 It was once thought, by people whose lives were comfortable and untroubled, that the long arc of the human species bent towards progress, that through humanity's science and technology, war, pestilence, death, famine, the four great sagittars of myth, would be defeated, and the human epoch ushered in. With everything becoming better, more convenient, safer, and more secure for them, these people believed in their naivety, that such terrors of the past would ultimately come to rest there. Things would be forgotten, or at best learned about in museums and archives, where they, safe in their comforts, could scoff at how we were ever so foolish to let such things trouble us. We even thought that such progress would rid humanity of its baser instincts, fear and greed and all that fear and greed leads to, bigotry, tyranny, and cruelty, seemingly for the sake of nothing else, but the validation of one's own self-worth. These fools, blinded by their obsession with the myths they had been taught to believe were truths, even felt that logic, reason, and debate would banish all evils, too married to such patently false ideals to realize that humans are emotional creatures forever chasing the whims of brains, barely biologically evolved to handle their own sentience. Our history, as seen from the present time, has put paid to all that, as we have forgotten the promise of progress, only to succumb to the horrors of corruption, brutality, and entropic authority. We are told we are divinely led, and led we are, to the edge of the apocalypse. Perched are we upon the edge of oblivion, screaming our last into the uncaring void and into the faces of thirsting horrors. It did not have to be this way. Nothing had to have been as it is. There was once a time when we aspired to be more, to be greater than what we were then, and far, far greater than we are now. It was failure, and a failure so total it dammed us all to a slow, painful death, a seemingly inevitable decay into nothingness. Our opportunities were squandered by whim and chance perhaps, but also by vanity in place of humility, arrogance in place of modesty, and certainty in place of questioning. It was in many ways the emotion of man, that indelible part of ourselves we have never and likely will never be free of, that dammed us. It all the worse was it, for it was done by those who believed themselves to have been its masters, those who believed that through their reason and logic they had conquered their all-to-human selves, and that by their theoretical modeling of the world they knew more of it than those whose warnings were informed by dreadful and very real experience. No then, that this is a record of the great conclave, and the decision that would shape the fate of our species forevermore. The Council of Nikea. Formally, the Council of Nikea was a court ordained at the highest levels of the Magisterium Imperialis, presided over by the Emperor of Mankind himself for the stated purpose of resolving the Liberarius question. That is, should the use of human psychers be permitted within the legionnaires' astarties? In reality, Nikea was very much more than that. To many, yes, it was the final resolution of the issue astarty psychers posed, and indeed many were highly in favour of the continued recruitment, cultivation, and training of said, seeing the Council as a marvellous opportunity for human advancement. To others, it was an ideological and academic Congress whose resolution, however impactful in actuality, was nevertheless a largely theoretical conclusion to a worthwhile experiment. Yet others considered it to be a military summit, the purpose of whom was to dictate the future of human warfare. And, to yet others still, it was to be a trial, and a trial of one man. Magnus the Red, called the Crimson King, Lord of the Planet Prospero, and Primarch Master of the 15th Legion Astarties, the Thousand Sons. Doubtlessly, many who came to Nikea came with genuine intentions under the auspices of human unity, striving to add their considerable voices to what they no doubt felt was one of the most paramount concerns of the age. Yet it is undeniable that others did so with less virtuous aims, arriving at the world with vendettas decades old, and the hope of vengeance kindling in their bellies. To these, the blood of the Cyclopean Primarch was in the water, and they had but to make their move. It was, as is no doubt clear, not only a phenomenally charged event in all manner of ways, but one whose purpose depended entirely upon where one fell in one's response to the Psyche question, were indeed one's opinions of Magnus the Red. How then did such a summit come to be, and why indeed was it subject matter of such great and terrible import? The answer, or at least a fundamental part of it, lies in the depths of the past, and the hideous epoch known by a name one has always found to be quite an understatement, as the Age of Strife. Beginning at the end of the machine wars of the 25th millennium, and lasting nominally until the conclusion of the unification wars in the early 30th millennium, humanity fell, and fell like we had never fallen before. Crippled by rampant AI armies, Xenos incursions, and interest species conflicts on a galactic scale, the human race was ill-prepared to cope with the sudden arrival in literally unprecedented numbers of the newest and possibly next form of the human genome, the Psyche. Upon every world humanity had set foot upon, human Psyche's were emerging, capable of harnessing the incredible power of the immaterium, that nether dimension of pure emotional energy existing on the other side of the scheme of reality. A small number of Psyche's found themselves at the time of the emergence of their abilities, with a certain degree of control over them, and enough talent or willpower, or both, to hone them further. The vast majority, however, were not so lucky, rapidly losing all semblance of control and succumbing to violent insanity, or worse, possession by the entities that dwell within the immaterium. To the creatures of the warp, every human is a flickering light in their deep dark ocean, but the human Psyche is akin to a blazing fire. They are drawn to them, these predatory idea forms, ever seeking to break through the veil that separates reality and unreality, to sup upon mortal emotions that make up their diet. Psyche's had begun to emerge on human worlds for millennia before the fall of the species. Upon many, they had been met with intense curiosity and study, whereas on others, they met only with superstition and death. It is a dreadful irony that those bigoted, hateful worlds were ones that were best prepared for the uncoming age of terrors. The long piece of the age of technology gave way to the carnage and slaughter of the machine wars, and, with the warp in turmoil and its denizens ever more alive and hungry, the sudden emergence of a glut of human psykers proved catastrophic beyond imagination. On millions of human worlds, psykers fell victim to their own powers, creatures from a plane worse than all the hells of human fancy, pupating within their flesh, and emerging in gory apotheosis to slaughter and maim. Whole planets were consumed by these incursions, and elsewhere, with the tides of the Imperian nearly corrupted instead of possessing, mad psyker despots rampaged through the fires of their once great civilizations, ruling, ruining or ravaging. This era would last for 5,000 years, an age of death and destruction never before seen, and above it all, the specter of the insane human psychic, crackling with barely contained eldritch energies, eyes alight with a seemingly unstoppable malignancy. The emergence of the Imperium as a regime came in tandem with an outright refutation of the uncontrolled and unrestricted use of psykers that had defined the age of strife. The worst of the foes that the early unity regime had faced upon the surface of Terra had been sorcerer warlords mad with unchecked mutations, or in possession of arcane and corruptive lore from the darkest reaches of history. Or the emperor himself was indeed a psyker, his strength in that art and his willpower besides, were so inordinately separated from the human scale as to render him immune to the corruption those weaker of us perennially faced. When the Imperium had been formally founded, bodies within it had been formally incepted, specifically to account for and deal with the psyker. The Divisio Telepathica's existence was not merely born of the necessity for efficient interstellar communication in the form of its astrotelopats, no, but to regulate the entire sum of humanity's psychic human resources. Psykers rendered unto the Divisio found their lives committed to draconian study and training, brutally hammering their abilities into forms useful to the Imperium. Moreover, they were limited and controlled strictly. The distrust of the Imperium for the psychic is one born of millennia of pain and trauma. But additionally, one of utmost necessity. Humanity had not been changed by the hand of the Age of Strife, it had only been traumatized by it. The human genome was not fundamentally different in M30 than it had been in M25, so the control of psykers was placed at the apex of Imperial Doctrine. The astropaths, the navigators, the battle psykers, they were grim necessities of the Imperium and its great crusade. Resources wielded, yes, but rigidly controlled and structured, and bound by the strongest and most inviolate decrees of the Lex Imperialis. In many ways, the question of baseline human psykers had already been decided. They were destined for processing by the telepathica, or should they be deemed too dangerous from that, or have the terremity to resist the Lex, they would then become the prey of the null maidens of the Sisters of Silence, to their ultimate and untimely end. Where the question remained was in the context of the Legioneus Astartes. As with all humanity, the Astartes possessed the genes of the Psyker, and as this genome could not be readily identified with any degree of veracity, Psykers could and would emerge from within the legions long, long after their initial ascension procedures, from mortal to transhuman. The danger of the Psyker remained, but its interaction with the biological genius that was the Astartes form, as well as their indomitable willpower and terrifying martial skills, well, therein lay the rub. Many within the Imperium, scarred by their experiences or the experiences of their kin, spoke loudly of the looming catastrophe that this represented. The Legioneus Astartes were a law unto only two bodies, their own Primarch and the Emperor himself above that. Not for them was the severe oversize of the Scholastica Psycana, the battle Psyker wing of the Divisio Telepathica, nor indeed any limitations that body placed upon its legions. The freedom of the Primarchs by dint of their role and lineage permitted them total say over the functioning and structure of their legions, meaning ultimate authority with what must be done with any psychic Astartes lay too with them. 18 of the most singular and unique personalities in the history of humanity. There was, as percolites may imagine, nothing even approaching a consensus. The most vocal amongst the Emperor's Psyons against the use of Astartes Psykers, and indeed any Psykers at all for that matter, was Mortarion, known as the Deathlord, the grim Primarch of the 14th Legion Deathguard. His experiences upon his homeworld of Barbarus, suffering greatly under the yoke of Psyker tyrants and their pernicious powers, before ultimately leading the liberation of his people from them, had left deep wounds upon his character and outlook, ones apparently inextricable from he himself despite the role Psykers played within the Imperium he fought for. Then indeed it must be noted his own Genesire's status as first amongst these Psykers. Forever Mortarion's mind was cast back to his time as a child prisoner of the Overlord of Barbarus, an existence alone in a rocky, corrupted bastion with only the company of which thralls and sorcerous texts to relieve him of the pain inflicted by his tyrannical warden. To the Deathlord, the Psyker was a danger that could not be brooked under any circumstances lest their corruptive influence ultimately come to dominate the minds of free and pure humanity. His opinions were, as noted, widely shared by a humanity only recently freed from the yoke of tyrants very similar to those whose lives Mortarion had claimed. Sorcery was the watchword, a term loaded with ancient meaning and far more recent suffering. To those of a superstitious bent ill-taught in the realities of the universal system, all psychic activity is sorcery or magic. Power seemingly conjured from the aether through arcane means. In the era of the Imperium, with the great crusade spreading the Emperor's atheistic imperial truth to all worlds it conquered, it had become a commonly used term applied to unclean psychic powers, that is to say the pursuit of unrestrained aetheric abilities without any heed paid to the dangers involved, or to the wisdom and more importantly control the Emperor had placed upon them through the Divisio Telepathica. Sorcery, to those of Mortarion's bent, was a sin of the past, a term redolent with fallen demagogues and genocidal aether things. It was the promise of the Age of Strife returned, and was to be abhorred as such. Two of the Death Lord's brothers formed a vocal triad with him against the use of Astarty Psykers, Leman Russ of the 6th Legion Space Wolves and Corvus Korax of the 19th Legion Ravenguard. While both their legions possessed Astarties with abilities beyond the scope of what can be considered normal, both had seen and fought against those who would wield psychic power unchecked, and both feared its usage in a body as vast, unmonitored, and ultimately as a space marine Legion. While these Primarchs and their baseline human supporters often spoke in terms they broadly applied to the entirety of the Legion as Astarties. They were not by any means unwilling to point directly at one in particular, one whose fate was rapidly becoming inextricably bound in the Librarious Question, the 15th Legion, Thousand Sons. Psyons of Prospero had been, largely by their own design, outsiders to their cousins in other legions for almost the entirety of the Great Crusade. They were formed, despite their numerical designation, in the final days of the Unification Wars, and were, due to gene seed issues, unable to take part in any of that period's climactic battles, or even in the subsequent solar reclamation, denying them both the operational experience in as diverse a bloody ground as Saul represented, and additionally the chance to fight alongside and forge bonds of brotherhood with their fellow legions. Initially, the seclusion allowed them to pass effectively unnoticed by both history and their cousins, but eventually the eyes of the Imperium would pass over this 15th Legion, and voices would openly wonder why they remained so secretive, why their growth as a Legion appeared slow, as if deliberately stymied, and why their recruitment practices were so specific. Eventually, rumors turned to reports, swirling ever about a Legion that manifested strange abilities far beyond the Astartes' norm, until eventually the naked truth was common knowledge. The Thousand Sons did not just possess psychers within their ranks. They were a Legion of them. The psychic potential of mankind fully wedded to Astartes' physiology. Should any within the Imperium have had concerns then and there, they would only grow with the Legion's reunification with its Primarch, Magnus the Red, under whose tutelage the Legion's psychic abilities and proclivities grew a thousandfold. The 15th wore its penchant for the occult and the arcane openly and brazenly. Their campaigns were one on the backs of their psychic talents first and foremost, and they developed a well-earned reputation for being voracious consumers and hoarders of lore of all kinds, material oft prescribed too. All of it spirited away by 15th Legion elements from conquered civilizations to be stored in their librarians upon Prospero. The Thousand Sons and Magnus proclaimed that they were only acting as the Emperor had made them to be, and that was it not in the interest of the Great Crusade and Humanity as a whole, that the past be studied along with the present, that knowledge should not be feared, but explored so that it may yet be understood. Their detractors bade that such practices could only lead to damnation, for was it not within these eldritch tomes of the past that Humanity had learned all of its darkest secrets and wielded them, and was it not the wisdom of the Emperor and his Imperial truth that had thrown back the shadows of old night, that it may never return? The debate, at first in the realm of theoretical academia, only intensified with every new victory the Thousand Sons added to their honor role, the company as they always were with the brazen displays of sorcerous powers and bullish moves to lay claim to all knowledge and records of the civilization conquered, human or Xenos. It would only worsen with the foundation of the Librarious Initiative. While no means the doing of Magnus was alone, the Red Cyclops was nonetheless its most vocal component, the fact which, combined with the reputation of his 15th Legion, indelibly marked it as his. In truth, it was the creation of the Threefold, Magnus, yes, but also his brothers Sanguinius of the 9th Legion Blood Angels and Jaketai Khan of the 5th Legion White Scars. Both Primarchs were ardent supporters of the use of psychic powers of the Legiones, with the former being psychically talented himself and the latter a product of a world with millennia old traditions of stable and well-trained tribal psychers. The Librarious was formed as an ad hoc template, primarily based upon the standards of the Blood Angels Legion, but incorporating elements, and more importantly training procedures, from the White Scars and the Thousand Sons. The project had the support of the Emperor when initiated and was indeed one of noble intent. A brotherly effort of outreach, intended to aid fellow legions in allowing the natural gifts of their Astartes to be controlled, nurtured, and put to use upon the battlefield, where they would ultimately be turned towards the best possible use for humanity. It was met, perhaps predictably, with varied responses. Mortarion scored its very existence, stating that he would rather die than accept the use of psychers within his Legion, whose fates were largely unknown, but rumors persisted as to their untimely termination should they be unable to hide their powers. Others demurred, seeing psychers as unpredictable and dangerous. Pertorabo, Iron Lord of the Fourth Legion, stated that such an initiative was ultimately not worth the effort and resources, believing them better spent elsewhere. Culture and organizational character also had an impact. Rogaldorn of the Seventh Legion Imperial Fists, despite being renowned for his rivalry with his brother of the fourth, was also opposed to their use. His Legion having developed something of a reputation for being both staunch bearers of the Imperial Truth and harsh punishers of those who would dabble in the arcane. Despite the critics, the Librarious Initiative did meet with success elsewhere. Vulgrim the Phoenician of the Third Legion Emperor's Children delighted in incorporating the wisdom of his brothers into his own forces, seeing the Librarians as another step upon the path to human perfection. Likewise so did Rebut Gulliman of the Thirteenth Legion Ultramarines, accepting the Doctrina as an invaluable strategic tool in the repertoire of his vast Legion, vocally supporting the continued existence of the program as a product of sound scholarship. Less vocal in their praise were Conrad Curse of the Eighth Legion Night Lords and Elfarious of the Twentieth, but both were known to favor regulation that permitted psychic utilization. Curse, by most accounts, was a far more powerful than many realized, and had a higher than average proportion displaying emerging talents in that area. Of Elfarious's position, Little Concrete is known beyond his tacit support, but the Alpha Legion were never ones to discard useful tools simply because they were denied its use by societal standards, and the truest scope of their use of psychers, either Astartes or amongst their sparatoy Sonemen, will likely never be known. Mixed success defined the Librarious Project, as its tenants were never fully incorporated into the Principia Bellicosa. Even if they had been, its creation had come at a time when the Eighteen Legions were already far diverged from the organizational strictures of that implicitly Terran Tome. Ultimately, it was a stopgap measure, however well intentioned, that only delayed the onset of a final and ultimate beginning of the Psyker question. One that had, by the time of its arrival, through pan-imperial politics, military concerns and even demigod sibling rivalry, become inextricably bound to the actions of Magnus the Red and his Thousand Sons. In the lead up to the Conclave, the Cyclops's initial humours were sanguine. Boyed by the triumph of Olynor and his stated excitement for a time was the dawning of a new human age, Magnus went into the Council with total confidence in his own abilities and role of honour as well as those of his sons and perhaps naively the belief that others in attendance could be swayed with logic, reason and appeals to a greater goal for humanity. His initial enthusiasm was to be immediately doused as the scope and indeed venom of his opponents were made abundantly clear. Chief Librarian of the Thousand Sons, Azek Ariman noted in his journal the extreme disappointment of seeing Othir Weirdmake, rune priest of the Space Wolves and presumed friend of the 15th Legion openly denounced them as corruptive sorcerers practising, in the Fenrisian term, Malifekarum that would damn the great crusade to misery and strife. Despite the Crimson King's protestations and having been ambushed effectively another would raise his voice in opposition to the Cyclops's Mortarian of the Deathguard presented here is the Deathlord's speech should you have clearance enough to access this particular part of the record. I think complex about the issue I have seen the devastation that unchecked sorcery leaves in its wake worlds burn to cinders populations enslaved and monsters unleashed sorcery brought these worlds to ruin sorcery wielded by men who peered too deeply into dark places they should have known to leave alone we all know the horror of old night but I ask you this simple question what brought about that galactic holocaust psychers uncontrolled psychers the threat of these people is horribly real and you all know that danger they represent some of you may even have seen it first hand the scion engines and oculum terra search out the latent witch genes among humanity and the black ships of the silent sisterhood trawl the stars for these dangerous individuals did the emperor beloved by all built these machines for no reason no they were built to protect us from these dangerous mutants using their powers in service of their selfish ends that is the difference we're an astro telepath or navigator uses his powers for the good of others allowing distant worlds to communicate or guiding the expeditionary fleets of the imperium across the stars the sorcerer uses his power for personal gain for earthly power and dominance yes the imperium needs certain empowered individuals but only those sanctioned and rigidly controlled we know where power unchecked inevitably leads you have all heard the stories of old night but who among you have really seen what that means the deathguard have seen on kajor my legion encountered a warrior race of humans that have fallen to barbarism extensive orbital surveys detected no trace of advanced technology yet it took my legion nearly six months to bring kajor to submission why? they were savages armed with little more than blades and crude flintlocked carbines how could such a feral race of savages hold the deathguard at bay for so long they held us at bay because they had fell powers and unseen allies every night creatures of witchery hunted in the shadows and killed for the joy of killing blood red hounds stalk the darkness of the forests with savage instinct and juggernauts a thunder broke our lines with every charge my warriors have fought xenospecies of every stripe and defeated them but these were not creatures of flesh and blood these were summoned into life by kajori warlocks these magi conjured lightning from their flesh set fires with their thoughts and cracked the very earth with their shouted oaths no power comes without a price and with every victory we won we discovered what that truly meant at the heart of every city we captured my warriors found vast structures we came to know as blood veins each one was a churnal house of bones and death we destroyed everyone and with each one lost the strength of our foes waned in the end we ground down every raga muffin force they sent against us surrender was not in their blood and they died to a man destroyed by a ruling cast of warlocks who could not bear to relinquish their power I still think of kajor and shudder now I do not accuse my brother of such barbarism but no evil begins with such monstrous acts if it did no sane man would ever consider it no, it begins slowly a small step here a small step there by such acts is a man's heart turned black and rotten a man may begin with noble intentions believing that such small trespasses are minor things compared to the good he will do at the end of his course but every act matters from the smallest to the greatest tales of the thousand sons victories are legion but so too are the whispers of their sorceries in the past I've led my warriors into battle with magnus and am well aware of what his legion can do so I can vouch for the truth of what the wolf says it is sorcery I've seen it with my own eyes like the magi of kajor the cult warriors of magnus conjured lightning and fire to smite their foes while their brethren crush their enemies with invisible force I do not lie when I say that I knew fear that day the fear that I have broken one army of warlocks only to find myself with another at my side you all know I distrust the institution of librarians within the rank of the astauties fearing what the thousand sons are trying to seed within our legions no librarian sully the ranks of the death god and nor will they while I draw breath I have held my tongue until now confident that others wiser than I knew best but I can keep silent no longer when brother Russ and brother Lorgar spoke of the battles fought to subdue the arc reach cluster I found myself compelled to break my bonds of silence though it tears my heart to name my own brother a warlock and by and watch his obsessions drive him and his legion into the abyss of damnation know that I speak not out of hatred but out of the love I have for Magnus this is all I have to say the death lord's testimony brought the reactionary wing of the anti-psychic camp to the fore it was blunt deliberately so hammering the assembled delegates with a stark and to many painful reminder of the terrors of old night and the danger of their coming resurgence should the thousand sons be permitted to continue their arcane studies despite his lip service to brotherly love there was nearly a hint of it in Mortarion's ideology his position was clear and there were many in the watching masses who readily agreed with it the crimson king had been dealt both his pride and status while he was naturally completely aware of the suspicions and opposition to his legion and their practices to have them stated so openly and so publicly and in front of his father and respected peers for that matter was another matter entirely chief librarian Ariyman's records upon the matter speak of the Cyclops's rage and feeling outmaneuvered and placed upon a pedestal but the council of Nikia had been a deception meant to frame him as a mad degenerate witch but was not only the collar of the lord of Prospero that was redolent but his despair also for the lofty ideals Magnus had hoped to lay before the council seemed to be dashed upon the rocks of history one chance the Primarch had to turn the grand arc of the species towards a higher cause spent and now lost however Magnus as was his character rallied coming to relish the chance to prove his virtue the virtues of his ideals one has managed against all odds to bear witness to a copy of the Crimson King's address included herein will have their part in the lake burning with fire and brimstone those words are from a book written thousands of years ago in the forgotten ages ironically from a passage named Revelations this is what people thought in those barbaric times it shows what savagery we came from and how easy it is for our species to turn upon one another these words of fear are thousands to their death of the millennia and for what to salvage the fears of ignorant men who had not the wit to embrace the power of new ideas if one of us were to walk among the people of those times they would kill us for the technology we possess thinking it witchcraft or unclean devilment for example before the writings of Aristarchus of Samos men believed that old earth was flat and unbroken plain where the oceans simply fell from the edges can you imagine anything more ridiculous? now we take the spheros of the earth for granted much later Pristley Scholars taught that terror was the center of the cosmos and that the sun and planets revolved around it the man who challenged this geocentric foolishness was tried for heresy and forced to recant his beliefs now we know our place in the galaxy from the deepest desire often comes the deadliest hatred false words are not only evil in themselves but they infect the hearts of all who hear them with evil imagine what we will know in a thousand years and think really think what we are doing here imagine the Imperium of the future a golden utopia of enlightenment and progress with the scientist and the philosopher are equal partners with the warrior and crafting a bounteous future now imagine the people of that glorious age looking back to the mists of time to this moment think what they will know and what they would make of this travesty they would weep to know how close the flame of enlightenment had come to being snuffed out the art and science of questioning everything is the source of all knowledge and to abandon that will doom us to slow decay an Imperium of darkness and ignorance where those who dare to pursue knowledge whatever the cost to themselves are regarded with suspicion that is not the Imperium I believe in that is not the Imperium of knowledge is the food of the soul and no knowledge can be thought of as wrong so long as each seeker of truth is master of what he learns nothing worth knowing can be taught it must be learned with the blood and sweat of experience and there are no greater scholars of that ilk than the thousand sons even as we fight in the forefront of the emperor's crusade we study things others ignore questing for knowledge in the places others fear to tread there are no truths unknown no secrets too hidden and no path to labyrinthine for us to follow for they lead us upwards to enlightenment hard-won knowledge is of no value unless it is put into practice knowing is not enough we must apply willing is not enough we must doom doom with that in mind I beg your indulgence a little longer and a tale I will be tell there is an ancient legend of old earth that speaks of three men of age who lived in a deep cave in the mountains these men lived shut off from the light of the world and they would have lived in permanent darkness but for a small fire that burned in the circle of stones at the heart of the cave they ate lichens that grew on the walls and drank cold water from an underground stream they lived but what they had was not living day after day they sat around the fire staring to the flickering embers and dancing flames believing that its light was all the light in the world the shadows made shapes and patterns to the walls and this delighted them greatly in their own way they were happy moving from day to day without ever wondering what lay beyond their flickering circle of light one day a mighty storm blew over the mountains but so deep with the men that only the newest breath ever reached their cave the fire danced in the wind the men laughed to see new patterns on the wall the wind died and they went back to contemplating the fire much as they had always done but one of the men got up and walked away from the fire them and greatly and they bade him return to sit with them this lone man shook his head for he alone had a thirst to learn more of the wind he followed it as it retreated from the cave climbing steep cliffs, crossing chasms and negotiating many perils before he finally saw a faint haze of light ahead of him he climbed out of the cave emerging on the side of the mountain and looked up at the blazing sun its light blinded him and his knees overcome by its beauty and warmth he feared he had burnt out his eyes but soon his vision returned and he hesitantly looked around him he had come out of the cave high on the mountain's flank and the world was spread out before him in all its glory glittering green seas and endless fields of golden corn he wept to see such things distraught that he had wasted so many years in darkness oblivious to the glory of the world around him a world that had been there all along but which his limited vision had denied him can you imagine what it felt like to have spent your entire life staring at a small fire and thinking it was the only light in the world only to be then confronted by the sun the man knew he had to tell his friends of this miraculous discovery and he made the journey back to the cave where the other man sat still staring to the fire and smiling vacuously at the shadows on the wall the man who had seen the sun looked at the place he had called home and saw it for the prison it truly was he told the others what he had seen but they were not interested in far-fetched tales of burning eye in the sky all they wanted to do was live their lives as they'd always lived them they called him mad after him continuing to stare at the fire as it was the only reality they knew the man could not understand his friends reluctant to travel to the world above but he resolved that he would not take their refusal to come with them is an end of the matter he would show them the light no matter what and if they would not come to the light he would bring it to them so the man climbed back to the world of light and began to dig he dug until he'd widened the cave mouth he dug for a hundred years and a hundred more until he had dug away the top of the mountain then he dug downwards a great pit into the heart of the mountain until he broke through into the cave where his fellow sat around the fire the men were amazed at what he showed them the life they had been missing for all their lives the golden joy that could be theirs were they just brave enough to take his hand and follow him one by one they climbed from their dark cave and saw the truth of the world around them all that's wonders and all that's beauty they looked back at the dank like this cave they had called home and were horrified by how limited the understanding of the world had been they heaped praise upon the man who had shown them the way to the light and honored him greatly for the world in all its bounty was theirs to explore forevermore the man knew he had to show his friends the truth of the world around them and just as it was his duty to save his friends from their dull sightless existence it is our duty to do the same for humanity the thousand sons alone of all the legions have seen the light beyond the gates of the imperium that light will free us from the shackles of our mundane perceptions of reality now the human race to stand as masters of the galaxy just as the men around the fire needed to be shown the glorious future that lay within their grasp so too does humanity the knowledge the thousand sons are gathering will allow everyone to know what we know to see as we see humanity needs to be led upwards with small steps with their eyes gradually opened less the light blind them that is the ultimate goal of the thousand sons our future as a race is at stake my friends I urge you not to throw away this chance for enlightenment for we are at a tipping point in the history of the imperium think of the future and how this moment will be judged in the millennia to come thank you for your attention that is all I have to say the twin speeches of mortarian and magnus are not by any means the only testimony delivered to the emperor of mankind during the course of the council while ultimately brief parties from the length and breadth of the imperium nonetheless used the congress to make their positions clear including a delegation of librarians from the legionnaires the startys themselves led by the fifth legion white scars' chief storm seer targute yasuge while it may seem a disservice to those who spoke to summarize the council in only two addresses one is forced to concede that they embody in their polarity the stakes of nikia rather well the librarian's question in the fate of the thousand sons were in honesty one and the same other legions could lose elements of their structural makeup perhaps at most a tactical tool in their repertoire the 15th legion would lose everything that made them unique amongst their brethren while they would be able to prosecute their wars they are still in a startys legion after all they would be sorely maimed one should however note one crucial aspect one likely lost upon even the most learned of delegates the tale as related by magnus was altered crimson king doubtlessly knew the true ending but shifted the outcome to better reflect his desired metaphor in the original legend the man is torn to shreds by his terrified compatriots whose minds break utterly at the sights he has shown them they leave behind their friends bloody remains retreating even deeper into their cave and even further away from the light as an allegory it was originally intended to be a warning against showing those too ignorant those whose reality was too narrowly limited by truncated perception the great truths of life and the universe by changing the ending magnus changed the message of the parable to one better suited to his needs it's still if one is being honest works the metaphor is certainly hopeful and one imagines that in those heady days of crusade ideals and manifest destiny unblemished by the trauma of the true nature of reality that it could have swayed the minds of those who heard it however one cannot also ignore that this speech in a fundamental way embodies the folly and arrogance of magnus the red eloquence logic reason the loftiest of ideals but never the full truth a fundamental lie at the core a cancer just waiting to be exposed ultimately the judgment of magnus and of the astarty's ciker could and would come from only one being no matter how many minds were swayed by the death lord or the crimson king a supreme arbitrator of the council the decision rested at the hand of the emperor scholars have debated the ruling throughout the ages many even decrying the emperor for his judgment that day given the events that were ultimately to unfold because of it others supported entirely even that as the emperor even then was surely possessed of his divinity it was entirely the fault of others that events played out as they did the benefit of hindsight like thing as anyone who has learned it in such matters cannot help but bind the fall of the crimson king the burning of prospero the tragedy of the thousand sons thrown the horse heresy itself to the deliverance of the emperor's writ upon that fateful day the debate such as there has ever been one only serves to obscure what transpired muddying the facts with wild conjecture and ideological positioning yes that is the role of the historitour to interpret as much as to chronicle but when dealing with such a momentous event there is a temptation enough to moralize without the necessity of picking a side weighing down yet further presented here then is the emperor's own judgment rendered as best as possible given the degraded quality of the recording prepare the words of the divine were about to bless you all they can think of is the acquisition of more merely all men can stand in verse but few can stand the ultimate test of character that of wielding power without succumbing to its darker temptations peering into the darkness to gain knowledge of the warp as fraught with peril for it is an inconstant place of shifting reality, capricious lies and untruths the seeker after truth must have a care if he is not deceived for false knowledge is far more dangerous than ignorance all men wish to possess knowledge but few are willing to pay the price always men will seek to take the shortcut, the quick route to power and it is a man's own mind not his enemy or foe that will lure him to evil ways true knowledge is gained only after the acquisition of wisdom without wisdom a powerful person does not become more powerful he becomes reckless his power will turn on him and eventually destroy all he has built I have walked paths no man can do and face the unable creatures of the warp I understand all too well the secrets and dangers that lurk in its hidden darkness such things are not for lesser minds to know no matter how powerful or knowledgeable they believe themselves to be the secrets I have shared serve as warnings, not enticements to explore further only death and death nation await those who pride too deeply into secrets not meant for mortals I see now I have allowed my sons to delve too profoundly into mages I should never have permitted them to know even existed let it be known that no one shall suffer a censure for this conclave is to serve unity not discord but no more shall the threat of sorcery be allowed to take the warriors and be a star teams henceforth it is my will that no legions will maintain in Liberia's department all its warriors and instructors must be returned to the battle companies and never again employ any psychic powers woe betide he who ignores my warning or breaks faith with me he shall be my enemy and I will visit such destruction upon him and all his followers that until the end of all things he shall rule the day he turned from my light forgive me it always well I don't quite know how to render into words the privilege it is to hear the master of mankind speak the emperor, beloved by all had rendered his judgment a ruling that would become forever known as the edict of Nikia the use of psychers by his legions was banned utterly Magnus was rebuked denied any ability to further study his arts under pain of the most total punishment his father could wield the seismic impact of this decision would take years to unfold but it is safe to say that unfold it did and in ways likely none could have ever foreseen was it ever intended to be such was the emperor truly meaning the powers wielded by his own creations by his own sons for eternity may have like the librarians it outlawed the edict was intended to be ultimately temporary to buy time for more something more perhaps a greater work that he was pursuing the work that I have encountered dozens of oblique maddening references to my studies on the heresy alas we will never likely know the truth of the matter and I am indulging in precisely the type of speculation that I forewarned against that only remains what occurred and the terrible terrible events it precipitated until a time that I may have stomach to pen such tragedies Ave Imperator Gloria Nixelsis Terra This video and this channel were made possible thanks to the very kind donations and support from my patreon subscribers if you would like to help support the channel head on over to patreon.com slash oculus imperia if you would like to receive more updates about the channel and any future videos you can contact me or follow me on twitter at oculus imperia otherwise please like subscribe comment let me know your feedback and as ever thank you very much for watching