The Eternal Emperor

A.N: Too tired to spend more time editing, hopefully not too many got away from me. I will be removing the previous notice chapter tomorrow, thank you all for your support, love to read your messages and comments, though i cant answer all, and... hope you all enjoy :), I'm beat :P

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The announcement came from the Imperial Palace, its transmission stretching across the galaxy, from the Core Worlds to the furthest Outer Rim. Every Imperial broadcast channel, every holoterminal, every warship—every ear, human or otherwise—was made to listen. 

The Emperor stood before them. 

Bathed in the glow of the great banners of the Empire, dressed in the flowing white that had become his signature, he was a figure of absolute authority. His sharp violet gaze held the weight of galaxies, his very presence commanding silence. 

And then, he spoke. 

"The CIS is over. The Separatist Council is no more. These so-called leaders, who abandoned their soldiers, their own people, have met their end at the hands of their own creation. General Grievous, once the supreme commander of the CIS, executed them for their cowardice, for their allegiance to the Jedi, and for their disobedience to the throne. And upon the ashes of their betrayal, he has sworn loyalty to the Empire—to the throne." 

A moment of stillness. 

Then the next words fell like thunder. 

"The entire droid army—once the hammer of the Separatists, once the scourge of our soldiers—now marches under our banner. The might of the Empire has multiplied in strength, and the galaxy shall know peace under the unyielding grip of order. No longer will our armies falter due to the cowardice of politicians. No longer will our worlds suffer from lack of reinforcements. Every soldier shall have his due. Every front shall be supported. And the enemies of the Empire shall be crushed." 

Then, a shift. 

A warning. 

The violet eyes of the Emperor darkened as he took a step forward. 

"But even as we take victory, treachery festers." 

A holoimage flickered to life beside him. 

The image of Bail Organa. 

His once-proud stance now marked by betrayal. 

"Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan. The man who facilitated the attack on Coruscant. The man whose treasonous actions led to the death of Senator Padmé Amidala. A man who, even now, plots against the throne, desperate to restore the corruption of the old Republic." 

The room dimmed as the Emperor raised his hand. 

"General Grievous, Supreme Commander of the Droid Legions, hear my command. The throne grants you the authority to bring Bail Organa before me—dead or alive." 

The cameras panned, and for a brief moment, Grievous himself was seen. 

Kneeling before the Emperor, his white cape dragging on the floor. 

The warlord, the butcher of Jedi, the terror of the battlefield… now sworn to the throne. 

The moment was burned into history. 

=====================

The halls of the former Emperor's residence were deathly silent. 

Lelouch vi Britannia—**the new Emperor, the true ruler of the galaxy—**moved through its corridors with the grace of a specter, his pristine white garments a stark contrast against the dark, looming walls of his predecessor's sanctum. This was the lair of Darth Sidious, the den of a master manipulator, a man who had spun the Clone Wars into existence and used its chaos to carve his and by proxy Lelouch's, path to power. 

And now, he was dead. 

The doors before him, carved with intricate engravings of ancient Sith runes, groaned as they slowly parted. A mechanical whir accompanied the movement, revealing a lone droid standing in the doorway. 

It was an unassuming thing. Humanoid, frail, unarmed. Unlike the war machines now serving his Empire, this one had no armor plating, no weapons grafted into its limbs. It was made for service, not battle. 

Yet, it was waiting for him. 

The droid's photoreceptors flickered as it registered his presence, and then, to Lelouch's mild surprise, it bowed. 

"Welcome, Master." 

Lelouch regarded it with a measured gaze. 

"You're expecting me?" 

"Of course. The succession protocols have been implemented. All that was once Lord Sidious's... is now yours." 

The droid straightened, stepping aside to allow him entry. 

"The Dark Lord's study is prepared. You will find what you need within." 

Lelouch took a step forward, his footsteps muffled by the rich, woven carpets beneath him. He was no fool—this place should have been laced with traps, layered in security. And yet... there was nothing. 

No armed guards. 

No automated defenses. 

Not even a simple biometric lock. 

Only a single, defenseless droid. 

Too easy. 

His violet eyes narrowed as he reached out with the Force, his senses unfurling like an unseen current, probing the room for any hidden dangers. The cold, polished surfaces reflected nothing but his own image back at him. The air was thick with the weight of the past, with lingering echoes of a Sith Lord's presence, but no threats remained. 

A game, then. 

A final, unseen move left behind by his former master. 

The droid, ever patient, gestured further inside. 

"The laboratory is also prepared, should you require it." 

Lelouch gave the machine one last glance before nodding. "You're dismissed." 

The droid bowed again before departing, its servos humming softly as it disappeared into the shadows. Lelouch didn't watch it leave. His attention was already shifting, drawn toward the massive study before him. 

The room was vast, lined with towering shelves filled with records, datacrons, and Sith tomes. The dark wood of the desk was immaculate, untouched—yet upon it, a collection of items had been deliberately arranged. 

Each piece held significance. 

Each piece was meant for him. 

Lelouch stepped forward, his gloved fingers brushing against the surface of the first artifact. 

A small, unassuming device, yet within its data banks rested the keys to a colossal army. The entire Separatist droid network, now his to command. With these codes, he could reassign battle groups, issue orders across the stars, and integrate them seamlessly into his Empire's war machine. 

Sidious had planned to use them, to disable them upon his return from the Senate perhaps, perhaps on teh coming weeks, well, now he'd never know. 

Next, a set of aged documents—official seals still intact, stamped with the marks of the InterGalactic Banking Clan. A quiet smirk touched his lips. 

Sidious had been many things, but a fool was not one of them. He had not simply waged war—he had controlled its currency. 

With these, Lelouch inherited more than just wealth. He inherited control over loans, debts, war funding. The Republic had borrowed. The Separatists had borrowed. 

And finally... 

The deep blue crystal of the Sith Holocron pulsed softly, as if alive. It was small—yet the knowledge contained within could topple empires. 

The last whispers of a dead Emperor. 

Sidious had left something behind. Perhaps a message, a final lesson. Perhaps records of his own experiments with the Force. Lelouch had already glimpsed such paths through a far greater teacher, one who whispered in laughter from the warp of reality itself. 

Tzeentch. 'I'm flattered' 

But still, every piece of knowledge had its value. 

Lelouch reached down, picking up the holocron, its surface cool against his palm. He turned it over, studying its shape, the delicate inscriptions along its edges. 

What secrets had Sidious clung to in his final days? 

He would find out soon enough. 

For now, however… 

Lelouch exhaled softly, his fingers tightening around the crystal. 

This was his Empire. 

This was his throne. 

=====================

Evening Broadcast 

Host: 

"Tonight, we discuss a name that has long been synonymous with terror, a name that once sent shivers down the spine of every Republic citizen—the former Supreme Commander of the Confederacy, the infamous General Grievous. And yet, in a turn of fate that no one could have predicted, he now stands as a loyal enforcer of the Empire. A soldier of the Emperor himself." 

A pause. The studio is filled with hushed murmurs as the weight of the discussion settles in. The holo-screens behind the host display archival footage: images of the Kaleesh cyborg cutting down Jedi, battlefields littered with droids under his command, and finally, his recent acceptance of Imperial authority. 

Host: 

"Which begs the question, citizens of the Empire—what do we make of this?" 

A panel of commentators sits across from the host, each representing different viewpoints. 

Guest: Senator Olwen Rath (Former Republic Senator, Pro-Imperial) 

An aging man, his voice steady, his expression grim. 

"Let's look at the facts. General Grievous was once a ruthless adversary of the Republic, a warlord who brought the Clone Wars to our homes. **But—**and this is the key point—his primary targets were always the Jedi. 

"In hindsight, was he wrong?" 

A murmur of agreement ripples through the audience. 

"Look where we are now. The Jedi were traitors. They orchestrated a coup against Emperor Lelouch, they manipulated the Republic, and they used the Clone Army as their personal weapon. And yet, years before their treachery was exposed, General Grievous saw them for what they were. He fought them. He hunted them. Not because he wanted power, but because he knew." 

Guest: Former Admiral Zaron Veth (Republic Navy Veteran, Neutral Stance) 

A man with a military bearing, his tone measured. 

"But does that truly justify his past actions? His hands are stained with the blood of Republic soldiers, of civilians caught in the crossfire. Can we simply wipe away those crimes because it happens to be convenient for us now?" 

Guest: Syla Merren (Political Analyst, Anti-Grievous Stance) 

An outspoken woman, tapping her fingers against the table impatiently. 

"Precisely. The man was a terrorist—he razed Republic outposts, obliterated fleets, and spread fear across entire systems. Just because the Jedi turned out to be corrupt doesn't mean we suddenly call him a hero! If the war had ended differently, we'd be trying him for war crimes!" 

Host: 

"Then let's ask this—if General Grievous had fought for the Republic instead of the CIS, would we still be having this discussion?" 

Guest: Syla Merren 

"That's not the point, we are talking about the lives lost under his assaults here." 

Guest: Senator Olwen Rath 

Leaning forward, voice growing sharper. 

"Let's be brutally honest. What choice did Grievous have? 

"Suppose, for argument's sake, that he had stayed with the Republic. Suppose he had tried to expose the Jedi from within. 

"What would have happened?" 

A pause. The answer is evident before he even speaks it. 

"He would have been silenced. Labeled a rogue, an extremist. The Senate was nothing more than a puppet of the Jedi Order—they never would have listened. 

"So what did he do? He fought. He fought because there was no other option. And as history has now proven, he was right." 

Guest: Admiral Zaron Veth 

"Well, in either case, if we think about it, then his sentence is already out isn't it? I find it hard to see a scenario where the General will find a life outside the army. He will live and die as one of the Emperor's enforcers." 

A beat of silence. The tension in the studio is palpable. 

Host: 

"So what do we call him now? A hero? A soldier who saw the truth before the rest of the Republic? Or a war criminal who simply 'lucked out' with the tides of fate?" 

A moment of quiet. The debate rages on, but outside the holonet studios, on the streets of Coruscant, the people have already begun making up their minds… 

Voices of the Empire – Civilian Interviews 

[HoloNews Reporter]: "Excuse me, sir, may we ask you about General Grievous? What are your thoughts on his recent allegiance to the Empire?" 

[Middle-Aged Civilian]: "I fought in the war. I was stationed on Anaxes when he attacked—lost good men to him. But I can't lie and say I didn't fear him. He was ruthless, yeah, but now? He's on our side. And frankly, with the Jedi exposed for what they were… " 

[HoloNews Reporter]: "Miss, how do you feel about General Grievous being granted authority by the Emperor?" 

[Younger Woman]: "I don't trust him. People say he hated the Jedi, but that doesn't make him one of us. How do we know he won't betray us when it suits him? All damn xenos are the same." 

A.N: Yep, random person interviewed was one of the first believers. 

[Older Man, Veteran]: "That's the thing. Once a traitor, always a traitor." 

[Teenager, Enthusiastic]: "I think it's cool. I mean, he was the scariest guy during the war, and now he's one of the Emperor's enforcers? That's wild! No one's gonna mess with us!" 

[Retired Clone Trooper]: "I fought against him in the war. A damn menace. But... if its the Emperor's orders, that's all I need to know. I swore an oath to serve. So did he. That's enough." 

=====================

The world had a name, but so many of its population was gone it was not even worht remembering once it was liberated. 

A barren place, scarred by war, its cities in ruin, its population too small to sustain itself. When the Emperor's forces reclaimed it, the surviving civilians were relocated to safer worlds. 

It was then that the decree was issued—this world would not be abandoned. 

Instead, it would be given a new purpose. 

"To the soldiers who have bled for the Empire, to the brothers who have known no home but war—this world belongs to you. From this day forward, let it be known as Krieg." 

—Emperor Lelouch vi Britannia, Galactic Address 

A world for the clones. A world of clones. A home, at last. 

And so, the first Imperial clone regiments touched down upon Krieg's surface, setting foot upon a world that was theirs by right. They saw what had been left for them—monuments rising from the earth, towering obelisks of cold black stone. 

Upon these obelisks, etched in gleaming silver, were names. 

CT-6922 

ARC-5555 

CT-99 

CT-27-1942 

Every clone who had fallen in the Clone Wars. 

Thousands. Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands... Their names immortalized in the stone, never to be forgotten. 

Some troopers stood silent, helmets in their hands, gazes fixed upon the vast spires. Others approached, running gloved fingers across familiar ID numbers, tracing the names of brothers lost. 

For the first time in their existence, the clones had a place to remember. 

Krieg was more than a home— to those who really knew... it was a promise fulfilled. 

The Imperial Clone Corps would have full control over their cloning technology, granted autonomy under the Emperor's direct authority. 

As the sun set over Krieg, as the first Imperial banners were raised, the clones stood together before the monolithic grave of their fallen. 

And with voices strong and unified, they saluted. 

"For the Emperor!" 

=====================

The chamber was dimly lit, illuminated only by the soft glow of holo-displays and the pulsing energy conduits running along the walls. Beyond the panoramic viewport, the vast sprawl of Coruscant glittered below like a field of stars, its ceaseless motion a testament to the Empire's power. Above it all, looming in the heavens like a god's hammer, the Star Forge radiated raw, unrestrained potential. 

And at its heart, Lelouch vi Britannia, Emperor of the Galactic Empire, stood in contemplation. 

Behind him, the shadows twisted. A presence slithered into existence, unseen by all but him. 

"So much to do, so little time," came the voice of Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways, filled with both mockery and amusement. "The weight of an Empire is such a dreadful burden, isn't it?" 

Lelouch exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as though trying to push aside the invisible pressure. "You would know," he murmured, his violet eyes never leaving the endless cityscape below. "You thrive in chaos, in plots upon plots, in endless cycles of cause and effect. You watch as the universe shifts like a grand game board, moving pieces you barely even need to touch. It must be entertaining to watch me toil, carving a path through this madness." 

The laughter that followed was both silky and jagged, a sound that did not echo in the room but instead curled directly into Lelouch's mind. 

"Oh, you wound me, dear Emperor. Do you think me so cruel? Do you think I do not admire your craft?" 

Lelouch allowed himself a small, knowing smirk. "You admire it because you see the pieces moving exactly as we like. My Empire grows, the Forge of Souls is now fully in motion, and the First Great Crusade is no longer just a dream. Soon, the banners will rise and this galaxy will see war beyond anything they have ever known." 

His eyes narrowed as he gestured outward, toward the billions upon billions of people who lived beneath his rule. "And yet… they are not ready." 

The religion of the God-Emperor had spread like wildfire, its embers fanned by both fear and faith. But faith alone was not enough. They were still disorganized, little more than zealous mobs devoted to a cause without structure. He could feel the energy behind it, the boundless devotion, but it was wild, untamed. 

That would change. 

He would change it. 

"Ah, yes," Tzeentch purred, "this is where the true challenge lies, does it not? To wield devotion as effectively as you wield strategy? You are no mere warlord, no mere conqueror—no, you wish to reshape civilization itself. I wonder, do you even know where to begin?" 

Lelouch tilted his head slightly, his smirk unwavering. "You act as if I haven't already begun." 

Tzeentch chuckled, the air around him warping, twisting with unseen patterns of reality. 

But Lelouch turned away, dismissing the god's amusement for now. His mind was elsewhere—on the endless work before him. 

The war may have ended, but the true work had only just begun. 

The R&D divisions were working at a pace never before seen in galactic history. With Kuat Drive Yards fully under Imperial control, along with Fondor, Rothana, and the remnants of the Separatist shipyards, the production capacity of the Empire had been tripled—a behemoth of industry churning out warships, walkers, and weaponry on a scale unfathomable to the galaxy before this age. 

More ships, more droids, more weapons—more of everything. 

But expansion alone was not enough. It had to be organized, optimized, and refined. The Separatists had relied on overwhelming numbers; the Republic had relied on elite but scarce clone forces. Lelouch would forge something new—an army that balanced both quantity and quality, an imperial war machine that would never falter again. 

To achieve this, designs had to be standardized, production streamlined, and supply chains secured against inefficiency. Even now, the Engineering Guilds worked tirelessly, integrating the Star Forge into new shipyards and factories, testing the feasibility of additional or smaller, self-sustaining forges across key locations. 

If the Star Forge could create entire fleets in months, what could ten smaller forges do? A hundred? 

The answer was simple—complete and total military supremacy. 

While the military continued to expand, the Imperial government was still in its infancy. The old bureaucratic systems, bloated by centuries of Republic inefficiency, had been purged, but that left the question—what would replace it? 

Governors, Moffs, planetary administrators—the structure had to be strong, loyal, and efficient. The former Republic systems had been built on compromise and debate, but Lelouch had no patience for that. He would create a system where orders were clear, directives were enforced, and corruption was eradicated before it could take root. 

Every planetary governor would answer to the Throne. 

Every sector would be governed by Moffs who held absolute military and administrative power. 

Every Imperial citizen would know exactly where they stood in this new order. 

The clones, now citizens of their own world, would become a pillar of Imperial society. An example to be followed. 

=====================

The pieces were aligning. The groundwork was being laid. 

Everything was slowly starting to move forward. 

The First Great Crusade was on the horizon.