Premise of a new imperial doctrine

The droid production facility had been reinforced and optimized over the following weeks.The entire space was dedicated to mechanical manufacturing — cables hung from the steel beams, feeding power to consoles, automated forges, and makeshift workstations.

That morning, around fifty engineers and technicians had gathered — all survivors who had taken refuge at the Takagi estate. They sat on improvised benches, dressed in newly distributed red coats. Most were former mechanics, IT specialists, welders, researchers, students… They had accepted Aurélien's authority because he seemed to know what he was doing — and above all, because he was building a future. Yet they still didn't fully grasp what it all meant.

On a simple stage made of steel plates, Aurélien stood, flanked by two BX droids, with a holographic screen behind him. Two of his mechadendrites oscillated slowly around him, lending an eerie strangeness to his otherwise calm figure.

He raised his hand, and silence fell."You are here because you have skills. And because you have chosen not merely to survive… but to rebuild."

He paused. A breeze carried the scent of heated metal."I gave you these red coats not to impose an identity, but to mark a transition. You will no longer be just engineers. You will be the pillars of a new future."

Their expressions remained uncertain, hesitant. Some whispered, others frowned."But to do that, you must understand what we are trying to build. In a world that has collapsed, if we want to avoid repeating past mistakes, we must lay new foundations."

Aurélien activated the projector.

The image that appeared was of a stylized, winged figure, holding a torch in one hand and a key in the other. Two skulls adorned the winged body — one crowned with laurels, the other partially composed of mechanical elements. (see the cover) It wasn't religious — it was an allegory, powerful, almost ancient.

With solemn voice, Aurélien shared his vision:"Long ago, in a dream — or perhaps a vision — I saw a man known as the Emperor. He was humanity's guide. Not a king, not a god. A builder. A protector. A man who believed that true human strength lay in our ability to understand, to create, to master our environment."

The engineers listened, surprised. A man raised his hand — a former aerospace technician."And this dream… is it real? Or is it some kind of myth? A metaphor?"

Aurélien smiled."This dream is a guide. Like science. Like truth. It doesn't matter where it comes from. What matters is what it pushes us to accomplish."

He turned to the rest of the group."There is also another model, more ancient, more dogmatic: that of the Tech-Priests. They worshiped machines as divinities, followed rigid, sacred rituals, repeating gestures without ever understanding them. Their world collapsed. Ours will too, if we only copy."

He tapped on the console, displaying a maxim:

"What is divine is not in the machine, but in the intelligence that creates it. And what is sacred is not ancient knowledge, but the unending pursuit of understanding."

A respectful silence settled. The phrase resonated in the hall like a motto.

The magos continued:"I'm not asking you to believe. I'm asking you to seek. To question. To build. This red coat is the symbol of a commitment — a commitment to advance humanity through knowledge, experimentation, and discipline."

He pulled a small notebook from his coat — black and red, encased in a metallic frame."This is the Manual of the Omnissiah. In it, you will record your discoveries, observations, failures, and innovations. It is not sacred. It is alive. And each page you add will be one more step toward the light."

He handed it to a young woman in the front row — Akemi, once a student in biotechnology. She opened it hesitantly, then nodded slowly.

Aurélien continued."From this day on, we are no longer just a group of survivors. This complex will be the Forge of Awakening. Each of you will have a role to play in this system. Knowledge will be archived, codified, and shared. And eventually, what we create here — systems, droids, structures, doctrines — will be transmitted and benefit all of humanity."

He paused. His mechadendrites stilled."The machine is our arm. The mind, our guide. Progress, our duty."

After the speech, the engineers returned to their stations with transformed attitudes. The skepticism hadn't vanished, but a new curiosity had been sparked. In the hours that followed, several approached Aurélien with design ideas, circuit improvements, coordination algorithms for droids.

Some began engraving the stylized symbol shown during the presentation on their tools: the flame of intellect against a background of mechanical cogs.

In an alcove, Akemi was writing in her notebook:"Today, I realized that knowledge is not a tool. It is a responsibility."

Aurélien's speech had ended hours earlier.The large industrial hall once again buzzed with the sound of tools. Generators made the ground vibrate, workstations had resumed activity, and holographic consoles displayed constantly shifting mechanical schematics.

Near a workbench, a small group of engineers gathered around a metal table, coffee cups in hand, discussing what they had just heard.

Yamada, a gruff man in his fifties and former maintenance chief in an assembly plant, grumbled as he adjusted the red collar of his new coat."Did you see him? He looks like some cult preacher. A cult in red coats with robot arms."

He glanced toward the now-empty stage."And now we're supposed to write in some damn 'sacred manual'? I signed up to fix droids, not become some tech monk."

Saito, a quiet man in his thirties with a tired face, nodded with a sarcastic smile."Honestly? I'm not here to believe in anything. I'm here because outside, there are zombies that'll eat your brain before you can even scream. So yeah, I'll write in the manual. I'll even engrave the symbol if it keeps me alive."

Akemi, the young biotech student whom Aurélien had entrusted with the first notebook, stood up, visibly annoyed."He didn't say it was dogma. He specifically emphasized the pursuit of understanding, questioning, and creating. He's not asking you to worship anything… He's asking you to think."

Yamada shrugged."Maybe. But I worked thirty years for bosses who said 'think differently.' In the end, the plant shut down and the robots we built took our jobs. Now the irony is, we're fixing them… to die in our place outside?"

Mikako, a mechanic from a rural background, looked at the symbol she had etched onto her wrench — a stylized flame above a cogwheel."I don't know about you guys… but it spoke to me. Maybe he's crazy, or a visionary, or both. But at least he's doing something. He's still building, and it's not just the physical world."

Akemi nodded, a fire in her eyes."And he talks about the future. About knowledge transfer. About structure. He doesn't just want to survive… he wants us to be stronger than before. I was in university before all this. No one ever talked about the future like he does."

Saito took a sip of coffee, thoughtful."Well… if we have to start over, might as well try to do it right this time. I've seen how he works. The guy doesn't just dream — he codes, he builds, he tests. I can deal with a little messianism if there's real output behind it."

A short silence followed. The mechanical sounds continued around them: droids being assembled, 3D printers projecting components, servo-skulls undergoing calibration.

Then Yamada sighed."Okay. Maybe he is nuts. But he's our nutjob. And as long as he keeps us alive, I say: 'Glory to the machine-whatever and the torch of the intel-thing.'"

"Omnissiah," Akemi corrected with a small smile.

"Yeah, that. Cheers."They raised their cups and tapped them together with a symbolic clink.

Such quiet conversations became more frequent in the days that followed. It wasn't faith yet, not even full acceptance… but something vital had begun to sprout: interest.

And in this ruined world, where comfort no longer existed, where days were uncertain and nights were dangerous, a structure, a direction, and an ideology built on knowledge began to shine like a light in the darkness.

Aurélien, for his part, observed these discussions from a distance, and took note of everything. He knew that belief could not be commanded — it must be cultivated. And in the metal and effort of these men and women, he already saw the seeds of a future forged not by blind faith… but by enlightened will.

...

Night had draped the Takagi estate in a cold mantle.

On the observation terrace, three silhouettes stood under the moonlight.

Aurélien stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, gazing out at the distant city. To his left, Semiramis, cloaked in deep purple, surveyed the horizon with a sharp gaze. To his right, Saeko, katana at her waist, arms crossed, silently studied the face of the man she loved.

The silence was thick, but not empty. It echoed with heavy thoughts, veiled anticipations.

"You're tense," Saeko said softly, her voice deep and composed. "Is it the city… or what you think it's hiding?"

Aurélien inclined his head slightly. "What's coming... what I feel... is beyond the undead. At least they're simple. Predictable."

He paused. "But ideas… ideas can't be killed. They take root in the cracks and feed on fear and doubt."

Semiramis tilted her head, intrigued. "You speak like a priest, Aurélien. You build machines, factories, an army… and now, a faith?"

Aurélien slowly turned from the horizon to face the two women.

"This world has no values left. No moral axis. Governments have fallen, science is dismissed as nonessential, religion is either absent or corrupted. If I want to stop chaos from consuming what remains of the human spirit… I must offer an alternative."

"A religion?" asked Saeko, her brows slightly furrowed.

"No…" he replied calmly. "A sacred discipline. A worldview capable of uniting minds without chaining them to dead dogma. A synthesis."

He took a few steps across the terrace.

"The Emperor's dream: a world where humanity rises through knowledge, self-mastery, and civilization. And the Mechanicum's order: faith in intelligence, in creation, in the symbiosis between flesh and machine."

Then he declared, in a calm yet cutting voice: "What is divine is not in the machine, but in the intelligence that creates it. And what is sacred is not ancient knowledge, but the relentless pursuit of understanding."

Semiramis crossed her arms, doubtful. "So, you want to create a doctrine. A new moral framework. Do you really think people will follow you?"

"Some will refuse. Some will laugh. But others… others will understand. Because deep down, they'll feel that the void calls for something. And Chaos is not fought with weapons alone. It is fought with meaning."

Saeko spoke, her tone a blend of admiration and clarity: "And you, you claim to carry that torch. To offer a path. Do you intend to be worshipped, Aurélien? To be revered as a god?"

He turned to her, and this time, his gaze softened.

"I don't want a cult of personality. But I want to build a fortress within the minds of men. Something stronger than fear, sturdier than doubt. Because if I don't... something else will. And that something… has already tried to swallow me."

Semiramis exchanged a brief glance with Saeko. The swordswoman stepped closer to Aurélien and placed a hand on his chest.

"You speak of enemies no one sees yet. Of voices only you seem to hear. Chaos? It's just a word for now."

"A word…" Aurélien echoed, his gaze distant. "But a word that will soon take a thousand forms. Cults. Hallucinations. Dimensional breaches. This world has cracked. Mana is a breach. The rest will follow."

The memories of the Magos he had merged with haunted him. So many had fallen to the whispers. Even Horus, the favored son, the Emperor's right hand, succumbed—plunging the galaxy into an age of infernal torment.

A heavy silence fell.

"So, you want to create a preventative faith. A mental fortress before the invisible invasion," whispered Semiramis.

Aurélien nodded.

"Exactly. And it begins with my engineers. With symbols. Words. Codes. A liturgy of knowledge. A sacred respect for logic, for research, for self-improvement."

Saeko gently squeezed Aurélien's hand. "Then we'll follow you. But remember…"

She looked up at him, resolute. "He who lights a flame in the night also draws in moths… and monsters."

Aurélien gave a sad smile. "That's why I forge this light from metal. And ensure it never flickers."

Without another word, Aurélien walked away, his footsteps muffled by the terrace gravel. His mechadendrites folded like the wings of a resting metal bird, he disappeared into the shadows of a corridor, leaving behind the weight of his intentions — and the echo of a vision still misunderstood.

The terrace fell silent once more. The rustling of bamboo in the wind, the murmur of leaves gliding across stone, the distant splash of a fountain. Under the pale moonlight, Semiramis and Saeko remained alone, silent for a moment.

Semiramis let out a soft, husky laugh.

"That boy has no idea what he's stirring," she said in a veiled, almost caressing tone. "Chaos… isn't repelled by metal or machines alone."

Saeko turned her head, wary.

Semiramis gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I've seen kingdoms burn, strangled by faceless cults. Entire cities devoured by impious prayers. What he calls dark gods… I've met them, under different names."

Saeko raised an eyebrow. "You're implying you come from another world."

"I'm not implying," she said calmly. "I'm stating it."

She turned to Saeko with a strange tenderness in her eyes.

"I've seen worlds fall. Not conquered—no. But rot from within, gnawed by whispers without name or face. Chaos doesn't strike hard. It whispers. It seduces. It waits."

She stopped before an unlit lantern, brushing its cold surface with her fingers.

"Where it passes, even the stars begin to doubt their light."

"I've seen heroes become gods. Then be devoured by what they tried to surpass."

"And those who face it alone—without gods, without creed, without chains—often become its champions… or its victims."

A pause.

"Sometimes both."

"He is… unique. Dangerously intelligent, yes. Too young, of course. But above all… he stares into the abyss without flinching. That's rare."

She moved with grace, her gown whispering over the stone. Her shadow blended with the night—majestic, almost unreal.

"Chaos… has likely already seen him. Perhaps even approached him. But he… he does not turn away. And that, I must admit… intrigues me."

Saeko clenched her fists. "He won't fall."

"Perhaps. But it's precisely that uncertainty that moves me," murmured Semiramis. "The tragic… do you understand?"

She slowly approached the balustrade, letting her gaze drift into the darkness. The wind played in her dark hair, and her voice grew deeper, almost elegiac.

"A man who sees the Abyss. Who knows he likely won't return. But goes anyway. Not for glory. Not out of duty. But because no one else can."

She closed her eyes.

"It's beautiful, in a terrible way. Like an unfinished poem, written in blood."

Silence fell again, heavier this time. A rustle of tension.

"That kind of man… those who shape reality to their will… are rare. Dangerous, but rare. And I've learned to recognize when a newborn star pierces the fog of apocalypse."

Saeko lightly grasped the hilt of her sword, but her posture eased. She sensed no threat in Semiramis's words—only raw lucidity. And barely concealed fascination.

"Do you want to manipulate him?" she asked bluntly.

Semiramis laughed softly. "No. I want to see how far he'll go. Maybe even help him not lose himself."

She turned, and for the first time, her gaze held something more than calculation or amusement. A form of intense, almost intimate attention. She murmured to herself:

"It would be a waste… to let such a fire burn alone in the dark."

Saeko said nothing. She understood. She had seen that light in the eyes of other women before—a promise, or a silent decision.

Aurélien had caught the attention of an ancient spirit. Of a queen who had outlived gods and poisons.

For better… or for worse?

Author's Note:I tried to preserve the religious overtones I love in the Imperium without hindering the development of the Empire. Maybe I messed it up? But it doesn't matter—it's a fanfic, and I'm writing for fun.

Also, is Semiramis really the one from the Fate universe? Who knows, in this vast and misunderstood multiverse?

If you enjoyed it, feel free to leave a comment.