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The Lost Primarch Quest
- Thread starter Daemon Hunter
- Start date
I like the idea, but not convinced that Lion "loyalty is its own reward" will be able to not take it as a dis-loyal thing (and knowing Lion's stance on this we need to have Morty swear to shut his mouth unless we say otherwise).
How is Lion's opinion of us? Should we let Horus do the convincing? Will he be highly paranoid until he's 'proven' whatever his suspicions?
On the other hand this Dorn was seriously traumatised, tread lightly and avoid shaming him, and he'd be on board (at least he'd stay Lion's hand).
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The Chairman
The Chairman
It sometimes amused Lockcraft the trivialities that Ravenloft, an organization created and designed to understand the divine, had to deal with daily. Most individuals likely imagined a paramilitary occult organization spent their time reading forbidden tomes or engaging in rituals to summon forth the gods or a spirit into this realm. Yet that was farthest from the truth.
Nothing ruined the mystique of an organization than finding out that you were just as likely to end up having to catalog dusty old books and tomes as you were going out into the field on some "adventure" of a lifetime. From the lowest scribe to an actual field operative, each member of Ravenloft was an educated individual. Yet a mind was a terrible thing to waste, and everyone was responsible for maintaining the organization.
Bureaucracy was the bane of any organization. Lockcraft knew this fact quite intimately and found it ironic that he was now the mastermind behind it. Worse yet, he was its keeper. As a young man, he had chafed under the arcane procedures and academic rituals required for scholars and scribes. To be the one in charge now did nothing to nullify his hatred towards it. Although, he also gained quite a bit of understanding and respect for it.
Perhaps he had been a bit too harsh on his professors or administrators whenever they discussed why it was necessary to follow instructions and procedures. However, they had never been tasked with containing and analyzing divine artifacts and relics or confronted actual gods and spirits.
Lockcraft recognized that while he was good as an administrator, he didn't excel. When he voiced such concerns to Corvus, the Primarch told Lockcraft to surround himself with individuals who could bolster or cover his weaknesses. He did just that, resulting in the inner circle of Ravenloft being staffed by the best minds that Ravenloft could get their hands out without being noticed. Even so, there were limitations.
Especially when it came to the threat of corruption, both mundane and esoteric. Lockcraft knew that given enough time, even Ravenloft would have individual members that would seek to profit off their activities. Hundreds of trillions worth of thrones were exchanged every year, hidden among ledgers and accounts across thousands of worlds. Priceless relics and treasures, some of which had no real value to Ravenloft's mission, lay inside vaults and reliquaries.
It would take one man to skim a little bit off a ledger or take an innocuous item that had no value to Ravenloft and simply disappear. Lockcraft knew of hundreds of collectors out in the galaxy that wanted one trinket or another. Mainly because Ravenloft had already bought said relics from them. Yet this sort of corruption was the best-case scenario.
He had come to embrace the mundane problems. Mundanity was familiar to him. They could be solved with a well-placed message or an unseen knife in the dark. The Raven Guard was exceptional at eliminating issues in the shadows, while Lockcraft ensured that the organization's internal affairs handled plugging those holes and ensuring they never became an issue. Yet he even had to face the reality of their work. No matter how many precautions and preventive measures, no matter how intense the vetting process, the danger of spiritual corruption was impossible to completely counter-act. The nature of the divine was unpredictable, especially when considering the power wielded by deities or their most powerful servants.
And that was just the "known" vectors of corruption. It was plausible that recovered relics or objects of interest could have passive cognitohazards or spiritual risks to the researchers or those who came into physical contact with the item. A single phrase in a scroll or book could possibly damn a man's soul. A weapon or tome of power? Could damn an entire facility if unleashed by a tarnished spirit. There were concerns over the possibility of some objects holding a daemon or spirit within them, yet Ravenloft had not encountered such relics.
The prospect of trying to secure and contain objects of power or entities was a relatively untested process within Ravenloft. To say nothing of their failures to keep someone like Revenant in check indicated how unprepared Ravenloft was for the genuinely unpredictable and powerful instances of divine manifestations. However, all they could do now was learn and adapt as they sought to complete their mission.
Yet, given those threats and their lack to counter thereof, it was in the best interests of Lockcraft to find whatever means he could to protect the organization. To that end, he sought everything from esoteric technologies to ancient rituals. Nothing was considered too "outlandish," but some were considered too ghastly or ghoulish to use in practice. The Primarch agreed that certain lines would not be considered, let alone crossed. Especially after learning about how some gods gained power through the most basic ritual components and rites.
Money was certainly not an issue. Corvus Corax ran his domain effectively, and thus his coffers could easily afford funding and resources for Ravenloft endeavors, facilities, personnel, and the purchasing power for whatever they needed. Sadly, it was never a question of money that hindered Ravenloft, but a lack of skill and willpower to handle the prospect of running such an organization from the shadows.
To find anyone capable of withstanding the rigors and advancing the organization's goals was worth more than a hundred thousand scribes or an entire ship. To Lockcraft, the only way for Ravenloft to excel was to recruit those that could safeguard it from the inside. A neigh impossible task, given the nature of their mission.
Nevertheless, Lockcraft had learned that the impossible could be achieved since his time as Ravenloft director. One might even be facetious enough to call a stroke of luck a "miracle," but he refused to think in such terms.
Still, he wouldn't say no to one.
—
No matter how much one spent in the Great Crusade, you were always likely to find something that subverted your expectations. It didn't matter whether it was considerably horrible or bizarre. What mattered, it was a new experience. For the adventurous, it was a moment of exhilaration and wonder. Of course, the opposite was true, for a pessimist would only scowl at finding such oddities. Yet the wise would see it as a chance to learn and gain insight into the nature of things, whether for good or ill.
Corvus had learned to find wisdom in the strange and unknown. These last few years had required him to reexamine his perceptions on not only reality but on individuals, groups, and the very laws that govern existence. Corvus learned to take victories where he could find them and find a silver lining. Easier said than done in certain compliances.
However, the gods and fates sought to "reward" Corvus with an easy enough compliance within a recently discovered system. His expedition had learned from local traders and pirates of a system that bore a highly functional human civilization; the Rilroth Cooperative. When Corvus first heard of the Cooperative through second-hand accounts, it was touted as a "wealthy" alliance of worlds dedicated to mineral trade, technological sales, and financial services. A quasi-federalist republic of twenty-nine fully industrialized planets, 98 moons of various habitability, and thousands of orbital stations
At least, that was on the surface. The more criminal and uncouth sources described that the Cooperative provided more illicit goods and services. Although nothing on the scale of selling slaves to xenos, nor did they sell weapons or ships to pirates or raiders. By all rights, the Cooperative was a reasonably decent civilization, full of laws and protections for the average citizen to a certain degree anyway. Officially, slavery was illegal in the Cooperative. But those who knew about the Cooperative were aware there was more to it. Most of the population was stuck in servitude to the "Board of Directors."
That was a recurring detail in the Raven Guards information gathering: The Board of Directors, or simply the Board, the true masters of the Cooperative. Amusingly enough, a very open group of oligarchs. Everything from the bottom and middle portions of government was democratically elected by the citizens, but the top was appointed by the Board, and the directors ultimately pulled the strings.
It was all just an illusion of government, but one accepted by most people within their borders. And based on what Corvus could surmise, the illusion wasn't without merit. Roboute would undoubtedly have more insight into what made the Cooperative so effective. Yet perhaps that didn't matter. The results spoke for themselves.
Yet the more Corvus examined the rumors and stories behind the Cooperative, the more questions appeared. When the Primarch spoke with a few individuals, privateers and rogue traders, that had been given the honor of dining and dealing with the Board, they all remarked that there was an absent member.
The Chairman.
An elusive figure, but one considered to be the mastermind behind the success and prosperity of the Cooperative. However, all information on him was scant these days. He hadn't been seen or heard from in almost fifty years. There were no images or recordings of him even before his disappearance. Let alone any details on the man himself. He was a reclusive individual with a penchant for secrecy.
However, Corvus's investigation got lucky. During one of his brief interrogations with an officer of a pirate clan that routinely did business with the Cooperative, there was a mention that a Free-Admiral Sha'Lina had spoken directly with the Chairman for nearly 60 years. There weren't many others alive claiming to have such an "honor" regarding interactions with the Cooperative. Regardless, Corvus had the Shadow easily sneak into the territory of the Crescent Souls clan and find the Free-Admirals fleet.
Even though Corvus was outnumbered nineteen to one, the Shadow could've easily destroyed these ships even before he and the crew had become masters of the void. To that end, Corvus was magnanimous enough to offer a quick meeting before the Free-Admiral, and his fleet would be escorted to Imperial lines, their ships impounded and processed. Although, Corvus would see that the Free-Admiral was compensated for his vessels.
But their days of prowling the void lanes were over.
—
The meeting with the soon-to-be ex-Free-Admiral Alvren Sha'Lina was ultimately a tedious dinner affair, but it was the least Corvus could do to coax the information out of Alvren short of torture and interrogation. It was simple enough, especially as Alvren drank like a fish, and the offer of foreign spirits and wines would certainly loosen his tongue.
After the human was two bottles in, Corvus asked about the Chairman and his importance to the Cooperation. Alvren Sha'Lina stared at the Primarch before he started laughing, reminding Corvus a bit too much of the Harlequins.
"So, you wish to know about Davin, eh?" He gestured towards one of the rarer bottles from Ultramar, "You let me have a taste of that spirit, and I'll tell you everything."
The ex-Free-Admiral explained what he knew remembered about his former employer and friend, Davin Kell: The Chairman. Alvren pointed out that all the success and prosperity that the Rilroth Cooperative enjoyed was because of Davin. The man was an economical and administrative genius. Davin had been born to a small group of merchants on the capital of Rilroth, Acteron, during the tail end of the Century of False Promises. Alvren described the Cooperative before Davin because it was a loose confederation of bickering nobles, pirate-kings, guild-houses, and military strongmen.
Alvren explained how chaotic the Cooperative was while gorging himself on the expensive wine, "You could barely find anyone wanting to trade or buy things. It was all bartering, and even then, the situation got so dire that some resources shortages and famines lasted for years. It was a miracle that no one wanted to go to war, but I doubt anyone could afford it."
Davin, however, showed promise at an extremely early age. Alvren explained that at the age of 16, the future Chairman not only turned his family into one of the richest on Acteron within only two years…but he completely revitalized the entire planet by 22. Yet Davin never took credit. Instead, he allowed his allies and proxies to become the "heroes" of the hour. It was a rather noble gesture, but Alvren remarked that it was all a smokescreen.
"He's a good man, Davin. But he isn't stupid. He knew how the Cooperative really worked and prepared accordingly. All that money and goodwill was used to rearm Acteron. Everyone thought they were building just farms and mines, and that was true to an extent…but factories, armories, and munitions were also manufactured. So when the time came for Acteron to expand, Davin put out the call for anyone crazy or desperate enough to fight in his future war.
Alvren laughed as he drank deeply, "I was one of those that answered the call. I had only a small tugboat, but I had been fleet commander for Ra-Hazin before being discharged for drinking on the job." He held up a wine glass in contemptuous mockery, "So I had a bit of grudge to settle. We all had a reason to accept the job. We all knew that Davin's plan had a much better outcome for the Cooperative. But he understood you gotta get your hands dirty. And while he never picked up a gun or blade, Davin made the right move by hiring the people that could do it for him."
The more Corvus heard Alvren explain the situation, he soon realized how dangerous this Chairman was now. Davin had control over an entire planet and a small army and fleet at 25. He armed and supplied them before sending them out to cause havoc by attacking particular trade lanes and material processing facilities. Davin wasn't interested in occupying or destroying his foes.
No…he was going to buy them all out.
Everything attack or sabotage was meticulously planned to maximize profits or increase the timetable for some agenda. Due to the corruptive nature of the Cooperative, it was easy to buy and sell whole companies, cities, entire moons and then utilize their assets to ensure that Acteron reaped the profits and then used them to buy out enemies and competitions.
"Whenever anyone recognized what he was doing? He cut them in! Davin bought entire armies with either luxury goods or just food and medicine! Can you believe it?! That's how bad things were in the Cooperative. Davin was the only sane man among tens of trillions!"
In just twenty years, Davin turned a small war chest into the most significant accumulated stockpile of wealth within the Cooperative. His enemies, unaware that they were targets of Davin's forces, went to him for loans and resources. It was already too late by the time they realized what was happening. Their holdings were either in open revolt, their government about to crash via debt, or they were unable to pay their defense forces.
The more Corvus heard this story, the more he recognized rather uncomfortable parallels involving the Imperium's current financial troubles.
By the time Davin Kell was 60 years old, most of the Cooperative was under his and his allies' control. It was impossible to resist his influence now. Entire worlds had been risen from the ashes of mendacity and decline to become profitable and prosperous worlds. Citizens in the tens of billions were heading towards them, looking for better work and a future. The military arm of the Cooperative was firmly under the control of a council of admirals, generals, and mercenary lords. To fight against the Cooperative invited death via several vectors, either by complete military defeat, economic collapse, or a popular uprising.
And so, by the 25 year, all parties arrived at Acteron to effectively surrender and pay tribute to the new Board of Directors. A council of technocrats, politicians, administrators, and captains of industry, all who obeyed the Chairman, Davin Kell.
"Of course, all good things must come to an end." Alvren remarked with some disdain, "Davin was a good friend to all those who supported him, but his life was ruled by profit margins and numbers. Additionally, I think Davin realized that he couldn't have a bunch of mercs and ex-cons on his side anymore. So he gave us all a nice cushy severance package and effectively fired us."
Corvus couldn't help but speak up, "And that was a mistake?"
"It nearly cost him his life." Alvren finished off the bottle of wine and licked his lips before speaking again, "His so-called allies on the Board thought he outlived his usefulness. So, they tried to kill him." That didn't surprise Corvus in the slightest. He knew, before this meeting, that an entity like the Cooperation was likely rife with backstabbing and kleptocracy. A nation whose leaders were effectively profit and status quo driven ultimately coveted the most powerful position and those who held it.
"Yet he survived." Corvus remarked, "However, I take it there is more to this story?"
Alvren nodded, "Like I said, it nearly cost Davin his life. Some type of toxin, alien from what I remember." He looked around for something to drink, "We only learned about it after the bombing attempt that same day."
"There were two assassination attempts?"
The mortal shook his head, "There were four. One was a sniper, after that a rocket attack. Then there was the bomb, followed by the toxin." Impressive, the lengths and ineptitude of these assassins went to kill one man on the same day.
"What happened to him?"
"The toxin started to eat away his lungs." Alvren grimaced as he spoke, "His security team got him to a medical facility, one owned by those tech-priests, and they could stabilize him and prevent it from spreading…but they couldn't figure out a way to remove it, just keep it contained."
"And when did this happen?"
"Almost twenty years ago. Davin's been dealing with his conditions ever since. He can barely walk without getting winded, and he's been a cocktail of meds and chems every day. Before I decided to venture out into the void as a privateer-" Corvus resisted the urge to snort at Alvren using that descriptor, "Davin told me that he would return to working in the shadows again and let the Board handle his empire."
Although he had a question, Corvus could see why. "Did you ever learn who tried to kill him?"
"Yeah, it was the Board."
"Why does that not surprise me." Corvus shook his head. Humans and their blasted betrayals, especially those that allowed them to gain their power in the first place, "I suppose that was to be expected, given the nature of the Cooperative. I'm sure their replacements were a lot more…cooperative."
To the Primarch's surprise, Alvren shook his head, "He didn't replace them."
"What?" Corvus almost thought he misheard the Free-Admiral, "What do you mean?"
"Davin forgave the Board when he found out." Alvren leaned back into his chair, "That was what caused a lot of us to break away from him. We all thought he had lost his mind. But the way he explained it…Davin kept looking back at the numbers, and I think he realized that replacing the entire Board with new bodies would only cause further chaos and strife. But more than that, I think he just recognized that he created his own monster and now had to take responsibility for it."
What a baffling idea. "To surround yourself with vipers was one thing, but forgive them?"
"When a viper bites you, it's just following its nature." Alvren shrugged, "Maybe Davin recognized that he needed a bunch of bastards like the Board to run everything, or maybe he figured it was better to have the enemy that you know than the one you don't. In case, last I heard, Davin had more than a few assassins on payroll watching them. So it wasn't like he planned on letting them have a long leash."
Corvus understood the necessity of that logic, but he still couldn't imagine his Legion being staffed by men that wanted to kill him, let alone succeed in maiming him. "He invites corruption into his home."
"Aye," Alvren smirked, "I told him the same thing. He said, 'Better to be king of it than a servant of benevolent uncertainty.' Davin was willing to give up power, but not all of it, I can tell you that much." The Free-Admiral reached forward to grab what he thought to be a half-empty bottle, "All things considered, pretty good for a Blank."
Whatever Corvus was about to say next died on his lips as he just heard that, "Davin Kell is a Blank?"
"You didn't know that?" Alvren sounded surprised, "I guess it's not something most people would figure out without knowing what a Blank is, right? Davin also probably hid that information as well. You are starting to see why he worked from the shadows now. He has such a brilliant mind, yet no man could stand to be around him. Even so, he convinced enough people to listen to his plans."
"Until they decided they didn't need him anymore." Corvus thought that he had a good understanding of this situation, yet once again, he was surprised. One Blank was responsible for uplifting an entire empire from the precipice of failure into what many would consider being a golden age. Yet that hadn't been enough to stop his allies from coming after him. They feared Davin Kell. Whether because of the power he wielded or simply because of his nature.
It made Corvus question what exactly he was to do next.
"Might I ask for a favor?" Corvus asked a very bemused Alvren. If this was going to happen, Corvus might as well prepare for whatever came next.
—
The arrival of the 19th Legion was officially remembered by Rememberancers as a time of celebration and happiness. The Cooperation would joyfully reconnect with greater humanity via the Imperium of Man. Its population and government joined to greet the Expeditionary Fleet and honor Corvus Corax, Primarch of the Raven Guard, and son to the Emperor of Mankind with honors and other festivities. Compliance would take only two months to complete, and with that, the Rilroth Cooperation joined the Imperium of Man.
Naturally, there was quite a bit more to the compliance. For starters, the arrival of the Raven Guard caused quite a bit of panic among the Cooperation military. They barely had time to realize that a fleet of a thousand vessels had entered their core system, let alone that hundreds of other ships were parking themselves in orbit over dozens of Cooperation worlds. All Corvus had to do was send one message, and thousands of Raven Guard marines could strike at a moment's notice. However, that thankfully did not come to pass.
The Cooperation knew they were beaten. The largest vessel the Cooperation could field was a cruiser. The rest were frigates, monitors, and destroyers. Corvus thanked Alvren for that information. Once the Board recognized their situation, a diplomatic team was sent to the Shadow, and the compliance began in earnest.
Corvus, however, would be absent from that meeting. He had a more urgent matter to attend to down on Acteron. Alvren provided the location of where Davin currently resided, the old Kell Estate grounds. The Free-Admiral figured that if Corvus was this invested in trying to meet with Davin, then he should help if it meant less death and destruction for the Cooperation. Corvus also wrote Alvren a letter of recommendation to become a Rogue Trader. That probably influenced the outcome more than anything.
Nevertheless, Corvus had a destination in mind. Far in the mountains of northern Acteron was the ancestral home of the Kell's. A glorious estate that still would've been considered "humble" and "quaint" by most nobles in the Imperium. As Corvus approached using the Blackhawk, he was undetected once more. Once above the estate, he simply deployed from the air to the ground, landing right outside the estate's gates.
His sudden arrival likely started sending a few alarms through the estate by this point. He saw one of the pict-recorders focused on the Primarch, and Corvus pulled one last piece of aid from Alvren and held it up for the recorder to see. The old pirate called it the Service Crown, a reward personally given to all those that had helped during the early days of subverting the Cooperation.
"Admiral Sha'Lina sends his regards," Corvus stated bluntly, "I'm here under the flag of peace. But as a courtesy, I'll give you a minute to open these gates before I simply decide on what to do to get past them." Corvus was getting pretty good at using a velvet glove approach these days. He had to wait only twenty seconds before the gates opened. His path now unbarred, Corvus made his way inside.
Upon entering the estate, the first two things he noticed were the forty or so house-guard that had weapons aimed at him. None more powerful than a bolt-gun. However, an older gentleman approached and looked like a seneschal. The man tried to explain that "Master Kell" was ready to see the Primarch, but they had to prepare a good meeting place due to his condition.
"Unless he needs a clean room to prevent infection, I will speak with him regardless of his state." That seemed to do the trick as the seneschal admitted that there wasn't any threat of infection. Corvus politely but firmly requested to see him then. Once more, with an underlining tone of "stop stalling and take me to him."
Once that particular time waster was concluded, Corvus was "escorted" towards the sanctum of Davin Kell. During his approach to the estate via air, Corvus noted that the estate was built into the mountains. A hold-over from when the ancient Kell's minded this mountain for gold and iron. Davin Kell had likely repurposed one of the old mines for his own uses.
This theory was confirmed when Corvus and his escort took an elevator down several levels, and when the doors opened, the Primarch could make out a vast set of corridors and the humming of electronics. Corvus could imagine entire sections of the old mine that housed cogitator banks and network systems that would allow Davin to see whatever information was on the Cooperations systems.
A Chairman that effectively worked from his ancestral home. Easy enough to protect, Corvus figured that much was apparent. Indeed, this place could survive an orbital strike or two. Yet the Primarch doubted that Davin was hiding from his enemies.
Once they reached a double set of adamantium doors, Corvus saw what appeared to be a pair of automated plasma cannons that were aimed directly at the Primarch for a moment before switching off. The doors slowly swung open.
Stepping inside, Corvus saw what looked to be a combination of a master bedroom and an administrator's command and control center. Roboute would've been pleased by the setup, but he also called it "inefficient" by his own metrics.
Then Corvus felt it…something was watching him from the shadows. But that couldn't be right as the room was brightly lit, and he hadn't sensed anyone else trying to sneak up on him. More than that, no one could get the drop on him. Even the Druhkari had failed in their attempts during the War in the Void.
Being near a Blank...it was as though the very shadows recoil from their presence. Lashing out like a candle flame against a sudden, foreboding gust of wind. A whisper in the dark, a kiss of nothingness upon his soul.
A voice suddenly brought Corvus out of his paranoid thoughts, "What creature stands before me." His voice was distorted by vox as if echoing through a sound system. Corvus turned to see Davin Kell, sitting on a bed with a host of machines surrounding him and a breathing apparatus attached to his face.
The room itself was humming with electricity and fans. Dozens of display monitors showed a host of administrative data and news feeds. Corvus could see several news channels speaking about the impending economic turmoil of the Imperium's arrival, and one showed his sons arriving at the capital building that house the Board of Directors.
Turning away from those displays, Corvus focused on his target. Cold, grey, and blighted eyes stared back at the Primarch. The man appeared to be in his late 60s and was wearing what looked to be a white synskin suit. He looked tired. Almost reminding Corvus of Mortarion. A sad creature.
And yet, Corvus could still sense the aura of a powerful man staring back at him. Davin Kell, the Chairman, the true master of the Rilroth Cooperation. He looked at the Primarch was a look of surly expectation. Now he reminded Corvus of Roboute or Perturabo. A busy man that would not waste time. His and yours, oddly enough.
"I am Corvus Corax, Primarch of the Raven Guard, representing the Imperium of Mankind and its Emperor." The Lord of Ravens quickly spouted off like he had done so many times before.
Davin Kell nodded only once, "Yes, the missives and requests I've received from the Board indicated as much. They are panicking right now." He stopped and stared intently at Corvus before speaking again, "I ask again…what manner of creature are you?"
Many had asked him that question before, "I am Primarch. A genetically enhanced and augmented human, to a degree not seen in this galaxy until now. We are sons of the Emperor of Mankind. It was through his genius and will that allowed for our manifestation."
"Hmm, your Imperium must be technological advance." Davin Kell repositioned himself in his bed to better look at the Primarch, "Yet based on what I've seen and heard, I imagine a nation that makes men like you isn't a peaceful one, not by choice."
At least he understood that much, "We are at war with many foes. Aliens, mutants, rogue machines, and…other elements." He didn't want to think about Chaos or the gods right now, "It is way nations like the Cooperative must be brought into the Imperium of Man. The only way to survive now is to stand together as well."
"A noble enough cause," Davin nodded again, "But you should save such speeches for the Board. They are the ones that control everything now."
"Admiral Sha'Lina seems to think otherwise." Corvus retorted simply enough, "You are the man that set into motion a design that resulted in the Cooperative becoming prosperous."
Davin chuckled, which reminded Corvus more of a wheezing vacuum, "Is that what he said, eh? I suppose I should be grateful that those I once called friends still speak highly of me. I hope you didn't kill or torture the good-admiral for that information?"
"Not at all." Corvus crossed his arms, "I just bribed him with booze and the promise of a warrant of trade."
This line caused the Blank to actually laugh, "Ha! That drunkard." Yet before Davin could continue, he started to cough. His right hand reached forward and moved a small valve next to a gas tank. Corvus waited a few moments while the man recovered from the coughing fit.
"Damn this toxin." Davin growled under his throat, "Whatever race decided to make such a thing deserves to burn." His good mood soured now; Davin looked back at the Primarch, "Now, what do you want, Corvus Corax?"
"Your cooperation." Corvus started, "Right now, my sons are meeting with the Board and applying pressure on them to join the Imperium without much issue. I need to prevent the Board from doing anything stupid."
Davin shook his head, "I'm not sure why you think they'll listen to me. Did Alvren mention exactly why I am like this?"
"The Board tried to kill you," Corvus commented bluntly, "And you decided not to punish them, for some reason."
"Yes, that's correct." Davin sounds almost amused, "These days, I just provide the answers and solutions to problems they can't solve independently. They aren't stupid people, the Board, but I still have to remind them occasionally that I am the reason they have their positions in the first place."
"Lot good that did you," Corvus couldn't help but remark, "By all rights, they should've been killed."
The Chairman looked surprised to hear that, "Why? Because they tried to kill me? Perhaps. I would've killed them if they had tried to bring down the Cooperative or instigate war or caused far too many civilian deaths for me to ignore. Yet I am responsible for them. I made them that way; cutthroats, thieves, and manipulators. This nation…our nation is built upon such traditions and practices. Perhaps the next few generations will recognize and hopefully change it for the better. But until then, we must make do."
Corvus could understand that mentality. So many of his brothers kept their own worlds in similar positions, albeit after making numerous corrections or advancements. Leman and Khan, however, kept their homeworlds as they were because it was what made them strong and wise in their own rights.
"You allow for corruption, outright kleptocracy, and even continue working with those who tried to kill you." Corvus was trying to find the angle to this whole approach, "I can't tell if you are completely mad or an actual genius."
Davin didn't say anything, but Corvus watched his hands glided across a keyboard. One of the nearby cogitator screens showed a picture of a younger and healthier-looking Davin alongside a group of men and women. Judging by the photo, this must have been taken decades ago.
"The Board was my creation," Davin remarked wistfully, "But all those that served on were people I called friends and even family. They were all like me, save for my condition. Forgotten geniuses and prodigies, full of ambition and dreams. Yet they understood there was no hope under the current system. Back when I started my ploy, the corruption from within the Cooperative left a rotten structure. Like a tree that needed love and care, we tried to remove the rot until we learned that it wasn't something we could remove by force. A tree needs to naturally regenerate and grow once more. The rot would be replaced in time."
"Yet that same rot infected your Board."
Davin nodded, "It did." He smiled sadly, "Much to my disappointment. And yet I couldn't bring myself to blame them. Does a master kill his hound when it bites him just once? Was it the animals' fault or the master who failed to teach it? That's what I was then. A master who failed them, and thus I did not seek to punish them. Yes, I took precautions, and I would not harbor a second attempt on my life, but I still lent them my aid."
"I still would've killed them." Corvus responded bluntly, "Such greed will only result in further damages down the line."
The Chairman nodded sadly, "Perhaps you are right, but I gave them a second chance." As he settled back into his bed, he looked at Corvus, "Yet I hope you would give your sons the same pardon for their own failures."
"My sons failing in war is punishment enough for them."
That caused the Blank to slowly chuckle behind his mask, "I hope so. A father should be more forgiving of his sons' failings. When you consider someone's family, you should be willing to accept their limitations and faults. Seek to redress them, but there is no harm in being merciful and forgiving when the situation calls for it."
Corvus had no answer to that claim. A part of him wondered if the Emperor would be so forgiving to him or any of his brothers if they made mistakes, even just slightly. That was the conundrum of their lives. All this power and influence meant any wrong move could have disastrous results. One need only look towards Angron and the Desolation to see the reality of that situation. Furthermore, would humanity forgive the Primarchs for their sins?
Something about this conversation unsettled Corvus. Thankfully, Davin seemed to shift gears back towards the topic at hand.
"You ask me to convince the Board to accept your rule? You do not need it. They have already decided to surrender peacefully." Davin remarked before coughing, but this time he seemed to get it under control, "But if you desire my assistance, I will send them a message to accept."
The Primarch watched as Davin quickly compiled a message before sending it off via a secured channel, "It is done. Acteron and the Rilroth Cooperative will be yours by the next hour, although I imagine there will be months of negotiation and reorganization." The Chairman looked at Corvus, "You are technically the Chairman now, Corvus Corax." Corvus couldn't see the smile, but he suspected the Blank was doing just that, "The Board is now your problem."
Corvus raised a solitary eyebrow at that, "You sound almost relieved. By all rights, you just lost your empire."
"I lost my 'empire' years ago. It doesn't matter. As long as the Cooperative survives and grows, my job is done now." He coughed once more, "Now, if only I could do something about the toxin…otherwise, I believe my end will be fast approaching."
A rather lackluster ending for a man like Davin, "You don't wish to ask me for perhaps a position in the new government?"
The now ex-Chairman shook his head as he quietly coughed, "I work best from the shadows."
Now that was giving the Primarch an idea. There was no reason to let a mind like Davin's go to waste, especially if there was a means to remove that blasted toxin. "What would it take for you to work for me, then?"
Rather than look surprised at the question, Davin looked squarely at the Primarch, "You cure this blasted toxin and maybe see about getting me fully recovered, and you'll have my loyalty and skills."
"Just like that?"
Davin gestured towards the screens, "Unless you are planning to kill or completely dismantle the Cooperative piecemeal or kill the Board, I have no reason to not trust the offer. Aside from my home and servants, no. I have long since detached myself from anything that would keep me grounded on Acteron save for needing to stay in this wretched room now." Corvus heard the fury in the Blank's voice. It made the Primarch feel a slight migraine.
"I'd need to examine your condition," Corvus started with a slight frown, "But I believe I might know the origin of this toxin. As such, I might be able to reach out to a few contacts that could maybe see about finding a treatment or maybe a cure. It will take time, though."
"Time is all I need." Davin remarked bluntly, "Besides if we are to work together, I will need information. For starters, in what capacity would you have me?" That was the next big question for Corvus. He could always send him over to Roboute. Indeed, the Lord of Ultramar would thank the Lord of Ravens for such a unique asset. But Corvus certainly needed his aid more than Roboute did at the moment.
However, a Blank would never be accepted by most Imperial leadership. Even if Davin worked from the shadows, he'd be scrutinized by Sigillites once they learned of him. A Blank's only purpose tended to be towards combat activities, yet Davin had no place on the battlefield.
The solution, however, was relatively easy.
"I want you to help an organization of mine." Corvus answered as he approached the bedside of Davin Kell, "Their mission and mandate is a strange one, but I know that you would be quite useful in it, and their operations would certainly fit your style of administration."
"That so?" Davin leaned back into his bed, "What does this organization do exactly?"
The Lord of Ravens and Master of Ravenloft smiled at the former Chairman, "Well, first off…what do you think about when you hear the word…gods?"
—
Lockcraft had been busy for the last few months. So much so that he almost forgot to find time to relax. Yet Lockcraft wasn't one to just sit around and do nothing. One doesn't successfully run a secret paramilitary research organization by taking breaks all the time. Besides, the most recent success was motivation enough.
So much, so that Lord Corax found it necessary to come and see him directly. The Primarch went so far as to prepare a reward for him. Lockcraft didn't care for surprises or rewards, especially from his "boss." Yet you didn't turn down a gift from a Primarch. That was just asking for trouble otherwise.
As such, Lockcraft merely waited for the Primarch's arrival when he was to grace the director's office. Once his camp-de-aide vox'd ahead that the Primarch was coming to see him, Lockcraft prepared teapot and waited while working on minor paperwork.
He was three pages into a report about one of the recent Crows Nest programs when he felt something slimy creep up his spine. The man barely had time to focus until he detected a rather stench in the air that seemed to be growing in intensity. Had the air scrubbers failed? Yet the sensations grew more intense. Lockcraft felt like a spider was crawling up his leg, a fly buzzing by his ears, and ants scurrying up his back. As if randomly, he developed cotton-mouth, but that wasn't the case.
The longer this went on, the stronger the sensations started to become. The buzzing became a ringing. His spine felt like it had now turned to glass, and the feeling of crawling insects under his skin caused Lockcraft to grit his teeth. His hands became clenched fists. Lungs and heart started to beat like an Ork wardrum.
Lockcraft heard the sounds of chanting, but only in his mind, and the smell of incense and burning sinew and bone wafted across his office. The shadows and lights intermingled, distorting his vision before becoming clear again.
And then suddenly…there was a knock on his door.
The man blinked, and the world was quiet. Calm. Almost debilitating so. Without a second thought, Lockcraft called out towards the door.
"Enter."
A moment later, the door opened. Corvus Corax and a strange man entered the room. He looked relatively young, with dull grey eyes and hair staring back at him. Lockcraft felt uneasy looking at the man before him. The sound of chanting and the feeling of insects crawling in his skin returned for a moment.
"Jonathon," Corvus spoke up, using his first name, which Lockcraft never found right when used aloud, "I hope we weren't interrupting anything."
Whatever just happened didn't matter now. Lockcraft stood up and approached the Primarch and dull-stranger, "Even if I was, that wouldn't have stopped you from entering." He casually remarked as he stared at the stranger, "And this is?"
"Davin Kell." The stranger spoke up and held out his hand to shake Lockcraft, "Pleasure to meet you." Although the man didn't look that old, he had a raspy voice. An illness, perhaps?
Lockcraft stared down at the offered hand for only a second before reaching out and embracing it. He braced himself for whatever came next…but then felt nothing. That, however, caused him to feel a bit unnerved more than anything.
"Charmed." The Director spoke up as if nothing was amiss while casually pulling his hand away, "Am I too assume he is my 'gift' for the organization's hard work?" He looked back towards the Primarch.
Corvus nodded, although he seemed surprised at how he was reacting, "Yes…Davin will become part of the Ravenloft inner circle. His nature and talents will greatly aid you and Ravenloft."
Lockcraft frowned at not being told of this decision, but Corvus also didn't make significant changes or allow anyone to enter the organization without reason. This Davin Kell must have impressed him in some capacity.
"And what shall you bring to the organization, Mr. Kell."
He smirked at Lockcraft, "Hopefully, a lot of money."
"That so?" Maybe now Lockcraft could see about finding additional funding for expeditions and facilities, "What did you do before joining Ravenloft?"
Davin smirked once more and then chuckled, "I was a Chairman." Lockcraft was surprised when he heard the Primarch snort at that descriptor. Lockcraft spared only a single glance towards the Primarch before looking back at Davin and nodding along.
"I see..." He was wondering what was going on now, "Well, we have much to talk about. In any case...welcome to Ravenloft, Mr. Chairman."
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, finally done with this omake now.
It sometimes amused Lockcraft the trivialities that Ravenloft, an organization created and designed to understand the divine, had to deal with daily. Most individuals likely imagined a paramilitary occult organization spent their time reading forbidden tomes or engaging in rituals to summon forth the gods or a spirit into this realm. Yet that was farthest from the truth.
Nothing ruined the mystique of an organization than finding out that you were just as likely to end up having to catalog dusty old books and tomes as you were going out into the field on some "adventure" of a lifetime. From the lowest scribe to an actual field operative, each member of Ravenloft was an educated individual. Yet a mind was a terrible thing to waste, and everyone was responsible for maintaining the organization.
Bureaucracy was the bane of any organization. Lockcraft knew this fact quite intimately and found it ironic that he was now the mastermind behind it. Worse yet, he was its keeper. As a young man, he had chafed under the arcane procedures and academic rituals required for scholars and scribes. To be the one in charge now did nothing to nullify his hatred towards it. Although, he also gained quite a bit of understanding and respect for it.
Perhaps he had been a bit too harsh on his professors or administrators whenever they discussed why it was necessary to follow instructions and procedures. However, they had never been tasked with containing and analyzing divine artifacts and relics or confronted actual gods and spirits.
Lockcraft recognized that while he was good as an administrator, he didn't excel. When he voiced such concerns to Corvus, the Primarch told Lockcraft to surround himself with individuals who could bolster or cover his weaknesses. He did just that, resulting in the inner circle of Ravenloft being staffed by the best minds that Ravenloft could get their hands out without being noticed. Even so, there were limitations.
Especially when it came to the threat of corruption, both mundane and esoteric. Lockcraft knew that given enough time, even Ravenloft would have individual members that would seek to profit off their activities. Hundreds of trillions worth of thrones were exchanged every year, hidden among ledgers and accounts across thousands of worlds. Priceless relics and treasures, some of which had no real value to Ravenloft's mission, lay inside vaults and reliquaries.
It would take one man to skim a little bit off a ledger or take an innocuous item that had no value to Ravenloft and simply disappear. Lockcraft knew of hundreds of collectors out in the galaxy that wanted one trinket or another. Mainly because Ravenloft had already bought said relics from them. Yet this sort of corruption was the best-case scenario.
He had come to embrace the mundane problems. Mundanity was familiar to him. They could be solved with a well-placed message or an unseen knife in the dark. The Raven Guard was exceptional at eliminating issues in the shadows, while Lockcraft ensured that the organization's internal affairs handled plugging those holes and ensuring they never became an issue. Yet he even had to face the reality of their work. No matter how many precautions and preventive measures, no matter how intense the vetting process, the danger of spiritual corruption was impossible to completely counter-act. The nature of the divine was unpredictable, especially when considering the power wielded by deities or their most powerful servants.
And that was just the "known" vectors of corruption. It was plausible that recovered relics or objects of interest could have passive cognitohazards or spiritual risks to the researchers or those who came into physical contact with the item. A single phrase in a scroll or book could possibly damn a man's soul. A weapon or tome of power? Could damn an entire facility if unleashed by a tarnished spirit. There were concerns over the possibility of some objects holding a daemon or spirit within them, yet Ravenloft had not encountered such relics.
The prospect of trying to secure and contain objects of power or entities was a relatively untested process within Ravenloft. To say nothing of their failures to keep someone like Revenant in check indicated how unprepared Ravenloft was for the genuinely unpredictable and powerful instances of divine manifestations. However, all they could do now was learn and adapt as they sought to complete their mission.
Yet, given those threats and their lack to counter thereof, it was in the best interests of Lockcraft to find whatever means he could to protect the organization. To that end, he sought everything from esoteric technologies to ancient rituals. Nothing was considered too "outlandish," but some were considered too ghastly or ghoulish to use in practice. The Primarch agreed that certain lines would not be considered, let alone crossed. Especially after learning about how some gods gained power through the most basic ritual components and rites.
Money was certainly not an issue. Corvus Corax ran his domain effectively, and thus his coffers could easily afford funding and resources for Ravenloft endeavors, facilities, personnel, and the purchasing power for whatever they needed. Sadly, it was never a question of money that hindered Ravenloft, but a lack of skill and willpower to handle the prospect of running such an organization from the shadows.
To find anyone capable of withstanding the rigors and advancing the organization's goals was worth more than a hundred thousand scribes or an entire ship. To Lockcraft, the only way for Ravenloft to excel was to recruit those that could safeguard it from the inside. A neigh impossible task, given the nature of their mission.
Nevertheless, Lockcraft had learned that the impossible could be achieved since his time as Ravenloft director. One might even be facetious enough to call a stroke of luck a "miracle," but he refused to think in such terms.
Still, he wouldn't say no to one.
—
No matter how much one spent in the Great Crusade, you were always likely to find something that subverted your expectations. It didn't matter whether it was considerably horrible or bizarre. What mattered, it was a new experience. For the adventurous, it was a moment of exhilaration and wonder. Of course, the opposite was true, for a pessimist would only scowl at finding such oddities. Yet the wise would see it as a chance to learn and gain insight into the nature of things, whether for good or ill.
Corvus had learned to find wisdom in the strange and unknown. These last few years had required him to reexamine his perceptions on not only reality but on individuals, groups, and the very laws that govern existence. Corvus learned to take victories where he could find them and find a silver lining. Easier said than done in certain compliances.
However, the gods and fates sought to "reward" Corvus with an easy enough compliance within a recently discovered system. His expedition had learned from local traders and pirates of a system that bore a highly functional human civilization; the Rilroth Cooperative. When Corvus first heard of the Cooperative through second-hand accounts, it was touted as a "wealthy" alliance of worlds dedicated to mineral trade, technological sales, and financial services. A quasi-federalist republic of twenty-nine fully industrialized planets, 98 moons of various habitability, and thousands of orbital stations
At least, that was on the surface. The more criminal and uncouth sources described that the Cooperative provided more illicit goods and services. Although nothing on the scale of selling slaves to xenos, nor did they sell weapons or ships to pirates or raiders. By all rights, the Cooperative was a reasonably decent civilization, full of laws and protections for the average citizen to a certain degree anyway. Officially, slavery was illegal in the Cooperative. But those who knew about the Cooperative were aware there was more to it. Most of the population was stuck in servitude to the "Board of Directors."
That was a recurring detail in the Raven Guards information gathering: The Board of Directors, or simply the Board, the true masters of the Cooperative. Amusingly enough, a very open group of oligarchs. Everything from the bottom and middle portions of government was democratically elected by the citizens, but the top was appointed by the Board, and the directors ultimately pulled the strings.
It was all just an illusion of government, but one accepted by most people within their borders. And based on what Corvus could surmise, the illusion wasn't without merit. Roboute would undoubtedly have more insight into what made the Cooperative so effective. Yet perhaps that didn't matter. The results spoke for themselves.
Yet the more Corvus examined the rumors and stories behind the Cooperative, the more questions appeared. When the Primarch spoke with a few individuals, privateers and rogue traders, that had been given the honor of dining and dealing with the Board, they all remarked that there was an absent member.
The Chairman.
An elusive figure, but one considered to be the mastermind behind the success and prosperity of the Cooperative. However, all information on him was scant these days. He hadn't been seen or heard from in almost fifty years. There were no images or recordings of him even before his disappearance. Let alone any details on the man himself. He was a reclusive individual with a penchant for secrecy.
However, Corvus's investigation got lucky. During one of his brief interrogations with an officer of a pirate clan that routinely did business with the Cooperative, there was a mention that a Free-Admiral Sha'Lina had spoken directly with the Chairman for nearly 60 years. There weren't many others alive claiming to have such an "honor" regarding interactions with the Cooperative. Regardless, Corvus had the Shadow easily sneak into the territory of the Crescent Souls clan and find the Free-Admirals fleet.
Even though Corvus was outnumbered nineteen to one, the Shadow could've easily destroyed these ships even before he and the crew had become masters of the void. To that end, Corvus was magnanimous enough to offer a quick meeting before the Free-Admiral, and his fleet would be escorted to Imperial lines, their ships impounded and processed. Although, Corvus would see that the Free-Admiral was compensated for his vessels.
But their days of prowling the void lanes were over.
—
The meeting with the soon-to-be ex-Free-Admiral Alvren Sha'Lina was ultimately a tedious dinner affair, but it was the least Corvus could do to coax the information out of Alvren short of torture and interrogation. It was simple enough, especially as Alvren drank like a fish, and the offer of foreign spirits and wines would certainly loosen his tongue.
After the human was two bottles in, Corvus asked about the Chairman and his importance to the Cooperation. Alvren Sha'Lina stared at the Primarch before he started laughing, reminding Corvus a bit too much of the Harlequins.
"So, you wish to know about Davin, eh?" He gestured towards one of the rarer bottles from Ultramar, "You let me have a taste of that spirit, and I'll tell you everything."
The ex-Free-Admiral explained what he knew remembered about his former employer and friend, Davin Kell: The Chairman. Alvren pointed out that all the success and prosperity that the Rilroth Cooperative enjoyed was because of Davin. The man was an economical and administrative genius. Davin had been born to a small group of merchants on the capital of Rilroth, Acteron, during the tail end of the Century of False Promises. Alvren described the Cooperative before Davin because it was a loose confederation of bickering nobles, pirate-kings, guild-houses, and military strongmen.
Alvren explained how chaotic the Cooperative was while gorging himself on the expensive wine, "You could barely find anyone wanting to trade or buy things. It was all bartering, and even then, the situation got so dire that some resources shortages and famines lasted for years. It was a miracle that no one wanted to go to war, but I doubt anyone could afford it."
Davin, however, showed promise at an extremely early age. Alvren explained that at the age of 16, the future Chairman not only turned his family into one of the richest on Acteron within only two years…but he completely revitalized the entire planet by 22. Yet Davin never took credit. Instead, he allowed his allies and proxies to become the "heroes" of the hour. It was a rather noble gesture, but Alvren remarked that it was all a smokescreen.
"He's a good man, Davin. But he isn't stupid. He knew how the Cooperative really worked and prepared accordingly. All that money and goodwill was used to rearm Acteron. Everyone thought they were building just farms and mines, and that was true to an extent…but factories, armories, and munitions were also manufactured. So when the time came for Acteron to expand, Davin put out the call for anyone crazy or desperate enough to fight in his future war.
Alvren laughed as he drank deeply, "I was one of those that answered the call. I had only a small tugboat, but I had been fleet commander for Ra-Hazin before being discharged for drinking on the job." He held up a wine glass in contemptuous mockery, "So I had a bit of grudge to settle. We all had a reason to accept the job. We all knew that Davin's plan had a much better outcome for the Cooperative. But he understood you gotta get your hands dirty. And while he never picked up a gun or blade, Davin made the right move by hiring the people that could do it for him."
The more Corvus heard Alvren explain the situation, he soon realized how dangerous this Chairman was now. Davin had control over an entire planet and a small army and fleet at 25. He armed and supplied them before sending them out to cause havoc by attacking particular trade lanes and material processing facilities. Davin wasn't interested in occupying or destroying his foes.
No…he was going to buy them all out.
Everything attack or sabotage was meticulously planned to maximize profits or increase the timetable for some agenda. Due to the corruptive nature of the Cooperative, it was easy to buy and sell whole companies, cities, entire moons and then utilize their assets to ensure that Acteron reaped the profits and then used them to buy out enemies and competitions.
"Whenever anyone recognized what he was doing? He cut them in! Davin bought entire armies with either luxury goods or just food and medicine! Can you believe it?! That's how bad things were in the Cooperative. Davin was the only sane man among tens of trillions!"
In just twenty years, Davin turned a small war chest into the most significant accumulated stockpile of wealth within the Cooperative. His enemies, unaware that they were targets of Davin's forces, went to him for loans and resources. It was already too late by the time they realized what was happening. Their holdings were either in open revolt, their government about to crash via debt, or they were unable to pay their defense forces.
The more Corvus heard this story, the more he recognized rather uncomfortable parallels involving the Imperium's current financial troubles.
By the time Davin Kell was 60 years old, most of the Cooperative was under his and his allies' control. It was impossible to resist his influence now. Entire worlds had been risen from the ashes of mendacity and decline to become profitable and prosperous worlds. Citizens in the tens of billions were heading towards them, looking for better work and a future. The military arm of the Cooperative was firmly under the control of a council of admirals, generals, and mercenary lords. To fight against the Cooperative invited death via several vectors, either by complete military defeat, economic collapse, or a popular uprising.
And so, by the 25 year, all parties arrived at Acteron to effectively surrender and pay tribute to the new Board of Directors. A council of technocrats, politicians, administrators, and captains of industry, all who obeyed the Chairman, Davin Kell.
"Of course, all good things must come to an end." Alvren remarked with some disdain, "Davin was a good friend to all those who supported him, but his life was ruled by profit margins and numbers. Additionally, I think Davin realized that he couldn't have a bunch of mercs and ex-cons on his side anymore. So he gave us all a nice cushy severance package and effectively fired us."
Corvus couldn't help but speak up, "And that was a mistake?"
"It nearly cost him his life." Alvren finished off the bottle of wine and licked his lips before speaking again, "His so-called allies on the Board thought he outlived his usefulness. So, they tried to kill him." That didn't surprise Corvus in the slightest. He knew, before this meeting, that an entity like the Cooperation was likely rife with backstabbing and kleptocracy. A nation whose leaders were effectively profit and status quo driven ultimately coveted the most powerful position and those who held it.
"Yet he survived." Corvus remarked, "However, I take it there is more to this story?"
Alvren nodded, "Like I said, it nearly cost Davin his life. Some type of toxin, alien from what I remember." He looked around for something to drink, "We only learned about it after the bombing attempt that same day."
"There were two assassination attempts?"
The mortal shook his head, "There were four. One was a sniper, after that a rocket attack. Then there was the bomb, followed by the toxin." Impressive, the lengths and ineptitude of these assassins went to kill one man on the same day.
"What happened to him?"
"The toxin started to eat away his lungs." Alvren grimaced as he spoke, "His security team got him to a medical facility, one owned by those tech-priests, and they could stabilize him and prevent it from spreading…but they couldn't figure out a way to remove it, just keep it contained."
"And when did this happen?"
"Almost twenty years ago. Davin's been dealing with his conditions ever since. He can barely walk without getting winded, and he's been a cocktail of meds and chems every day. Before I decided to venture out into the void as a privateer-" Corvus resisted the urge to snort at Alvren using that descriptor, "Davin told me that he would return to working in the shadows again and let the Board handle his empire."
Although he had a question, Corvus could see why. "Did you ever learn who tried to kill him?"
"Yeah, it was the Board."
"Why does that not surprise me." Corvus shook his head. Humans and their blasted betrayals, especially those that allowed them to gain their power in the first place, "I suppose that was to be expected, given the nature of the Cooperative. I'm sure their replacements were a lot more…cooperative."
To the Primarch's surprise, Alvren shook his head, "He didn't replace them."
"What?" Corvus almost thought he misheard the Free-Admiral, "What do you mean?"
"Davin forgave the Board when he found out." Alvren leaned back into his chair, "That was what caused a lot of us to break away from him. We all thought he had lost his mind. But the way he explained it…Davin kept looking back at the numbers, and I think he realized that replacing the entire Board with new bodies would only cause further chaos and strife. But more than that, I think he just recognized that he created his own monster and now had to take responsibility for it."
What a baffling idea. "To surround yourself with vipers was one thing, but forgive them?"
"When a viper bites you, it's just following its nature." Alvren shrugged, "Maybe Davin recognized that he needed a bunch of bastards like the Board to run everything, or maybe he figured it was better to have the enemy that you know than the one you don't. In case, last I heard, Davin had more than a few assassins on payroll watching them. So it wasn't like he planned on letting them have a long leash."
Corvus understood the necessity of that logic, but he still couldn't imagine his Legion being staffed by men that wanted to kill him, let alone succeed in maiming him. "He invites corruption into his home."
"Aye," Alvren smirked, "I told him the same thing. He said, 'Better to be king of it than a servant of benevolent uncertainty.' Davin was willing to give up power, but not all of it, I can tell you that much." The Free-Admiral reached forward to grab what he thought to be a half-empty bottle, "All things considered, pretty good for a Blank."
Whatever Corvus was about to say next died on his lips as he just heard that, "Davin Kell is a Blank?"
"You didn't know that?" Alvren sounded surprised, "I guess it's not something most people would figure out without knowing what a Blank is, right? Davin also probably hid that information as well. You are starting to see why he worked from the shadows now. He has such a brilliant mind, yet no man could stand to be around him. Even so, he convinced enough people to listen to his plans."
"Until they decided they didn't need him anymore." Corvus thought that he had a good understanding of this situation, yet once again, he was surprised. One Blank was responsible for uplifting an entire empire from the precipice of failure into what many would consider being a golden age. Yet that hadn't been enough to stop his allies from coming after him. They feared Davin Kell. Whether because of the power he wielded or simply because of his nature.
It made Corvus question what exactly he was to do next.
"Might I ask for a favor?" Corvus asked a very bemused Alvren. If this was going to happen, Corvus might as well prepare for whatever came next.
—
The arrival of the 19th Legion was officially remembered by Rememberancers as a time of celebration and happiness. The Cooperation would joyfully reconnect with greater humanity via the Imperium of Man. Its population and government joined to greet the Expeditionary Fleet and honor Corvus Corax, Primarch of the Raven Guard, and son to the Emperor of Mankind with honors and other festivities. Compliance would take only two months to complete, and with that, the Rilroth Cooperation joined the Imperium of Man.
Naturally, there was quite a bit more to the compliance. For starters, the arrival of the Raven Guard caused quite a bit of panic among the Cooperation military. They barely had time to realize that a fleet of a thousand vessels had entered their core system, let alone that hundreds of other ships were parking themselves in orbit over dozens of Cooperation worlds. All Corvus had to do was send one message, and thousands of Raven Guard marines could strike at a moment's notice. However, that thankfully did not come to pass.
The Cooperation knew they were beaten. The largest vessel the Cooperation could field was a cruiser. The rest were frigates, monitors, and destroyers. Corvus thanked Alvren for that information. Once the Board recognized their situation, a diplomatic team was sent to the Shadow, and the compliance began in earnest.
Corvus, however, would be absent from that meeting. He had a more urgent matter to attend to down on Acteron. Alvren provided the location of where Davin currently resided, the old Kell Estate grounds. The Free-Admiral figured that if Corvus was this invested in trying to meet with Davin, then he should help if it meant less death and destruction for the Cooperation. Corvus also wrote Alvren a letter of recommendation to become a Rogue Trader. That probably influenced the outcome more than anything.
Nevertheless, Corvus had a destination in mind. Far in the mountains of northern Acteron was the ancestral home of the Kell's. A glorious estate that still would've been considered "humble" and "quaint" by most nobles in the Imperium. As Corvus approached using the Blackhawk, he was undetected once more. Once above the estate, he simply deployed from the air to the ground, landing right outside the estate's gates.
His sudden arrival likely started sending a few alarms through the estate by this point. He saw one of the pict-recorders focused on the Primarch, and Corvus pulled one last piece of aid from Alvren and held it up for the recorder to see. The old pirate called it the Service Crown, a reward personally given to all those that had helped during the early days of subverting the Cooperation.
"Admiral Sha'Lina sends his regards," Corvus stated bluntly, "I'm here under the flag of peace. But as a courtesy, I'll give you a minute to open these gates before I simply decide on what to do to get past them." Corvus was getting pretty good at using a velvet glove approach these days. He had to wait only twenty seconds before the gates opened. His path now unbarred, Corvus made his way inside.
Upon entering the estate, the first two things he noticed were the forty or so house-guard that had weapons aimed at him. None more powerful than a bolt-gun. However, an older gentleman approached and looked like a seneschal. The man tried to explain that "Master Kell" was ready to see the Primarch, but they had to prepare a good meeting place due to his condition.
"Unless he needs a clean room to prevent infection, I will speak with him regardless of his state." That seemed to do the trick as the seneschal admitted that there wasn't any threat of infection. Corvus politely but firmly requested to see him then. Once more, with an underlining tone of "stop stalling and take me to him."
Once that particular time waster was concluded, Corvus was "escorted" towards the sanctum of Davin Kell. During his approach to the estate via air, Corvus noted that the estate was built into the mountains. A hold-over from when the ancient Kell's minded this mountain for gold and iron. Davin Kell had likely repurposed one of the old mines for his own uses.
This theory was confirmed when Corvus and his escort took an elevator down several levels, and when the doors opened, the Primarch could make out a vast set of corridors and the humming of electronics. Corvus could imagine entire sections of the old mine that housed cogitator banks and network systems that would allow Davin to see whatever information was on the Cooperations systems.
A Chairman that effectively worked from his ancestral home. Easy enough to protect, Corvus figured that much was apparent. Indeed, this place could survive an orbital strike or two. Yet the Primarch doubted that Davin was hiding from his enemies.
Once they reached a double set of adamantium doors, Corvus saw what appeared to be a pair of automated plasma cannons that were aimed directly at the Primarch for a moment before switching off. The doors slowly swung open.
Stepping inside, Corvus saw what looked to be a combination of a master bedroom and an administrator's command and control center. Roboute would've been pleased by the setup, but he also called it "inefficient" by his own metrics.
Then Corvus felt it…something was watching him from the shadows. But that couldn't be right as the room was brightly lit, and he hadn't sensed anyone else trying to sneak up on him. More than that, no one could get the drop on him. Even the Druhkari had failed in their attempts during the War in the Void.
Being near a Blank...it was as though the very shadows recoil from their presence. Lashing out like a candle flame against a sudden, foreboding gust of wind. A whisper in the dark, a kiss of nothingness upon his soul.
A voice suddenly brought Corvus out of his paranoid thoughts, "What creature stands before me." His voice was distorted by vox as if echoing through a sound system. Corvus turned to see Davin Kell, sitting on a bed with a host of machines surrounding him and a breathing apparatus attached to his face.
The room itself was humming with electricity and fans. Dozens of display monitors showed a host of administrative data and news feeds. Corvus could see several news channels speaking about the impending economic turmoil of the Imperium's arrival, and one showed his sons arriving at the capital building that house the Board of Directors.
Turning away from those displays, Corvus focused on his target. Cold, grey, and blighted eyes stared back at the Primarch. The man appeared to be in his late 60s and was wearing what looked to be a white synskin suit. He looked tired. Almost reminding Corvus of Mortarion. A sad creature.
And yet, Corvus could still sense the aura of a powerful man staring back at him. Davin Kell, the Chairman, the true master of the Rilroth Cooperation. He looked at the Primarch was a look of surly expectation. Now he reminded Corvus of Roboute or Perturabo. A busy man that would not waste time. His and yours, oddly enough.
"I am Corvus Corax, Primarch of the Raven Guard, representing the Imperium of Mankind and its Emperor." The Lord of Ravens quickly spouted off like he had done so many times before.
Davin Kell nodded only once, "Yes, the missives and requests I've received from the Board indicated as much. They are panicking right now." He stopped and stared intently at Corvus before speaking again, "I ask again…what manner of creature are you?"
Many had asked him that question before, "I am Primarch. A genetically enhanced and augmented human, to a degree not seen in this galaxy until now. We are sons of the Emperor of Mankind. It was through his genius and will that allowed for our manifestation."
"Hmm, your Imperium must be technological advance." Davin Kell repositioned himself in his bed to better look at the Primarch, "Yet based on what I've seen and heard, I imagine a nation that makes men like you isn't a peaceful one, not by choice."
At least he understood that much, "We are at war with many foes. Aliens, mutants, rogue machines, and…other elements." He didn't want to think about Chaos or the gods right now, "It is way nations like the Cooperative must be brought into the Imperium of Man. The only way to survive now is to stand together as well."
"A noble enough cause," Davin nodded again, "But you should save such speeches for the Board. They are the ones that control everything now."
"Admiral Sha'Lina seems to think otherwise." Corvus retorted simply enough, "You are the man that set into motion a design that resulted in the Cooperative becoming prosperous."
Davin chuckled, which reminded Corvus more of a wheezing vacuum, "Is that what he said, eh? I suppose I should be grateful that those I once called friends still speak highly of me. I hope you didn't kill or torture the good-admiral for that information?"
"Not at all." Corvus crossed his arms, "I just bribed him with booze and the promise of a warrant of trade."
This line caused the Blank to actually laugh, "Ha! That drunkard." Yet before Davin could continue, he started to cough. His right hand reached forward and moved a small valve next to a gas tank. Corvus waited a few moments while the man recovered from the coughing fit.
"Damn this toxin." Davin growled under his throat, "Whatever race decided to make such a thing deserves to burn." His good mood soured now; Davin looked back at the Primarch, "Now, what do you want, Corvus Corax?"
"Your cooperation." Corvus started, "Right now, my sons are meeting with the Board and applying pressure on them to join the Imperium without much issue. I need to prevent the Board from doing anything stupid."
Davin shook his head, "I'm not sure why you think they'll listen to me. Did Alvren mention exactly why I am like this?"
"The Board tried to kill you," Corvus commented bluntly, "And you decided not to punish them, for some reason."
"Yes, that's correct." Davin sounds almost amused, "These days, I just provide the answers and solutions to problems they can't solve independently. They aren't stupid people, the Board, but I still have to remind them occasionally that I am the reason they have their positions in the first place."
"Lot good that did you," Corvus couldn't help but remark, "By all rights, they should've been killed."
The Chairman looked surprised to hear that, "Why? Because they tried to kill me? Perhaps. I would've killed them if they had tried to bring down the Cooperative or instigate war or caused far too many civilian deaths for me to ignore. Yet I am responsible for them. I made them that way; cutthroats, thieves, and manipulators. This nation…our nation is built upon such traditions and practices. Perhaps the next few generations will recognize and hopefully change it for the better. But until then, we must make do."
Corvus could understand that mentality. So many of his brothers kept their own worlds in similar positions, albeit after making numerous corrections or advancements. Leman and Khan, however, kept their homeworlds as they were because it was what made them strong and wise in their own rights.
"You allow for corruption, outright kleptocracy, and even continue working with those who tried to kill you." Corvus was trying to find the angle to this whole approach, "I can't tell if you are completely mad or an actual genius."
Davin didn't say anything, but Corvus watched his hands glided across a keyboard. One of the nearby cogitator screens showed a picture of a younger and healthier-looking Davin alongside a group of men and women. Judging by the photo, this must have been taken decades ago.
"The Board was my creation," Davin remarked wistfully, "But all those that served on were people I called friends and even family. They were all like me, save for my condition. Forgotten geniuses and prodigies, full of ambition and dreams. Yet they understood there was no hope under the current system. Back when I started my ploy, the corruption from within the Cooperative left a rotten structure. Like a tree that needed love and care, we tried to remove the rot until we learned that it wasn't something we could remove by force. A tree needs to naturally regenerate and grow once more. The rot would be replaced in time."
"Yet that same rot infected your Board."
Davin nodded, "It did." He smiled sadly, "Much to my disappointment. And yet I couldn't bring myself to blame them. Does a master kill his hound when it bites him just once? Was it the animals' fault or the master who failed to teach it? That's what I was then. A master who failed them, and thus I did not seek to punish them. Yes, I took precautions, and I would not harbor a second attempt on my life, but I still lent them my aid."
"I still would've killed them." Corvus responded bluntly, "Such greed will only result in further damages down the line."
The Chairman nodded sadly, "Perhaps you are right, but I gave them a second chance." As he settled back into his bed, he looked at Corvus, "Yet I hope you would give your sons the same pardon for their own failures."
"My sons failing in war is punishment enough for them."
That caused the Blank to slowly chuckle behind his mask, "I hope so. A father should be more forgiving of his sons' failings. When you consider someone's family, you should be willing to accept their limitations and faults. Seek to redress them, but there is no harm in being merciful and forgiving when the situation calls for it."
Corvus had no answer to that claim. A part of him wondered if the Emperor would be so forgiving to him or any of his brothers if they made mistakes, even just slightly. That was the conundrum of their lives. All this power and influence meant any wrong move could have disastrous results. One need only look towards Angron and the Desolation to see the reality of that situation. Furthermore, would humanity forgive the Primarchs for their sins?
Something about this conversation unsettled Corvus. Thankfully, Davin seemed to shift gears back towards the topic at hand.
"You ask me to convince the Board to accept your rule? You do not need it. They have already decided to surrender peacefully." Davin remarked before coughing, but this time he seemed to get it under control, "But if you desire my assistance, I will send them a message to accept."
The Primarch watched as Davin quickly compiled a message before sending it off via a secured channel, "It is done. Acteron and the Rilroth Cooperative will be yours by the next hour, although I imagine there will be months of negotiation and reorganization." The Chairman looked at Corvus, "You are technically the Chairman now, Corvus Corax." Corvus couldn't see the smile, but he suspected the Blank was doing just that, "The Board is now your problem."
Corvus raised a solitary eyebrow at that, "You sound almost relieved. By all rights, you just lost your empire."
"I lost my 'empire' years ago. It doesn't matter. As long as the Cooperative survives and grows, my job is done now." He coughed once more, "Now, if only I could do something about the toxin…otherwise, I believe my end will be fast approaching."
A rather lackluster ending for a man like Davin, "You don't wish to ask me for perhaps a position in the new government?"
The now ex-Chairman shook his head as he quietly coughed, "I work best from the shadows."
Now that was giving the Primarch an idea. There was no reason to let a mind like Davin's go to waste, especially if there was a means to remove that blasted toxin. "What would it take for you to work for me, then?"
Rather than look surprised at the question, Davin looked squarely at the Primarch, "You cure this blasted toxin and maybe see about getting me fully recovered, and you'll have my loyalty and skills."
"Just like that?"
Davin gestured towards the screens, "Unless you are planning to kill or completely dismantle the Cooperative piecemeal or kill the Board, I have no reason to not trust the offer. Aside from my home and servants, no. I have long since detached myself from anything that would keep me grounded on Acteron save for needing to stay in this wretched room now." Corvus heard the fury in the Blank's voice. It made the Primarch feel a slight migraine.
"I'd need to examine your condition," Corvus started with a slight frown, "But I believe I might know the origin of this toxin. As such, I might be able to reach out to a few contacts that could maybe see about finding a treatment or maybe a cure. It will take time, though."
"Time is all I need." Davin remarked bluntly, "Besides if we are to work together, I will need information. For starters, in what capacity would you have me?" That was the next big question for Corvus. He could always send him over to Roboute. Indeed, the Lord of Ultramar would thank the Lord of Ravens for such a unique asset. But Corvus certainly needed his aid more than Roboute did at the moment.
However, a Blank would never be accepted by most Imperial leadership. Even if Davin worked from the shadows, he'd be scrutinized by Sigillites once they learned of him. A Blank's only purpose tended to be towards combat activities, yet Davin had no place on the battlefield.
The solution, however, was relatively easy.
"I want you to help an organization of mine." Corvus answered as he approached the bedside of Davin Kell, "Their mission and mandate is a strange one, but I know that you would be quite useful in it, and their operations would certainly fit your style of administration."
"That so?" Davin leaned back into his bed, "What does this organization do exactly?"
The Lord of Ravens and Master of Ravenloft smiled at the former Chairman, "Well, first off…what do you think about when you hear the word…gods?"
—
Lockcraft had been busy for the last few months. So much so that he almost forgot to find time to relax. Yet Lockcraft wasn't one to just sit around and do nothing. One doesn't successfully run a secret paramilitary research organization by taking breaks all the time. Besides, the most recent success was motivation enough.
So much, so that Lord Corax found it necessary to come and see him directly. The Primarch went so far as to prepare a reward for him. Lockcraft didn't care for surprises or rewards, especially from his "boss." Yet you didn't turn down a gift from a Primarch. That was just asking for trouble otherwise.
As such, Lockcraft merely waited for the Primarch's arrival when he was to grace the director's office. Once his camp-de-aide vox'd ahead that the Primarch was coming to see him, Lockcraft prepared teapot and waited while working on minor paperwork.
He was three pages into a report about one of the recent Crows Nest programs when he felt something slimy creep up his spine. The man barely had time to focus until he detected a rather stench in the air that seemed to be growing in intensity. Had the air scrubbers failed? Yet the sensations grew more intense. Lockcraft felt like a spider was crawling up his leg, a fly buzzing by his ears, and ants scurrying up his back. As if randomly, he developed cotton-mouth, but that wasn't the case.
The longer this went on, the stronger the sensations started to become. The buzzing became a ringing. His spine felt like it had now turned to glass, and the feeling of crawling insects under his skin caused Lockcraft to grit his teeth. His hands became clenched fists. Lungs and heart started to beat like an Ork wardrum.
Lockcraft heard the sounds of chanting, but only in his mind, and the smell of incense and burning sinew and bone wafted across his office. The shadows and lights intermingled, distorting his vision before becoming clear again.
And then suddenly…there was a knock on his door.
The man blinked, and the world was quiet. Calm. Almost debilitating so. Without a second thought, Lockcraft called out towards the door.
"Enter."
A moment later, the door opened. Corvus Corax and a strange man entered the room. He looked relatively young, with dull grey eyes and hair staring back at him. Lockcraft felt uneasy looking at the man before him. The sound of chanting and the feeling of insects crawling in his skin returned for a moment.
"Jonathon," Corvus spoke up, using his first name, which Lockcraft never found right when used aloud, "I hope we weren't interrupting anything."
Whatever just happened didn't matter now. Lockcraft stood up and approached the Primarch and dull-stranger, "Even if I was, that wouldn't have stopped you from entering." He casually remarked as he stared at the stranger, "And this is?"
"Davin Kell." The stranger spoke up and held out his hand to shake Lockcraft, "Pleasure to meet you." Although the man didn't look that old, he had a raspy voice. An illness, perhaps?
Lockcraft stared down at the offered hand for only a second before reaching out and embracing it. He braced himself for whatever came next…but then felt nothing. That, however, caused him to feel a bit unnerved more than anything.
"Charmed." The Director spoke up as if nothing was amiss while casually pulling his hand away, "Am I too assume he is my 'gift' for the organization's hard work?" He looked back towards the Primarch.
Corvus nodded, although he seemed surprised at how he was reacting, "Yes…Davin will become part of the Ravenloft inner circle. His nature and talents will greatly aid you and Ravenloft."
Lockcraft frowned at not being told of this decision, but Corvus also didn't make significant changes or allow anyone to enter the organization without reason. This Davin Kell must have impressed him in some capacity.
"And what shall you bring to the organization, Mr. Kell."
He smirked at Lockcraft, "Hopefully, a lot of money."
"That so?" Maybe now Lockcraft could see about finding additional funding for expeditions and facilities, "What did you do before joining Ravenloft?"
Davin smirked once more and then chuckled, "I was a Chairman." Lockcraft was surprised when he heard the Primarch snort at that descriptor. Lockcraft spared only a single glance towards the Primarch before looking back at Davin and nodding along.
"I see..." He was wondering what was going on now, "Well, we have much to talk about. In any case...welcome to Ravenloft, Mr. Chairman."
---
@Daemon Hunter Okay, finally done with this omake now.
You know if corvus needs anti-spirit tech we probably could help him out with that... lemme rephrase, we'd dump multiple transports full of information and examples of such on him before he could finish asking. This is literally our thing and while I doubt he wants to let us in on his project, we would totes give him a major leg up in the arena just as a matter of general principal.
An Inciting Interrogation
- Location
- United States
Legacy.
The word haunted you, hanging over your head like the blade of death itself.
What was a legacy? Was it enough to leave a physical mark on the world? Even though they would all be washed away, a castle of sand on tye shores of time? Did it even matter what you built, then? How you effected the worlds around you?
Or was the only way to live on in the hearts of people? Those inconsistent, short-lived, forgetful people, who would probably forget you saved their lives in just two, or three generations?
How then, could one leave a legacy? How, then, could one even matter?
The question haunted you, warring for your attention even now. The question drove you, for what else mattered in face of it?
"We were just so…hungry!" the Psyker before you cried, both in voice, and in body as they lay blandly on the satin, red couch you has been provided with, "And we ate her! Like animals! It was-She could regenerate, and we were so hungry!"
The Psyker went on, bawling their eyes out as they made what you figured was some kind of breakthrough, but their words devolved into some intelligible nonsense after that.
Ugghhhhh. you can't help but think, tired, and irritated, All this trauma for a fear of the dark?
Of course, you can't say that out loud.
"Yes." you say slowly, pointedly leaning forwards as you lay your clipboard down, "Many Psykers have problems from their on the Black Ships." You say reassuringly.
You're not entirely sure your charge hears you, however, through their host of sobs.
You try, and fail, to reign in a sigh as you lean back in your chair and wait for the Psyker to calm down.
A curse those things you thought, And whoever thought it was okay to leave them like that. Making my job more difficult… you grumble internally.
Luckily, this one is slightly more sane than most, so after ten minutes or so of utter boredom where you can't risk even pulling out a book to read, the Psyker stops its whining.
"Am...I a monster?" The Psyker asks at last, when it's tears have mostly stopped, but it's face was still embarrassingly red.
Yes.
"No. Of course not." You say in your most compassionate, reassuring tone, "The Black Ships are terrible places, and you did what you did to survive."
The Psyker sniffs.
"Many Psykers have problems from their on the Black Ships." You explain calmly enough, "So you don't have to feel bad, or abnormal over the things you did in that place, okay?"
You insane freak.
The Psyker sniffs again, and nods, "Okay."
You smile a charming, warm smile. You knew, because you'd practiced it in the mirror a million times. "Good. Now, I feel like we've made a real breakthrough today."
The Psyker perks up, months of this drivel telling them what comes next.
You widen your smile just a hair, in case their perceptive enough to notice, "So, I'm thinking of sending you home a bit early today."
The Psyker sat up, turned around, grabbed the arm of the couch, and began bouncing on it up and down. Like a child
"And I want to award you..." you leaned over, too-far down so that you had to strain to actually reach for the colorful paper, a terrible organization method you would never allow if you didn't need it for the effect, "THIS!"
The Psyker hopped up and down even faster, like an overly excitable dog.
"Sticker."
"Yaaaaassssssss." The Psyker..hissed.
"For your bravery." You paused for the effect to take in, "And openness today."
You peel off one of the colorful stars, and walk over to the practically vibrating Psyker. "Now where do you want me to put it?" You ask like some children's caretaker.
"Ohh! Ohh!" The Psyker pointed to a spot over their heart, apparently too excited for anything but panting like a monkey.
You slap the star on their chest. "Now I want you to go home, and rest up, okay?" You command them with a thin veneer of motherly compassion to hide your utter contempt for them, "You have a big day tomorrow!"
Tye Psyker nods in an overexposed, dumb manner. "Ok-ay Ms. Una!" The Psyker promises, jumping up from your nice couch in a dash of mad excitement, and running out the door.
You wave them goodbye, and, notably, don't let your smile drop until the door closes.
Ahh crap, I had another line about getting an extra desert to celebrate. You curse.
Whatever. At least now you had a few minutes of blessed silence before your next headache came in.
Now where's my drink? you wonder, searching for the big bottle of mystery alcohol you had bought at some low-deck vendor because by the Emperor you needed a drink. Part of you wondered if you could get drunk before your next appointment, Emperor knew you needed it, but the more practical side of you figured you probably shouldn't..
Can't go chasing a legacy if you're drunk, after all.
And wouldn't that be a shame? To live your whole life for one moment, just to be too drunk to follow it when the time came.
A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts.
You feel your face sour, and your shoulders slump. It takes a surprising amount of effort, but you even manage to resist screaming at them to go away.
Instead, you smile real wide, and walk back to your chair. A lovely, soft, satin thing. "Come in!" You call sweetly.
The nice, wooden door to your office opens wide, to reveal the handsome figure of-To reveal an Angel of Death in full battle regalia. Your eyes dart quickly to his Force Sword, then the Combat Shield on his left arm. You stare up into his emotionless helm, as his eyes glow with a hateful light.
"Lord Abdul." You greet, though it's difficult to keep the stammer from your voice. Did he find out? You force yourself calm. You wouldn't have a chance in a fight anyway, if he knew, and if he didn't panicking would only tip him off.
"Ms. Una." The Least Warden greeted, "May I come in?"
"Y-yeah!" You stutter out, finding no reason to rebuff him, "Of course! Come in!"
The Astartes nods, as you open the door and stand aside, making sure to give the bigger man a deep, polite bow as he walks into your office. You consider trying to deflect, making small talk until you have time to get your Volkite Charger, but ultimately push it aside.
Astartes are smarter than you, don't give them time to think. you think.
"Soo," You ask in your happiest, if fake, voice, "what brings you to my humble abode?"
The Astartes doesn't answer for a second, as if thinking. An act. A courtesy not to freak out the mortals below them. Instead, you watch as he scans the room for threats with a perceptiveness you could never hope to match.
You find your gut wrench in envy at that. That a no-good, corrupted piss ant had skills you could barely dream of. That he could leave a legacy so easily, while you could only hope to do the same.
"Apologies." The Astartes spoke with a well-oiled, human voice you knew must be fake, "But when I was rubber-stamping some of First Captain Oricarious' orders, I realized we did not need to go to our Brother Chaplains for scheduled guidance, so I thought I would come here. Good for the morale of the men, you see,, to think I come here too."
The informal manner of speech, and too-noble accent grated on your ears as well. Not because it didn't sound good, it was music to your ears, but because of how unnatural it was. It lulled you into the false sense of security you had been trained to avoid, and seemed at odds when you forced yourself out of it.
If the Astartes minded, he didn't show it. Instead, he walked a few steps deeper into your room, looking around in a presumably false sense of wonder.
You mentally and physically kick yourself. No! He's probably searching for a weapon! For evidence!
Besides, something he said seemed rather suspicious.
"You have to rubber stamp Oricaruous' orders?" You ask, as you carefully shut the door behind you. It was a rouse, of course, providing a sense of solitude when the pict-feeds would catch anything Lord Abdul did.
"The side effects of them." The Monster Of The Eleventh waved her off, walking instead to her nice, satin couch, and gently laying down. Miraculously, it even held his weight. "Things that have to be signed off by every Captain, the Forge or Library." The Astartes spoke with a bored tone, "They tend to pass by my desk during my Paperwork duty."
Ahh, yes. Paperwork Duty. A punishment unique to the Wardens, where their troublemakers would process generally simple, mind-numbing requests for the Captains.
It seemed to you a great way allow corruption to sabotage the Legion, but then again you weren't privy to everything. Perhaps the ever-suspicious Wardens double-checked what passed through their trouble-makers desk, though you weren't sure how that would save any time.
It also meant you had no way of knowing whether Abdul was lying or not.
"Of course," Abdul spoke, "this little demonstration will probably net me another century of Paperwork Duty, but at this point it hardly matters."
"Ohh?" You ask, genuine curiosity seeping into your kind veneer, "The punishment doesn't bother you?"
The Terran Born chuckles slowly, again for your benefit as you realize just how...alien the Astartes are. How they escaped mortal understanding.
How terrifying.
"Well, it did." Lord Abdul explained, "Part of my contract for being a Kill Team leader was even taking a thousand years off my sentence."
Again, you felt a pit of jealousy in writhe in your stomach, at the ease unaging Astartes could speak of such lengths. At how such magnificent things could last so long.
"But?" You prod, instinctively walking to your nice, comfortable chair.
"But such punishments can be nulled by Chief Librarians, Forge Masters, and First Captains." The Black Knight explains in an emotionless, calm voice, "And it is unlikely my Father shall ignore my talents until the thirty ninth millennium."
You had to bite back a response to that. Instead, you sat down politely and feigned shock. "By the Emperor!" You gasp, pretty convincingly too, "What did you do to earn eight thousand years of punishment?"
Rookie mistake. you realize, Never blame the patient until they're ready to admit it was their fault.
"Well," The Astartes hummed, "I could explain." He-was that a deflection? Did he care about this? Was it boring to him? Was he toying with you? Normally, you could at least get something from Astartes, but you couldn't read him at all! "But, first, could you get me that bottle of scotch under your chair?"
Your smile drops, and your blood turns cold. I'm gonna lose my job.
"I-I don't know how it got there." You stutter out, "I-"
"You should be more honest, Witch Hunter." The Monster Of The Eleventh chastised, "I am given to understanding this is something of a second job for you, but-"
If it was possible, your blood ran colder still. He knew. It wasn't a question, he knew. Knew that you were spying on him, reporting his actions. Knew why the Witch Hunters supported him so readily.
"-I would appreciate it if you would put a bit more effort into this. It is important to the Imperium, after all."
This was it then. The end. Your legacy, swallowed up to keep his secret under wraps. You hadn't heard of any Witch Hunters under him going missing, but in retrospect that probably spoke more of his skill than his restraint. Which meant that you would die.
And your replacement wouldn't be any the wiser.
Your throat closes, and you feel like you're trying to swallow an apple pitt, but it won't go down. You grab for your Volkite-
Only to remember you forgot to grab it!
Your armor was pitiful, more focused on stealth than any real protection. He'd cut you down in one swing, or vaporize you with a lightning bolt. Or pull all the blood from your body and stuff your mummified corpse in your own bag to dispose of later.
You had no chance. Not against an Astartes. Not against a Librarian. Not against a Lost.
Your heart raced, and you felt sweat begin to pool on your forehead.
This is it then. Your life. Your legacy...gone in an instant. One moment you were consoling the mentally insane. And the next….gone.
Maybe he didn't know about the cameras?
You felt your sweat drop, and realized he was waiting for you to say something, cheerfully waiting on that wonderful, satin couch.
You felt betrayed at that. You didn't know that couch would play a part in your murder. That it would support your killer. You thought it was just a couch!
Accepting that that pit in your throat would stay there, you turn instead to the equally difficult task of speaking.
Maybe if I beg he'll let me leave with my soul intact?
"A-are you here to kill me?" Surprisingly, your voice comes out shaky, but clear, determined. Almost….challenging.
"No." In contrast, his utter monotone seems almost bored. Almost….sassy? Tired? Calming? You can't read anything. Or maybe you're reading too much. "By the Emperor, you Witch Hunters take too many pages from the First Captain."
Your head is pounding, adrenaline rushing into your system at unstable rates, sending your heart into overdrive and-Are-are you having a heart attack?
But you're only twenty six! How can you be having a heart attack?
Lord Abdul snaps, the sound resounding weirdly normal considering he was wearing armored gauntlets, but it got your attention regardless.
"Easy, easy." He commanded, finally turning around to face you, "You're panicking. Focus on something you like. Calm."
You grit your teeth a bit, weirdly, the soft, reassuring words of the Astartes...helped.
"I'm not going to hurt you." He promised, "Just focus for a second. Recite your Chants, I'll wait."
You strain, feeling torn on whether to follow the words of a suspect or continue panicking, but ultimately decide the Chants are always good, so you work your way through those.
The Black Knight doesn't seem to mind, calmly waiting. Or napping. Or....reading-you couldn't tell-while you slowly make your way through all fifty three of the Witch Hunter's chants.
It takes a while, a solid five minutes, you think. But by the end you don't feel panicked, and the still, statue-like form of Abdul no longer froze your mind in fear.
You take a deep breath, finally calm. But your mind is still frazzled, and you didn't know what to ask first.
Luckily, Lord Abdul spoke first. "Good." He sighed, for your benefit you think, "You're good at your job, Ms. Una. But looking past the things we Astartes do to calm you is rarely a good idea."
You nod mutely.
"On the plus side, next time shouldn't be as bad."
You blanch. "N-no thanks, Lord Abdul."
He laughs, turning a bit to get more comfortable, "Suit yourself."
You force a smile, instinctively, but drop it when you remember the Astartes could probably see such things. Instead, you take a few seconds to compose yourself.
"How'd you know I was investigating you?"
The Astartes let out a single, barking laugh. "Oh, where do I start?" He asked rhetorically.
You grimace.
The Black Knight settles in further, making himself comfortable. "Well, for starters, your order is not as stealthy as it thinks it is." He chuckles, "Or rather, Astartes are more perceptive than you give them credit for."
You nod, not liking the idea, but accepting it regardless. Between Transhuman Dread, Transhuman senses, and their own training….you could see it.
"Most of my Brothers do not mind being investigated unless they are actually corrupted, mind you," The Terran Born shrugs, "but that just means they don't bother you over it."
You lean forward, but find your body shrinking as you try to decipher the Astartes words. But they just didn't make sense! Who would learn they might be murdered and not care? Who would spot their possible killers and just let it happen?
"As for you, specifically:" The Black Knight continued, as you realized he wasn't done, "It was your weapon."
You blinked. "My Volkite?"
Lord Abdul nods, even turning to look at you somewhat, "Your Volkite Charger, yes. A weapon so expensive less than a percent of Witch Hunters can use them." He tuts, "Incidentally, it's also the only weapon in your order's arsenal with any real chance of killing me."
Instinctively, you try to shrink yourself smaller still, and try again to swallow the lump in your throat. But you just can't get any smaller! You feel your mind unraveling at the edges, and, again, feel as though the Dread will claim you until-
The Terran Born sighs, "I've already said I'm not going to hurt you." He offers in this weird, unreadable voice. Was that empathy? Understanding of your predicament? Or was he annoyed at your worry, or did he not mind? Was it calculated to go through things faster? Or manipulation? Was he saddened by your suspicions? All of the above? None of them?
Or did he just pity you? You hung on to that thought. Not because you like it, but because it made your stomach churn with unfathomable jealousy. Jealousy enough to anchor yourself once more. Enough to overcome your fear. Enough to stand up to an Astartes.
So instead you steel yourself with it, and for the first time stare directly into that Astartes, and where he makes a mockery of your patient couch.
"Then why are you here?" You ask, noting with some surprise the steel, and certainty in your voice.
The Astartes looks up, ever so slightly, seeming again to think. "I did not lie." He says neutrally, "I am here because I realized my Legion's rules allowed it, and despite everything thus far, this is still easier than keeping Raz from trying to lobotomize me."
You stare at the Astartes, unable to tell of that was some poor attempt at a joke or not.
"So?" You ask, "What? You just want me to pick your mind like it's a normal session?"
Again you could practically feel his smile through his helmet, and you wondered how he did that. What trick was able to convey such overwhelming joy? Was it a Psyker power? A trick in his body language? Did he know it was too much to be seen as genuine? Or...was that the point? Was it genuine? Or was it just meant to seem genuine? Was it even ineffective, if someone of your caliber was questioning it?
"If you want." The Warden sighs, waving his limp wrist dismissively, "Or, I suppose, we could do the reverse." He offers, "Use this time until I get in trouble for me to pick your mind."
You were almost repulsed at the idea. That a suspect would probe your mind, searching for weaknesses. That a Witch Hunter would spill her secrets.
If the Black Knight sensed your disgust, he didn't show it, instead continuing on like nothing had happened.
"Or I could use it to train you." The Terran Born offers.
Wait what?
"I know your job can be quite difficult." He offers, "If you wouldn't mind, I'd be glad to either help out, or further compensate you for your time."
Again, a strange feeling of jealousy writhes in your gut. That, for all your training, feeling all your work...this Astartes who had likely never trained those skills a day in his life is better at them than you. Would pity you. Offer to help you. When you did so fine on your own!
You give him a squished, forced smile you know he can see through, if he was even looking, at least. "Thanks." You say with all the sincerity you could fake, "It has gotten a lot harder recently. All the Psykers coming in and questioning if they've stained their honor, or become monsters."
Again, if The Pride Of The Library notices your sarcasm, he doesn't show it. Instead he gives a nice, polite, and entirely convincing chuckle you know can't be real. Not from an Astartes.
"Sorry about that." He, again, offers, "It was necessary in the long run, but I suppose I should have run it by you first."
You resist the duel urgers to sigh, and click your tongue in displeasure. Instead, you fight them down, so only your genuine curiosity shines through.
"Why'd you do it, anyway?" You ask, "Giving them a weakness to Pink?"
Lord Abdul shakes his head, "No." The Astartes corrects,, "Giving them a strength against Nurgle."
You wince at the name, "What?"
"Tell me," the Terran Born asks, "Do you care for your patients?"
You stop, the jealousy, the hatred, confusion, all of it washing away at the simple question. Time seems to stop, and you stare at your nice, wooden floor, lit only by the careful, flickering candles you had to make the room more calming.
Again, instinctively, transhuman dread grabs at you, but this time you know to push it away. Know that, logically, he already knew the answer. Didn't he even ask this before?
"No." You admit, like poison, heaving from your lungs.
The Black Knight nods, "Exactly." And you can only sigh, as tension leaves your frame, "And how much less will they care? Those Psykers losing man after man in their arms?"
"Then-" you struggle to respond, both because of his transhuman dread, and because his argument made sense, "why not teach them empathy?" You finally manage, though the question comes out soft, and feeble.
"I do," The Terran Born defends, "and I will continue to. But I am just being practical. Most will be unable to keep their empathy long-term, and those few that internalize their failures will end up security risks: To Nurgle."
Again, you flinch at the Archdaemon's name, "I...see."
You can feel that smile again, as if you just said a joke of some kind.
"But…" you question, leaning forward again and, for once, finding the motion comforting instead of repugnant or terrifying. Transhuman Dread really is something, huh? "How, then, does that help? As the saying goes: A Prideful soldier is a dead soldier."
"An overly prideful soldier." Lord Abdul corrects, "But the pride of a doctor is different. For the pride of a doctor is reason to better oneself, when others will think themselves enough, and stagnate. It is reason to continue, when others lay down and die. It is reason to fight for each and every patient, because their death would be a stain upon your honor."
You furrow your browser, and purse your lips. "I..see." you repeat. And, this time, maybe you even do. After all, most people don't have the drive you do.
The Terran Born stops and, for a moment, chuckles, again in what you can only assume to be a false attempt to clear the air. "Ahhh. Sorry, sorry." He apologizes, "But do not worry, Ms. Una, I shall endeavor to teach them fellowship and humility soon."
Sounds overly complicated. you can't help but think.
"I'm glad." You admit, surprising yourself with your honesty. "But-" you look at your clock, and see your ten minute break-The one you had intended to drink through-was almost over.
The Pride Of The Library seems to notice too, "Ohh?" He asks, "Are you going to send me home five hours early, Ms. Technically-A-Chaplain?"
You resist chuckling, even faking it. "I'll have to report it," You admit, "and I''ll make sure to report your reasoning as well."
"Good." The Black Knight nods, "It is best to be honest about such things."
You give him an inquisitive glare. "Things like shirking your duties on a technicality?"
You can feel that infectious, unnatural joy again, as this fey-like creature manipulates your emotions back and forth, wavering you from furious to calm, terrified to friendly in mere moments. And to think, that's with your Witch Hunter training.
"Of course! If one is more effective serving the Imperium doing what they replaced it with." He offers, the tried and true reasoning of a billion executed soldiers.
You roll your eyes, as you consider just how much you will have to pour over the recordings today, just to realize how much he has manipulated you, how much you could read of him, "But I do have one more question before you go." You force a chuckle.
"Ohh?" The Terran Born questioned wordlessly.
You shift, as suddenly his aura turns against you, and you wonder if this is even a purposeful, active effect, or your own animalistic mind warning you of going against him. "Why me?"
"You mean why I chose to confide in you, instead of the dozens of other Witch Hunters working on the Antigians?" He asked.
You nod, though the edges of your vision begin to fade, and your stomach feels like it's doing a cartwheel as you do so.
"Because.." The Monster Of The Eleventh answers calmly, "Well two reasons, I suppose. But the first and most important is: I see a lot of myself in you, I suppose."
"I'm not corrupted." You instinctively bite.
"And neither am I." The Warden deflects smoothly, "But your dedication to your legacy does you well."
You blink, as the anxiety, the horror, the fear are all replaced with an indescribable contentment, and confusion.
"In truth, I think I find myself...envious of you." The Astartes admits, "To be so...free to carve your own legacy. At how easy it is for you to make one."
You blink, but you cannot understand such words. No, no, they must be a lie. No. This one must be a Telepath, you realize, wrenching the words out of your head.
Because otherwise-No way.
"What?" You, finally, demand out loud. And, again, you notice the steel in your voice, as jealousy, confusion, rage focus your thoughts.
But the Astartes continues anyway, dauntless. "I know it might not seem like it," he smiles that dumb, mind-controlling smile that burns through your anger like paper, "but we Astartes give up so much to become this way."
He gestured at himself. At that too-perfect, unaging body you felt so jealous of.
"But in truth, it avails us not." The….man sighs, "Sure, it shall take you time to reach our heights, even at your best." he assures you, "But, Ms. Una, you have freedoms, options, we Astartes never will."
You….don't know what to think, what to feel. As if your brain is fried from how much the Astartes has twisted it over and over again.
"Like?" You feel yourself ask.
Somehow, that unnatural joy seems to grow brighter, "Well," Lord Abdul says, with that neutral, unreadable voice of his, "You could pass down your genetic structure, for one."
You feel your throat constrict, and your-
"I'm not telling you to have children." The Terran Born corrects, dispelling the weird manipulations of your mind with a sigh, "But it is an option you have I simply do not."
You shake your head, but find yourself struggling to do so, "What point are such things?" You find yourself asking in a tired, bitter voice. And then, sensing something, "They don't help at all."
Behind his helmet, you could feel the Astartes' sass, feel as he rolled his eyes. "They do not." He agrees, "Because you do not let them."
You pause, and can't help but turn away from the Astartes-from Lord Abdul. Now wasn't the time, not under his transhuman dread, and aura, but that….that was one of many things today he'd left you to think about.
But wondering how to improve both yourself and your order were for later. First: You had to get this Astartes out of your workstation so you could think clearly.
And second: "And, you said you had another reason you chose me?" You ask, rising from your chair, and making your way to the nice, homely door to your office. Another little amenity you had been given to lull your patients into a false sense of security.
The Monster Of The Eleventh nods, taking the hint, and thus his place right outside your door. "Ahh, yes. I'm afraid the details will have to wait until another time." He explains, implying there would be another.
There probably will be.
"But I would like someone to appeal to your order." The Terran Born continues, "About revising our current contract."
You blink, "What?" You ask, "What sort of changes were you hoping for?"
You feel the Black Knight give you a careful, disarming smile….still underneath that helmet of his. "Nothing too major." He promises, "Just a simple request for more Hunters, and to make their position a more permanent fixture."
You blink, not expecting that of The Pride Of The Library. "Why?' You can't help but ask.
If the fey-like Astartes cares for your shock. He doesn't show it. "Because I've realized that it would prove effective." He answers evenly, "That my Brothers would never willingly work besides an institute I had made, and your order's focus would help solve their weaknesses regardless."
You resist giving another, tired sigh. There's a lot to unpack there.
"Their weaknesses?" You ask instead, feeling neither equipped, nor qualified to delve into the Astartes' issues, and decipher whether or not they were fake or not.
Emotionlessly, Lord Abdul gives you an almost imperceptible nod, "A long-term project to help the Antigian's keep their empathy, bring them sanity, and increase their willpower." He explains. "Would all prove helpful, in their own little ways."
You nod, wondering how you would even pitch such things after this meeting, or if you'd even want to once Lord Abdul left your presence.
"Don't worry." Said Astartes chuckled woth that fake laugh of his, before turning as he began to walk away. "Make what reports you have to, we'll discuss what can be done at a later date."
You stare at the Astartes' strange, retreating form for a second, before shaking your head, and closing the door.
The word haunted you, hanging over your head like the blade of death itself.
What was a legacy? Was it enough to leave a physical mark on the world? Even though they would all be washed away, a castle of sand on tye shores of time? Did it even matter what you built, then? How you effected the worlds around you?
Or was the only way to live on in the hearts of people? Those inconsistent, short-lived, forgetful people, who would probably forget you saved their lives in just two, or three generations?
How then, could one leave a legacy? How, then, could one even matter?
The question haunted you, warring for your attention even now. The question drove you, for what else mattered in face of it?
"We were just so…hungry!" the Psyker before you cried, both in voice, and in body as they lay blandly on the satin, red couch you has been provided with, "And we ate her! Like animals! It was-She could regenerate, and we were so hungry!"
The Psyker went on, bawling their eyes out as they made what you figured was some kind of breakthrough, but their words devolved into some intelligible nonsense after that.
Ugghhhhh. you can't help but think, tired, and irritated, All this trauma for a fear of the dark?
Of course, you can't say that out loud.
"Yes." you say slowly, pointedly leaning forwards as you lay your clipboard down, "Many Psykers have problems from their on the Black Ships." You say reassuringly.
You're not entirely sure your charge hears you, however, through their host of sobs.
You try, and fail, to reign in a sigh as you lean back in your chair and wait for the Psyker to calm down.
A curse those things you thought, And whoever thought it was okay to leave them like that. Making my job more difficult… you grumble internally.
Luckily, this one is slightly more sane than most, so after ten minutes or so of utter boredom where you can't risk even pulling out a book to read, the Psyker stops its whining.
"Am...I a monster?" The Psyker asks at last, when it's tears have mostly stopped, but it's face was still embarrassingly red.
Yes.
"No. Of course not." You say in your most compassionate, reassuring tone, "The Black Ships are terrible places, and you did what you did to survive."
The Psyker sniffs.
"Many Psykers have problems from their on the Black Ships." You explain calmly enough, "So you don't have to feel bad, or abnormal over the things you did in that place, okay?"
You insane freak.
The Psyker sniffs again, and nods, "Okay."
You smile a charming, warm smile. You knew, because you'd practiced it in the mirror a million times. "Good. Now, I feel like we've made a real breakthrough today."
The Psyker perks up, months of this drivel telling them what comes next.
You widen your smile just a hair, in case their perceptive enough to notice, "So, I'm thinking of sending you home a bit early today."
The Psyker sat up, turned around, grabbed the arm of the couch, and began bouncing on it up and down. Like a child
"And I want to award you..." you leaned over, too-far down so that you had to strain to actually reach for the colorful paper, a terrible organization method you would never allow if you didn't need it for the effect, "THIS!"
The Psyker hopped up and down even faster, like an overly excitable dog.
"Sticker."
"Yaaaaassssssss." The Psyker..hissed.
"For your bravery." You paused for the effect to take in, "And openness today."
You peel off one of the colorful stars, and walk over to the practically vibrating Psyker. "Now where do you want me to put it?" You ask like some children's caretaker.
"Ohh! Ohh!" The Psyker pointed to a spot over their heart, apparently too excited for anything but panting like a monkey.
You slap the star on their chest. "Now I want you to go home, and rest up, okay?" You command them with a thin veneer of motherly compassion to hide your utter contempt for them, "You have a big day tomorrow!"
Tye Psyker nods in an overexposed, dumb manner. "Ok-ay Ms. Una!" The Psyker promises, jumping up from your nice couch in a dash of mad excitement, and running out the door.
You wave them goodbye, and, notably, don't let your smile drop until the door closes.
Ahh crap, I had another line about getting an extra desert to celebrate. You curse.
Whatever. At least now you had a few minutes of blessed silence before your next headache came in.
Now where's my drink? you wonder, searching for the big bottle of mystery alcohol you had bought at some low-deck vendor because by the Emperor you needed a drink. Part of you wondered if you could get drunk before your next appointment, Emperor knew you needed it, but the more practical side of you figured you probably shouldn't..
Can't go chasing a legacy if you're drunk, after all.
And wouldn't that be a shame? To live your whole life for one moment, just to be too drunk to follow it when the time came.
A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts.
You feel your face sour, and your shoulders slump. It takes a surprising amount of effort, but you even manage to resist screaming at them to go away.
Instead, you smile real wide, and walk back to your chair. A lovely, soft, satin thing. "Come in!" You call sweetly.
The nice, wooden door to your office opens wide, to reveal the handsome figure of-To reveal an Angel of Death in full battle regalia. Your eyes dart quickly to his Force Sword, then the Combat Shield on his left arm. You stare up into his emotionless helm, as his eyes glow with a hateful light.
"Lord Abdul." You greet, though it's difficult to keep the stammer from your voice. Did he find out? You force yourself calm. You wouldn't have a chance in a fight anyway, if he knew, and if he didn't panicking would only tip him off.
"Ms. Una." The Least Warden greeted, "May I come in?"
"Y-yeah!" You stutter out, finding no reason to rebuff him, "Of course! Come in!"
The Astartes nods, as you open the door and stand aside, making sure to give the bigger man a deep, polite bow as he walks into your office. You consider trying to deflect, making small talk until you have time to get your Volkite Charger, but ultimately push it aside.
Astartes are smarter than you, don't give them time to think. you think.
"Soo," You ask in your happiest, if fake, voice, "what brings you to my humble abode?"
The Astartes doesn't answer for a second, as if thinking. An act. A courtesy not to freak out the mortals below them. Instead, you watch as he scans the room for threats with a perceptiveness you could never hope to match.
You find your gut wrench in envy at that. That a no-good, corrupted piss ant had skills you could barely dream of. That he could leave a legacy so easily, while you could only hope to do the same.
"Apologies." The Astartes spoke with a well-oiled, human voice you knew must be fake, "But when I was rubber-stamping some of First Captain Oricarious' orders, I realized we did not need to go to our Brother Chaplains for scheduled guidance, so I thought I would come here. Good for the morale of the men, you see,, to think I come here too."
The informal manner of speech, and too-noble accent grated on your ears as well. Not because it didn't sound good, it was music to your ears, but because of how unnatural it was. It lulled you into the false sense of security you had been trained to avoid, and seemed at odds when you forced yourself out of it.
If the Astartes minded, he didn't show it. Instead, he walked a few steps deeper into your room, looking around in a presumably false sense of wonder.
You mentally and physically kick yourself. No! He's probably searching for a weapon! For evidence!
Besides, something he said seemed rather suspicious.
"You have to rubber stamp Oricaruous' orders?" You ask, as you carefully shut the door behind you. It was a rouse, of course, providing a sense of solitude when the pict-feeds would catch anything Lord Abdul did.
"The side effects of them." The Monster Of The Eleventh waved her off, walking instead to her nice, satin couch, and gently laying down. Miraculously, it even held his weight. "Things that have to be signed off by every Captain, the Forge or Library." The Astartes spoke with a bored tone, "They tend to pass by my desk during my Paperwork duty."
Ahh, yes. Paperwork Duty. A punishment unique to the Wardens, where their troublemakers would process generally simple, mind-numbing requests for the Captains.
It seemed to you a great way allow corruption to sabotage the Legion, but then again you weren't privy to everything. Perhaps the ever-suspicious Wardens double-checked what passed through their trouble-makers desk, though you weren't sure how that would save any time.
It also meant you had no way of knowing whether Abdul was lying or not.
"Of course," Abdul spoke, "this little demonstration will probably net me another century of Paperwork Duty, but at this point it hardly matters."
"Ohh?" You ask, genuine curiosity seeping into your kind veneer, "The punishment doesn't bother you?"
The Terran Born chuckles slowly, again for your benefit as you realize just how...alien the Astartes are. How they escaped mortal understanding.
How terrifying.
"Well, it did." Lord Abdul explained, "Part of my contract for being a Kill Team leader was even taking a thousand years off my sentence."
Again, you felt a pit of jealousy in writhe in your stomach, at the ease unaging Astartes could speak of such lengths. At how such magnificent things could last so long.
"But?" You prod, instinctively walking to your nice, comfortable chair.
"But such punishments can be nulled by Chief Librarians, Forge Masters, and First Captains." The Black Knight explains in an emotionless, calm voice, "And it is unlikely my Father shall ignore my talents until the thirty ninth millennium."
You had to bite back a response to that. Instead, you sat down politely and feigned shock. "By the Emperor!" You gasp, pretty convincingly too, "What did you do to earn eight thousand years of punishment?"
Rookie mistake. you realize, Never blame the patient until they're ready to admit it was their fault.
"Well," The Astartes hummed, "I could explain." He-was that a deflection? Did he care about this? Was it boring to him? Was he toying with you? Normally, you could at least get something from Astartes, but you couldn't read him at all! "But, first, could you get me that bottle of scotch under your chair?"
Your smile drops, and your blood turns cold. I'm gonna lose my job.
"I-I don't know how it got there." You stutter out, "I-"
"You should be more honest, Witch Hunter." The Monster Of The Eleventh chastised, "I am given to understanding this is something of a second job for you, but-"
If it was possible, your blood ran colder still. He knew. It wasn't a question, he knew. Knew that you were spying on him, reporting his actions. Knew why the Witch Hunters supported him so readily.
"-I would appreciate it if you would put a bit more effort into this. It is important to the Imperium, after all."
This was it then. The end. Your legacy, swallowed up to keep his secret under wraps. You hadn't heard of any Witch Hunters under him going missing, but in retrospect that probably spoke more of his skill than his restraint. Which meant that you would die.
And your replacement wouldn't be any the wiser.
Your throat closes, and you feel like you're trying to swallow an apple pitt, but it won't go down. You grab for your Volkite-
Only to remember you forgot to grab it!
Your armor was pitiful, more focused on stealth than any real protection. He'd cut you down in one swing, or vaporize you with a lightning bolt. Or pull all the blood from your body and stuff your mummified corpse in your own bag to dispose of later.
You had no chance. Not against an Astartes. Not against a Librarian. Not against a Lost.
Your heart raced, and you felt sweat begin to pool on your forehead.
This is it then. Your life. Your legacy...gone in an instant. One moment you were consoling the mentally insane. And the next….gone.
Maybe he didn't know about the cameras?
You felt your sweat drop, and realized he was waiting for you to say something, cheerfully waiting on that wonderful, satin couch.
You felt betrayed at that. You didn't know that couch would play a part in your murder. That it would support your killer. You thought it was just a couch!
Accepting that that pit in your throat would stay there, you turn instead to the equally difficult task of speaking.
Maybe if I beg he'll let me leave with my soul intact?
"A-are you here to kill me?" Surprisingly, your voice comes out shaky, but clear, determined. Almost….challenging.
"No." In contrast, his utter monotone seems almost bored. Almost….sassy? Tired? Calming? You can't read anything. Or maybe you're reading too much. "By the Emperor, you Witch Hunters take too many pages from the First Captain."
Your head is pounding, adrenaline rushing into your system at unstable rates, sending your heart into overdrive and-Are-are you having a heart attack?
But you're only twenty six! How can you be having a heart attack?
Lord Abdul snaps, the sound resounding weirdly normal considering he was wearing armored gauntlets, but it got your attention regardless.
"Easy, easy." He commanded, finally turning around to face you, "You're panicking. Focus on something you like. Calm."
You grit your teeth a bit, weirdly, the soft, reassuring words of the Astartes...helped.
"I'm not going to hurt you." He promised, "Just focus for a second. Recite your Chants, I'll wait."
You strain, feeling torn on whether to follow the words of a suspect or continue panicking, but ultimately decide the Chants are always good, so you work your way through those.
The Black Knight doesn't seem to mind, calmly waiting. Or napping. Or....reading-you couldn't tell-while you slowly make your way through all fifty three of the Witch Hunter's chants.
It takes a while, a solid five minutes, you think. But by the end you don't feel panicked, and the still, statue-like form of Abdul no longer froze your mind in fear.
You take a deep breath, finally calm. But your mind is still frazzled, and you didn't know what to ask first.
Luckily, Lord Abdul spoke first. "Good." He sighed, for your benefit you think, "You're good at your job, Ms. Una. But looking past the things we Astartes do to calm you is rarely a good idea."
You nod mutely.
"On the plus side, next time shouldn't be as bad."
You blanch. "N-no thanks, Lord Abdul."
He laughs, turning a bit to get more comfortable, "Suit yourself."
You force a smile, instinctively, but drop it when you remember the Astartes could probably see such things. Instead, you take a few seconds to compose yourself.
"How'd you know I was investigating you?"
The Astartes let out a single, barking laugh. "Oh, where do I start?" He asked rhetorically.
You grimace.
The Black Knight settles in further, making himself comfortable. "Well, for starters, your order is not as stealthy as it thinks it is." He chuckles, "Or rather, Astartes are more perceptive than you give them credit for."
You nod, not liking the idea, but accepting it regardless. Between Transhuman Dread, Transhuman senses, and their own training….you could see it.
"Most of my Brothers do not mind being investigated unless they are actually corrupted, mind you," The Terran Born shrugs, "but that just means they don't bother you over it."
You lean forward, but find your body shrinking as you try to decipher the Astartes words. But they just didn't make sense! Who would learn they might be murdered and not care? Who would spot their possible killers and just let it happen?
"As for you, specifically:" The Black Knight continued, as you realized he wasn't done, "It was your weapon."
You blinked. "My Volkite?"
Lord Abdul nods, even turning to look at you somewhat, "Your Volkite Charger, yes. A weapon so expensive less than a percent of Witch Hunters can use them." He tuts, "Incidentally, it's also the only weapon in your order's arsenal with any real chance of killing me."
Instinctively, you try to shrink yourself smaller still, and try again to swallow the lump in your throat. But you just can't get any smaller! You feel your mind unraveling at the edges, and, again, feel as though the Dread will claim you until-
The Terran Born sighs, "I've already said I'm not going to hurt you." He offers in this weird, unreadable voice. Was that empathy? Understanding of your predicament? Or was he annoyed at your worry, or did he not mind? Was it calculated to go through things faster? Or manipulation? Was he saddened by your suspicions? All of the above? None of them?
Or did he just pity you? You hung on to that thought. Not because you like it, but because it made your stomach churn with unfathomable jealousy. Jealousy enough to anchor yourself once more. Enough to overcome your fear. Enough to stand up to an Astartes.
So instead you steel yourself with it, and for the first time stare directly into that Astartes, and where he makes a mockery of your patient couch.
"Then why are you here?" You ask, noting with some surprise the steel, and certainty in your voice.
The Astartes looks up, ever so slightly, seeming again to think. "I did not lie." He says neutrally, "I am here because I realized my Legion's rules allowed it, and despite everything thus far, this is still easier than keeping Raz from trying to lobotomize me."
You stare at the Astartes, unable to tell of that was some poor attempt at a joke or not.
"So?" You ask, "What? You just want me to pick your mind like it's a normal session?"
Again you could practically feel his smile through his helmet, and you wondered how he did that. What trick was able to convey such overwhelming joy? Was it a Psyker power? A trick in his body language? Did he know it was too much to be seen as genuine? Or...was that the point? Was it genuine? Or was it just meant to seem genuine? Was it even ineffective, if someone of your caliber was questioning it?
"If you want." The Warden sighs, waving his limp wrist dismissively, "Or, I suppose, we could do the reverse." He offers, "Use this time until I get in trouble for me to pick your mind."
You were almost repulsed at the idea. That a suspect would probe your mind, searching for weaknesses. That a Witch Hunter would spill her secrets.
If the Black Knight sensed your disgust, he didn't show it, instead continuing on like nothing had happened.
"Or I could use it to train you." The Terran Born offers.
Wait what?
"I know your job can be quite difficult." He offers, "If you wouldn't mind, I'd be glad to either help out, or further compensate you for your time."
Again, a strange feeling of jealousy writhes in your gut. That, for all your training, feeling all your work...this Astartes who had likely never trained those skills a day in his life is better at them than you. Would pity you. Offer to help you. When you did so fine on your own!
You give him a squished, forced smile you know he can see through, if he was even looking, at least. "Thanks." You say with all the sincerity you could fake, "It has gotten a lot harder recently. All the Psykers coming in and questioning if they've stained their honor, or become monsters."
Again, if The Pride Of The Library notices your sarcasm, he doesn't show it. Instead he gives a nice, polite, and entirely convincing chuckle you know can't be real. Not from an Astartes.
"Sorry about that." He, again, offers, "It was necessary in the long run, but I suppose I should have run it by you first."
You resist the duel urgers to sigh, and click your tongue in displeasure. Instead, you fight them down, so only your genuine curiosity shines through.
"Why'd you do it, anyway?" You ask, "Giving them a weakness to Pink?"
Lord Abdul shakes his head, "No." The Astartes corrects,, "Giving them a strength against Nurgle."
You wince at the name, "What?"
"Tell me," the Terran Born asks, "Do you care for your patients?"
You stop, the jealousy, the hatred, confusion, all of it washing away at the simple question. Time seems to stop, and you stare at your nice, wooden floor, lit only by the careful, flickering candles you had to make the room more calming.
Again, instinctively, transhuman dread grabs at you, but this time you know to push it away. Know that, logically, he already knew the answer. Didn't he even ask this before?
"No." You admit, like poison, heaving from your lungs.
The Black Knight nods, "Exactly." And you can only sigh, as tension leaves your frame, "And how much less will they care? Those Psykers losing man after man in their arms?"
"Then-" you struggle to respond, both because of his transhuman dread, and because his argument made sense, "why not teach them empathy?" You finally manage, though the question comes out soft, and feeble.
"I do," The Terran Born defends, "and I will continue to. But I am just being practical. Most will be unable to keep their empathy long-term, and those few that internalize their failures will end up security risks: To Nurgle."
Again, you flinch at the Archdaemon's name, "I...see."
You can feel that smile again, as if you just said a joke of some kind.
"But…" you question, leaning forward again and, for once, finding the motion comforting instead of repugnant or terrifying. Transhuman Dread really is something, huh? "How, then, does that help? As the saying goes: A Prideful soldier is a dead soldier."
"An overly prideful soldier." Lord Abdul corrects, "But the pride of a doctor is different. For the pride of a doctor is reason to better oneself, when others will think themselves enough, and stagnate. It is reason to continue, when others lay down and die. It is reason to fight for each and every patient, because their death would be a stain upon your honor."
You furrow your browser, and purse your lips. "I..see." you repeat. And, this time, maybe you even do. After all, most people don't have the drive you do.
The Terran Born stops and, for a moment, chuckles, again in what you can only assume to be a false attempt to clear the air. "Ahhh. Sorry, sorry." He apologizes, "But do not worry, Ms. Una, I shall endeavor to teach them fellowship and humility soon."
Sounds overly complicated. you can't help but think.
"I'm glad." You admit, surprising yourself with your honesty. "But-" you look at your clock, and see your ten minute break-The one you had intended to drink through-was almost over.
The Pride Of The Library seems to notice too, "Ohh?" He asks, "Are you going to send me home five hours early, Ms. Technically-A-Chaplain?"
You resist chuckling, even faking it. "I'll have to report it," You admit, "and I''ll make sure to report your reasoning as well."
"Good." The Black Knight nods, "It is best to be honest about such things."
You give him an inquisitive glare. "Things like shirking your duties on a technicality?"
You can feel that infectious, unnatural joy again, as this fey-like creature manipulates your emotions back and forth, wavering you from furious to calm, terrified to friendly in mere moments. And to think, that's with your Witch Hunter training.
"Of course! If one is more effective serving the Imperium doing what they replaced it with." He offers, the tried and true reasoning of a billion executed soldiers.
You roll your eyes, as you consider just how much you will have to pour over the recordings today, just to realize how much he has manipulated you, how much you could read of him, "But I do have one more question before you go." You force a chuckle.
"Ohh?" The Terran Born questioned wordlessly.
You shift, as suddenly his aura turns against you, and you wonder if this is even a purposeful, active effect, or your own animalistic mind warning you of going against him. "Why me?"
"You mean why I chose to confide in you, instead of the dozens of other Witch Hunters working on the Antigians?" He asked.
You nod, though the edges of your vision begin to fade, and your stomach feels like it's doing a cartwheel as you do so.
"Because.." The Monster Of The Eleventh answers calmly, "Well two reasons, I suppose. But the first and most important is: I see a lot of myself in you, I suppose."
"I'm not corrupted." You instinctively bite.
"And neither am I." The Warden deflects smoothly, "But your dedication to your legacy does you well."
You blink, as the anxiety, the horror, the fear are all replaced with an indescribable contentment, and confusion.
"In truth, I think I find myself...envious of you." The Astartes admits, "To be so...free to carve your own legacy. At how easy it is for you to make one."
You blink, but you cannot understand such words. No, no, they must be a lie. No. This one must be a Telepath, you realize, wrenching the words out of your head.
Because otherwise-No way.
"What?" You, finally, demand out loud. And, again, you notice the steel in your voice, as jealousy, confusion, rage focus your thoughts.
But the Astartes continues anyway, dauntless. "I know it might not seem like it," he smiles that dumb, mind-controlling smile that burns through your anger like paper, "but we Astartes give up so much to become this way."
He gestured at himself. At that too-perfect, unaging body you felt so jealous of.
"But in truth, it avails us not." The….man sighs, "Sure, it shall take you time to reach our heights, even at your best." he assures you, "But, Ms. Una, you have freedoms, options, we Astartes never will."
You….don't know what to think, what to feel. As if your brain is fried from how much the Astartes has twisted it over and over again.
"Like?" You feel yourself ask.
Somehow, that unnatural joy seems to grow brighter, "Well," Lord Abdul says, with that neutral, unreadable voice of his, "You could pass down your genetic structure, for one."
You feel your throat constrict, and your-
"I'm not telling you to have children." The Terran Born corrects, dispelling the weird manipulations of your mind with a sigh, "But it is an option you have I simply do not."
You shake your head, but find yourself struggling to do so, "What point are such things?" You find yourself asking in a tired, bitter voice. And then, sensing something, "They don't help at all."
Behind his helmet, you could feel the Astartes' sass, feel as he rolled his eyes. "They do not." He agrees, "Because you do not let them."
You pause, and can't help but turn away from the Astartes-from Lord Abdul. Now wasn't the time, not under his transhuman dread, and aura, but that….that was one of many things today he'd left you to think about.
But wondering how to improve both yourself and your order were for later. First: You had to get this Astartes out of your workstation so you could think clearly.
And second: "And, you said you had another reason you chose me?" You ask, rising from your chair, and making your way to the nice, homely door to your office. Another little amenity you had been given to lull your patients into a false sense of security.
The Monster Of The Eleventh nods, taking the hint, and thus his place right outside your door. "Ahh, yes. I'm afraid the details will have to wait until another time." He explains, implying there would be another.
There probably will be.
"But I would like someone to appeal to your order." The Terran Born continues, "About revising our current contract."
You blink, "What?" You ask, "What sort of changes were you hoping for?"
You feel the Black Knight give you a careful, disarming smile….still underneath that helmet of his. "Nothing too major." He promises, "Just a simple request for more Hunters, and to make their position a more permanent fixture."
You blink, not expecting that of The Pride Of The Library. "Why?' You can't help but ask.
If the fey-like Astartes cares for your shock. He doesn't show it. "Because I've realized that it would prove effective." He answers evenly, "That my Brothers would never willingly work besides an institute I had made, and your order's focus would help solve their weaknesses regardless."
You resist giving another, tired sigh. There's a lot to unpack there.
"Their weaknesses?" You ask instead, feeling neither equipped, nor qualified to delve into the Astartes' issues, and decipher whether or not they were fake or not.
Emotionlessly, Lord Abdul gives you an almost imperceptible nod, "A long-term project to help the Antigian's keep their empathy, bring them sanity, and increase their willpower." He explains. "Would all prove helpful, in their own little ways."
You nod, wondering how you would even pitch such things after this meeting, or if you'd even want to once Lord Abdul left your presence.
"Don't worry." Said Astartes chuckled woth that fake laugh of his, before turning as he began to walk away. "Make what reports you have to, we'll discuss what can be done at a later date."
You stare at the Astartes' strange, retreating form for a second, before shaking your head, and closing the door.
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Pff.
Man, first Rene, then Abdul, next you're gonna tell me Alpharus is in Alpha Legion.
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I dunno. Have you seen a Tzeentchian lately? Planning in the background, trying to decieve folks. Sounds pretty Alpha Legion to me.
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I dunno, that Rene Alpha Legionaire seems to sort of blur the line from time to time.
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It was caused by most Questors disliking our current named protos for the position.
The Psyker boom was Emps awakening our Psykic powers though, which was unconnected but will double the numbers and powers of the Library.
Well yeah, I know why the psyker boom is happening, my question was if the library reorganization was due to the fact that we knew that was incoming or if it was triggered by something else.
Which I'm just now remembering was due our previous head of the library dying on the crusade.
Ok now I'm conflicted, on the one hand not having a clear and obvious replacement is bad planning for a legion like ours, on the other hand we really did need to re-tool things on that front.
Which I'm just now remembering was due our previous head of the library dying on the crusade.
Ok now I'm conflicted, on the one hand not having a clear and obvious replacement is bad planning for a legion like ours, on the other hand we really did need to re-tool things on that front.
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Agree to disagree in needing to retool it? We have Astartes over chunks of 1k or 10k already, so it's not like the numbers there were a problem.
Nah, we redid everything because both the current Chief Librarian and the successor apperent (Beltran) effectively died, and Kesar knew the drop in competency was a smaller loss than the cost of reviving Beltran.
Overall...uhh, no. No the retooling of the Library was completely unrelated to the increase of numbers.
I feel like the triquetra kind of addresses the problem anyway. Now it takes the loss of three specific heroes before we have to worry about this again.
Also Oricarius was involved in the set up this time so odds are there's a list that goes all the way to Abdul (of course at that point the library would be effectively defunct anyway since Abdul's place on the list is probably lower than some random mortal with all the psyker related informational pamphlets).
Also Oricarius was involved in the set up this time so odds are there's a list that goes all the way to Abdul (of course at that point the library would be effectively defunct anyway since Abdul's place on the list is probably lower than some random mortal with all the psyker related informational pamphlets).
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Yes. And also a new vote to elect a character into each new position should any of them die, a possibility of retooling the Library back into it's original organization, and a slowed reaction/implementation time to changes due to the beacracy of three separate positions all trying to lead.
Though it does allow for the Library to pursue three major courses of action, or upgrades at any given time, at only half or so the speed of a similarly ranked leader, which is pretty good. Theoretically, a bit more time and grinding out the positions, and we could also end up with a closer copy of what Magnus has, with an individual group for each Psyker school led by the separate, dedicated, leader.
Also, I'll have you know Abdul is only the one thousand eight hundredth ranked of Library of 1.5k Astartes!
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Ohh his actual ranking is as a normal Librarian, and the 7th member of the 88th company. He's also likely to go up to a 'lietenant' ranking in the Library soon, since Rene got Beltran's old position, and Rene actually likes Abdul.
But, practically Abdul is the best Biomancer and arguably Divinor currently in the Legion, is about 15 years away from dropping a -10% to our Legion's casualties, and successfully led a Kill Team during the Maelstrom. Practically He's like 11th in-line for the Library.
When someone who would have been a chapter master in another time is 11th in line for a promotion you know we're well off
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Tbf I do have it my notes that, in the Canon timeline, Abdul's body was actually turned to corpse starch after he failed the Custodes initiation process.
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Hey guys what would majorkill think of Keasar
Demon obsessed weirdo
i like to see an omake on him "PENETRATING" Keasar "Deeply"