The Grand Inquisitor rode atop a gilded palanquin, borne aloft by dozens of slave laborers. He could have used an advanced anti-grav transport, yet he preferred this method. The sensation of towering over others was more satisfying than mere speed.
He hailed from the noble and meritorious House Paul, a lineage that had long enjoyed supremacy over lesser beings. His birthright dictated that he stood above the common dregs of the Imperium.
At this moment, he was subtly directing his agents to spread rumors across Terra—whispers of doubt and suspicion concerning the Second Primarch.
The Inquisition had never required evidence to pass judgment. A mere accusation, a flicker of hearsay, was often enough to set the gears of the tribunal in motion.
Of course, the Grand Inquisitor was under no illusion that this alone would be enough to bring down a Primarch. But this was only the first step.
A methodical campaign of slander, scandal, and engineered disgrace would chip away at the Second Primarch's standing. The arrogance of these so-called demigods would be humbled.
Terra was, and would remain, the domain of noble houses, the true rulers of the Imperium.
The Primarchs? They belonged in history books.
A smirk crept onto his face as he contemplated his plan's unfolding brilliance.
Yet, what he failed to notice was the presence of several cloaked figures in the crowd behind him. Their bodies were veiled in shimmering force fields, their eyes locked onto his every move.
Elsewhere, within the towering halls of the Imperial Palace, Dukel was ushered into a vast chamber by Commander Valdo of the Imperial Guard. Inside, a captain of the Adeptus Arbites was already waiting.
The Adeptus Arbites—guardians of the Lex Imperialis—were feared across the galaxy for their unwavering adherence to the law. Their presence was synonymous with absolute authority and ruthless enforcement.
Captain Charles of the Arcanum bore the standard grim countenance of his order. Even in the presence of a Primarch, his posture remained rigid, his expression unreadable.
"Your Highness Dukel, the Departmento Justicae has launched a full investigation into the assassination of the Emperor," Charles stated. "We have gathered extensive intelligence. This dossier contains our findings."
He gestured to the thick stacks of parchment he had brought with him.
"The Dark Angels have also contributed to the investigation. They believe it is our sacred duty to unearth the true architect behind this heinous act. Here is the list of primary suspects they have compiled."
Dukel accepted the documents but did not so much as glance at them before tossing them onto the table.
"Charles, I have a different question." His piercing gaze met the Arbitrator's. "Are you from Macragge?"
Even during the Imperium's long descent into darkness, Macragge, the capital of the Five Hundred Worlds, had remained a bastion of knowledge and discipline. It was not uncommon for high-ranking officials from there to hold positions on Terra.
But more than that, there was something familiar about Charles. His rigid demeanor, his measured tone—it was eerily reminiscent of Guilliman himself.
Charles was silent for a long moment before replying, his voice steady. "Your Highness, my birthplace is irrelevant. I serve the Emperor, and I dedicate my life to the Imperium's stability."
Dukel nodded slightly. "Then tell me, were you promoted to captain after the Regent's return?"
For the first time, Charles' expression faltered. A trace of unease flickered across his features. "Your Highness, my rank was earned through trial and sacrifice. I did not ascend through favoritism."
Dukel merely smiled. He understood the Imperium better than Charles did.
Talent and diligence meant little in an empire of untold trillions. The fate of most 'gifted' individuals was to be conscripted into the Astra Militarum, where their brilliance would be snuffed out within fifteen minutes of frontline deployment.
The return of a Primarch did not simply signify the arrival of a demigod—it heralded the resurgence of the vast political machinery that had once stood behind them.
Perhaps neither Guilliman nor the hierarchy of Macragge had taken note of Charles. But when the Regent returned and Charles, a native of Macragge, sought a position of influence, the outcome had been inevitable.
Dukel looked at the thick dossiers before him. Even without opening them, he understood the message his brothers had sent.
The Lion and Guilliman feared that he was being too rash in his dealings on Terra. This was the heart of the Imperium—any disturbance here would send ripples across the galaxy.
So they had prepared a list of 'acceptable' victims for him.
Even if Dukel did nothing, the names on these lists would be purged, one by one.
"My brothers are still too conservative," Dukel mused.
These token sacrifices would not be enough.
There was an immutable conflict between the Primarchs and Terra's ruling elite.
For ten millennia, mortals had hoarded power, reigning unchecked.
Now, with the Primarchs' return, they found themselves reduced to mere placeholders for greater beings.
They would not surrender their dominion willingly.
In the original timeline, the High Lords had even dared to demand that Guilliman relinquish his military command and disband his legions.
An honest man, Guilliman had acquiesced to their authority to a degree. He had sent his sons and grandsons to report to the Senatorum Imperialis like mere bureaucrats. It had been a humiliating sight.
Dukel would not repeat that mistake.
He was not here to play their political games.
He was here for justice.
Hunting the Emperor's true assassin just happened to align with the violent removal of corrupt officials.
Dukel ignored the dossiers from the Departmento Justicae and instead reached for the list from the Lion.
The first names on the list belonged to the Inquisition.
He set it down and turned to the saint standing beside him.
"Ephilar, what do we know about the Tribunal?"
The saint's expression was serene, but her eyes held the weight of grim knowledge. "Your Highness, intelligence suggests that a Grand Inquisitor from House Paul has been disseminating rumors about you."
Dukel's fingers curled into a fist. He slammed his hand against the table, the impact reverberating through the chamber.
"How dare he!" His voice was a thunderclap. "Today, he spreads slander against a Primarch. Yesterday, he conspired in the Emperor's assassination. And tomorrow? Who knows what greater treachery he will attempt! I am convinced—this Grand Inquisitor is among the true murderers of His Majesty!"
Silence gripped the room.
Captain Charles cleared his throat. "Your Highness, our investigation found no direct link between the Inquisition and the Emperor's assassination."
Dukel fixed him with an unimpressed stare. The boy was too naïve.
He had learned Guilliman's integrity but none of his pragmatism.
Ephilar, ever perceptive, swiftly added, "Your Highness, the Grand Inquisitor of House Paul has strong ties to the Senatorum Imperialis."
Dukel narrowed his eyes. "Ah. No wonder he felt emboldened to act against me."
The others remained silent. No one dared comment on a potential link between the High Lords and regicide.
Dukel took their silence as agreement.
"Then let's begin with House Paul. A family with such a long history of 'meritorious service' is bound to have skeletons buried deep."
Charles hesitated. "Your Highness, if you suspect the Grand Inquisitor, should we not investigate him directly?"
Dukel smirked. "Evidence must be found before one can claim it does not exist."
The Saint paused before continuing, "Although the timing seems convenient, everything falls within the legal framework of the Imperium. This so-called Grand Inquisitor can indeed withstand scrutiny."
Dukel smirked. "Throughout my campaigns across the galaxy, I've seen far too many nobles gorging themselves like beasts. The Grand Inquisitor holds immense power, yet he takes great pains to conceal his transgressions. Compared to others, one might even call his conduct refined. It seems that Terra's aristocracy still carries some vestiges of distinction."
Turning to Charles, he asked, "Does the Adeptus Administratum have records on the Paul family?"
"Yes, Lord Primarch. One moment."
Charles, efficient as ever, swiftly retrieved detailed reports on the Paul dynasty.
Dukel skimmed through them. A textbook case: a family that had undergone rigorous scrutiny, endured generations of labor, and contributed significantly to the Imperium. Their dominion over countless worlds and control of vast planetary resources had been meticulously earned through unwavering service.
Any Imperial citizen reading these records would laud the Paul family's nobility and distinction.
Even Dukel gave a nod of approval.
"Efilar, if my intuition is correct, the Grand Inquisitor has already 'taken his own life' out of fear of retribution, hasn't he?"
"Ah?" The captain of the Silent Order and the commander of the Imperial Guard both stood stunned.
Confusion settled over them. Just moments ago, they had been investigating the Grand Inquisitor's potential involvement in the case—how could he suddenly commit suicide out of fear? Had they inadvertently crossed into a warp anomaly, distorting causality?
Only Efilar kept pace with the Primarch's mind. She nodded crisply. "Your Highness, your deduction is accurate. The Grand Inquisitor was shot twenty-two times and 'committed suicide' in a deserted hive alley."
"Let's make this known."
Dukel nodded in satisfaction. The Adepta Sororitas had accompanied him through countless warzones, and their loyalty remained steadfast. They understood him.
Unlike the Terran officials—rigid, dull, like deadwood incapable of being carved.
"Valdo, assemble a detachment of the Imperial Guard. We're paying the Paul family a visit."
"As you command, Lord of the Second Legion." Valdo, the Custodian commander, immediately complied, bowing respectfully.
Though Valdo might not fully grasp Dukel's methodology, he was no fool. The Primarch's intent was clear enough.
A Grand Inquisitor had been eliminated in mere moments—twenty-two rounds to ensure his 'suicide.'
But Dukel was the Emperor's chosen son, enacting His divine will.
Valdo silently affirmed this to himself.
From this moment, the commander of the Imperial Guard resolved to remain blind and deaf, obeying every order without hesitation. He would become an instrument of unyielding duty.
Charles, however, lacked the seasoned intuition of a Custodian. "Your Highness, allow the Adeptus Arbites to conduct a formal investigation into the Paul family. I assure you, within a week, we will present definitive findings. Otherwise, this is… unjust."
Dukel chuckled. "True justice does not reside in doctrine, but in the will of the righteous. Learn well, Captain Mystic. If you absorb even a fraction of today's lesson, you will become the second-greatest investigator on Terra—second only to me. And one day, the people of the Imperium will owe you their gratitude."
Charles: "..."
Moments later, they departed. But even faster than their movements was the news spreading through the hive spires:
'The Grand Inquisitor has taken his own life out of fear of retribution.'
The announcement spread like wildfire, fanned by unseen hands with vested interests.
"The Second Primarch barely started his investigation, and the Grand Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus commits suicide? What exactly was he afraid of?"
"Does this mean the Inquisition was involved in the Emperor's assassination?"
"Or... did the Second Primarch eliminate him?"
"Impossible! The Primarch has only just landed on Terra. How could he have orchestrated this so quickly?"
"Now he's moving on to the Paul family?"
"Wait for the investigation results. If you cross paths with the Second Primarch, stay out of his way."
Among Terra's nobility, unease rippled through the elite. Each faction weighed its response, gauging the measure of this newly arrived Primarch.
But Dukel did not leave them in suspense for long.
Less than thirty minutes later—
The Paul estate erupted into a blazing inferno.
Beneath the crimson glow of the raging flames, Dukel's voice thundered across Terra like the decree of a god:
"The corruption of the galaxy spreads like a plague, and even Terra festers in its grip. Those found guilty will 'take their own lives out of fear.' Wherever I investigate, fire will follow!
Hidden conspirators, no matter what forces shield you, you cannot escape my judgment! I am Dukel, Lord of the Second Legion, the undying flame of the Imperium. I will hunt down the true traitors, and my pursuit shall be your final reckoning! From this moment forward, your days of evil are over!"
His proclamation echoed across the hive world, sparking spontaneous applause from Imperial citizens who revered the Primarch's righteous fury.
Among the aristocracy, however, whispers turned to panic.
"The Paul estate is ablaze?"
"That fire wasn't natural—it was deliberate! And it refuses to be extinguished!"
"Could the Paul family truly be linked to the Emperor's assassination?"
"What madness is this?!"
"This reeks of a purge!"
"There must be someone manipulating events from the shadows. Whoever dared to assassinate the Emperor has unfathomable resources."
"Could Dukel have set the fire himself?"
A hushed voice posed the question.
And in that moment, the gathered nobles fell into stunned silence.
Then, in rapid succession, they dismissed the notion outright.
"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"
"The Second Primarch has barely been on Terra for an hour—he wouldn't know friend from foe yet. Why would he start burning estates so recklessly?"
"He has no prior enmity with the Paul family. What if they were potential allies?"
"The Imperial Fists' think tanks will investigate the cause of the fire. If it truly was the Primarch, the backlash will be severe. He wouldn't leave such an obvious trail."
"We must uncover the truth behind the Paul family's dealings."
This night, Terra's nobility would find no rest.
Meanwhile, in the aftermath of the blaze, Charles turned to Dukel, still perplexed.
"Your Highness, I still don't understand. How does this investigation connect to the Emperor's assassination?"
Dukel smiled knowingly. "A lesser detective searches for clues and truth. A true detective has no need to know the culprit's identity, their motive, or even the truth itself. We only need one certainty: the guilty must perish.
Come now. Let us meet our next murderer."