The Cabinet chamber on Terra was quiet in the way only dangerous rooms could be.
Malcador the Sigillite sat beside Yuki, thin fingers wrapped around a porcelain cup. Across the table, Lorgar Aurelius looked deeply aggrieved.
"We all labor for the Imperium," Lorgar said calmly, though his eyes burned with restrained indignation. "We endure sacrifice. We endure insult. Yet when funds are diverted for long-term cultural integration, why must every expenditure be questioned?"
Guilliman inhaled slowly.
"You call that diversion?" he replied. "You requisitioned structural funds allocated for civilian infrastructure and redirected them toward monumental religious architecture."
"They are not religious monuments," Lorgar corrected softly. "They are unifying symbols."
Guilliman nearly laughed.
"You built a cathedral."
"It is an aesthetic civic monument."
Malcador closed his eyes briefly.
Another day.
Factions in the Cabinet
Since joining the Cabinet, Lorgar had surprised everyone.
He had not joined Guilliman's administrative bloc.
He had not aligned openly with Malcador's bureaucratic apparatus.
Instead, he built something subtler.
A third current.
Terra's Ministry of State Affairs was not monolithic. It was a web of alliances, rivalries, and ideological undercurrents. There were always those dissatisfied with rigid secularism, those who preferred symbolic unity to material administration.
Lorgar spoke beautifully.
He listened.
He remembered names.
His faction was the smallest — but it existed.
Missionary work had not ceased.
It had merely changed form.
He no longer preached openly.
He shaped narratives.
And when necessary, he quietly commissioned "cultural centers."
Guilliman had tolerated much.
Until he discovered the accounts.
The Argument
"You accuse me of excess," Lorgar said. "But have you not requested Imperial funds for Macragge's development?"
Guilliman's expression hardened.
"I submitted formal requisitions approved by the Vice-Regent. My projects strengthened compliance stability and logistical output. You redirected infrastructure allocations without declaration."
Lorgar tilted his head.
"So you did not benefit your homeworld?"
"I strengthened a core Ultramarine recruitment and production nexus under Imperial oversight."
"Ah," Lorgar said mildly. "So when you do it, it is strategic."
Guilliman stared at him.
"Fourth Brother," he said abruptly, "what do you think?"
Perturabo looked up from the blueprints he had been studying.
"What does this have to do with me?"
He returned to his work.
Yuki intervened quickly.
"Guilliman, Perturabo is here regarding Terra's redevelopment. Leave him out of this."
Guilliman hesitated.
Because he knew.
Perturabo's construction budgets had risen steadily.
Repeatedly.
For "reinforcement upgrades."
He did not ask.
If he had, Perturabo might have explained with a fist.
Perturabo's Work
Publicly, Perturabo was overseeing civilian reconstruction across Terra.
Privately, every structure was being designed for rapid militarization.
Transit hubs convertible to fortresses.
Civic plazas convertible to kill-zones.
Power grids layered with redundancy.
It required overengineering.
It required expense.
It required justification.
And so the budgets rose.
Perturabo accepted the assignment with visible irritation.
Inwardly, he relished it.
At last — work worthy of his mind.
At last — recognition without Dorn.
Adjournment
Yuki set down her cup.
"Enough."
Both Primarchs fell silent.
"Everyone here serves the Imperium. There are no traitors in this chamber. We will review budgetary allocation protocols and continue tomorrow."
It was not a resolution.
It was survival.
The meeting dissolved.
Guilliman and Lorgar left without looking at each other.
Perturabo collected his schematics.
Malcador remained.
Horus' Shadow
When the chamber emptied, Yuki spoke quietly.
"Uncle Ma. Lorgar's influence expanded quickly."
Malcador nodded.
"Horus."
That explained much.
Horus had begun consolidating political leverage in anticipation of elevation to Warmaster. His military record was unmatched. His Legion's compliance rate was exemplary.
But military dominance alone was insufficient.
He needed influence within Terra.
Lorgar's oratory provided reach.
Horus' endorsement provided legitimacy.
"And," Malcador added, "Horus allowed certain strategic projections to circulate. The Warmaster position is no longer merely speculation."
Yuki sighed softly.
"He's moving early."
"He is ambitious," Malcador replied.
He did not say dangerous.
He did not need to.
The Khan Question
Malcador shifted topics.
"The Fifth Legion's equipment requisitions are… extravagant."
Yuki smiled faintly.
"A general deserves a worthy blade."
"That is not my concern," Malcador said quietly.
He distrusted Jaghatai Khan.
Not because the Khan was crude.
But because he was not.
A ruler capable of unifying Chogoris was no barbarian.
He concealed himself deliberately.
A Primarch with talent, independence, and no emotional dependency on Terra was statistically dangerous.
And Yuki had granted him autonomy bordering on sovereignty.
"An eagle cannot be caged," she said softly.
"Most eagles break kingdoms when left alone," Malcador replied.
Neither raised their voice.
Waldo Arrives
Waldo entered briskly.
"Prime Minister. The Fourteenth Primarch has breached a restricted sector."
Malcador blinked.
"…how?"
Mortarion
Mortarion sat cross-legged on the floor when they arrived.
Arms folded.
Scowling.
"How did you enter?" Malcador demanded.
Mortarion glared.
"I walked."
The Webway access chamber thrummed with psychic wards and encryption seals layered by the Emperor himself.
Mortarion had bypassed them all.
Not through sorcery.
Through relentless pattern recognition and mechanical reasoning.
He would never admit that the faint psychic resonance in his blood had guided him subconsciously.
"This isn't witchcraft," he snapped. "It's logic."
Malcador's headache intensified.
The Argument
After a brief explanation of the Webway Project's purpose — a human-controlled transit network independent of the Warp — Mortarion's anger only deepened.
"You condemn sorcery. You condemn xenos. Yet you rely on alien pathways and psychic constructs. Is this not hypocrisy?"
Yuki spoke calmly.
"If there were alternatives, we would use them."
Mortarion's jaw tightened.
"Then destroy the source. Kill the Warp gods."
Silence.
Even Malcador did not respond immediately.
Mortarion realized the impossibility even as he said it.
But he would not retract it.
Instead he stood.
"It's not your fault. It's his."
And stormed out to find the Emperor.
Malcador exhaled slowly.
"Should we stop him?"
"He will cool down," Yuki replied.
"I am more concerned about the Emperor's patience."
Yuki considered.
"He likes Mortarion."
Somewhere in deep space, the Emperor paused mid-strategic consultation and felt a headache forming.
Nightfall
The day ended as it always did.
With unresolved tension.
With alliances shifting.
With egos bruised.
With secrets deepening.
Malcador finished his tea.
"Another tiring day."
And tomorrow would be worse.
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