Last Will and Testament.
If you are reading this, then I am sorry to say that I am most likely dead. I am sorry if you were relying on me not to get myself killed, but I assure you it was for a good cause, probably. Unless I have gotten extremely
lapse in keeping my will updated, I have been slain by the forces of the plague god in defense of the innocent.
Quarto Astorum frowns as he reads the letter and feels a pang of something as he learns of the warp spawn's death. It is odd to mourn for a daemon of all things, but if nothing else she had been useful.
U
nfortunately, I've never been one to dwell on my mortality, odd though it may have become. As such, I have been unable to make a customized letter to the many many groups I've helped throughout my life. So in the interest of fairness, I have to simply sent one letter to everyone.
The exodite king snorts at the neverborn's audacity, but beneath his royal mask, he smiles. She had earned some small indulgence.
This does mean that many of those reading this are unaware of my nature, and for that, I do apologize. I was in truth a daemon princess of Zahhak. While many will have some inkling of what that means, a packet explaining it has been included. If this is a surprise I suggest you read it now, and I thank you for not burning the letter on the spot.
The court had erupted into terrified buzzing as the queen mother is rushed from the room. The unlucky prince who had touched the cursed document opens the second envelope with shaking hands. The All-Hive had accepted much from the Fair Trader; how much could it have tainted?
To many of you, this is already known, and to you, I apologize for wasting your time, as well as for the dramatics, but I'm not going to let something like mere death stop me from taking a chance to call myself a princess. Now, moving on to the purpose of the letter, you have received this because by my reckoning I died while still holding on to some favors from you, and as such, I have generously arranged a chance for you to discharge those debts.
Por'O Vraix hmmed. Such things were somewhat tricky - there was not really a going rate for ramming a battle barge full of xenocidal maniacs. Still, he had to admit, a few loads of outdated farming equipment was probably not a full repayment.
I have in my will directed my lord to dispose of my remains in the finest traditions of rogue traders since time immemorial, by making something profitable out of them. Now as a daemon ship I strongly suspect that this will be beyond merely milking the gullible with "authentic" relics or driving up the price of "sacred" bone encrusted trinkets. My master should be able to build a rather effective ship out of me.
The high merchant's eyes shifted to his ancient badge of office, the sacred bone handled sword a rogue trader dynasty had supposedly given as a sign of submission.
Now, this does, of course, mean it's going to be a good deal more expensive than hiring a few of the right kind of artisan, and we rather recently lost both our ship experts. Which is where your chance to discharge your debt comes in. I understand, times are tough, and if you can't spare more than a token then that's fine. If you're a cheapskate who simply sees no point in repaying debts to a dead woman, that's less fine but I'm in no position to object, you untrustworthy blaggards.
The Magos ran a mental inventory. The network the creature had helped him build had earned him quite a surplus. There were a number of components he
could part with, but would it be wise to do so?
But if you're not the sort of honorless curs looking to weasel out of your debts, anything you can spare would be of great use. This is as much a ritual as a shipbuilding project, so you'd be surprised what can help. You should find an attached packet to give you an idea of what would be of use. Shipping should be simple, just splash a bit of paint on it and chant at it for a bit. The boss should take care of the rest.
The Shadowseer noticed that the list of offerings had been customized, unlike the will, and burst into laughter.
I've never been the sort to put much stock in moping or wailing, and I'd rather no one shed tears on my account. I lived a long happy life as a human and a longer and richer one as a daemon princess. I had over two thousand years to fill with good works and happy memories, and I'm damn sure I did my part to keep this clusterfuck of a galaxy spinning. I couldn't have asked for a better life. Mourn if you need to, move on if you can, and shoot a daemon in the face for me if you get the chance. Goodbye, and good luck.
Quarto Astorum sighed. She
had been surprisingly close to being a friend these days. They couldn't spare much, but well, they were hitting that shipyard soon. The Hereteks would probably have
something her lord could make use of. If nothing else, that ritual might be faster than demolition work if it was big enough.
The king recounted once more the story of the day of raining fire. His world stood because of the one now dead. Her ways were strange, but grave goods were not an unknown concept to him. He was sure something worthy of the debt could be found.
The queen's bellow silenced the buzzing of the court. The creatures had saved them, it had borne her blessed grandmother's egg away from doom, and gifted her the technology their empire had needed to survive. There was a debt, and it
would be repaid.
Por'O Vraix took stock. The Concordat was
technically an ally of the tau and that gave him a bit of leeway. There were those naval prototypes that had been taking up storage space for years now. They hadn't
quite worked but maybe they could be used for something?
The high merchant frowned. With the orks pressing in he could spare nothing, but perhaps… his eye turned to the "sacred relic" that he had been so proud of until just now. There was symbology there right? The last remnants of another dynasty? The symbol of office for a thousand years? It would have to do.
The Magos weighted probabilities. The note had made no mention of retribution, but the creature's master most certainly was aware of the debt he still owed. All it would take is making the relationship known to ruin him. He could take no chances. A few components had been declared heretical of late, their cogitators too reactive. No one would notice if the containers fired into the local star were empty.
The vault steward sputtered and stammered under the blank visage of the Shadowseer. Making sure he'd heard her right, he asked why she was requesting a warp engine once again. His distress and confusion adding an amusing counterpoint to his vain efforts to regain his composure. The fair trader had been right, using the term daemon princess was hilarious.
One by one, offering by offering, Zahhak gathered the fruits of thousands of years of efforts, of favors slowly built up since before Terra fell. With them came stories, of refugees shepherded, of vital trade routes forged of critical aid in a darkest hour. A long, rich lifetime of stories and deeds, piled upon a mangled corpse. The fair trader was gone, dead and dust. But her legacy would live on, plying the warplanes in a far more literal sense than most.
@Durin another omake. many tanks to anders and stormgear for help editing this,