"Your Highness, the individual designated Erebus has completed doctrinal and tactical training and has formally entered the XVII Legion."
Yuki did not immediately look up.
"Assessment?"
The voice across the astropathic channel belonged to Vilitas.
"Disciplined. Observant. Devout. No overt deviation detected. He does not stand out."
That, Yuki thought, was precisely the problem.
"Continue observation," she said calmly. "Do not interfere."
The channel closed.
Omega, who had been standing in silence, finally spoke.
"You suspect him."
The dossier in Yuki's hands contained everything gathered from Colchis: sermons, behavioral patterns, early associations, coded phrasing in archived Covenant texts.
Nothing damning.
Nothing overt.
Omega had personally reviewed the sealed Covenant archives at her request.
"There is no irregularity," he said. "He is merely devout."
"Devotion," Yuki replied quietly, "is rarely 'mere.'"
Omega tilted his head slightly.
"If you wish, I can ensure he never becomes a problem."
His tone was neutral. Clinical.
Yuki shook her head.
"No."
Erebus was not the source.
He was a vector.
Kill him without cause and two things would happen:
First — Lorgar would question.
Second — the Warp would adjust.
Chaos did not rely on individuals.
It relied on weaknesses.
"You don't eliminate a shadow by striking the floor," she said softly.
Omega watched her.
"If someone proved to you that humanity's extinction would preserve the galaxy… would you accept it?"
He considered carefully.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because our purpose is humanity. A saved galaxy without mankind is failure."
Yuki smiled faintly.
"Good."
Colchis
Omega produced another report.
"Religious structures dedicated to the Emperor — and to you — are under construction on Colchis. We can disrupt the projects quietly."
"No," Yuki said. "If Lorgar wills it, nothing on Colchis will stop him."
"Then we allow it?"
"We redirect it."
Terra — Ministry of State Affairs
"Lorgar, this is the heart of Imperial administration," Guilliman said tightly. "You cannot preach during working hours."
Lorgar stood serene, hands folded within his sleeves.
"I am not preaching."
"You are explaining the metaphysical necessity of unity through divine focus."
"Which improves morale."
Guilliman inhaled sharply.
Since Lorgar's arrival, Guilliman had discovered new dimensions of patience.
And new limits.
The Emperor had once told Lorgar not to elevate Him to divinity.
Yet the Emperor had not enforced it.
Lorgar interpreted silence as tacit tolerance.
In truth, the Emperor prioritized compliance rates and Crusade tempo above ideological disputes.
Lorgar misread that calculation as divine aloofness.
Malcador intervened.
"Lorgar. Your compliance reports?"
Lorgar smiled faintly.
"In progress."
"In progress," Guilliman repeated, "because you allocate your hours to theological discourse."
"Faith strengthens loyalty."
"So does infrastructure."
"And which lasts longer?" Lorgar asked softly.
Yuki entered at that moment.
"Which lasts longer?" she echoed. "Productivity records suggest Guilliman's territories maintain higher long-term stability."
Guilliman blinked.
Lorgar's expression tightened.
"Sister, administrative efficiency is not my only measure."
"Which is precisely the issue," she replied.
Then she said something unexpected.
"The Emperor intends to appoint a Regent for Cabinet oversight."
Silence fell instantly.
Guilliman stiffened.
Malcador did not move.
Lorgar's eyes sharpened.
"A Regent," he repeated.
"One who acts in my stead when I am absent," Yuki continued. "Authority over fiscal authorization, policy ratification, sector integration."
The implications were obvious.
Control of narrative.
Control of resource allocation.
Control of direction.
Malcador added calmly:
"Guilliman's performance metrics are… exceptional."
Guilliman sensed danger but could not articulate it.
Lorgar's pulse quickened.
A Regent could shape the Imperium's soul.
"Sister," Lorgar said carefully, "I can fulfill such responsibility."
"Your administrative output does not yet demonstrate that," Yuki replied lightly.
"I can improve."
"Prove it."
Barbarus
The air was poison.
The mountains bled vapor.
The villages crouched beneath permanent haze.
Lorgar suppressed a cough.
Yuki walked as if through clear summer air.
"Mortarion has agreed to environmental restructuring," she said.
Lorgar blinked.
"The Lord of the XIV?"
"He believes hardship breeds strength," she continued. "He now questions that assumption."
Mortarion had tried brutality.
He had tried purges.
He had tried replacing governors with those who 'understood suffering.'
Power corrupted them anyway.
He had learned something painful:
Misery does not produce virtue.
It produces desperation.
And desperation feeds the Warp.
"Your task," Yuki said calmly, "is to transform Barbarus."
Lorgar stared at the mountains piercing toxic cloudbanks.
"The Mechanicum—"
"No assistance."
"My Legion—"
"No assistance."
"You expect me to reshape a death world alone?"
"I expect you to use administration, negotiation, logistics, sector resource leverage, and policy influence."
Not sermons.
Not cathedrals.
Governance.
"Give them breathable air," she continued. "Clear skies. Livable land. Not through miracles. Through systems."
Lorgar looked at the mountain spires vanishing into rot.
This was not symbolic.
This was structural.
Real.
Difficult.
He met Yuki's eyes.
One pair held quiet certainty.
The other held doubt — and pride.
"Can you do it?" she asked.
Silence stretched.
Then:
"Yes."
His voice steadied.
"I can."
Not with faith.
With effort.
"I will do it," he repeated. "Without assistance."
For the first time, the path before him was not spiritual conquest.
It was material transformation.
And it terrified him more than any debate.
Yuki smiled.
"Good."
Because if Lorgar could learn to build a world without sanctifying it —
Perhaps he could learn to save one without burning it.
Visit patreon.com/ShiroTL for more chapters.