The Imperial Creed

Laertes' first action as Cardinal-Governor was to erect temples, cathedrals and chapels across Ophelia. A planet-wide appeal for donations swelled the faith's coffers, for believers were not only the majority of the population but also wealthy and generous. But they were not generous enough for some.
Laertes himself was satisfied - a kind but perhaps naïve convert to the faith, he believed the Emperor wanted sacrifice, devotion and hard work rather than grandiose cathedrals or gargantuan monuments. He was also convinced, as he had been when he opposed the jihadist faction of the Brothers of Ophelia, evangelization not coercion was the key to spreading the truth of the Emperor's divinity. Every city and settlement should have a place for the faithful to worship, but it should be built with whatever the faithful were able to give, and not from taxes squeezed from an unwilling population. Preaching, charitable works and an example to follow would bring unbelievers into the flock, and then the spires of the cathedrals would rise to truly reflect the Emperor's glory.
As the third century of the 31st millennium began, the Temple of the Savior Emperor was growing and powerful. It had come to dominate the Adepts of Terra, and while the faith was not formally tolerated and the atheistic Imperial Truth was the Imperium's official policy, in practice worship of the Emperor enjoyed a latitude which other faiths did not. This, however, did not satisfy the masters of the religion - who desired not only formal tolerance nor even official recognition, but enforced compliance and tithing from all the trillions of citizens of the Imperium.
Ophelia was not the first world ruled by an adherent to the faith, but it was the first whose governor was a formal member of the clergy and who had made acknowledgement of the Emperor's divinity a central pillar of his government. The Temple could not allow Laertes' gentle evangelization to be the order of the day.
Officially, the assassination of Laertes was blamed on the disaffected Brothers of Ophelia. In truth, this was unlikely to be the case - since his appointment as Cardinal-Governor and the accompanying schism, they had splintered still further. Riven by internecine conflict, their terrorist plots were easily foiled by Ophelia's security services. As much as they might have wished it were the case, the Brothers had neither the resources nor the organization to kill Laertes. It was far more likely the assassination was the work of an agent of the Temple of the Savior Emperor, perhaps guided and instructed by the man who succeeded Laertes as Cardinal-Governor of Ophelia.
Constantinus was a sickly man with aquiline features and the watery eyes of a fanatic. Born on Terra, he was sent as a theological advisor to Laertes when the latter was made Cardinal. Utterly devoted to the Temple of the Savior Emperor, he sought its advancement at any cost - even violation of the Temple's own doctrines. He was not deep in Laertes' confidence, who found his impious pragmatism abhorrent, but the Cardinal could not afford to publicly rebuke the man sent by the Ecclesiarch himself. And so it was when Laertes died that Constantinus was named Cardinal.
But not governor of Ophelia VII. The planet's charter was unchanged from when the first colonists had settled it; the governorship was a hereditary position, bound to the family of the master of the original colonization fleet. On his death, resignation or impeachment, the cabinet - a body of advisers appointed by the governor - chose his successor. Most often, they simply ratified his choice - normally, his eldest child - but they could select who they wished provided he was from the ruling family. During the Great Crusade, this had been a common policy, with such rights being granted to powerful nobles, merchants and even military commanders as a reward for service. Even had they been minded to change Ophelia's charter, the slow-grinding wheels of the Imperial Administration - now beginning to be called the Adeptus Administratum - would not make a change within the lifetime of Constantinus.
But it seemed as if there would be no member of Laertes' family to succeed him. His wife - grief-stricken by her husband's cruel murder at the hands of terrorists - was found dead by one of her servants, having taken poison and committed suicide, unwilling to continue alone. The heir apparent as governor would have been one of Laertes' children, but they each renounced their claim. His daughters took the veil and joined a cloistered order of contemplative nuns, withdrawing to a remote monastery where they had no contact with the outside world. His son, enraged and blaming his parents' deaths on the Brothers of Ophelia, swore vengeance against them and lead his father's bodyguard off-world on a crusade of retribution.
Such was the tale, at least, that Constantinus told during the homily of the mass of Laertes' funeral and his installation. Even in death Laertes' family served the Emperor - his daughters giving themselves to his worship, his son and bodyguards to punishment of his enemies, even his wife sacrificing herself so the Imperium would not need to support her with a pension now her purpose as matriarch was no more. Truly, Laertes' family was an exemplar and example for all pious devotees of the God-Emperor.
Which was why Constantinus himself was so humbled to have been accepted into that family! Yes, truly - the Cardinal had adopted Constantinus in secret shortly before his death, giving him the familial name of Laertes. The documents had simply been misplaced, but thanks to the efforts of the First Minister of Ophelia's Cabinet (a man newly-elevated following the treachery and removal of his senior colleagues) they had been discovered. Constantinus Laertes, the son of the first Cardinal-Governor, would - with a humble and heavy heart - assume his father's title, seat and office and lead Ophelia to a new and bright future.
That future came quickly, and while it was new many did not find it bright. To expand the cathedral in Ophelia's newly-renamed capital city of Saint Laertes (for such had the Cardinal been proclaimed) into a worthy tomb for such a loyal servant of the Emperor, Constantinus instituted a tithe for all members of the Temple of the Savior Emperor, rather than relying on their willing donations. "The Emperor knows what is best for you, how much you can afford," he explained to the people. "As he gave more than we can imagine to us, so too can you give more than you think to him."
Many, especially among the poorest, might have renounced their faith (at least officially) rather than pay the tithe, for those who were not adherents did not have to pay it and membership was not mandatory. "Gifts to the Emperor must be given willingly," explained Constantinus, "and are the duty of his followers, not those infidels laboring in benighted ignorance. Nor is coercion the way forward - Saint Laertes did not want that, and this poor and humble servant would follow in his glorious footsteps."
But while Constantinus preached a message of tolerance and freedom of religion, it was clear some of his followers did not heed him. There were reports of violence, and even some instances of it, where members of the Temple of the Savior Emperor attacked unbelievers and even members of rival sects. Ophelia's security forces did their best to prevent such attacks and protect the perfidious, but they were stretched too thin and their resources and numbers too few.
It was the genius of Constantinus which found a solution; a tax on those who were not members of the Temple to pay for the additional security needed. That the tax was higher than the tithe required for membership was purely coincidental and caused by simple economic pressures rather than any other factor. To make it easier for the tax collectors, the revenue service required all households eligible to pay the tax (that is, those who were not adherents) to display a prominent sign in their windows.
Within months of Constantinus' ascension to the position of Cardinal-Governor of Ophelia VII, the inevitable conclusion was clear. With contrary thoughts and philosophies effectively suppressed, it was only a matter of time before every Imperial soul on the planet was, at least in theory and by public profession, an adherent to what Constantinus was beginning to call "The Imperial Creed". He equated belief in the Emperor's divinity with loyalty to the Imperium itself, suggesting those who failed to acknowledge the Emperor as a god did not acknowledge him at all. Faith in the Emperor was faith in humanity. Failure to worship was tantamount to treachery.
Constantinus' success did not go unnoticed by other Cardinals or even the Eccelsiarch. In particular, his equating piety with patriotism was studied. This doctrine not only encouraged devotion to the Temple, but was also palatable to the High Lords of Terra - if formally incorporated into the teaching of the Temple of the Savior Emperor, the people's adherence to the faith would become valuable to the Imperium's government. An edict of toleration would be passed, followed almost inevitably - if the Temple played its cards right - by formal recognition as a permitted, or perhaps even mandated, state religion. In an Imperium of a million worlds and trillions of souls, it might take a millennium or more, but - sooner or later - it would happen.
Constantinus knew this of course - it had probably been his plan all along. But he also knew it would make him enemies in the college of Cardinals, other clergymen who desired the prestige and power of being the architect of the Temple's rise to prominence. Factions would develop, each trying to curry favor with the Ecclesiarch ... or perhaps depose him and take his place. For the sake of both the Temple and himself, Constantinus needed to make Ophelia the new center of the faith.
A man like Constantinus might have been able to do this without any assistance but, as fate would have it, the history of the Great Crusade lent a hand.