The First Heretic

Lorgar looked into his father’s unknowable face as the Emperor spoke.

‘You are a general, my son. Not a high priest. You were created for war, for conquest, to reunite the human race under the aegis of truth.’

‘I–’

‘No.’ The Emperor closed his eyes, and an image of Monarchia as it had been, bright and glorious, filled Lorgar’s mind. ‘This is worship,’ the Emperor said. ‘This is a poison to truth. You speak of me as a god, and forge worlds that suffer under the one lie that has brought humanity to the edge of extinction time and time again.’

‘The people are joyous–’

‘The people are deceived. The people will burn when their faith is proven false.’

‘My worlds are loyal.’ Lorgar was no longer kneeling. He rose to his feet, his voice rising with him. ‘My Legion shapes the most fiercely loyal worlds in your Imperium.’

+It is not my Imperium+

The words thudded into Argel Tal’s mind like a stream of bolter shells. For a brief, hateful moment, he glanced at his retinal display to check his life signs. He was certain he was dying, and had he not already been on his knees, he would’ve fallen to them now.

+It is the Imperium of Man. The empire of humanity, enlightened and saved by the truth +

He heard Lorgar’s reply this time.

‘I speak no lies. You are a god.’

+Lorgar+

‘I will not be silenced because you do not like the melody of one single word. In your grip, a thousand worlds turn! By your will, a million vessels sail the void. You are immortal, undying, seeing all and knowing all that transpires across creation. Father, you are a god in all but name. All that remains is to confess to it.’

+LORGAR+

The voice came with a wall of pressure now, dense and all too tactile. It pounded into Argel Tal like a miasma of engine wash, heating his armour and throwing him to the ground. Around him, he could see his brothers sent sprawling, their armour skidding across the dust.

Defiant in the cyclone of unseen energy, scrolls of scripture ripping from his armour, Lorgar raised his hand to point at his father.

‘You are a god. Say the words and end the lie.’

The Emperor shook his head, not in defeat, but calm defiance.

‘You are blind, my son. You cling to ancient perceptions, and endanger us all with them. Let this end, Lorgar. Let this end with you heeding my words.’

The psychic wind died with a peal of thunder.

Lorgar stood where he was, trembling for reasons his warriors couldn’t discern. Blood ran from one ear, running in a slow trail down his tattooed neck.

‘I am listening, father,’ he said.

The Seventh Captain hauled himself back to his feet, stumbling once and righting himself before his armour’s stabilisers needed to compensate. He was one of the first Word Bearers to rise. The others still struggled, shivering on hands and knees, or were locked in muscle spasms, their twitching limbs disturbing the dust.

Argel Tal helped Xaphen up, receiving a grunt of thanks.

+Word Bearers, hear me well. You, among all my Legions, are guilty of failure. You number more warriors than any other, excepting the XIII. Yet your conquests are the slowest, and your victories ring hollow+

It hurt too much to look directly at the figure of white-gold light, haloed by coruscating psychic fire, telling them with words of thunder that all their lives had been wasted.

+You linger on compliant worlds for years after final victory, driving the populace into the worship of false faith, seeding cults of the naive and the deceived, erecting monuments to lies. All you have done in the Great Crusade is for naught. While all others succeed and bring prosperity to the Imperium, you alone have failed me+

Lorgar stepped back from the figure, only now raising his arms to ward off its radiance.

+Wage war as you were created to do. Serve the Imperium as you were born to do. Take with you the lesson learned here this day. You kneel in the ruination found at the end of a false path. Let this be your Legion’s rebirth+

The primarch managed a weak ‘Father...’ but it was spoken to emptiness. Another sonic boom of displacing air heralded the Emperor’s return to orbit.

The Ultramarines remained, watching the kneeling, trembling Word Bearers in absolute silence. The Custodians stood alongside Guilliman, while the primarch conferred with their apparent leader, whose helm bore a red crest to match his cloak.

Argel Tal saw Kor Phaeron rising with painful slowness, despite his Terminator armour making the task easier with dense joints of snarling servos. Neither Argel Tal nor Xaphen offered to help. Both of them made for the primarch.

While the Word Bearers struggled to their feet, Lorgar crashed to his knees at last.