Chapter 377 The Beginning of the Storm

Have you ever been stood up and waited for a whole day but still didn't dare to leave? Or have you ever been under surveillance with live ammunition all day, and even had someone accompany you to the toilet?

Breton has tried it, and is suffering in this state. He swears that since he was born, the noble blood flowing in his body has never made him suffer such humiliation.

The Terra Administrative Council was brightly lit at dusk.

According to past practice, if the standing meeting of the high lords needs to be extended, then this should be a relaxing time for the Emperor's Shadows to rest and eat.

But today is obviously an exception.

The powerful Terra Supreme Lords not only did not show up at the meal, but also lightly revealed the future policies between the toasts and the exchange of cups, and there was no order to send the food to the meeting room.

On the contrary, since the arrival of several fighter planes from the throne court at noon, the rulers of the empire have not heard any news from the room that determines the fate of the empire.

The strange and quiet atmosphere spread rapidly as the abnormality of the Terra lords disappeared.

As this abnormality continued, the mortal institutions headed by the Imperial Council, the Military Command, the Imperial Senate, and the Imperial Navy's Terra Office all fell into a kind of "false busyness."

No one dared to leave at this time, even those who had no work or had already completed the handover of work.

But these nobles remained calm and maintained their order and decency under certain established rules.

In the corridors of the Council of State and in the high-end restaurants on the commercial streets on the edge of the palace area, intelligence and information circulated obscurely in every corner and on the dining table;

And these channels also abided by the default "order", distinguishing the local officials who came from other places to meet the emperor and the local bureaucrats and nobles like two distinct rivers.

Maybe some people can't tell the difference between the two, but in the eyes of the local people of Terra, these two groups have very obvious characteristics.

The former are dressed gorgeously, but due to the constraints of being far away from the cultural center, they always look old in specific clothing styles.

At this time, they were at a loss as to what to do with the sudden shutdown of the central government due to lack of information.

The latter seemed to be dressed simply, but the details were all extravagant. Often, an inconspicuous cuff could be traced back to the years before the conflict, which was enough for the former to spend all their wealth but still not be able to obtain.

These local bureaucrats who were good at politics were more like a group of old fishermen. At the beginning of the storm, they had already smelled the smell of typhoon or blood from the salty and fishy tide.

What they were most concerned about at this time was who would win or lose in this struggle, and which department would enjoy the policy dividends of tens or hundreds of years in the next reform...

But they still misjudged the current situation.

Just like the emperor's golden hoe in the eyes of the peasants, the situation in the meeting room of the Terra Administrative Council was not the close combat and unyielding situation they imagined.

On the contrary, due to the absolute sequence relationship of power, the high lords in the meeting room were completely unable to resist the pressure from the imperial guards.

Because in a sense, they were the embodiment of the emperor's will in the world.

But the complexity of politics lies in the unpredictability of human hearts, and even a far-sighted emperor like the Emperor could not predict how the system he personally established would evolve after nearly ten thousand years.

The relationship between the high lords is never as simple as it appears to the outside world, and after tens of thousands of years of entanglement, even the most hostile forces will leave countless allusions and tacit understandings due to the accumulation of time.

In comparison, Mars's position is relatively clear. The current generation of casting generals himself is a traditional technical bureaucrat, and Mars, after just experiencing the disputes and beast wars of the apostasy era, urgently needs to use thousands of years to rebuild trust with Terra.

The relationship between the remaining forces is much more complicated, but they can still be roughly divided into several categories according to their respective interests:

The real power faction headed by the Administrative Council, the neutral faction headed by the Star Language Court, the transcendent faction headed by the Imperial Guard, and the restraint faction headed by the Inquisition.

Needless to say, the power of the Administrative Council.

It has an overview of all things in the empire, controls the empire's policies, personnel, and taxes, and is omnipresent and all-encompassing, which is the most realistic portrayal of it.

If the supreme lords of Terra are called the echoes and shadows of the emperor, then the Prime Minister, who controls the Imperial Council of State, is undoubtedly the loudest of all echoes.

It has two most steadfast allies: the Imperial Navy and the Rogue Traders. Well, the Military Command is actually one of them.

As a typical heavy asset and heavy investment military branch, the former's development undoubtedly needs to rely on the financial support of the Council of State.

After all, without the endless tax revenue of the empire, the oil men on Mars can't be fooled by a word of dedication.

The latter is absolutely dependent on the Imperial Council of State.

As a supplement to a commercial cycle of the circulation of materials in the empire, all the occupational licenses and waterway access of the Rogue Traders, and even the channels for purchasing retired warships from the navy, are firmly in the hands of the Imperial Council of State.

The so-called county officials are not as good as the current management. The essence of the Rogue Traders is actually a white glove of the Council of State (extra financial and tax supplement).

The fact that they were able to flourish over these thousands of years and eventually gain a seat in the Terra Senate is in itself a reflection of the spillover of power of the Administrative Departments.

The Astra Militarum is in a more awkward situation. On the one hand, they are subject to the supply of the Administrative Council, and on the other hand, they rely on the warships of the Imperial Navy for inter-stellar mobilization.

In the context of the existence of the "Sun Lord", a strange thing that specializes in war, the Military Order has also been replaced by the last wartime power. Since the establishment of the Senate, they have hardly made their own voice.

The neutral faction is headed by the Astronomican Court, which includes the Astronomican Court, the Navigator Family Alliance, and the Imperial Church.

Their characteristics are that on the one hand, they have no interest in the Imperial Armed Forces, and on the other hand, they each have resources that are indispensable and irreplaceable for the operation of the Empire.

And it just so happens that they are not short of money, so in the eyes of these neutrals, no matter who comes to power, they will still be treated with favoritism as those whose status remains unchanged.

There is no need to say more about the Imperial Guards. Since the end of the Great Rebellion, the Emperor has been silent, and these Eagle Guards blame themselves for their own dereliction of duty, and the Webway War itself caused heavy losses to this powerful legion known as the "Ten Thousand Men" at its peak.

So since the beginning of the 32nd millennium, these emperor's guards have almost faded out of people's sight, just guarding the palace all year round and rarely going out.

But they are not doing nothing, or in other words, after a long rest and recovery, the former Ten Thousands of Men also wanted to find an opportunity to step out of the palace.

But they had to give up under the opposition of mortal bureaucrats headed by the Administrative Council. It's not that they don't want to, but they are just waiting for an opportunity.

The last faction is the Inquisition where Calvin is.

The restraining faction of the Inquisition is not large, only the Inquisition itself and the Assassin's Court, which has been questioned and is now unrecognizable.

As the name suggests, they were originally just a backup insurance to restrain the supreme power holder.

But in several major events experienced by the empire, there are always people who try to cross the boundaries of power and put individuals above the empire.

It is in these rescues that they have unknowingly developed into the behemoth they are today.

But the basic power base of the empire is limited, and even in the past thousands of years, it has been shrinking instead of growing.

Fixed financial and material resources are destined to be fought over by countless people, regardless of whether they are motivated by public interest or not. As this fight intensifies, the Inquisition, which is in charge of the empire's intelligence and special internal and external forces, is destined to have a fight with the Council of State, the leader of traditional forces.

This is the general trend, and it is also a self-cleansing of traditional forces by new forces when the empire adapts to the current situation.

Even if Calvin does not exist, it is destined to happen, it is just a matter of sooner or later.

——

The two guards of the Imperial Guards behind him have been standing for a full eight hours, and they will continue to stand according to this trend.

Breton tried to find a reason to leave, and also tried to let the secretary accompanying him pass on the message.

But the Imperial Guard Marshal Trajan on the opposite side sat as steady as a mountain, and completely ignored his intention. And facing the sharp model spears in the hands of the three-meter-tall Imperial Guards, his secretary did not dare to cross the line.

The Admiral also tried to leave on the pretext of defense, but after a staff officer came out of the door with a pale face, he lost the idea of ​​struggling:

Just two hours ago, all the battleships belonging to the Imperial Guards were unsealed and with the cooperation of the Imperial Fist, hundreds of Imperial Guards took over the naval defense of the entire solar system in the name of military exercises.

At the same time, the Imperial Guards and the Inquisition also carried out a surprise investigation of the official residences and subordinate departments of the three high lords...

The situation is over, and it's nothing more than how to die.

After similar thoughts flashed through the minds of several high lords with ulterior motives, the remaining high lords could not avoid grief.

The pressure Trajan felt in the conference hall was getting greater and greater. Several high lords were either gentle or harsh, but this hero with a legendary experience still held his post and did not move no matter how other high lords put pressure on him.

The Admiral was the first to be unable to bear the long torture. His fat body slumped on the seat like a dead man, and sweat kept flowing down his greasy face. He didn't even care that the rank woven with golden silk thread on his collar was wet.

The face of the wandering trader was deep and gloomy, but his eyes were wandering and he didn't know what he was thinking. As the least powerful party in the three-person alliance, it would not be surprising if he was the first to be abandoned in the struggle later.

Breton, the chief minister of the Administrative Council, sat quietly in his seat and fell into a long thought. He was also wondering how much evidence the Tribunal had, and what he could do for the other party after Calvin arrived...

At this time, Calvin's Thunder Eagle had just arrived above the Administrative Council under the protection of the fleet.

Empty! Empty! Empty! Empty!

The heavy steel boots of the power armor made a dull sound on the thick carpet of the Administrative Council. Calvin's figure appeared in the corridor of the Administrative Council building complex under the protection of the Honor Guard and the Imperial Guards.

The people on the scheduled route had been evacuated in advance. In the quiet corridors and palaces, apart from the friction of the power armor parts, there was only the low-frequency noise of the servo driving the electromagnetic muscles.

Under the dim light in the distance, there were vague eyes looking behind the colored gem glass windows, but under the psychic aura of Calvin, this was a group of normal Astartes and Guardsmen.

"Have you got the evidence?" Calvin asked Nicholas in the communication channel without stopping.

"I have got it."

The captain of the shield guard behind him compared the results of the raid on the Prime Minister's residence with the documents sent from Antarctica, and then sent the highlighted results to Calvin's personal terminal.

The latter scanned the received documents on his pupils, but stayed for a long time on the words marked with scarlet later.

"... Another cult?" The primarch frowned slightly, but the corners of his mouth were abnormally raised.

The honor guards who were familiar with him looked at each other:

The angrier, the brighter the smile, this is the classic expression of the primarch's power to kill...

The cold thunder was brewing in the depths of the primarch's pupils, and Calvin's tone was understated:

"Order the Antarctic side to check his background information and make a list of family members. Well, regardless of direct and collateral lines!"

"Yes." Nicholas nodded, his face was colorless, but his heart had already sentenced this family to death.

The group continued forward until they reached the door of the conference hall deep inside the Council of State. The guards stationed outside the gate had already been notified and pushed the door open as soon as they saw Calvin and the others.

The people in the hall looked towards the door following the sound and saw Calvin, who was over 4 meters tall and wearing armor, walking straight to the front of the Minister of State, Breton, with the cold wind outside the door, looking down at him and saying word by word:

"Sinner, your doom has come!"

Updated, but no more votes.

I have written, deleted, and written, and have been sitting here since morning. I have done my best. In the name of the throne, good night!