97: Chapter 97 Tulips and Irises

Jean Sart had arrived at House Tulip's estate on Terra carrying a handwritten letter from the Master of Administratum.

It was built at the very peak of one of Terra's hive cities.

Three artificially shaped hills embraced the ancient manor, with white stone walls and spires faintly visible through the dense woods—it was an estate built in the style of the Low Countries from before the Age of Strife, complete with canals, watermills, and tulip fields that were nearly extinct elsewhere in the Imperium.

Ten thousand years of time were frozen upon this artificial land, where every single flower bloomed season after season in precisely controlled temperature and humidity, according to a specially selected pedigree chart.

Jean Sart stood before the manor's wrought-iron gates, adjusting his collar.

He bowed deeply to the manor's seneschal who received him, explaining the purpose of his visit.

The error in the tithe decree had been due to an oversight during his review process, which had mistakenly included the Viridis Sector in the collection scope.

He had personally delivered his lord's handwritten letter of apology, while also bringing a request:

The Master of Administratum, in his capacity as the heir of the Fleur-de-lis family, wished to visit the representative of House Tulipa (Tulip) stationed on Terra.

The manor's seneschal was a straight-backed youth, showing absolutely no signs of having undergone the Adeptus Mechanicus's Rejuvenat treatments.

Suddenly, a realization struck him as he recalled an ancient tradition of the Golden Houses:

To qualify for candidacy in the Adeptus Custodes, they would refuse any augmentations that might 'pollute' the purity of their bloodline before they had fathered enough offspring.

The Custodes were extremely demanding of their candidates' bloodlines; only infants who were descendants of ancient Terran nobility, possessing noble blood and a near-perfect genetic foundation, were eligible.

Yet, doing so would still bring unparalleled prestige and influence to the entire family, for a Custodian represented the perfect template of humanity within the Imperium, as well as the glory and echoes engraved in the family's bloodline.

Although a family's child would sever all ties with them upon becoming a Custodian, effectively becoming an extension of the Emperor's own body, it was still entirely worth it for these houses.

This was the very source and endorsement of these families' legitimacy to occupy high positions in the Imperium, granted by the Emperor Himself.

In that case, this seneschal was likely not just a mere administrator; he was highly likely a blood descendant of House Tulipa.

The seneschal took the letter, casually opened it, scanned it briefly, and then gently reassured Jean Sart.

He told him that the family did not mind such a minor loss, then turned and vanished behind the black oak doors.

Jean Sart stood under the portico, waiting for a long time.

Long enough that he began to wonder: had the friendship between the Fleur-de-lis family and House Tulip already fractured?

Then, the seneschal returned.

"His Grace the Duke has agreed," he said. "They are willing to welcome their ally's visit with three sunsets."

Jean Sart was stunned.

—Three sunsets.

—Three nights.

On Terra, this was an unimaginable courtesy.

---

Terra. Oh, Terra.

It was the heart and mind of the Imperium.

Outside of the Imperial Palace, it was forever bathed in an unchanging, dim twilight.

Half of Terra's atmosphere had been plunged into an endless thunderstorm due to the Emperor's psychic energy spiraling out of control ten thousand years ago, and it had raged unabated ever since.

The Emperor's power shone eternally upon Terra's dark side, with Him shielding half of the Throneworld from the darkness.

Meanwhile, the other half of Terra was perpetually illuminated by the sun.

Night on Terra could only be artificially manufactured.

Bringing about a single night required thousands of Psykers from the Adeptus Astra Telepathica.

They would enter the massive spires of the hive cities, using their psychic strength to artificially block the sunlight and simulate the arrival of night.

Every "sunset" required tens of thousands of Psykers to simultaneously enter a deep trance, weaving a temporary barrier at the edge of the Warp.

There were even rumors among the common folk of Terra that to bring forth the night, the souls of several Psykers had to be burned away just to bring starlight to Terra.

This unique "alternation of day and night" was one of Terra's most cherished experiences.

Only those ancient Terran families standing at the very pinnacle of the Imperium, paying an exorbitant price, were eligible to petition the Adeptus Astra Telepathica for a "bespoke night."

These three nights would cover the entire upper tier of the Hive City where the Tulip Manor was located, shrouding a canopy spanning dozens of kilometers in a psychic field.

House Tulip was willing to manifest three nights.

To bring three consecutive nights to Terra just to receive the heir of the Fleur-de-lis family, the Master of Administratum of the Imperium.

Jean Sart's heart finally settled a little.

On Terra, this was a courtesy of the absolute highest order.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

As he left, his pace quickened slightly.

This was good news, and he needed to inform his lord as soon as possible.

---

The Master of Administratum stood atop the highest tower of the Hall of Political Views. In the distance, the golden light reflected from the Imperial Palace's golden domes spilled over the Hollow Mountain fortress, where the Adeptus Astronomica was housed. At any given moment, about ten thousand chosen Psykers were there, fueling it day and night with their own life force.

It was the only fixed reference point for interstellar navigation in the Imperium. This beacon was so vital that it barely held the Imperium together as a single entity, serving as yet another symbol of the Emperor's grand power.

He held the invitation Jean Sart had brought back between his fingers, flipping it continuously with the movement of his hand.

He liked to toy with invitations this way, for only by doing so could he more clearly discern the political undercurrents hidden behind them.

A faint sense of unease stirred in his heart.

He had proposed a private meeting, but House Tulip had not agreed.

Instead, House Tulip had extended an invitation of the highest protocol, elevating a private meeting into a formal house summit.

Normally, a summit between noble houses would be held in the form of a grand ball, inviting other factions and nobles to participate. Filled with music, alcohol, Promethium, and hormones, it would be a public display to show everyone that the friendship between the two houses was without fracture.

Yet House Tulip had not hosted a ball; instead, they chose to conduct it in the manner of a private meeting.

This was a maneuver, a clever one. For House Tulip, they were separating the Master of Administratum from the Fleur-de-lis family.

On the surface, the message they conveyed was that they were inviting their house's ally, and the one they were meeting was indeed the Master of Administratum.

Yet it also carried a subtle, implicit warning:

The matters between these two houses would be handled by themselves.

Anyone else who dared to interfere would inevitably face the combined wrath of both houses.

This indicated that House Tulip had discovered the subtle machinations of those who had pushed things along behind the scenes of the tithe decree.

They were sending a signal to the entire Terran political sphere: taking advantage of the Master of Administratum's "unfamiliarity with Terra" to manufacture conflict between the houses had crossed their red line.

And this also meant that while the friendship between House Tulip and the Fleur-de-lis was unbreakable, their house remained noncommittal toward the Master of Administratum himself, even if he was the heir to the Fleur-de-lis.

Although Sart had been loyal and followed him since childhood, he ultimately lacked a political education from a higher perspective.

Sart could not see through it; he did not understand what the distinction between a "private meeting" and a "ball" meant in the arena of noble politics.

He casually handed the invitation to his Chief of Staff, instructing him to make room for the meeting in his schedule, before heading downstairs to return to his place behind the Resolute Desk in the Hall of Political Views, continuing to process the endless, never-ending administrative scrolls of the Imperium.

He knew that this meeting was bound to be difficult.

But go he must.