Warhammer 40k: I Refuse to Be a Slaanesh Marine Chapter 53 53: 53: Discrepancies in the Ledger

A slimy, humid, and skin-crawling sensation instantly shot up his spine, transmitting through his nerves to his brain—a biological warning of the dark, unspeakable thoughts lurking behind the other's eyes.

Enkidu took a step back, thumping his right fist against his chest in salute while bowing low. He tid the movent to narrowly evade the sweep of Varex's serrated gauntlet.

"Of course I welco you, Lord Varex. I was 'born' here, I grew up here, and I have found battle and glory here. It is my greatest ambition to beco a paragon of your likeness."

The poison-tipped gauntlet stopped mid-air. Varex stared at a few strands of the young Astartes' silver hair that had fallen into his palm during the bow; he severed them with a twitch of his fingers before clenching his fist tight.

"Yes, yes! Excellent!"

The sight of an Astartes kneeling caused Varex's pride to swell rapidly. Since the boy was so compliant, he felt he could afford to dispense a few scraps of favor to ensure the recruit's absolute loyalty. His facial muscles twitched as a "smile" tore across his features.

"You are the finest among the new blood. But it is not enough—nowhere near enough! To beco a Company Captain as favored by the Phoenician as I am, you have a long road ahead of you!"

Enkidu instinctively glanced at the chemical dispenser on the veteran's back. Seeing that the vials hadn't been changed and weren't empty, he could only attribute this behavior to the standard daily mania of a drug-addicted Emperor's Child.

"As a mber of the Emperor's Children, the most important thing is to obey the Legion's protocols and act according to the Primarch's guidance! Not like certain undisciplined curs who do nothing but disrupt the harmony!" The Warband Leader offered this "advice" pointedly. He raised a finger and tapped the vox-interface embedded near his temple. Sparks crackled across the tal-to-flesh seal, causing Varex to let out a few low, blissful moans of relief. "Enkidu, you have the honor of being 'born' under my watch, and it was I who personally authorized your armoring. You deserve to receive more from ."

Can I kill him right here? Enkidu thought.

At this range, a sudden strike might succeed. But what then?

He suppressed the impulse, casting a subtle, pleading look toward Armand for assistance. In an instant, however, Varex had leaned in, pushing him toward the other side of the hall with a familiar yet irresistible force.

As an Emperor's Child, the pursuit of art and beauty was instinctive. But when that pursuit was warped, "love and beauty" transford into things of nightmare.

When Enkidu was ushered inside, the first thing he saw were the six hundred and sixty-six mirrors embedded into every surface of the room.

The silver-haired Astartes in the mirrors looked back at him, first with panicked confusion, then smoothing into the feigned delight of one entering a palace of art. He moved toward the wine cabinet with practiced ease and pulled out a bottle of Quartis vintage, chilled to perfection.

With a soft pop, the jewel-like liquid flowed out, shimring in a golden chalice and reflecting six fragnted versions of his face.

A piercing shriek cut through the dull murmurs of the room, effectively pushing the ambient music to a crescendo.

Varex reclined on his silken divan, stroking the face of a slave attendant with a touch so gentle he might have been handling fine silk. Another slave opened a bottle of wine that emitted a constant, low-pitched wail, pouring out a multicolored, viscous fluid.

Enkidu noticed the two slaves were twins—one had her eyes sewn shut, the other her mouth. Raw, palpable terror radiated from them, serving as the "sweetats" of the inner sanctum.

He remained silent for a mont, then took the cup of "wine" and walked toward Varex.

"See? This is the conduct of an enlightened mind. Your mastery of social nuance is intoxicating," Varex said, taking the cup and swirling it with elaborate flair before draining it in one gulp. "I shall consider speaking with the Millennial Commander. If you pass the trials, you shall be promoted to Squad Leader. Given your talent, I imagine the evaluation will be child's play for you."

His gaze drifted, seemingly by accident, over the Witchblade at Enkidu's hip and the Soulstone trophy-scrip. Enkidu's heart tightened; he couldn't tell if the man was truly lost in his delusions or if this was a subtle hint.

"What kind of trials?"

"Oh, who can say?" Varex tossed the empty chalice aside languidly. It sank into a plush cushion without a sound. "You know how it is—the Millennial Commanders are always full of whims, and I am no sorcerer; I cannot read the hearts of n. However, you can always prove your worth through more trophies, or a more... captivating performance."

At this, the hidden aning behind Varex's words beca clear.

Varex wanted him to kill Telax.

Enkidu calculated his position. Simply by drifting with the current, he had beco a pivotal force within the warband. After the Aeldari raid and the internal attrition, the number of capable veterans had plumted to fewer than ten. anwhile, there were nineteen initiates who looked to Enkidu for leadership.

Whether Varex courted him or killed him, the balance of the warband would shift drastically. Enkidu realized he could use a little tactical leverage to extract a higher price.

"I see." He straightened his back, his expression becoming more confident. "Actually, I feel that a re 'Squad Leader' position... might not be quite enough."

Varex's theatrical poise froze. A crack appeared in his "perfect" mask.

"Greedy whelp. You took Morpheus's private collection, and now you want even more."

"That is a baseless accusation. I have always respected the Apothecary; I would never loot a brother during a crisis. I have already submitted the combat logs; you may personally review every detail."

An uncomfortable silence filled the sanctum as he and the Warband Leader engaged in a silent standoff. In that silence, a massive discrepancy beca clear to both of them.

If the dical supplies in the Apothecarion hadn't been taken by Enkidu or Varex's n, then who was tampering with the inventory? Was that sa person responsible for the Apothecary's death?

"It seems there is a leak in our Company," Varex hissed, licking his lip. The mounting problems in the warband were like discordant notes in a symphony, fueling a rising furnace of rage. "And it has been hidden for quite so ti. Enkidu, my rising star... go find this flaw. And eliminate it."

Enkidu stood his ground, unmoving.

"Go!" Varex snapped irritably, completely breaking his enigmatic persona. "If you solve this, I shall grant you status and wealth beyond asure."

"Is that a promise?"

The recruit finally seed moved. A look of poorly hidden greed crossed his youthful face as he stared intensely at Varex, the mirrored sanctum, and the jewels—as if he intended to snatch it all for himself.

"Then I wish to be your right hand. To manage this warband alongside you."