The Primarch of Liberty

Malcador the Sigillite stood on the observation deck of the Terran orbital station, his ancient eyes fixed on the void beyond. He had lived long enough to witness the rise and fall of empires, to see humanity reach for the stars and then retreat into darkness. Yet, even he felt a tremor of anticipation as he awaited the arrival of Franklin Valorian's fleet.

The first signs came as a ripple in the Warp, a disturbance that spoke of power and purpose. Then, like daggers cutting through the fabric of reality, the ships of Battlefleet Liberty began to emerge.

Malcador's breath caught in his throat. The fleet of 370 void ships moved with an eerie grace, their designs alien yet undeniably human and each vessel had the Imperial Aquila displayed proudly on it's Hulls. As they approached, the sheer firepower bristling from their hulls became apparent. Weapon systems of unknown design and terrifying potential dotted the vessels, they moved with a grace that belied their immense size. At the heart of the fleet, dwarfing even the largest Imperial battleships, came the "Sweet Liberty." Seventy kilometers from prow to stern, it was less a ship and more a mobile fortress, a city in space that could rival the greatest hive worlds. Its hull gleamed with an alloy unknown to the Imperium, pulsing with energy that spoke of technologies long lost to time. Each ship was a masterpiece of engineering, evidence to the heights humanity had once achieved and could achieve again.

As the fleet took up position near the Asteroid Belt of Mars, Malcador could sense the shock and awe radiating from the Mechanicus observers. Malcador smirked, imagining the fervor with which the tech-priests would study these marvels, if given the chance.

"By the Throne," whispered one of the Custodians at his side, his usual stoicism cracking in the face of such magnificence.

Malcador nodded, understanding the sentiment. He had known, intellectually, that the Independence Cluster was a remnant of humanity's golden age. Malcador's mind raced. He had known of Franklin Valorian's origins in a surviving human colony, but this... this was beyond his wildest expectations. This wasn't merely a colony; it was a shard of humanity's golden age, preserved against all odds.

The dropship's ramp lowered, and out strode Franklin Valorian, the Liberator. Malcador's eyes widened imperceptibly as he took in the Primarch's appearance. Franklin stood tall and proud, his presence commanding and charismatic. His square jawline and high cheekbones framed a face that seemed to embody the very concept of liberty. Piercing brown eyes surveyed the welcoming party with a mix of curiosity and confidence, while his neatly styled brown hair added to his authoritative air.

Flanking the Primarch were his closest advisors and protectors. To his right stood Denzel Washington, the 1st Captain of the Liberty Eagles, his bearing every bit as noble as his Primarch's. To Franklin's left was John Ezra, head of the Secret Service, his vigilant eyes scanning for any potential threats.

Malcador stepped forward, his staff tapping softly on the platform. "Welcome to Terra, Lord Franklin Valorian. I am Malcador the Sigillite, First Lord of Terra and the Emperor's most trusted advisor. Terra welcomes you. Though I daresay the Fabricator-General of Mars might have some questions about your fleet's... unique design."

Franklin's face broke into a warm, charismatic smile. "The honor is mine, Lord Malcador. I've heard much about you and the wonders of Terra. I look forward to seeing them firsthand."

A chuckle came from the Primarch as he responded. "I bet he does. Tell you what, I'll give him a peek under the hood if he asks nicely."

As they exchanged pleasantries, Malcador couldn't help but note the peculiar armor worn by Franklin's honor guard. It was unlike anything he had seen before – not the bulky Terminator armor fielded by the different Astartes Legions, but something more sleek and advanced and carried quite alot of Firepower.

Noticing Malcador's gaze, Franklin chuckled. "Ah, I see you've noticed our Mech suits. Quite different from what you're used to, I imagine. You know, it's funny – what you call Terminator armor, we use as mining suits back home."

Malcador raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Indeed? Your technological base is clearly... extensive."

As they began their tour of the Imperial Palace, Franklin's eyes widened at the sight of an Imperial Knight. He pointed at it, a mix of amusement and disbelief on his face. "Now that's something! We use machines like that to clear forests. Never thought I'd see one with weapons mounted on a massive chainsaw."

Malcador smirked a bit. "The Imperium has adapted much technology for the purposes of war, Lord Franklin. I'm sure you'll find many such surprises during your stay."

Their exchange highlighted the vast cultural and technological divide between the Imperium and the Independence Cluster. Malcador found himself reassessing his understanding of the Independence Cluster with each passing moment.

As they walked through the towering corridors of the Palace, Malcador studied the Primarch from the corner of his eye. Franklin moved with a casual grace that belied his size, his eyes taking in every detail of their surroundings with obvious appreciation.

"Quite the place you've got here," Franklin remarked. "Though I've got to say, it could use a bit more color. Maybe some flags? A few motivational posters?"

Malcador raised an eyebrow. "The Emperor's tastes run towards the... austere, Lord Valorian. Though I'm sure he'd be interested in your interior design suggestions."

Franklin laughed, a sound that echoed off the ancient stones and caused nearby serfs to stop and stare. "Oh, I like you, Malcador. We're going to get along just fine."

As they neared the Emperor's chambers, Malcador's curiosity got the better of him. "If I may ask, Lord Valorian, what matter brings you to Terra?" 

"I've got some questions for the old man about some rather unpleasant entities I encountered in the Warp. Nasty pieces of work, calling themselves 'gods'. I may have... well, let's just say I left their temple in a less than pristine condition."

Malcador's blood ran cold at these words. 

Upon reaching the Eternity Gate, Franklin fell silent, his gaze tracing the heroic stories etched into its surface. He raised his hand in a solemn salute, respect evident in every line of his body. The moment passed quickly, however, as his attention was drawn to the Imperator Titan standing guard.

"Impressive," Franklin mused. Then, with a glint in his eye, he turned to Malcador. "Say, would you like one of my toys to guard this gate? I've got something that might just give this big fella a run for its money."

But it was too late. The doors to the throne room swung open, revealing the Master of Mankind himself. The Emperor rose from his throne, his presence filling the vast chamber.

The grand throne room of the Imperial Palace fell silent as Franklin Valorian, the Liberator, stood before the Emperor of Mankind. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a power sword. And then, with a grin that could outshine a plasma reactor, Franklin broke the silence.

"Pops!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing off the ornate walls. "Great to finally meet you face to face after that sneaky meeting we had at Nova Libertas."

The Emperor's face flickered with a mix of emotions - surprise, amusement, and perhaps a hint of exasperation. Before He could respond, Franklin closed the distance between them in two long strides and enveloped the Master of Mankind in a bear hug.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Malcador, watching from the sidelines, held his breath. The Custodes tensed, unsure how to react to this unprecedented display of familiarity towards their lord.

Then, slowly, the Emperor's arms rose and returned the embrace. It was a gesture so human, so paternal, that it seemed at odds with the golden, larger-than-life figure He usually presented. Yet there was no denying the genuine warmth in the action.

As they separated, the Emperor's eyes twinkled with an emotion rarely seen - joy. "My son," He said, His voice resonating with affection. "Your presence brings light to these hallowed halls."

Franklin beamed, then suddenly snapped his fingers. "Oh, right! Almost forgot." He fumbled in a pocket of his ornate armor, pulling out a data-slate. "Got some paperwork for you, Pops. Just a little delivery confirmation for all those shiny new toys we sent over. Standard procedure, you understand."

The Emperor raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of His mouth. "Paperwork, Franklin? I thought I left such mundane matters behind millennia ago."

"Hey, even the Emperor of Mankind can't escape the long arm of bureaucracy," Franklin chuckled, holding out the data-slate. "Just a quick signature, and we're all set."

With a shake of His head and a barely suppressed laugh, the Emperor took the slate and signed it. "There. I trust this meets with your approval, Lord Bureaucrat?"

"Perfectly, Your Majesty," Franklin said with a mock bow. Then his face grew serious. "Now, Pops, we need to talk about something. Had a bit of an... encounter during my travels. Some unsavory characters calling themselves 'gods'."

The Emperor's demeanor changed instantly, His eyes narrowing. "What manner of encounter, my son?"

Franklin waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, you know, the usual. They tried to tempt me, I told them where they could stick their offers, might have blown up one of their temples. No biggie."

The throne room fell silent once more, this time with a heavy weight of concern. The Emperor's face was unreadable, His psychic aura pulsing with barely contained power.

Franklin, sensing the shift in mood, raised his hands. "Look, I know it sounds bad, but I figured you'd want to know. These 'so-called gods' seemed pretty miffed when I turned them down. Thought you might have some insight."

The Emperor stood, His towering form radiating authority. "Franklin, what you encountered... it is a grave matter indeed. These entities are-"

"Hold up, Pops," Franklin interrupted, tapping his temple. "Why don't you just take a look for yourself? It'll be quicker, and you can see exactly what went down. Just, uh, don't go poking around in the private stuff, alright? A man's got to have some secrets."

For a moment, the Emperor seemed taken aback by the casual offer. Then, with a nod, He stepped forward and placed His hands on Franklin's temples. The air around them shimmered with psychic energy as the Emperor delved into His son's memories.

Minutes passed in tense silence. Malcador watched, fascinated by the interplay between father and son. When the Emperor finally stepped back, His face was a storm of emotions - pride, concern, and a hint of amusement.

"My son," He began, His voice heavy with the weight of cosmic knowledge. "What you encountered were indeed gods, after a fashion. The Ruinous Powers of Chaos, entities born of the Warp and fueled by the emotions and beliefs of sentient beings."

Franklin's brow furrowed. "Chaos, huh? Fitting name for those carnival rejects. So, what's their deal? Why are they so interested in us?"

The Emperor sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weariness of millennia. "It is a long and complex tale, Franklin. One that I had hoped to shield humanity from for as long as possible. But your encounter has forced my hand. We must speak of this, and of the true nature of our crusade."

"Well," Franklin said, clapping his hands together. "Sounds like we've got ourselves a good old-fashioned family meeting on our hands. Want me to get Malcador to order some pizza? This sounds like a pizza kind of conversation."

Despite the gravity of the situation, the Emperor couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "Perhaps not pizza, my son. But yes, Malcador should join us. This concerns him as well."

As Malcador approached, Franklin turned to him with a grin. "Hey, Mal! Pull up a chair. We're about to have a cosmic horror story session with dear old Dad here."

Malcador, for his part, managed to maintain his composure, though a hint of amusement crept into his voice. "I look forward to it, Lord Valorian. Though I suspect this tale may be beyond even my extensive knowledge."

The Emperor gestured for them all to be seated. "Indeed, my old friend. What I am about to share with you both is known to very few. The true nature of the Warp, the dangers it poses to humanity, and the purpose behind our Great Crusade."

As they settled in for what promised to be a long and revelatory conversation, Franklin couldn't help but quip, "No pressure, Pops, but I hope this explanation is good. I've got a fleet of very curious officers waiting for me, and 'I blew up some Warp gods' temple' isn't going to cut it as a mission report."

The Emperor's lips twitched in a smile. "I shall endeavor to meet your high standards of reporting, my son. Now, let us begin with the birth of the universe itself..."

------------------------

As the Emperor concluded His revelation about the true nature of the Warp and the purpose behind the Great Crusade, a heavy silence fell over the room. Franklin Valorian, the Liberator, sat back in his chair, his normally jovial face etched with lines of concern and deep thought.

After a few moments, he took a deep breath and leaned forward. "Well, Pops," he began, his voice uncharacteristically serious, "that's one hell of a weight you've been carrying. Makes my job of liberating worlds seem like a cakewalk in comparison."

The Emperor nodded solemnly. "The burden of knowledge is often the heaviest, my son."

Franklin stood up, pacing the room with nervous energy. "Right, so we've got chaos gods, a fragmented humanity, and a race against time to unite the species before these Warp entities can corrupt us all. No pressure." He stopped and turned to face his father and Malcador. "But you know what? That's tomorrow's problem. Right now, I've got a more immediate concern."

The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

Franklin gestured broadly. "This planet, Pops. Terra. The cradle of humanity. It's a damn irradiated hellhole!"

Malcador shifted uncomfortably. "The scars of Old Night run deep, Lord Valorian. The restoration of Terra is a monumental task that-"

"That we're going to tackle head-on," Franklin interrupted. He pulled out another data-slate and began rapidly sketching and typing. "Look, I get it. You've been busy uniting humanity and all that. But if we're going to be the shining beacon of mankind's future, we need to start at home."

The Emperor leaned forward, intrigued. "What do you propose, Franklin?"

"A complete terraforming project," Franklin said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "We've got the technology back in the Independence Cluster. Atmospheric scrubbers, radiation nullifiers, accelerated flora growth systems. Heck, we could probably green up this rock in a decade if we put our minds to it."

He tossed the data-slate to Malcador, who caught it deftly. "Take a look. I've drawn up some preliminary plans. We start with the major population centers, work our way out. Reintroduce native species, set up sustainable ecosystems. By the time we're done, Terra will be the jewel of the Imperium again."

The Emperor stood, walking over to examine the plans over Malcador's shoulder. "This is... ambitious, to say the least," He mused.

"Ambitious is my middle name, Pops," Franklin grinned. "Well, actually it's Delano, but you get the idea."

Malcador stroked his beard thoughtfully. "The resources required for such an undertaking would be immense. And with the Great Crusade ongoing..."

"That's where the Independence Cluster comes in," Franklin said, snapping his fingers. "We've got the tech, we've got the production capacity. Consider it a gift from your prodigal son to dear old Dad."

The Emperor was silent for a long moment, His eyes distant as if seeing a future yet to unfold. Then, slowly, a smile spread across His face. "Your enthusiasm is infectious, my son. And your plan... it has merit. A restored Terra could indeed serve as a powerful symbol for our nascent Imperium."

Franklin beamed. "That's the spirit! Nothing says 'humanity's golden age' like actual golden fields of wheat, right?"

Malcador cleared his throat. "There are, of course, logistical concerns to address. The current population, the existing infrastructure..."

"Details, Mal, details," Franklin waved dismissively. "We'll work them out. That's what planning committees are for. The important thing is, we're doing this. Right, Pops?"

The Emperor nodded, a newfound energy in His bearing. "Indeed. Franklin, your vision for Terra aligns well with my own dreams for humanity's future. We shall make it so."

"Fantastic!" Franklin clapped his hands together. "Now, first things first. We need to set up a joint task force. Get some of your Terran experts together with my tech boys from the Independence Cluster. Oh, and we're going to need a catchy name for this project. How about... 'Operation Eden'? Too on the nose?"

The Emperor chuckled, a sound that seemed to brighten the very air of the throne room. "Perhaps a touch dramatic, but fitting nonetheless."

"Operation Eden it is!" Franklin declared. He turned to Malcador. "Mal, I'm going to need you to clear the Emperor's schedule for the next few days. We've got a planet to save, and I've got about a million ideas to run by him."

Malcador looked to the Emperor, who nodded His assent. "Very well, Lord Valorian. I shall make the necessary arrangements."

As Malcador moved to leave, Franklin called out, "Oh, and Mal? See if you can rustle up some pizza after all. Saving the world is hungry work!"

The Sigillite paused at the door, a rare smile crossing his face. "I shall endeavor to locate a suitable nutrient paste approximation, Lord Valorian."

"Nutrient paste? Oh no, we're going to have to work on your culinary scene too, aren't we?" Franklin shook his head in mock despair.

As Malcador left, Franklin turned back to the Emperor, his face alight with enthusiasm and determination. "Alright, Pops. Let's roll up our sleeves and get to work. We've got a planet to transform, an Imperium to build, and some chaos gods to kick in the teeth. Just another day in the life of the Valorians, eh?"

The Emperor, for His part, felt a warmth He had not experienced in millennia. The future stretched out before Him, fraught with danger but now brightened by the irrepressible spirit of His newfound son. "Indeed, Franklin. Indeed. Now, tell me more about these atmospheric scrubbers of yours..."

And so, father and son bent their heads together over the plans, the seeds of Terra's rebirth taking root in the fertile soil of Franklin's imagination and the Emperor's timeless wisdom. The Imperium of Man was about to change, starting from its very heart.

A/N: Now before ya'll try to burn me on a cross and call me a Heretic on my Depiction of the Emperor I have done extensive research to prove that the Emperor actually is a rather emotional man, one is that he gave Leman Russ a Concussion after the wolf beat him in a drinking and eating contest and insulted his dad.