The Via Imperator

Constantinus did not rest on his laurels after rising to the Cardinalate-Governorship of Ophelia; despite the fact he had removed ambitious rivals from the cabinet and replaced them with men more amenable to his plans, he knew they must be pandered to or they might challenge his authority as he himself had challenged Laertes'. Rewarding them and restructuring the Ophelian constitution would allow him to consolidate his power and ensure not only his continued primacy on Ophelia, but his influence within the Temple of the Savior Emperor.
Rewarding them was simple. He had already seized the holdings of the former cabinet members executed for treason and now he expanded that investigation, purging the noble and merchant class of traitors. That these traitors were wealthy and independent-minded men was, of course, merely the natural course of events. "Is strength of will not merely defiance of the Emperor's plans?" he proclaimed as the pyres burned, shouting to be heard over the screams of the condemned. "Is service to the Emperor not its own reward, more precious than gold or jewels? Distrust those with their own ideas! Abhor those with wealth! Poverty and obedience are the virtues the Emperor desires! Cultivate them!" Constantinus was careful, of course, to make it clear that he merely carried out the will of the Emperor rather than indulging his own ideas, and that the lands, companies and treasure seized from the condemned was now owned by the Emperor, administered by the Temple and that he possessed nothing of his own.
On his cabinet he placed the heavy burden of day-to-day administration of these holdings, dividing responsibility among them. He himself would manage the Temple's - that is, the Emperor's - holdings on Ophelia VII itself with the cabinet members taking charge of land, mines and factories on the inhospitable but wealthy outer planets. With grave acknowledgement of the seriousness of their duties, the cabinet members left to manage the Emperor's wealth.
With potential rivals both rewarded and removed, Constantinus turned his attention to a reorganization of Ophelia's constitution. But this was not so easily accomplished - the Temple of the Savior Emperor was growing in power, but was not yet powerful enough to challenge the lords of Terra. The Adeptus Administratum resented interference in its domain and Constantinus did not have the political capital to force the Temple into a confrontation over the charter of a single world. Which is not to say he did not try; the matter was only settled when - on Holy Terra itself - a servitor-acolyte of the Ecclesiarch's camerlengo whispered to him. "His Holiness reminds you no good can come from contention with the Adeptus Administratum at this time. The charter of Ophelia VII will stand, perhaps for eternity. But there will be other worlds and, Emperor willing, they will be settled under a new arrangement. Your Eminence must be patient both in waiting for this to come and enduring the unfortunate situation of being the first extra-terran see."
But Constantinus was not easily thwarted. What he desired - a change in the charter so that the Imperial Commander of Ophelia would be the Cardinal of the diocese, elected and appointed by the Temple - would not happen. But if the Administratum would not change its rules, the Temple could - and would. He created a body of advisors, called the chancery and consisting of the members of Ophelia's cabinet, ordaining them to the priesthood of the Temple and the rank of Chancellor. Finally, he formally adopted each of them into the ruling family, giving them each the name Laertes.
And thus the charter of Ophelia was co-opted for the Temple's needs; with each family member being a celibate priest there could be no legitimate births into the family, and with the Cardinal-Governor being the paterfamilias he controlled all adoptive entry. The power of the Temple over the governorship of Ophelia was assured. This method, unchanged for over ten-thousand years, is still how Ophelia is governed. The charter remains as it was when the planet was first colonized during the Great Crusade, but the Ecclesiarchy's rules mean the Adeptus Ministorum is in complete control.
This arrangement is unique among the Cardinal-worlds of the Imperium - others were settled after the adoption of the Temple of the Savior Emperor as the Imperial Cult, or had their charters modified at that time. On those worlds, the governor is the Cardinal - whoever the Ecclesiarchy appoints to the position, without any reference to the Administratum. But Ophelia's unique situation has an interesting effect - and perhaps this was Constantinus' plan all along. The governor must be chosen from the ruling family, but the Cardinal does not need to be. In theory, the Ecclesiarchy could appoint whoever they wished to the see of Ophelia. In practice, that would leave the Cardinal nothing more than the head of the local church, unconnected from the government of the Ophelia system.
And so the practical effect of Constantinus' reforms was to grant the privilege of choosing the Cardinal to the Cabinet-Chancery of Ophelia, rather than the Ecclesiarch. Because of this, Ophelia enjoys an independence unique among all the Cardinal-worlds of the Imperium.
Even prior to the foundation of the Imperial Cult, the Ecclesiarch and the masters of the faith on Terra were aware of this. Constantinus had, to a degree, outmaneuvered them. In the 31st millennium, they did not have the political capital to challenge him without destroying all that had been accomplished on Ophelia for the faith, but that did not mean they accepted the situation. Patiently, they plotted and waited for the moment to be right.
Constantinus was, of course, ahead of them. His rivals and enemies were other Cardinals and senior clergymen; the Ecclesiarch himself was a more deliberative, cautious and far-sighted man. He kept an eye on those below him in case a challenger for his throne arose. He found Constantius' upstart ambition useful - it kept the Cardinals bickering and divided - but he still watched the Ophelian Cardinal with interest and care in case he moved against his master.
But Constantinus did not. Instead, he turned his attention to the mountains. The first governor's interpretation of the Emperor's edict still stood - that no-one should enter the mountains - but the legends that had begun a century or more before continued to grow. The Emperor had walked in the mountains, had come down from the mountains. The first atheistic governors of Ophelia had forbidden people to go into the mountains because there was something there that would reveal the Imperial Truth to be a lie. "The truth is in the mountains," became a common doxology.
It is uncertain if Constantinus knew what was in the mountains - it is possible scrying satellites or scouting servo skulls had been used to reveal it - but it was certain he would make capital about whatever was there, even if it were nothing but alpine wilderness. "That the Emperor came down from the mountains and walked along the valley, meeting the first of the humans to settle Ophelia at its mouth, is unquestionable!" he preached. "That he walked in the mountains, sanctifying that hither-to heathen soil with his sacred feet, is an unassailable truth! That the Emperor descended to us from the peaks to the valleys is beyond doubt! This is the way of the Emperor - he came down to us and so we must go up to him! The truth is in the mountains and the truth comes from the mountains! We must go to it, replenishing our faith at the wellspring of truth so that we can bring it through the valley down to the lowlands! Let us be the river of truth that flows from the source of truth! Walk with me! Walk with me to the mountains!"
Thus did Constantinus call for the first pilgrimage to the Ophelian mountains on Sanguinalia 247.M31. From the pulpit in the Cathedral of the Emperor Deified in the capital of Saint Laertes, Constantinus snatched up his crozier and strode from the sanctuary and down the nave. The ten-thousand strong congregation roared their acclamation and rose as one, following their Cardinal as he led them out of the Cathedral, through the city and towards the mouth of the valley. Watching on pict-screens throughout the continent and beyond, others rose and hastened to join the pilgrimage. A body of people, tens of millions strong, followed Constantinus, a solid mass of humanity united in devotion to the God-Emperor of Mankind. The Cardinal himself led the pilgrimage, striding tirelessly forward without hesitation or uncertainty. "The Emperor's truth sustains me and draws me on!" he proclaimed. "Nothing can withstand Mankind united in faith!" The elements conspired with him - rivers calming to let the pilgrimage through, brambles parting, crevasses closing and snow-squalls dying. Nothing could stop the pilgrimage from reaching its destination, the very peak of the highest mountain.
That is, at least, the way the Ecclesiarchy tells it. While there was certainly a pilgrimage to the mountains, it was probably not the spontaneous uprising depicted in the popular tales. Constantinus may have led the pilgrimage, but not walking at its head. He was an aged and sickly man, and the distance of the journey - not to mention the harsh conditions in the mountains - made that unlikely. The terrain of the mountains was - and still is - rugged and treacherous; it would have been all-but-impossible for unprepared civilians without specialized gear and significant supplies to walk the Via Imperator.
For that is how the pilgrimage route became known; the Via Imperator, "the Way of the Emperor". Had there been nothing in the mountains but rugged alpine terrain, the stark, cold beauty of Ophelia before she was colonized, it would have become a prized pilgrimage route - for the Emperor had walked here, fought here at the head of his Custodians and alongside the Primarch-Saint Rogal Dorn of the Imperial Fists. The very ground was sacred and on the long, arduous trek from the luxurious piety of the city of Saint Laertes at the valley mouth to the austere sanctity of the peaks, vice was drawn from pilgrims as surely as the rocky terrain drew blood from their feet.
But there was more. When Constantinus reached the summit of the centermost and tallest peak, he and his fellow pilgrims were greeted with a marvelous sight; a colossal statue surrounded by ten pillars, all wrought in gleaming adamantium. The pillars were in the Palatine-Terran style and the statue was of a beautiful woman wearing the armor of the Emperor's household during the Great Crusade locked in combat with a monstrous winged serpent. On a plinth beside it were graven the words "VERITY VINCIT VERMIS"; "Truth Conquers the Worm" in High Gothic.
That these words matched so perfectly with the homily Constantinus had preached immediately before setting out only validated the pilgrims' faith. The statue and pillars were reverently examined; the eternally-uncorroded adamantium could not be dated, of course, but it was obvious they dated from the Great Crusade, and were the work of the Emperor himself. No-one else had been in the mountains since he was here, and who else possessed the smithcraft to have wrought such things so precisely and without flaws?
The people immediately rallied to the person of Verity, calling her an Imperial Saint who had fought alongside the Master of Mankind and died at this very spot. being honored by the God-Emperor for her sacrifice with this statue. The Temple's historiographers privately disagreed - the statue was clearly entirely allegorical; there had never been a "Saint Verity" who defeated some serpent monster. That the Emperor and the Imperial Fists had won a Victoria Imperalis on Ophelia was a matter of historical fact, even if the campaign records were frustratingly scant. This statue was a representation of that - of the truth of humanity conquering the lies of the alien, the heretic and the mutant. It was nothing more than the primitive superstition of ignorant plebs, verging on idolatry, to believe there had ever been a Saint Verity.
Constantinus was well aware of their opinion, and probably believed it himself. But the value of "Saint Verity" for the people and his own plans was too great to ignore. "Truly, you are guided by the light of the Emperor!" he roared, shouting to be heard over the crowd's chants of Sancta Veritas! "His own will has revealed this saint to you! Adore her! Venerate her! Emulate her! On this soil the God-Emperor walked, and on this soil she received the crown of her martyrdom!" He prostrated himself before the statue, kissing her feet and spitting on the serpent. "Thus we embrace truth and reject falsehood!"
And thus was established the first of the great pilgrimage routes, the Via Imperator of Ophelia VII. First from across the planet, and then the system, and then the segmentum, and finally the whole Imperium pilgrims came to the city of Saint Laertes and walked the long road up the valley, beside the river, climbing the treacherous mountains to the very summit of the peak. There, gasping in the thin air, whipped by the stinging cold of the icy winds, they kissed the feet of truth and spat on the serpent of lies.
Money from the pilgrims - for tithes and donations, for the purchase of icons and statues and medals, not to mention the practical necessities of food and lodging - poured into the coffers of Ophelia VII. But Constantinus was wily and did not keep it all for himself. He gave control of lucrative concessions to his Chancellor-Ministers, of course, but to the Ecclesiarch he presented the Via Imperator itself. The valley floor, on either side of the river between the walls, from the gates of the city of Saint Laertes to the foothills, and the twisting, writhing switchback up the rockface, and finally the central peak itself. All this territory, a thin ribbon running through the wild lands of the mountains, the most sacred soil on Ophelia, perhaps the most sacred land outside Terra itself, was given personally to the Ecclesiarch.
Constantinus did this as governor of Ophelia VII and the Administratum could do nothing to stop him. His rivals in the college were thwarted, for the Ecclesiarch was not only assured of Constantinus' loyalty but also the recipient of vast tithes and pilgrimage donations along the Via Imperator. Constantinus - and those who came after him - would receive the protection and support of the Ecclesiarch, for while the Emperor's vicar owned the Via Imperator, practical access to it was controlled by the master of Ophelia.
And it was perhaps this reason that Constantinus never sought the position of Ecclesiarch; Cardinal-Governor of Ophelia was a less-prestigious position, but one with more independence and wealth and only marginally-less influence. Until Benedin IV in M34, no Ophelian Cardinal became Ecclesiarch and none have since then - the college recognizes the outsize influence Ophelia has on the Adeptus Ministorum and while not seeking (because they are unable) to curb it, they do not wish to compound the problem by adding to it.
When Constantinus finally died late in the third century of the 31st millennium, Ophelia's power, position, and prestige were firmly established. Billions of pilgrims walked the Via Imperator every year, each contributing to the coffers of both Ophelia and the Ecclesiarchy. When Constantius died, the pilgrims walked past his coffin as it lay in state in the cathedral and he was lain to rest in the crypt next to Saint Laertes himself.
He was not, of course, buried in the mountains - while the atheistic governors' interpretation of the law had been changed, the Emperor's edict still stood. There would be no construction and no excavation without the mountains.
But while that edict stood for several millennia, that did not mean the mountains were not inhabited.