Chapter 547: The Starships of the Golden Age

“The Imperium stands at the brink. We must give everything we have to carve out a future for humanity…”

Standing upon the command dais of his Queen of Glory-class battleship, Sanguinius addressed the assembled officers and soldiers.

Their fleet currently patrolled the frontier regions of the Imperium—

a routine inspection meant to stabilize morale in these fragile times.

The aftermath of the Horus Rebellion, combined with the Emperor’s recent directive to abandon the vast majority of Imperial territory, had left the Imperium shaking like a house in a storm.

Especially the latter decision.

It had stripped countless citizens of their homes and livelihoods,

breeding resentment and unrest on a massive scale.

With the Chaos Imperium constantly fanning the flames, conflict simmered everywhere.

Only the Imperium’s greatly reduced borders—allowing for tighter control—prevented rebellions from erupting daily and stretching the loyalist forces to their limits.

Midway through his speech, Sanguinius noticed his adjutant signaling urgently from below the platform.

He frowned.

He disliked being interrupted—

even if he believed such speeches to be little more than formalities.

Still, knowing his adjutant would not interrupt without cause, he condensed the remaining lines of his address into a few brief sentences and stepped down.

The adjutant quickly approached and bowed.

“My lord, our patrol sensors have detected an unidentified voidship ahead on our projected route.”

Sanguinius raised an eyebrow.

“Another xenos vessel gone astray?”

In the vastness of the galaxy, such occurrences were common.

Civilizations using Warp traversal frequently experienced navigational distortions, often emerging in completely unintended regions.

Before the Heresy, the staunchly xenophobic Imperium would have simply vaporized any foreign vessel that wandered into Imperial space.

After receiving aid during the rebellion, Imperial policy had softened slightly—they now evaluated the species before deciding whether to assist or annihilate.

Such incidents were normally trivial, akin to minor traffic accidents in ancient history.

Which was why Sanguinius found the interruption puzzling.

“Is that truly worth breaking my speech over?”

The adjutant swallowed.

“My lord… according to our analysis, the vessel does not appear to belong to any xenos civilization. It seems to be of human origin. However…”

Sanguinius sharpened his gaze.

“However—what?”

After a moment of hesitation, the adjutant replied:

“Its age, my lord. The vessel’s construction patterns and designs suggest it originates from the Human Federation’s Golden Age.”

Sanguinius froze.

A flash of astonishment—

followed quickly by doubt—

crossed his features.

The Golden Age.

The undisputed peak of human civilization.

Any artifact from that era represented technological mastery far beyond the modern Imperium.

Even the mighty Titan Legions, now used as strategic weapons capable of leveling primitive worlds, were merely civilian lumber and mining machines during the Golden Age.

Only after the collapse of advanced technological knowledge were their frameworks repurposed and crudely weaponized.

It was, in truth, no different from bolting cannons onto a tractor and calling it a tank.

Effective, yes—

but incomparable to the genuine weapons of old.

For this reason, the Adeptus Mechanicus coveted all Golden Age relics to an extreme degree.

Even a handgun from that era could motivate them to annihilate an entire star system to obtain it.

And now—

a Golden Age starship?

Such a treasure would drive certain Tech-Priests to outright treason without hesitation.

Horus had once swayed many of them with far less.

Thus, despite a flicker of excitement, suspicion flooded Sanguinius’s mind.

Could this be a trap?

The timing was too perfect… far too convenient.

Yet—

What if it wasn’t?

Even a Primarch could not completely suppress the human instinct for hope.

So Sanguinius made his choice.

He would go see for himself.

A short while later, aboard a small escort craft, he approached the unidentified vessel.

As it emerged through drifting clouds of debris, its colossal form became visible.

A massive warship—

scarred by twisted fractures and battle wounds—

almost thirty kilometers long, dwarfing even his Queen of Glory.

It hung in space like a fallen mountain.

And carved upon its hull, in crisp Golden Age Federation script, were the words:

Eternal Soul

Sanguinius stared, stunned.

He had never encountered this name in any archival record.

Yet the size of the vessel alone made clear that it was no ordinary ship.

Even in the Golden Age, it must have held exceptional significance.