The Primarch of Liberty

The grand plaza of Nova Libertas bustled with activity, its citizens gathered to hear their beloved leader speak. Franklin Valorian, the Symbol of Liberty, stood tall upon a raised platform, his imposing 15-foot frame dwarfing those around him. Despite his size, there was an easy charm to his demeanor that put the crowd at ease.

"My fellow citizens," Valorian's voice boomed across the plaza, a hint of mirth in his tone, "I stand before you today not just as your leader, but as a man who's had one too many liberty steaks!" The crowd erupted in laughter, and Valorian's grin widened. "But fear not, for even with a full belly, I remain ever vigilant in our pursuit of freedom and prosperity!"

As he continued his speech, weaving jokes with serious policy points, Valorian's gaze swept across the sea of faces. Suddenly, his eyes locked onto a figure standing at the edge of the crowd. The man stood out not just for his impressive height—though still shorter than Valorian—but for the aura of power that seemed to emanate from him. Golden armor glinted in the sunlight, and piercing eyes met Valorian's own and yet the crowd around him doesn't seem to notice him.

For a moment, Valorian felt a flicker of recognition, as if he'd known this man all his life. But he pushed the feeling aside, flashing a grin at the stranger before returning his attention to his speech.

"And so, my friends," he concluded, "let us raise our glasses—or in my case, my oversized mug—to liberty, to prosperity, and to the unbreakable spirit of the Independence Cluster!"

As the crowd cheered, Valorian stepped down from the platform, making his way through a throng of well-wishers. He noticed the golden-armored man had vanished, but somehow, he knew their paths would cross again soon.

Hours later, in the privacy of his office atop the Liberty Spire, Valorian sat back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk. He was reviewing reports on the latest xenos incursions when a knock at the door interrupted his reading.

"Come in," he called out, not bothering to change his relaxed posture.

The door opened, and in walked the man from the plaza. Up close, Valorian could see the intricate details of his armor, the wisdom and power in his eyes, and the slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, well," Valorian chuckled, "if it isn't the man who outshone my armor polish this morning. To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr...?"

"I have many names," the man replied, his voice resonant with authority yet tinged with amusement. "But you may call me the Emperor."

Valorian raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "The Emperor, eh? Of what, the local Shiny Armor Appreciation Society?"

The Emperor's smile grew. "Of mankind, Franklin Valorian. And you are my son."

There was a moment of silence before Valorian burst into laughter. "Oh, that's a good one! I haven't heard a joke that good since... well, since my last speech." He wiped a tear from his eye. "But seriously, who are you?"

The Emperor took a commanding step forward, his immense psychic power radiating through the chamber. With a simple wave of his hand, he projected a vivid psychic illusion directly into Franklin Valorian's mind. These visions revealed the vast expanse of Terra, the home world of humanity, and the awe-inspiring scope of the Great Crusade as it surged across the galaxy. Through this mental connection, Franklin was shown not just images, but the weight of history, ambition, and the Emperor's vision for humanity's future. It was as though Franklin himself stood amidst the unfolding events, experiencing the enormity of the Emperor's dream firsthand.

Valorian's laughter died away, replaced by a look of wonder and then understanding. He slowly lowered his feet from the desk and stood, matching the Emperor's height.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said softly. "You're not joking, are you... Father?" As the Son of Liberty, and truth and the very fact that this 15ft Man in shining Golden Power Armor, despite his speculations inside of him, he decided to ride with it, you don't see a Golden Power Armored Man every day claiming to be your father, and his physiology made more sense. 

The Emperor shook his head. "I am not. I have searched for you, as I have searched for all my sons. And now I have found you...first, presiding over this remarkable cluster of worlds."

Valorian walked to the window, gazing out at the sprawling cityscape of Nova Libertas. "So, what now? You've found your long-lost son. Do we hug it out? Exchange war stories? Oh, I know—we could have a father-son fishing trip! I hear the acid lakes of Rangda Prime are lovely this time of year."

The Emperor chuckled, a sound that seemed to surprise even him. "Your humor is... unexpected, Franklin. But refreshing. No, what happens now is up to you. I have come to offer you a place by my side, to join the Great Crusade and help unite humanity."

Valorian turned back to face the Emperor, his expression suddenly serious. "Unite humanity? That's a tall order, even for a man of your... stature. And what about my people here? The Independence Cluster has thrived under my leadership. We've pushed back xenos threats, preserved technology from the Dark Age of Humanity, and created a society of true liberty. Why should we change that?"

The Emperor nodded, acknowledging Valorian's points. "What you've built here is remarkable, truly. But imagine spreading this prosperity, this liberty, across the entire galaxy. Imagine a humanity united, free from the threats of xenos and the superstitions that hold us back. That is what I offer you—a chance to be part of something greater."

Valorian stroked his chin thoughtfully. "A tempting offer, I'll admit. But I've got to ask—what's the catch? There's always a catch. Is it the hours? The dental plan? Don't tell me I have to wear golden armor like yours. I mean, it's flashy, but it's not really my style."

The Emperor's lips twitched in amusement. "The 'catch,' as you put it, is that you would need to bring the Independence Cluster into compliance with the Imperium of Man. Your worlds would become part of a greater whole."

Valorian's eyes narrowed. "Compliance? That's a fancy word for submission, isn't it? I hope you'll forgive me if I'm not jumping for joy at the prospect of giving up our independence. It's kind of our thing, you know. It's right there in the name."

"I understand your reservations," the Emperor said, his tone softening. "But consider this—together, we could create an age of enlightenment for all of humanity. No more petty wars between human factions, no more cowering in fear of alien threats. A golden age of reason and progress."

Valorian paced the room, his mind working furiously. "It sounds good on paper, I'll give you that. But I've got to think about my people. We've got a good thing going here—advanced tech, strong defenses, and a political system that works... most of the time. What guarantee do I have that joining your Imperium won't mess that up?"

The Emperor stepped closer, placing a hand on Valorian's shoulder. "I offer no guarantees, my son. The path ahead is fraught with challenges. But I see in you a leader who could help shape the Imperium into something truly great. Your perspective, your humor, your love of liberty—these are qualities that could benefit all of humanity."

Valorian looked into the Emperor's eyes, seeing not just power and authority, but also a vision of a united human race. For a moment, he glimpsed the weight of responsibility his father carried.

"You know," Valorian said slowly, "most fathers would just ask their sons to take over the family business. But you? You're offering me a galaxy." He chuckled, shaking his head. "It's a hell of a sales pitch, I'll give you that."

The Emperor smiled. "Then you'll consider it?"

Valorian's expression turned serious again. "I'll do more than consider it. I'll negotiate. You want the Independence Cluster? Fine. But we do it on my terms. We maintain a degree of autonomy—call us a suzerain state if you like the fancy terminology. In exchange, we'll put our production capabilities to work for the Imperium. How does 80% of your quality gear, warships, and weaponry sound?"

The Emperor's eyebrows rose slightly. "An ambitious offer. You drive a hard bargain, Franklin."

"Hey, you wanted a son—you got one. Complete with rebellious phase and contractual negotiations," Valorian grinned. "Take it or leave it, old man."

For a long moment, the Emperor was silent, his gaze piercing as he studied Valorian. Then, to the Primarch's surprise, he laughed—a genuine, hearty laugh that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Liberty Spire.

"Very well," the Emperor said, extending his hand. "You have a deal, my son. Welcome to the Imperium of Man."

Valorian took his father's hand, shaking it firmly. "Glad to be aboard, Dad. Now, how about we celebrate? I've got a bottle of Novian whiskey that'll put hair on your chest. Well, more hair. You've already got the whole 'majestic beard' thing going on."

As they shared a drink, Valorian couldn't help but study the Emperor. Despite the aura of power and the weight of his responsibilities, Valorian saw in him something unexpected—a man. A remarkable, superhuman man to be sure, but a man nonetheless. Not a god, not a mythical figure, but a father with an impossible dream and the will to make it reality.

"You know," Valorian said, swirling the whiskey in his glass, "I've got to admit, you're not quite what I expected."

The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what did you expect?"

Valorian shrugged. "I don't know. Something more... godlike, I suppose. Don't get me wrong, the whole 'golden aura of power' thing is impressive. But sitting here, sharing a drink? You seem almost normal. Well, as normal as a superpowered, galaxy-conquering father figure can be."

The Emperor's expression softened. "I am not a god, Franklin. Merely a man with a vision and the means to achieve it. It is important that you understand this."

"Oh, I understand," Valorian nodded. "And I think I prefer it this way. Gods are distant, unknowable. But a man? A man can be reasoned with, can make mistakes, can learn and grow. It makes this whole 'joining the family business' thing a bit less daunting."

The Emperor studied him for a moment. "You have a unique perspective, my son. It will serve you well in the times to come."

Valorian raised his glass in a toast. "To unique perspectives, then. And to family reunions that come with galactic conquest."

"You know, Franklin, seeing all this... it reminds me of a time long past. A time when humanity stood at the peak of its achievement."

Valorian's expression softened. "Yeah, I've read the histories. Must be something, seeing it all again after so long."

The Emperor nodded, a distant look in His eyes. "It is... both heartening and bittersweet. A reminder of what we lost, and what we fight to reclaim."

"Well," Valorian said, clapping the Emperor on the shoulder, "looks like you've found the right bunch of folks to help with that reclamation. Though I have to warn you, our methods might be a bit... unorthodox."

The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Valorian's grin turned wolfish. "Let's just say we believe in the power of superior firepower and a good sense of humor. Speaking of which, have you heard the one about the Ork, the Eldar, and the Guardsman who walk into a bar?"

Before the Emperor could respond, a comm-link on His armor chimed. He activated it, listening for a moment before turning back to Valorian. "It seems your integration into the Imperium begins sooner than expected. A fleet approaches - your gene-sons, the Astartes I created from your genetic template."

Valorian's eyes widened. "My what now? You mean to tell me I'm a father already? And here I thought I was being careful!"

The Emperor's expression remained serious. "These warriors will form your legion, the vanguard of your forces in the Great Crusade. They will need guidance, leadership... and perhaps a touch of your unique personality."

Valorian rubbed his hands together, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Oh, this is going to be fun. Alright, 'pops', let's go meet the kids. I've got some ideas for a welcoming committee that'll knock their power-armored socks off."

As they made their way to prepare for the Astartes' arrival, the Emperor found Himself both intrigued and slightly concerned by Valorian's enthusiasm. This son, the first Primarch He had found, was unlike any He had anticipated. The coming years, He realized, would be interesting indeed.

"Oh, and dad?" Valorian called over his shoulder. "We're definitely going to have to talk about this whole 'Emperor' thing. Seems a bit stuffy if you ask me. How about we go with something more casual? Big E, perhaps?"

The Emperor sighed, a mix of fond exasperation and growing amusement. "We shall see, Franklin. We shall see."

The Emperor's golden form shimmered as He prepared to depart, leaving Franklin Valorian with a data-slate containing crucial information about the Great Crusade and the formation of the Astartes legions.

"I leave this in your hands, Franklin," the Emperor said, His voice resonating with authority. "Begin your crusade across the galaxy. I expect the first shipment of equipment within the next few months."

Valorian grinned, saluting with a flourish. "Aye aye, Captain... or should I say, Emperor? Don't worry, we'll have those goodies ready before you can say 'For the Imperium!'"

As the Emperor's ship departed, leaving a golden trail in the sky, Denzel, Valorian's right-hand man, approached. His eyes were wide with awe.

"By the stars, Franklin," Denzel breathed, "What manner of being was that? He seemed... like a god clad in gold."

Valorian chuckled, clapping Denzel on the shoulder. "A god? Nah, just a man with a dream, my friend. A man who wants nothing more than to unite his people. Nothing more, nothing less."

Denzel shook his head, still dazed. "If you say so. But what now? What did he leave you with?"

"Oh, just a little light reading," Valorian quipped, waving the data-slate.