Roboute Guilliman – Part 8

In the shadow of a galaxy besieged by Chaos, the Primarch, Gilliman, embarked on a holy crusade to purify its tainted reaches. Fresh off liberating another world from the clutches of Chaos, Gilliman’s commands echoed across space, directing resources and warriors to the newly freed planet. He was a beacon of mercy and rationality, sending food, water, and medical supplies to the beleaguered civilians. Though the Primarch himself was irritated by the need for such gestures, they painted him as a divine son of the Emperor in the eyes of the mortal populace.

In a world driven to madness by the insidious whispers of Chaos, even the stoic Ultramarines found themselves in awe of Gilliman’s presence. This was a civilization that needed guidance, and despite his distaste for religious dogma, Gilliman realized the power of faith. He invited an Ecclesiarchy priest, handpicked by him, to join his campaign, hoping to use their influence to steer the Imperium back towards sanity.

In his efforts to restore order, Gilliman established the Logos Historica Verita. This organization was tasked with the monumental undertaking of piecing together the true history of the Imperium, a history that had been distorted by the Inquisition’s manipulations and deletions. Unraveling the threads of the past was a daunting task, made even more challenging by the alterations to even the Emperor’s calendar. But Gilliman was not deterred. He recruited a legion of curious minds, many of whom he personally trained and saved from the Inquisition’s pyres. As chief scholar, he often secluded himself in his Scriptorium, working tirelessly for the survival of humanity.

Rest was a luxury Gilliman could no longer afford. He had been robbed of his sleep, a lingering curse from the 10,000 years he spent in stasis. Yet, he did not mourn this loss, viewing his long slumber as rest enough. He worked to the point of exhaustion, fully aware of his role as humanity’s last bastion. His once radiant visage now bore the marks of his relentless struggle – wrinkles etched deep into his face, his golden hair fading to gray, and dark circles under his eyes.

The wound he bore from Fulgrim served as a constant reminder of his eternal struggle, a physical pain that was often accompanied by emotional torment. But Gilliman refused to acknowledge the possibility that the traitor’s blade could have wounded his soul as well.

Despite the dangers, the Logos Historica Verita persisted. Operating in secret cells, they scoured the galaxy for historical sources while their main base in the McCrag system worked to piece together the true history of the Imperium. One such source was an ancient book, previously ordered to be destroyed by Gilliman himself, delivered to him by Yassilli Sulymanya, a free trader of the Logos Historica Verita.

In this book, he found a bitter irony. The Imperial Truth he once upheld had morphed into a deception, a fact that the galaxy had come to know thanks to the heresy of the chorus. Yet, it was the false teachings of Lorgar, the very inception of this madness, that now served as the glue holding the Imperium together.

For twelve long years, the crusade raged on, with many worlds finding peace once again under Gilliman’s righteous rule. His struggle against Chaos and the crusade to restore sanity to the Imperium continues, a testament to the indomitable spirit of the Primarch.

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