Things have escalated far beyond Aun’saal’s wildest predictions and faster than he could follow. It took him precious seconds to process just what kind of ss he’d found himself in.
The golden giant that he was going to assu Echidna decided to invite without giving the man the possibility of declining was the strangest of all.
He watched the Imperium’s delegation, knowing their reaction would be more telling than anything he could co up with himself. The one he knew to be Lord Commander Sebasticor Ebongrave was slack-jawed, eyes wide in awe. The one wearing a Commissar’s sash was similarly shocked, though he wore a wooden expression that told of a poor attempt at concealing his expression. The Inquisitor, likely the most dangerous mber of the three-person delegation, rely had her eyes wide, but then gathered herself quickly.
“What’s the aning of this?” Aun’el Drash was the one who spoke up, a distinctly annoyed note entering his aged voice.
“I just thought the puppet-master who facilitated this entire peace summit thingy should be here to make his case himself,” Echidna replied with an amused grin, gesturing at the rather put-upon ‘puppet-master’. Her gaze wandered, landing on the Imperial delegation. “Oh, Ciaphas and Amberley! I’d have thought the two of you would be on your way out of the Reach by now.”
A puppet-master. One that Ebongrave didn’t seem to have known about, though that didn’t go for the other two Echidna had just nad. So they were the ones who made this summit possible, at the behest of the golden giant. A golden giant, whom all three obviously had a great respect for, which bordered on worship for Ebongrave.
He was taller than a Space Marine and wore gold, wielding authority beyond both a Lord Commander of Mankind’s militaries and even beyond an Inquisitor … an Inquisitor, whose organisation was known to answer only to a single man.
Is this the fad Emperor of Mankind? Aun’saal wondered, his wariness rising, and he made the decision to stay back until dragged into the negotiations. He had a feeling anyone reckless might just end up as collateral damage in this eting, either taphorically or literally.
Did Echidna just kidnap the Emperor of Mankind? Aun’saal wondered, then realised that it made absolutely no sense. Even if the vast majority of what they knew of the Imperium’s supposedly immortal God-Emperor was heavily diluted mysticism and propaganda, he was still reasonably sure that if the man got off his golden throne, the news would have reached the Tau by now.
No, the obvious answer was that this was not the Emperor. Who then? Who else could it be, and perhaps more importantly, where had he been? Had Echidna grabbed him from the Imperium’s flagship in the system, or from a nearby star system? Perhaps all the way from Terra?
No, that would be ridiculous. All of those options would be ridiculous, aside from maybe the first one. Even so, Aun’saal only entertained that one because he had read reports of the woman nonsensically ignoring Tau energy shields and Imperial void shields alike while teleporting, who knew what the true limits of that ability of hers were. Certainly not him, and neither did the Earth Caste, sothing that had sent those of said caste who heard of her feat into a fervour as they tried to work out a way to prevent her from just teleporting onboard their voidships.
They had a new prototype field emitter that was supposed to work, but obviously, it hadn’t been tested yet.
He only just barely paid attention as Ebongrave prattled on about betrayal and treachery, instead watching the golden giant’s frown and the Inquisitor’s slight grimace. He also noted that Echidna claid to have left behind humanity, both literally and taphorically.
“ … Let banish that misconception.” The enigmatic woman said and rose from her feet, drawing everyone’s gaze in the room.
Aun’saal stiffened, so animal part of his brain sensing the rising danger, and then he saw Echidna start to change. Her silky white hair gained a silvery sheen, her body bulged, muscles firming up while her entire body swelled in size until she, or rather he now, stood at ten feet tall.
“I have not been idle these past few months.” The voice was salient, velvety and sweet, yet held a malice that was impossible to miss. There was a regal disdain to every motion, every sound, like the giant of a man was lowering himself to entertain insects. “I have stumbled upon so lucky finds, treasures of sorts. I have been growing, but what about you, Octavian? You don’t grow; you are made ‘perfect’ and stay that way. I wonder, with how I don’t have his unique soul that empowered the original, could you beat while I am wearing his skin? Could you beat a Primarch?”
Aun’saal didn’t know the word ‘Primarch’, but it hit the Imperium’s delegates like a gut-punch, or rather, a slap in the face, in the now-nad Octavian’s case. This couldn’t be good. … for them. For the Tau, though? Ah, yes, he could work with this.
*****
“ … Could you beat a Primarch?”
Ah, frak. Thought Ciaphas Cain, vaunted Hero of the Imperium and victor of a hundred battles. I’m dead. I’m so dead. I should have stayed on Perlia, told Amberley to shove her ‘adventure’ where the sun doesn’t shine. Even if I got my brain flash-fried with a lasbolt in return, it’d be better than this.
No, it had to be a lie, a fake. There was no way this was real. A Primarch? Ridiculous, as if so random overpowered Psyker could just-
“How?” Octavian’s question, spoken with a tension that was impossible to miss for one with Cain’s intuition, brought his thoughts to a grinding halt.
Frak, he thought numbly. So it was real. But … he eyes the impossibly perfect man towering over everyone in the room, with that arrogant smile bordering on a sneer, the absolute confidence that he was the greatest thing to ever grace the face of the galaxy. He eyed the movents, the graceful, economical movents with just enough flourish to show the man wanted to be admired. Those were the movents of a master swordsman.
“The Clone Lord has been rather busy these last few millennia; it wasn’t hard to get my hand on a sample of his most successful work.” The man adored the sound of his own voice; that was clear. Was that inherent to the form, or was it just Echidna’s inherent personality being enhanced by the form she now took on? “The one I’d taken the sample I based this form off of was the only perfect clone of the Phonecian. The only one that had his Primarch Aura.”
Cain didn’t recognise any of the nas. The Clone Lord, the Phonecian. Neither was familiar to him, but the way Amberley stiffened and took in a sharp breath, hissing like a startled snake, didn’t do any favours to his nerves.
That didn’t make sense. Cain knew he wasn’t much of a religious nut, but even he knew the nas and titles of all the Emperor’s nine sons … except that never made sense. Horus had been one of the Emperor’s sons, too, once upon a ti, and his na obviously wasn’t one … of … the nine.
Horus wouldn’t have nearly won all by himself, now would he? Frak. Double Frak. Triple Frak, for that matter. There had to be more traitor Primarchs, and if he didn’t recognise this ‘Phoenician’, then … yeah. This was probably one of the blasted traitors.
“But, truth be told, I don’t quite like this form.” Echidna continued with an arrogant sniff.“His talent lay with self-healing, speed and grace. None of which I lack the ability for in my own form. But!“ her form shifted, silvery hair turning grey, tied behind her head in an economical knot. The arrogant sneer she wore turned into a severe frown as the perfect noble features gave way to a severe face made of all hard lines and scars, a grey beard growing to cover the lower half of the face and- Oh, Emperor on Earth, he recognised that face. “I also have this one. Now this body had been made for war, and I got this right from the original.”
Of course it frakkin was; that was The Lion, the First Primarch. Cain had seen that face on murals and statues across the galaxy, even if depictions of the Great Angel and the Avenging Son were much more widespread among the Primarchs.
Just hearing the voice made Cain straighten up into parade rest, swallowing a nervous gulp. This man was one who expected to be obeyed and wouldn’t take anything short of an absolutely stellar performance.
“You broke into the Rock?” Octavian asked, and ah, wasn’t that the fortress-station of the Dark Angels, the headquarters of the once-first legion?
The woman wearing the body of a Primarch shrugged, the action looking distinctly alien on the body of The Lion. “No, he ca to on his own two feet and gave a lock of his hair of his own free will. It seems your Lord didn’t want to put all his eggs in one basket, as they say.”
Ah … what? Cain.exe stopped working, reboot in progress. The Lion? Walking on his own two feet? How? What? Why? Who? … no, that last question didn’t make sense, but Cain felt it needed to be there to adequately show at least a fraction of his astonishnt. She remade the entire body out of … a lock of hair?
No, that didn’t matter. The Lion was awake and active. A loyalist Primarch, awake, and when he still couldn’t quite manage to internalise the fact that Roboute Guilliman had been resurrected not so long ago. The world was much simpler a decade ago. No Primarchs, no Great Rift, no roaming Chaos Warbands all over the place.
Cain only had a few more decades in him at best when the Great Rift tore the Galaxy asunder. Just a few more decades. Couldn’t all this have waited until he kicked the bucket? All he’d wanted for the last century was to retire and die in peace. Was that too much to ask? The Despoiler had waited ten thousand years to rip into Cadia, why couldn’t he sit on his flea-infected traitorous ass for a few more years and do whatever traitorous Astartes did whenever they weren’t out murdering the citizens of the imperium or flaying toddlers?
Cain barely paid attention to the conversation following that, his mind subconsciously deciding that shutting out all the world-shaking new information would be the optimal choice to retain his sanity. When he caught bits and pieces of the debate about resurrecting the Emperor, he completely shut down. Yes, the ceiling was certainly impressive, such an outstandingly fascinating tile pattern. It deserved his full attention. Yes. Nothing was more important than counting and analysing those tiles.
******
I think I broke Cain. I mused, then glanced back at Octavian. The Custodian had the air of a man waiting and ready for his own execution about him. I had him by the balls, though I didn’t allow myself to beco reckless. Only a fraction of my mind was truly focused on the negotiation, the rest scanning as far and wide as I could with my many sensory abilities. If there were any surprises here, I’d grab Selene and ditch everything in a nanosecond.
If there weren’t … well, then Octavian ca to this negotiation without any leverage. Quite foolish of him, almost as if he wanted to exhort him for all he was worth.
Although perhaps that exactly was his leverage. He knew I wouldn’t be able to pry the information from his mind unless he willingly gave it to . I could kill him, but what would I achieve by that? So minor satisfaction for killing the man who’d tried to end my life on an earlier occasion? … I found myself not caring all that much about that, which surprised a little. I was petty, spiteful and vengeful. I knew that, and yet, I felt almost even after I’d rattled his world so much by first kidnapping him and then dropping info-bombs on his head.
Did I value my life so low? No, he just never had much of a shot at truly killing . He could have inconvenienced at best, and that didn’t deserve the sa level of hate as a true attempt on my life that had a shot at succeeding.
Anyway, back to extorting the Custodian! “I can take the Reach by myself. At best, you can speed it up or make it marginally easier, especially since I don’t doubt that at least a few troubleso Assassinorum agents wielding even more troubleso relics will find their way over to no matter what you do. Also, I’m still on the lookout for those Shadowkeepers of yours. Did your Captain-General recall them?”
“They have been told to cease all hostilities against you, yes,” Octavian said blandly.
“And will they obey?” I mused.
“They will, the Captain-General’s authority supersedes the Lockwarden’s in this matter.” He was so confident and unhesitating that I almost believed it. He probably believed it too, but I wouldn’t, couldn’t. I couldn’t allow myself to dismiss one of the greatest dangers to and mine just because Octavian said so. What if he was wrong? What if the Captain-General fooled him? What if the Lockwarden disobeyed orders? What if the Shadowkeepers had a silly Terminus Decree of their own that demanded they slay , no matter the cost? No, I couldn’t believe it, but I wouldn’t press Octavian about it.
I humd thoughtfully, then made a show of shrugging. “Well, that still leaves without any actual reason to stop this war. You see, I need practice and opportunities to test my new projects, and there is no better stress-test than using them in war.”
I’d accept his stupid peace offer either way. I wasn’t so heartless as to consign the billions of human civilians of the Reach to suffer a war I fought only for my own enjoynt. I’d find enough foes to test my toys even if the Imperium was taken out of the equation. Didn’t an I wouldn’t squeeze him dry of concessions. In fact, there was one thing I had in mind. Sothing that had taken a lot of work to dig up the details of from the depths of my mories.
“You have sothing in mind,” Octavian stated with a slight narrowing of his eyes.
“I do,” I said, glancing around the room before snapping my fingers, erasing the privacy barrier I’d thrown up. “Getting both sides of the Jericho-Maw Warp Gate would be a good start, as would all three of you sticking to my side until the conquest is complete, but what I really want is your and dear Amberley’s assistance in recovering a relic for .”
“What is this relic?” Octavian asked, and I knew he was doing it only to indulge my need for dramatics. I was almost certain I saw an aborted eye-roll before he spoke his question.
“The Magna Mater.” Seeing the confusion in Amberley’s eyes and the frown on Octavian’s brows, I sighed. “Or the Sangprimus Portum, as it’s more commonly known. It should be in the possession of Archmagos Dominus Belisarius Cawl, tucked away safely on his flagship. It has fulfilled its purpose in his possession; the Primaris Marines are done. I want it.”
After all, the Magna Mater held the purest genetic sample of all 20 Primarchs, including the two Lost Primarchs and uncorrupted samples from all Traitor Primarchs. It was a treasure trove, and if what they said about the Emperor having crafted each of his sons by imbuing them with an aspect of himself was true, then perhaps I could get sothing much greater than the sum of its parts if I collected samples from all 20 Primarchs.
“Agreed.” Octavian nodded, much to the bewildernt of the blonde Inquisitor.
I rely grinned. “Then you have yourself a deal, Octavian. Pleasure doing business with you.”
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