seeming to bore through everything.
"We do have some unique methods for developing the Urth Ecclesiarchy," Eden answered calmly. "If you wish to know more…"
He truly wasn't worried about confiding a few details to this half-ally.
But the Cardinal shook his head:
"I have no interest in prying, nor do I need to know. Secrets are dangerous. The more you learn of them, the shorter your life may be."
With that, the old man pulled out a sheet of paper and bent over to write carefully. Eden waited in silence, sipping the tea offered by a monk attendant whose aura was impressively strong—easily on par with a Space Marine's.
Before long, the Cardinal finished. He sealed the paper in a small container and handed it to Eden.
"Please deliver this letter to Donnie for me."
"Thank you for your generosity. I'll make sure he gets it," Eden replied, rising to take his leave. But suddenly, he paused, then sat down again. "There's another matter you might want to hear about."
"Go on."
The Cardinal showed a flicker of interest.
"When the Primarch returns, it could shake the Ecclesiarchy…" Eden chose his words carefully. Without revealing too much, he hinted that if the Ecclesiarch or other High Lords stood against the Primarch, the Ecclesiarch's seat among the High Lords might be lost, dealing a heavy blow to both the Ecclesiarch personally and the Church.
The Cardinal frowned as he listened. Then he exhaled softly:
"I'm not sure where you're getting your intel, but it's even more dire than I feared. Still, that business has nothing to do with me. No need to meddle."
Eden was a bit baffled. "So you had already considered it. Why not prepare a response? Maybe vie for that position?"
"Doing nothing and knowing nothing is the best way to respond." The old man's eyes glimmered. "Boy, do you know how I advanced from a mere frontier priest to where I am now?"
Eden shook his head.
"Because I've done my best to avoid all-out conflict, and I've endured—survived longer than everyone else. I never argue doctrine or do anything controversial. I simply carry out my duties, drifting with the tide. Even decades ago, when another Cardinal Legate framed me and drove Donnie away, I never sought vengeance.
"And now that man is dead—his lifespan finally spent. Over centuries, ever since I was ordained as a priest, I've outlived all the other priests in my cohort, my elders, the heads of their cathedrals… as well as every rival I've ever had. Some died of old age, some were executed after losing power struggles. More often than not, I had to do nothing; all I had to do was wait for them to trip up through their own folly.
"Now, here in Ecclesiarchal HQ, I'm the senior-most Cardinal Legate, second only to the Ecclesiarch himself. I'd been planning to tend my health and outlive that old fool, but now it looks like I won't have to. He'll soon pay for his stupidity on his own."
"Your Eminence, you have my utmost respect. Your wisdom knows no equal," Eden said, genuinely impressed.
That old Cardinal was like an ancient snapping turtle, unyielding and patient—far more so than Eden had anticipated. He could very well ascend to become Ecclesiarch one day. Since the Cardinal had his own strategy, Eden felt no need to worry further.
After some polite words, Eden left.
Once he emerged from the Cathedral of the Emperor Ascendant, Eden could no longer hide his excitement. He broke into a grin.
It was locked in.
Half of his goal in coming to Terra was now accomplished. Thanks to the Legate Cardinal's support, the Urth Holy Site and the Savior it revered were recognized within the Ecclesiarchy's doctrines and granted the legal right to preach. Once Eden returned, he would be free to expand widely.
Should the Urth Ecclesiarchy become so influential that it eventually clashed with headquarters—that was a problem for another day. What mattered now was buying time.
And by then, even the Ecclesiarchy might not be able to rein him in.
He intended to spread faith in the golden sun and the Savior to every corner of humanity's domain.
...
The Eternal Wall.
The Ministry of Internal Affairs had cleared an ancient marble landing pad for the Primarch's personal transport. It stood amid many statues, bathed in light from braziers of incense. Today, the Primarch would descend to the planet and make for the Imperial Palace to pay tribute to the God-Emperor.
News of his arrival had drawn Holy Terra's upper echelons, eager for a glimpse. Choirs softly sang hymns to the Emperor, while scribes bound in iron caskets wrote furiously with quill pens to record the event.
Nobles of the Terran Council and luminaries of the Internal Affairs Office jockeyed for position, craning their necks for the Primarch's first steps. Robed Ecclesiarchal priests and aristocrats in all their finery stood out in the crowd.
The airship touched down.
The moment Guilliman emerged, everyone on-site rushed to salute. Countless hands touched hearts in the Aquila gesture, and people's throaty shouts echoed with oaths of loyalty.
Eden wasn't about to miss a spectacle like this. He came to watch—and not merely from the crowd but among those formally receiving the Primarch.
Several days earlier,
Eden had learned that the Primarch would be arriving at this spaceport, so he'd gone there to meet up with Shahim. Shahim's status as an Imperial Bloodborne Merchant was on par with a Space Marine Chapter Master, and he had fought to help save Holy Terra during the Moon campaign.
As a result, he had earned the honor of attending the Primarch here, receiving exalted recognition. That distinction would be extremely valuable to Shahim in his future travels throughout Imperial space.
Had it been appropriate, Eden would have asked him to arrange a group photo with the Primarch, the Living Saint, and so on.
A snapshot like that on the side of a trade ship would open many doors. Regrettably, it wasn't the sort of event where such a request would go over well, but Eden still planned to commission an artist later to paint a "group portrait" of Shahim together with the Primarch and various holy figures.
Though missing out on an actual photograph was slightly disappointing, Eden still seized the chance to join Shahim's entourage in his capacity as the Gawindy Household's steward. Thus, he was able to appear in the retinue behind the Primarch.
Buzz—
The roar of the crowd hit Eden like a physical wave the moment he stepped off the airship. He followed the procession forward, accepting the masses' reverent salute.
"Wow, this is quite a scene…" Eden surveyed the enormous crowd. "The Imperium's major powers are practically all here in this cramped space. If I were Chaos, I'd pour everything into launching a huge surprise attack here. That'd cripple the Imperium's core leadership, and with how the Imperium operates, who knows how long they'd need to recover?"
His thoughts drifted idly. Suddenly, he noticed numerous aristocratic lechers stealing glances at a certain figure just ahead: the Living Saint herself—Saint Celestine, the silver-haired angel.
Tch.
A bunch of covetous old goats with no guts. If you want to look, just look openly. It's not like admiring her is blasphemy.
Actually, Eden realized he'd never really had a good look at Celestine either. With that in mind, he quickened his pace slightly, took a slight detour to the side, and cast a few glances her way. But since this was a formal occasion, he tried to do so discreetly.
He had to admit the silver-haired angel truly was beautiful: shining hair, angelic features, snowy wings, radiating equal parts valor and sanctity. He could easily see why so many high-born aristocrats were transfixed. Not that they'd dare step out of line. The status and martial prowess of that silver-winged saint was enough to quench any fantasies.
Just as Eden was pondering this, she turned her gaze to him. Their eyes met.
Saint Celestine's pure stare pinned him in place.
Crap. She's seen me?
Eden felt a flicker of unease but managed to hold himself together, nodding politely with a faint smile.
Celestine observed him for a few seconds. Then she too smiled, seeming pleased about something.
But for some reason,
As Eden looked at her smiling eyes, a wave of anxiety rippled through him.
Why do I feel like she recognizes me somehow?
That can't be—right?
(End of Chapter)
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