98: Chapter 98 Cookies and Black Tea

The moment the Master of Administratum arrived at the estate of House Tulip, night began to blanket the sky over the grounds. In the distance, ceremonial cannons roared, and countless brilliant fireworks obscured the Gothic castle of white marble and countless spires known as Swan Castle.

This was a display from the Tulips. The moment he arrived, he became the focus of all Terra, scrutinized and speculated upon by countless factions.

He had not brought his Lucifer Blacks, nor had he accepted the Sisters of Silence's recommendation to have the Untouchables guard him closely to prevent Chaos corruption.

He had even refused his vassals' requests to accompany him, coming entirely alone.

Van Tulip, the current heir of House Tulip, had arranged this meeting on a scenic terrace of Swan Castle. The setup was minimalist yet elegant.

Two high-backed chairs sat side-by-side next to a small round table.

On the table sat black tea produced by the estate itself and two ceramic cups. Next to them was a neatly stacked pile of stroopwafels—made of two thin waffle layers baked from natural wheat from a Garden World, with cinnamon caramel syrup sandwiched in the middle.

By the time the Master of Administratum arrived, Van Tulip was already seated in one of the high-backed chairs.

He wore a finely woven silk toga robe, its surface densely covered with patterns. Golden Tulips, double-headed eagles, rampant lions, crowns, and olive branches intertwined in layers of extreme complexity, leaving not a single gap on the entire fabric—enough to trigger anyone's trypophobia.

The Master of Administratum owned a similar robe, which he had worn when he was crowned as one of the High Lords of the Imperium, before packing it away at the bottom of a chest.

An angled high-backed chair cut through the solemn atmosphere.

He was half-slouched over the table with no regard for decorum, raising his cup to invite the other to sit. This lazy demeanor completely exposed his true colors.

Right now, he looked less like a grand duke ruling over a sector and more like a court jester.

A smile spread across the face of the Master of Administratum. He quickened his pace, sat down swiftly, grabbed the teapot to pour himself a full cup of black tea, and then placed a stroopwafel over the rim of the cup.

The two of them fell into silence, staring at the stroopwafel resting on the teacup. They were waiting—waiting for the steam from the hot tea to melt the cinnamon-flavored caramel syrup, which would make it softer, chewier, and far richer in flavor.

When the timing was just right, they moved. In perfect unison, they carefully rolled up the stroopwafels, taking care to prevent the syrup from dripping, and popped the entire rolled treat into their mouths.

Finally, they took a sip of hot tea at the same time, followed by a simultaneous sigh of satisfaction.

During this process, Van Tulip quietly stole a glance at the Master of Administratum.

In his eyes, there was a fleeting, almost imperceptible trace of satisfaction.

This was the culinary culture of the Golden Badge Houses, and the only delicacy they could still replicate today.

Although the Fleur-de-lis family had recorded far more varieties, those plants and animals had gone completely extinct, leaving them with only a baguette-like wheat product hard enough to crack open an Astartes' head.

In the distant past, the Emperor's Unification Wars on Terra were not merely a military conquest, but a journey to find the roots of civilization—to define 'what it means to be human.' It was during that time that the Gold Badges were born.

They answered the question of what exactly the Emperor sought to rebuild.

The Golden Badge Houses were that answer.

They were the Fleur-de-lis, the Cornflower, the Red and White Roses, the Tulip, and so on. It was they who preserved the fading light of human civilization and culture.

They were living fossils, the proof of the continuity of human civilization.

The historical texts preserved by the Gold families used history and consensus to explain what humanity was.

It told the entire universe: Where did humanity come from? What are we now? And only the Emperor could point out where humanity was going.

They carried on humanity's ancient genes, and even more so, its culture, history, and self-identity. They were living archives, a condensed history of humanity itself.

This was the fundamental reason why the Emperor had chosen these families as the templates for the Custodes.

It was not just because of the purity of their ancient human bloodlines, but because of the cultural memories and spiritual resilience carried deep within their souls and genomes.

The Emperor had not even left any space in the Imperium for his own sons and their descendants, choosing instead to grant the authority of the Imperium to these mortals.

Yet, this also triggered the nightmare of the Gold families. They lost far too much in that rebellion. Afterwards, they scattered across the Galaxy, maintaining estates only on Terra to avoid another devastating blow.

Only once every few thousand years would an heir of their families travel to Terra to hold an imperial post, a journey known as the Pilgrimage.

After swallowing their stroopwafels, neither of them felt like talking for the moment.

They knew that this moment was their final warmth.

They remained silent, looking up at the night sky of Terra.

Yet, this rare view created by the Adeptus Astra Telepathica was not as romantic as they had imagined.

It was completely different from what they had read in their families' historical texts.

Especially the Moon.

Or, as it was now called, Luna.

The dark gray lunar maria and bright white highlands were shattered into fragments. A pale arc running across the lunar surface sliced it in two, with starships emerging from the pale arc from time to time, leaving thin trails that added more scratches to its surface.

“We...”

“We...”

Both spoke at the same time, and both stopped at the same time.

“We thought we understood the workings of power, and we blindly stepped onto the political stage, yet we never truly understood it at all.

Now, neither of us has the option to withdraw. We can only carry on just to stay alive.”

Van Tulip's voice grew a bit low.

He had read his family's historical texts, finding in those brief fragments countless struggles and the logic of how power operated.

He had also governed his family's sector and received the finest education his family could offer.

He had once enjoyed unrestricted material supplies, along with an extremely pragmatic regimen of training for the heir.

This included sexual initiation and guidance, where countless members of the opposite sex were placed in his bed and then ordered to leave.

There was a specific term for this training: the Ritual of Carnal Silence.

This model taught him from a young age how to deal with 'people' rather than 'objects,' and how to lead rather than depend.

He knew who not to touch, whose utility was the highest, what display of emotion would expose his fatal weakness, and what brief contact might bring unexpected returns in the future.

“Indeed. I believe true politics should not be about playing power games, but about building a macro-framework where everyone can coexist. Its goal is to prevent people from falling into mutual hostility, to find rules for harmonious coexistence, to allocate scarce resources through authority rather than fighting over them, to learn how to coexist, and to lead the Imperium of Man out of its current predicament.”

The voice of the Master of Administratum, Louis Fleur-de-lis, was filled with bitterness.

“Van, I understand what you're trying to say. The essence of manipulating power is extreme egocentrism. It views all people and all relationships merely as tools to achieve one's own ends.

Those who manipulate power will inevitably be consumed by it.

Today he steps on others to rise; tomorrow he will be the corpse trampled by someone else.

I dealt with countless people like that in my family's sector because they never shared—they only took. But on Terra, my methods for dealing with them no longer work.”

He paused, his voice dropping even lower, as if afraid of being overheard by the distant wind.

“On Terra, we have no military force to back us up. Might belongs to all the 'non-humans,' but absolutely not to mortals.”