The Last Council (The Horus Heresy) by L J Goulding

Author:L J Goulding [Goulding, L J]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2018-12-11T16:00:00+00:00

III: SENSEI

Just a man, he was. Just a man – this selfless hero, this noble servant – though none yet live who can be named his equal.

The Sigillite’s staff lies broken at the foot of the Golden Throne, and none have the heart to remove it. The Imperium mourns its Emperor, a loss so profound that it can scarcely be put into words… And yet it is the loss of Malcador, too, that extinguishes any last glimmer of hope that might have remained hereafter.

We are alone, truly, like orphaned children huddled together in a ruined house.

But it is we, his Chosen, who will continue his work.

We remember, as was ever his command, for the good of all mankind.

And we remember him.

Silence reigned for a long while in the Council Chamber. Beyond the dais, other dignitaries exchanged awkward glances, waiting for one – or indeed, any – of the High Lords to take the floor.

Malcador’s heart sank a little further with each second that passed. He had not thought himself capable of any more disappointment than he had felt of late.

Surprisingly, it was Navigator envoy Haardiker who eventually spoke.

‘It pains my heart, and that of the glorious Paternova, to know that these helpless people suffer in such great numbers, so close to the Throne and the protection they would seek in its shadow,’ he announced, through the nuncio. ‘I consider it an honour and a privilege to speak on behalf of the Terran houses of the Navis Nobilite, in pledging whatever monetary and logistical support is required to ensure that sanctuary is provided to all within the areas in question. We do not have the manpower to assist directly. But we may foot the bill, from our own coffers.’

Chancellor Ossian’s brow furrowed. ‘It is not necessarily a matter of finance, you understand. And I must regretfully remind you that this will not be deductible from the houses’ courtly stipendium.’

Haardiker shook his head, plaintively. ‘I would not hear of it. We do this to reaffirm our dedication to the welfare of the people of Terra.’

Sipping water from his fluted glass, Simeon Pentasian stared down at the table in front of him.

‘So funded, moving the refugees becomes a matter of will alone,’ he murmured. ‘Who among us, then, has the capacity to effectively police such an endeavour?’

All eyes fell to Marshal Rantal. But, before he could respond, Kane’s ambassador rose from her seat – Vethorel was not well liked amongst the High Lords, perhaps even less so than her master, but she had proven herself a dedicated servant of both Mars and Terra.

‘My lords, I would confer with the Fabricator General on the details, but I believe a solution can be found,’ she said, her voice a smooth, augmetic lilt. ‘We have the capacity to begin the fortification surveys requested by Grand Marshal Rantal upon the Hall of Judgement, if he would be willing to have his Arbitrators take responsibility for the orderly and timely relocation of the civilian camps.’

Rantal sat up straighter. ‘You are talking about a trade?’

‘Not a trade as such, Grand Marshal.

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