Jupiter Calls
The screeching of an eagle jolted Orbán awake. He gradually opened his eyes, feeling like he had emerged from a deep slumber. A peculiar red light radiated above him, and he instinctively raised a hand to shield his eyes. To his astonishment, he observed that his skin was now hale and unblemished. His entire body was free of pain!
Observing his attire, Orbán noticed that he was clothed in a peculiar garb, a uniform of red and white that bore a resemblance to a military outfit. A short, two-sided sword hung at his side, and a silver cloak was draped over his shoulders. The ensemble gave him the air of a noble or lord akin to those he had seen in the Realm of Ultramar or Olympia.
As the perplexing events continued to transpire, Orbán endeavored to regain his composure. At first, he wondered if he had indeed met his end, and this was a strange manifestation of the afterlife. However, a sense deep within him urged that this was something different. It was evident that he was not in the treacherous realm of the warp, and the present circumstances were far from auspicious.
Because surrounding him was a violent red storm, akin to a tempest of blood and fury, its swirling tendrils reminiscent of a sandstorm. Astonishingly, Orbán stood unscathed within the eye of this storm as though he were granted sanctuary from its destructive forces. However, the same protection that spared him kept him trapped within its tumultuous grasp. A pervasive red haze of a metallic substance, tin, enveloped the land around him.
Before Orbán could even begin to fathom this surreal landscape, the piercing screech of the eagle broke through once more. From the tumultuous sky descended a familiar yet altered symbol – a living embodiment of it – a messenger of sorts.
Intriguingly, the storm began to transform, the once-fiery red morphing into hues of gold and tin, though the vision remained obscured. An eagle perched before him, bearing a single Aquila – a stark contrast to the usual pair – with items clutched in its talons. In one claw, it held a bolt of shimmer silver lightning, and in the other, three scrolls.
The Aquila regarded Orbán with eyes of tin and gold, acknowledging his presence and purpose. With a deliberate gesture, one of the scrolls was released from its grasp, and the messenger abruptly took flight, vanishing back into the sea of red and gold.
Orbán looked around for any trace of the departed Aquila, exclaiming in confusion, "What in the hell just happened?" His voice echoed futilely in the maelstrom that surrounded him. He bent down to retrieve the remaining scroll, his curiosity overpowering his disorientation. With the storm still raging, he carefully unfurled the scroll, his eyes narrowing as he read the familiar-looking contents inscribed upon it.
"I, Captain Orbán Vilmo of Arzoka Primarcy, do solemnly swear to bear the burden of the Emperor's will. I pledge my loyalty to the Imperium of Man to stand as a bulwark against the encroaching darkness, to push it back with fire and steel upon this great undertaking, and to defend humanity from all its threats, both within and without. I swear to serve with unwavering devotion and to uphold the values of honor, courage, loyalty, and duty. I willingly lay down my life, should the Emperor require it, to safeguard the Imperium and its people. This I vow, in His name, for the glory of the Imperium."
He remembered this oath, one that Orbán swore to uphold and had done so upon joining the Imperium of Man. Why the Aquila left such a thing was one more confusing element to his situation. But upon looking up from the scroll, Orbán saw that a path had cleared in the few seconds he had looked down, leading…somewhere.
Opting to cease his inactivity and discern the purpose behind this path, Orbán took his first steps along the cobbled trail. Despite the preceding violent storm, the path was remarkably well-preserved, free from the ravages of dust and dirt. As he advanced, he observed peculiar tracks, hinting at a sense of order amidst the surrounding chaos.
Trying to make sense of this place was difficult. It was almost like reality was trying to "remember" its surroundings. Oddly enough, Orbán suspected it relied on him to provide additional context. This place had to be the warp, in some sense, but again, nothing like the nightmarish depictions the Wardens talked about. If his soul was already damned, it was quite a boring damnation in this place.
That was until he heard the sound of a jingling bell approaching from the distance. Orbán narrowed his eyes as it got closer. He reached for the small blade at his side, as it was the only weapon in his possession as the source of the sound appeared before him.
Orbán watched in awe as the peculiar creature, no larger than a large dog, approached him on all fours. Its body was covered in soft, grey wool and hair, and it bore a small bell tied around its neck, creating a gentle jingling with every movement. The creature wore a laurel wreath upon its head, giving it an almost regal appearance despite its diminutive size. It was almost comical in a way. As it drew near, the creature began to bleat, emitting a series of soft "baaing" sounds that seemed to be its form of verbal acknowledgment to him.
Amidst the chaos of the warp and the bizarre presence of the regal ewe, Orbán felt the warp's whisper in his mind, identifying the creature as a "sheep," specifically an ewe. Despite this newfound knowledge, he remained perplexed about why this ethereal animal had appeared before him and its purpose in this surreal landscape.
The ewe approached him with deliberate steps, emitting soft baaing sounds as if trying to convey a message. After a moment, it turned around and began to walk back the way it came. Orbán hesitated briefly, then decided to trust the enigmatic guidance of the creature.
With a mixture of skepticism and curiosity, he followed the ewe along the cobblestone path, still uncertain of what awaited him. The absurdity of the situation did not escape him; it felt like he had stepped into a fantastical tale guided by the whims of the warp itself. An eagle delivering an oath he had already sworn, and now some terrestrial animal acting as a guide; this whole situation was starting to sound like a bedtime story Orbán would have told Amelia when she was a child. He sardonically thought that perhaps a fish or butterfly would appear before him to offer him further wisdom.
Nevertheless, he pressed forward, eager to figure out what was happening here. All the while, the storm was raging around him, and reality tried to recreate itself before his very eyes. Was this what psykers saw in their visions of the warp? Orbán would have to ask one.
Orbán found himself in a sprawling city, and the sudden transition from the ethereal landscape to this urban setting had taken him by surprise. He couldn't pinpoint when he and the guiding sheep had arrived in this unfamiliar place. It was as though he had blinked, and the surroundings had shifted entirely.
The city was eerie in its emptiness. Desolate streets and quiet alleyways stretched out in all directions, and the ever-present red storm loomed above. Despite the lack of visible inhabitants, he could still sense the remnants of life in the air. Faint echoes of conversations, distant laughter, and the alluring aromas of freshly baked bread and simmering stews hung in the atmosphere. In the background, the soft chiming of distant bells provided an eerie backdrop to the silence.
As Orbán followed his guide, the regal ewe with its occasional baaing and the soft jingling of its bell, he couldn't help but notice the peculiar details of the city's architecture and decor. The first striking oddity was the presence of depictions of Imperial Aquilias, but each one had a singular head, distinct from the double-headed eagle he had known in the Imperium.
The further Orbán ventured into this peculiar city, the more he marveled at the stark contrast between the primitive, feudal architecture surrounding him and the advanced, technologically advanced worlds he had known throughout the Imperium. While feral and feudal worlds weren't uncommon in the vast expanse of the Imperium, they typically possessed at least basic technologies like electricity and industry.
Orbán's perplexity grew as he pondered why the warp had chosen to reveal a city so seemingly out of sync with the times. Despite its temporal incongruity, he couldn't deny the city's remarkable sense of order and organization. The architects who had constructed this place demonstrated meticulous attention to detail, which he found intriguing and puzzling.
As he continued his exploration, he couldn't help but observe certain recurring architectural themes. The city was adorned with domes, arches, and vaults, each element crafted with an unmistakable dedication to craftsmanship. Columns and pillars, hewn from marble and stone, stood resolute in their grandeur.
But while this was all nice to look at, Orbán wanted to know what the point of all this was. He got a small hint as he and the ewe approached what looked to be a large, imposing structure that seemed utterly impossible as it seemed to be the epicenter of the red storm.
Then, a familiar eagle screeched from up above before it landed once again. It gazed once more into Orbán's eyes before dropping another scroll from its claws before flying off again into the air. The ewe seemed to wait for the man to examine the discarded scroll. Orbán picked it up and was confused when he saw
another oath.
"I pledge my unwavering loyalty and undying allegiance to the Imperium of Man, its Emperor, and the eternal glory of humanity. I vow to serve with honor, defend the Imperium against all threats, and uphold the ideals of order, unity, and progress. I willingly lay down my life for the Imperium, embracing my duty steadfastly. By the Emperor's divine will, I am bound, now and forever."
Orbán was trying to decipher the meaning of this, "It's just a generic oath?" He looked around expectantly, both at the sheep and then toward the great building, trying to get an answer, "I don't understand."
The sheep started baaing again, gesturing him to move by pressing its head against his right leg before Orbán got the hint. It wanted him to head toward the building, but the storm hadn't receded as he attempted to pass through it. The winds were howling around his ears, although he felt no pain to his skin from any pebbles or rocks that got caught in the windstorm. If anything, he was completely unharmed.
What confused Orbán was that he knew if the sheep wasn't guiding him, he'd have likely gotten lost in this chaos. He didn't like to think about the implications of the ewe being his spirit guardian or some other nonsense. Nothing about this situation made sense. Especially when, after what felt like hours, he reached the other side of the storm.
His journey through the chaotic storm had been nothing short of disorienting, and the inexplicable transformation of the building only deepened his confusion. It was as if reality itself had shifted, and he now stood before a structure that rivaled the grandeur of the Imperial Palace, a monument of staggering proportions, as if hewn from materials that mankind was incapable of producing.
This didn't seem like a palace. The fact that Orbán could see plenty of open entrances hinted more that this was supposed to be a meeting place for lords, or maybe lords of the warp. So why was the ewe leading him to this place? Upon setting foot on the steps of the building entrance, the group began shaking while the storm around him intensified.
"Shit!" Orbán exclaimed as he felt it was imperative to not stay outside any longer. The sheep beside him seemed to have the same idea as it started baaing and scrambling up the steps. Orbán started running. While the ground shook and the air grew fierce, he idly noticed that the building seemed completely undisturbed by the cataclysmic force around it.
Orbán finally reached one of the entrances just as the storm threatened to overtake him. Inside, he was greeted by an unsettling scene – the interior was dimly lit, and the air bore the musty scent of age and neglect. The building seemed untouched as if abandoned by any caretaker or inhabitant, which struck him as odd, considering the numerous access points to the outside world.
Following the jingling sound of the ewe's bell, Orbán pressed onward. Their footsteps echoed through empty hallways and rooms that bore the hallmarks of scribes, clerks, bureaucrats, and ministers who might have toiled here, though their absence was palpable in the desolation that hung heavily in the air.
"This place is a maze," Orbán muttered under his breath. He felt a subtle sense of vertigo, as though he were walking within a space that defied the laws of physics, a feeling akin to being inside a moving elevator or experiencing odd shifts in elevation despite the absence of such movement.
Curious and unsettling sounds pervaded the environment, faint whispers and distant chants that played tricks on his senses. And in the dimly lit recesses of the corridors, Orbán's eyes occasionally caught fleeting glimpses of shadowy figures akin to the specters of people long gone. Orbán did not like this place at all. It felt like he was treading upon something unnatural, although not necessarily profane.
Orbán followed his peculiar animal guide through the winding passageways until they reached a vast, open chamber. The dome-shaped ceiling arched overhead, and in the center of that ceiling was the chaotic red storm swirling ominously. As they arrived, the screeching of the eagle resonated once more, and the Imperial Aquila descended to the chamber's heart, its gaze fixed on Orbán with a sense of anticipation.
He watched in astonishment as the final scroll descended from the eagle's claw before the creature hovered mid-air. His eyes followed the eagle's gaze toward an ornate door made of gold, silver, and gemstones adorned with the letters SPQR and a depiction of the Singular Aquila. Then, the bolt of lightning shot from the eagle's talon, producing a resounding thunderclap as the majestic door swung open, revealing a passage beyond.
As Orbán read the ominous oath inscribed on the final scroll, a deep foreboding gripped him. "I, Eli Lanatus," Orbán muttered softly.
"
I, Eli Lanatus, hereby swear my allegiance to the Emperor of Mankind and the Sigillite and their great work. I shall never falter in my duty nor forsake the knowledge granted to me. The burden of truth has been laid bare upon my soul, but I have the strength to persevere. Non-Desistas Non-Exieris: I shall never surrender. For all Mankind."
The words spoke of allegiance only to the Emperor of Mankind and the Sigillite, a duty never to be abandoned and a burden of truth laid upon the soul. But most notably, there was no mention of allegiance to the Imperium, a fact that heightened the sense of unease that had been building within him. This wasn't like the other oaths. What had Eli gotten himself into?
Orbán didn't have time to question it as he felt the sheep pushing him forward once more with her head toward the door that just open. This damn thing was incessant, he thought to himself, but tossing the scroll, the pair made their way.
As soon as he passed through the doorway, Orbán felt like he had crossed a threshold of some sort of metaphysical barrier as he followed the persistent guidance of the sheep and ascended what appeared to be stone steps. The air around him seemed to shimmer momentarily as if acknowledging his passage into an unknown realm.
He continued upward, the steps beneath his feet firm and unyielding. The sheep trotted ahead, its bell jingling softly with each step. Crossing into an unfamiliar domain heightened Orbán's senses, making him acutely aware that something was aware of his presence here.
The corridor before him was dimly lit, and the walls were adorned with intricate engravings depicting scenes of ancient battles and events in some ancient human culture. The sheep led him further into the depths of the mysterious structure, leaving behind the stormy chaos he had traversed earlier.
And then Orbán heard music from a room that was at what he assumed to be the top of this place. It was hard to tell. There were signs this must have been some lordling home, what with the rugs and expensive-looking amenities all around.
As he cautiously approached the door, a powerful, regal voice called, "I hear footsteps. Is that you, Rain King?" Booming laughter followed, "Ah, you finally arrived. Enter! Enter!" Caught by whoever was on the other side, Orbán approached while his sheep companion waited for him to open the door. Keeping one hand on his only weapon, Orbán carefully opened the door and was promptly blinded by an all-powerful light!
When his vision finally cleared, he and his ovine companion were no longer in the corridor but amid a magnificent and regal chamber, one that rivaled the grandeur of an Emperor's palace.
The room's appearance resembled a noble's dwelling, replete with opulent furnishings and regal accouterments. Yet, in stark contrast to the technology of the Imperium, the surroundings were conspicuously devoid of any visible signs of machinery or advanced technology.
But it was the presence of a colossal man resting upon a lectus that truly captured Orbán's attention. This titanic figure possessed a sun-bronzed complexion, a powerful and muscular frame, and a resplendent beard of jet-black hair. His regal bearing was crowned with a magnificent diadem from gleaming bronze and tin.
The aura of the mighty figure suggested that he had just roused from a profound slumber, and his very presence resonated with authority and majesty, surpassing even the most revered lords of the Imperium. He then yawned before waving lazily to Orbán.
"Salve," The giant of a man greeted with regal grace, his deep voice echoing through the opulent chamber. "Do forgive the lack of amenities. My servants don't seem to be in today, nor is any of my family. I can but offer only hearth and a seat." He gestured toward a wooden throne, inviting Orbán to take a place of honor.
Orbán's bewildered gaze shifted from the grand throne to the imposing figure. "Thank you?" he replied hesitantly, his senses still struggling to grasp the surreal nature of his surroundings.
The colossal man appeared unfazed by Orbán's confusion. "It's quite alright," he responded with a regal air. "I appreciate you taking on the clothing of my people, Rain King. Most barbarians are content to just walk into my realms looking pitiful. Granted, I suppose since you summoned me, you made sure to dress appropriately."
The flood of questions swirling in Orbán's mind threatened to overwhelm him. "I summoned you?" he inquired, his brow furrowing in perplexity. "We need to take a minute to step back here. Who are you? Why am I here? Where are we?"
Jove, the colossal figure, chuckled heartily. "Such questions," he mused. "The day hasn't started yet; there is a storm outside, and I haven't even fully awoken yet." Jove paused, allowing Orbán's inquiries to percolate. "Very well," he conceded with a yawn. "My family calls me Jove. Your actions summoned me. We are in Rome," he declared with nonchalant grandeur. "Have you come to kill Caesar, Rain King?"
Orbán was still trying to piece together the bewildering puzzle of this encounter. "Who?" he inquired, genuinely perplexed by the reference.
"Caesar," Jove elaborated, his massive hand reaching for an empty chalice. He chuckled as he realized the vessel was devoid of its contents. "Though I suppose you can call him the emperor as well. But yes, you are off to kill a man. Not an unusual affair in this land, but I'd like to think you had a bit more cunning in your plans."
"I have quite literally no idea what you are talking about," Orbán admitted with growing bewilderment. This situation was approaching levels of absurdity he had never experienced. "I just awoke in the middle of nowhere; there was a storm around me, an Aquila left me scrolls, and this sheep escorted me here."
Jove remained unfazed, his massive frame at ease on the lectus. "She's in your seat, by the way," he remarked, pointing to the now-occupied wooden throne where the ewe had comfortably settled. "You should be careful; she desires your mantle," Jove cryptically warned.
Orbán raised an eyebrow, finding it challenging to grasp the meaning behind Jove's words. "It's an animal," he retorted. "She'd probably be just as interested in a pile of hay as a throne."
Jove's amused chuckle reverberated through the room. "Is it?" he mused. "Right. It's an animal." He appeared to be enjoying Orbán's bafflement as he continued to laugh. "In either case, you aren't here to kill Caesar?"
"I don't know who that is, nor am I here to kill any Emperor of Rome," Orbán reiterated with increasing exasperation. "Look, did I die or something?"
Jove dispelled any concerns about death with his response. "Oh no. You are still alive." However, he didn't provide a straightforward answer. "Where did you say you were from, Rain King?"
"I never did," Orbán noted, suspicion growing. "And how do you know that title?"
Jove chose to avoid the question, further deepening the mystery. "If you aren't from Rome and aren't here to kill Caesar… hmm. You must be off to kill someone else. Are you an oathbreaker?"
"No," Orbán responded curtly, his patience dwindling. "I kill oathbreakers."
Jove's demeanor shifted from playful to contemplative. "Is that right?" he mused, "So the man you seek to kill has broken his oath too…wherever you hail from."
Orbán wasn't about to explain his plans or reasoning for committing a coup to this entity. "It's complicated. I would rather not discuss it. In any case, I don't think there is much for either of us to gain here. So wherever this place is, I'm politely but firmly requesting that I leave."
"Yes, yes," Jove said indifferently. He glanced at the ewe on the throne. "Say…kill that sheep for me in my name."
Orbán was bewildered by the sudden, strange request. "I... What are you even…?" He struggled to make sense of the situation. "Are you a daemon? Am I in the warp? Daemons are the only ones that ask for a sacrifice, and I can quote an expert on that."
Jove simply laughed heartily at Orbán's reaction. "I assure you, I'm no daemon, and this is not the warp, at least not the one you are referencing," he stated. "But I wish to render my blessing on your mission. I am someone who takes oaths seriously. So, kill the sheep in my name, and you'll have it."
"I don't really care to spill the blood of an animal right now," Orbán replied firmly. Besides, that sheep got him this far. It seemed cruel to kill it for some cockamamie excuse to appease whatever sort of entity this Jove creature was.
"Why not?" Jove sounded genuinely curious, "Man has been slaughtering animals for almost an eon now. What's one little ewe?"
"Man kills animals for food and materials. The slaughter serves a practical purpose," Orbán argued, "Not for sacrificing to creatures that wish to have their ego soothed or soothsayers to read entrails so they can predict the next time it rains."
Jove scoffed, "You are simplifying something extraordinarily complicated, but I'll let it pass because you are an ignorant barbarian."
Orbán glared at him, "Then excuse me from your presence, Jove. I have no reason to stand before you to answer questions or perform what you might call a sacred ritual."
"Bah!" Jove sounded more annoyed than frustrated, "If it bothers you so much, then the blasted sheep can live." The ewe bleated at him, "Such a waste too. The blood in that thing was clearly blessed."
Orbán didn't entertain Jove's comment further. Instead, he was relieved that he wouldn't have to harm the innocent animal. "If you're finished with your games, may I leave this place now?" He asked impatiently.
Jove yawned for the fourth or fifth time, resting his head on his right hand, "Hold on, I'm here to give you a few pieces of advice. Now that I know you aren't going to kill Caesar, I feel a little better telling you these things."
The fact that his body didn't hurt anymore didn't stop the feeling of a headache from forming, "Alright, what do you have for me?"
The titanic man stared intently at Orbán, "The first is that gods are watching."
"Chaos is watching me? Lovely," Orbán responded, nonplussed. That didn't surprise him so much. The Wardens warned him long ago that such entities like the Archdaemons tended to have their vile claws in many things across the galaxy.
"Not just Chaos," Jove clarified, "Other gods as well. Be mindful of that in whatever you do."
How very cryptic. Orbán didn't believe in the gods, even after everything he had seen in the Maelstrom. He wasn't a Truther, but he hadn't seen anything like a miracle in his long life, just many nightmares. "Anything else?"
"Second, you will not save the life of your son." Jove spoke once more, "He is lost to you. Accept that now, or you will come to regret it." Orbán didn't have a son, but he realized Jove was referring to Eli. Orbán didn't respond to this.
"Finally, you will have the chance to escape." Jove gave him a piercing look, "The opportunity will only come once, and it will be up to you to decide to take it or not. After that, the consequences will be on your head."
Orbán didn't like the sound of that, "Thanks for the advice, I guess."
"If you want more and my blessing, my previous request still stands." Jove glanced over at the resting sheep.
"Why don't you just kill it?" Orbán couldn't help but question, though he didn't want to put the life of the innocent animal at risk. He couldn't exactly stop Jove from killing, but he tried to understand the peculiar nature of this request.
Jove chuckled, "Hmm, it's not the same thing." He looked lazily at Orbán, "A god shouldn't have to work for his own offerings?"
"You're a god?" Orbán couldn't help but express his doubt. "No offense because you are an impressive-looking figure, but I've been in the presence of Primarchs, and you don't exactly compare to them."
Rather than get offended or insulted, Jove merely smiled at Orbán, which unnerved him quite a bit. "You might change your tone soon enough…"
"Anyway," Jove started, "You are free to go. She'll find her way out soon enough." He remarked, gesturing to the sheep. "Keep my words in mind, and if all goes well or not, perhaps we shall meet again someday."
"I'd rather we don't." Orbán couldn't wait to be out of this bewildering situation. "And don't call me again. I'm not interested in speaking with supposed gods. I have too much on my plate regardless."
"Yes, yes," Jove waved dismissively. "Go on, Rain King. You are free to return to your mortal machinations. Good luck with your plots, and watch out for knives in the dark."
"Right." Orbán was eager to leave this place. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, "I might as well ask, but you are supposed to be a god? Which god are you?"
"Just look out your window for that answer," Jove remarked with a knowing smile and a wave. "Valeas in Pace, Rain King."
Orbán awoke with a start. A familiar pain returned to him, almost comforting with its presence. For a moment, he didn't know where he was; the room was completely dark before he remembered that this was his office onboard the
Bladed Sojourner.
Reaching out in the dark, Orbán flicked on the lamp of a nearby desk, which revealed the empty bottle of whisky he had been drinking before falling asleep. He didn't focus on that but rather on the dream he had just experienced.
He could recall every detail with absolute clarity, even the sensation of the winds within the red storm and the distinctive scents of that mysterious, deserted city. It couldn't have been a mere product of his imaginative subconsciousness; it felt far too real. Perhaps it was some form of psychic intrusion into his mind?
As Orbán moved about his quarters, he became acutely aware of the sluggishness of his physical body compared to the one he had inhabited in that vision or dream. He pushed aside these contemplations, knowing that indulging in such thoughts was dangerous. The pain he felt was a constant reminder of his purpose.
He remembered the last words Jove had imparted to him and, with some effort, raised the shielding over the window in his cabin. Jupiter loomed beyond, its colossal and tumultuous red storm. The
Bladed Sojourner was en route to Terra, stopping by Jupiter to gather supplies and weaponry. However, it was impossible to dismiss this as mere coincidence. Something had reached out to him in his dreams.
Orbán was no believer in the gods, so he assumed it must have been a warp entity that had contacted him. But as he gazed down at the immense planet, he pondered the first warning issued by Jove, "Gods will be watching." It seemed that this statement held true. The more he contemplated the events that lay ahead, the more he realized that the conclusion of this coup might bring about profound changes in the Imperium.
He understood that success was imperative. Anything less would render the turmoil and insanity meaningless.
Meanwhile, in another part of the galaxy…
Karcer Urial awoke from a perplexing dream. It remained somewhat foggy, a vision of a man and a turbulent storm. In her dream, the man had a companion, a sheep with a bell, guiding him through the storm. When they reached a certain point, a mysterious entity demanded that the man kill the sheep.
The man had refused, and the entity had relented, allowing them to continue unharmed. Karcer couldn't comprehend the significance of the dream, but she felt an inexplicable sense of gratitude toward the man in her vision. It was as though he had saved her from a threat neither of them had considered.
Normally, she didn't put much stock in dreams, leaving such matters to her small cadre of soothsayers and mystics. However, Karcer decided to visit them to discuss this unusual dream. Perhaps they could provide some insights and answers.
---
@Daemon Hunter One more omake to add.
If people are wondering why Karcer is here, it's because she's one of those people that could make for a splendid Lord-Militant and the fact her last name, Urial, is the name for a wild sheep.
