The pod had crashed into the ground only minutes ago, drawing a fiery streak through the sky before coming to a stop in a mess of metal parts and scorched Earth, but it is largely intact. The woman draws near, uncaring of the heat of the pod, working carefully to open it up, nimble fingers drawing upon her powers of the Materium, speaking to the pods' simple AI systems. She had felt something was about to happen, seen the visions, felt the disturbance in the Veil when the pod entered realspace hours ago on a collision course with this world. She wonders whether fate or her own decisions had brought her to Tenus, convinced that the Way has led her to this moment.
The pod opens up, revealing a human baby. Skin rosy, crying, innocent. The woman can feel the residual psychic energy emanating from his tiny body when she picks him up, draws him to her chest, holds him close until he ceases wailing, knows he is not a naturally born human and can feel the mark of the Four on his soul. Forbidden knowledge from an impossible realm brought into reality, thinning the Veil further. Part of her feels an odd sensation brewing inside her, hunger for the small one's soul, but before she can think about it more clearly, a familiar pull draws her back. A vision comes over her as she holds him, she sees men in powered armor warring, bringing victories in the name of the Anathema, building an Empire, a great Imperium of Man. The vision is vague, her connection brittle, she is not whole. Maybe if she were, she could see more, but she isn't. She is but a fragment of her former self and as such she can only see one thing for certain. The Anathemas wolves set loose upon the poor boy in her arms because…(Vote for one)
[]He will destroy a terrible weapon.
[]He will prevent a terrible tragedy.
[]He will save someone he will care about.
As quickly as it had come, the vision is gone and she returns to the crash site. There is nothing she can do for him. Her visions always come to pass, but everyone dies sooner or later. What matters are the choices one makes along the Way, the people one influences, whose lives one touches. He still has a role to play in the events to come, the second son of twenty sons, still has a life to live untouched by her visions.
She is already part of this, cannot back out now. The woman makes her way back, holds the infant in front of her, examines him, body and soul, knows she does not feel right when touching the brightly shining bundle of warp energies that is his soul. Her touch is sharp and painful despite her effort not to, causing him to wake up and begin crying again. He is still young and malleable, drawing out the potential of his physical form is no problem for her. He will need it. She will assist him, prepare him for the role the Anathema had planned for him. His potential for being…(Vote for one)
She smiles at him and moves him close to her chest again, soothing the little man of great power as she goes on her way to her current home on this planet. Tenus is…(Vote for one)
[]A world of hostile flora and fauna,
[]A world of extreme weather,
[]A world with toxic air and soil
It's people…(Vote for one)
[]Feudal realms of a medieval technology level
[]Have recently rediscovered the steam engine and begun to industrialize
[]Have just re-cracked the atom
She hums a song long forgotten by this humanity, making her way back past the walls into the city, the guards not being able to or not wanting to see her. The woman can make sure she can pass through the gates when she wants, prefers her privacy. As she makes her way home, she muses her mind for what to call him. (Vote for one)
[X]Have just re-cracked the atom
[X]He will prevent a terrible tragedy
[X]A world of extreme weather,
[X]An indomitable psyker
[X]Alekandros Megalos
The first thing Alekandros Megalos Bourgh remembered were the lights. Small flickering flames in the darkness of his mind flashing in and out of existence. Small little things of warmth and emotion, hovering near him only for as long as he could hold on to them, soon dissappearing like sparks dissappeared into the night. Ma told him what he was feeling was a person's soul, that he would be able to see them for longer the more powerful his abilities grew. She would then hug him tightly and as always, he would close his eyes and try to see hers, feel her wamrth beyond the tight, loving embrace, see the spark of the person most dear to him.
He always came up empty, grabbing at emptyness, much to his frustration. When the two of them were out and within the fortress cities halls and corridors, he would ocasionally spot glimpses of other parents being out and about with their children, feeling the love ematating from their souls when he managed to focus the attention of his mind for just a second. He did not understand why Ma was hiding from him, why she choose to cover her soul in nothingsness, unable for him to reach out and feel the warmth.
A ember of resentment that stayed and festered, building steam until they bottled over. It was a bad day, one of the usual, sudden changes of the weather had cancelled their trip to the menorian cliffsides he had hoped to see. Alekandros was sulking with all the energy a few month old primarch could muster. Ma was an saint, with endless patients but it seemed like she too had reached her limit with his tantrum. He felt slighted, betrayed. He had observed he was not like the other children he played with on occasion, he was taller, smarter, they could not see the sparks. He knew his Ma could protect them from the weather and he really wanted to see the cliffs.
When she told him no, his kettle boiled over. His frustration manifested its way into reality in a crackling wave of force, directed at the object of his frustration before him. Anger turned to fear when the walls around them collapsed inwards, stone and rock and metal crumbling under the power of his emotions like paper, burying the two of them, crushing them under rock. For a moment, he could not move, more weight pressing down on him that the superhuman strength of his little body could ever hope to move. Fear turned to panic as the moment dragged on, trapped, isolated, alone.
The rocks moved, debris flowing backwards back where it had come from. The incredible weight on his chest was lifted as Ma rushed forward to take him into her embrace. As the room around them continued to fix itself, he could see something in her, like tiny daggers and ripping teeth digging on the edges of his mind. Her presence paused when she felt his discomfort and she returned to blankeness. He was wailing by then, afraid and yet at the same time craving her comfort, saying he was sorry. His ma just apologized softly and hummed, contuning to hold him until he fell asleep.
Time passed and his understanding of the world grew with him. By now people had noticed he was not developing normally, having experienced twice the number of years of physical and trice of mental development normal for his age. He basked in the attention, but also felt a tinge of sadness when seeing his neighbourhood friends were falling behind him as they continued to develop normally, their sparks retaining their childlike energy. Ma said he had come to her from outer space and one day someone important would come to take him back there. Space was what sorrounded planets, he knew that. He also knew he lived on a planet called Tenus, in the mighty Coalition of Sargell. He knew the Coalition had rediscovered nuclear fission during a destructive and horrible war against an imperialist and evil neighbour on the souther continent, the Empire of Solimin, which was apparently a big deal. Everywhere he went, people celebrated that nuclear energy would power their homes and nuclear weapons ensure their supremacy over Tenus. Apparently a long time ago Tenus had been part of a star spanning human realm, until a great catastrophe had brought it low. Sorrounded by the terrible and unpredictable weather patterns: winds strong enough to lift boulders into the airs, rainfalls heavy enough to wash away hills and dry periods so hot the sun cracked the rock beneath their feat, the people of Tenus had fought and labored hard to draw a meager living from the land. Cities had been carved into the bases of the tallest mountains, mines dug deep into the earth to extract Tenus rich natural resources and men of knowledge and wisdom labored hard to resiscover what had been lost all those centuries ago. Alekandros could see his Ma was not happy with the state of how things were, but she remained elusive when asked about it. Only giving up that peace could only be maintained as long as only the Coalition would have nuclear weapons. The people on the vox channels said the nuclear secrets were safe, but his Ma was wise and powerful, so maybe she was right.
As he grew older, he also began to become his own person through interaction with others and his life experiences, being less dependent on his Ma. What traits did Alekandros develop in his early life. Vote for as many positive and negative traits, the highest two of each will win, of his that will effect his personality going forward. (Please dont just make Vulcan 2.0, thank you)
Additionally, his dormant psyker powers developed more and more with every day. The sparks that he had once only been able to observe fleetingly, began to be a constant. Ma observed the careful exerimentation he did with his fledling powers with a weary eye, telling him to be careful, reminding him of the day he had almost buried himself. She sat down with him, told him of beings from beyond reality that would seek out and abuse him for their own gain. As he grew more powerful, the light of his own soul would attract them like the smell of freshly baked bread attracts the masses on a workday morning. He had laughed and promised her he would be careful.
It was not long after that the nightmares started. At first he would wake up, hearts racing and sweaty, not remembering what had happened, but as time went on the dreams became more clear. Whispers of voices promising him things in languages he could not understand, dirty flames drawing near him, their presence strange and confusing. Until one fateful night he felt something being in the room with him, invisible yet present. He whsipered for his Ma, terrified and confused, a Primarch yet still so young. Frost build on the walls and door as she tried to enter, before finally eradicating the obstacle between her and him from reality. She marched through the room uncaring of the presence, taking Alekandros into her arms, soothing him. A terrible coldness drew over him as she fought the entity. Alekandros could feel his own soul flicker under the drowning sense of emptyness engulfing him, clinging as tight to her as he dared to. He could feel the daggers and teeth again, but no matter how they hurt him they hurt the entitity more. He clung to her until he fell asleep again, remaining in her embrace until morning.
When he returned the following evening, the new door felt bitingly cold to the touch. His mom had done something to his room. The door, walls, floor and ceiling were covered in a black metal that made the room feel cold, not physically, but mentally. A cold his Primarch body could not overcome. Falling sleeping was hard, but he had discovered he did not need much of it anyway.
At least the entities never dared return.
It was a few weeks later that Ma pulled him into their kitchen and sat down at their kitchen table, a cup of recaff in her hand. The dark, bitter drink was heavily rationed, expensive, but Ma always seemed to have enough of it to share a cup with their neighbors. By now he was as tall as her despite his age, moving to sit down at the table under the yellow lighting of the Lumen above them.
Ma turned the cup in her hand, anxious. As usual Alekandros only had her mannerisms to read her emotions, her inner being unreadable to him, blank. She lifted the gaze of her green eyes up at him from the centre of the table, moving to say something, before looking down again, moving a strain of her long blonde hair behind her ear. He waited, it seemed important.
"Alek, I am sorry." She finally managed to say.
"What for?" He furrowed his brows, trying to read her.
"For not being able to help you with your abilities more. When I found you in that pod, I thought I could do more, but…" She trailed off.
"I never asked Ma." He responded, voice low. "It seemed like a question you did not want to be asked, but what are you?"
The unasked asked, she threw him a cold smile that ran a shiver down his spine. "I will tell you one day, I promise."
She took a sip, continuing before he could say something. "Transmuting your walls into phase iron is a temporary solution. You will need training from one of your kind."
"My kind."
"Psykers", she stated flatly. "We will move. This is not to be discussed."
He nodded, yielding to the stern tone of his mother.
Who will be responsible for training him? (Vote for one)
[]A Cabal of Underground Witches Psykers are strongly feared, monitored and hunted on Tenus because of scars and fears, the roots of which run deep. There is a cabal of witches on Tenus pracisting and developing their powers and knowledge in secret, away from the eyes of the Coalition or the Empire in a remote location, since the time of the fall.
[]The Imperial Sorcererer Academy While the Coalition has no such body, Solimin has at least a fledging intitution to train the strongest and most reliable with psyking powers.
[]An Eldar Farseer Alekandros had only ever heard rumored stories of the humanoid Xenos, least that his mother actually know some of them personally.
Thanks for participating. I reserve myself the right to disregard, interpret, change and add to WH40k and 30k lore as I see fit to support the narrative. Comments and feedback sustain my soul.
Alekandors was almost five years old when Ma told him to pack his most important belongins and leave what been their home since forever. He had realized for a while it would have been inevitable, even if he didnt require training to safely make use of his psychic talents. By now it had become apparent to his environment that he was not normal. The people of Tenus lived in tight-knit communities in the underground- and cave-districts of their cities and villages and considered him and his Ma as one of them. Still, they were wary of Psykers and you when taking glimpses of their minds he could see that many harbored suspicions against him, but Ma appeared to serve as a counterbalance. She was trusted and so kept any suspicions for themselves. No witchhunter would ever knock at their doors and try to take him away. It saddened him, feeling their distrust of psykers and witches, but Alekandros had experienced first hand how entity from beyond the veil tried to claw its way into reality using him as a gateway. It explained the deep rooted fears, but it also meant he had to work twice as hard to prove them wrong. The district they lived in had tried its best to accomendate Alekandros, but by now the teachers at the district schola had nothing left to teach him. He had grown increasingly frustrated at the lack of opportunities to allow him to continue learning, improving, perfecting his understanding of the world, while another part of him never wanting to leave. Going deep into himself however, he managed to disentangle these conflicting feelings. His psychic potential had developed to a point where his presence was a danger to those around him, excluding maybe Ma. His drive to master these powers smashed against this reality, bringing forth the realization that he would require outside help, that this was not a problem he could solve himself.
So they had to leave.
The cities of Sargell were connected by underground railroads arduously dug over decades into the hard rock to facilitate trade and connect the various city states together. Transport of goods had largely been replaced by transport of people, as transporting bulk cargo had moved to promethium or nuclear-powered, leviathan-sized cargo vessels, that could withstand the turbulent seas of Tenus, over the last decades. Moving was as easy as buying a ticket for tram. There were some odd looks when security checked his credentials. Alekandros was a four year old, looking like a nine year old with some kind of growth disfunction, standing as tall as his Ma and taller than the two officers checking their tickets. Convincing them otherwise was as easy as carefulling reading their surface emotions and using the right words telling them it was merely some kind of mixup. Ma could have probably taken care of the problem somehow, but he was ocasionally driven by the urge to show her he could talk yourself out of difficult situations, that some things things could be done his way.
She did not comment and moved on.
Travel was uneventful. Apparently things were heating up in the south and the Coalition had moved one of her carrier battlegroups into contested waters as a show of force and support to an allied nation in the region. The young Primarch knew from his history and geography teachers that the equator had become contested in recent times as the geography allowed for limited open air-agriculture. Before the war, Sargell and Solimin had peacefully traded their industrial goods for agricultural produce from the equatorial nations to feed their growing populations, until Solimin had sought to annex these territories as part of their imperial expansion.
It was clear to him this could not have been the whole story, but seeking the truth of the matter, the other perspective, would have to wait. What also was clear was that another war in the region would affect everyone on Tenus. Food was rationed since forever in the Coalition, the cultural effects of which had managed to root deep. People occasionally threw angry glares at him, seeing his size and the developing musculature of his adolescent, superhuman body as a sign of excess and waste, not that he could help it. His ma had pulled some strings so he was granted a food ration card for teenagers, but he beyond that did not get any special priviliges. Stubborn as he knew he was, he had rejected it at first, but his mother had been rather insisted on the matter.
He also knew it was smart to listen to her, so had relented.
Their journey took them north, away from the brewing conflict. Tenus northern polar regions where characterized by unpreditable and quickly changing periods of heavy snowfall and melting periods and only very few people lived in these parts, except the few settlements that had sprung in the protective wind shadows of mountains, their primary trade being logging of the planet's mighty iron oaks, one of the few species of plants that thrived in the hostile weather and served as the basis for Tenus' sparse ecosystem, providing shelter from wind and weather.
Reaching the endpoint of the tram part of their jorney, they continued even further north. Alekandros was unsure if a normal human could have made this voyage, marching through the terrible storms of icy shards as big as knifes and through the sudden shifts to seering hot weather, even with the cover of the iron oaks. He felt his young superhuman body pushed beyond what he had been been forced to experience so far, but he marched on without complaint. Food was scarce, but Ma didnt seem to need to eat anyway and he discovered much to his surprise that his body could gain nourishment from the bark of iron oaks.
Hundreds of kilometers into the deepest, most hostile wilderness they drew close. Alek could feel his presence long before they actually arrived. It was…intruiging, different, powerful. The souls of humans were sparks, embers or small fires, flickering, inconsistent, but this one was a consistent, white-hot glowing piece of metal, smelling like discipline, control, with something alien. The presence refused to budge or respond when he tried reaching out, waiting for him to draw closer to arrive.
Finally, they reached a cave opening in the middle of nowehere, protected from the weather and in the middle of nowhere, and the source of the presence. A single man lived in these caves, clad in strange armor, sitting on a smooth piece of rock and throwing dice onto the smooth surface beneath him. The cave around him illuminated by feintly glowing crystals. Alek knew this could only be the Eldar his mother had mentioned, but his alien nature only became clear as they approached closer. Long, pointy ears, slender and refined features, humanoid, but not human.
"You are late, Outsider." He said as they drew close, dusting off snow from their heavy coats, Alek flinching at the aliens tone, elegant, arrogant and confident. His presence did not change, betraying not a single hint of his emotions.
"I like to keep a low profile." Ma responded, throwing a few logs of iron oak into the primitive fireplace and snipping her finger to set them aflame.
"Something you do very successfully, the runes had told me your arrival would be soon, but not by how much." Finally, he moved, picking up the runestones in one smooth motion before standing up in am inhumanly graceful manner. This refined, cold face turned to Alek, examining him. "Is this the Mon'keigh you spoke of."
"I think this is a redunant question." She took off her gloves and rubbed her hands in the fires warmth. "And his name is Alekandros."
He huffed. "I am aware. The boy soul is a raging fire I could spot since you left the last Mon'keigh settlement, very easy to read."
The remark triggered a burst of shame flickering up inside him which he tried to surpress, wanting to make a good first impression on his teacher, arrogant as he may appear. "I believe this is why I am here."
"That you are indeed." He nodded and moved forward a probing mental finger of psychic energy towards Alek, condensed and focused, speaking into his mind. "I can already feel you will be a troubling student, but I will do what is within my power. The runes suggest it would not be ideal to leave one with your monstrous potential untrained, unchecked, open to the lure of the ruinous powers. My name is Anvarian Shaie, Farseer of the Craftworld Alaitoc, Alekandros Bourgh, remember it well."
"How did you-" Alek took an involuntary step back.
"Focus and training, young one, something you have lacked so far. I can feel you have a primitive understanding of the projection of emotions, but none of language or ideas. You are raw power in a chalice, the slightest disturbance spilling it over the edge."
"My ways have brought me this far without indicent, Anvarian. I am aware I am in need of teaching, am willing to learn, but you will need to convince me of the superiotiry of your ways, not insult my person."
"Any discussion I should be a part of?" Ma asked, sitting at the fire and making some iron oak pine tea in a metal pot.
Anvarian further impressed Alek by answering while contuning to talk in his mind simultaniously, while making his way outside into the growing snowstorm. "I am merely having a discussion with your foundling, Outsider. No need to include yourself. Concern yourself with matters of this realm and make some hot water for me too."
"This shall be your first lesson then. Emotions are what attracts the Warp predators. Control them well, steel your mind in iron chains. Follow me outside."
Alek followed behind him into the brewing ice storm lightly illuminated by the north lights above them. The Eldar did not seem to care much, the ice shards seeming to never hit him as he strode through the knee high snow, staff in hand.
"Do not call me an Eldar. That is a mon'keigh term. We are Aeldari."
"Its what your kind is called in my tongue." Alek shouted to try and communicate thrugh the storm. "Call us humans and I will call your kind Aeldari."
"Hm, a fair trade young one." He mused, allowing a sliver of amusement to be visible through his presence. "This if far enough. Your guardian would do me great harm if something happened to you. So if you start to feel the cold, we will take a break." He moved his hands and the snow blew aside for him to sit down. "Sit, close your eyes, breathe."
"How is sitting in the cold supposed to help me again?"
"Are you telling me this little snow is too much for you?"
"It is not", Alek answered, knowing full well Anvarian was appealing to his stubborn side, probably preparing fur a future lecture on not leeting others try to let his emotions dicate his actions and plopped down into the snow. The wind and icy shard felt like tiny daggers in his face, but he would show his teacher he could do it.
"Good, now, empty your thoughts. I see you imagine souls as flames. A primitive comparison, but I guess a fiting one. You are currently a raging inferno, try to smother these flames until you are but a large field of simmering embers."
Alek did as he told, forcefully trying to keep his emotions in check, breathing carefully, sitting on the freezing ground even as he was threatened to turn into a small hill of snow. It seemed like an impossible task, there was just so much. Maybe he was thinking too much. He needed to think about nothing first. How did one think about nothing.
"Let go, young one. Do not force the issue. It is a long walk, not a sprint."
"How about you let me try my way first." He reponded, the first instance of the effects of the cold siphoning into his voice. "If I succeed I have learned it myself, if I dont we can still try your way. It is a long walk after all, is it not."
Luckily for him, the weather shifted. The storm travelling elsewhere and the temperature rising, snow melting over the next few hours. By now he had managed to force his being down to glowing coals, not as much as he wanted. The temperatures now began to grow uncomfortably hot, even though it was night. His teacher appeared to be unaffected by the environment, his being gleaming with a constant, measured source of power. Sweat was running down his body, because of the heat and the mental exhaustion.
"We will stop for today, Young One." The voice of his teacher disturbed the hot silence. "I feel like if I don't end this sooner, your Guardian will smite me."
Taking a deep breath he turned around, seeing his Ma stand not far from them, invisible to his mental eye as always.
"You are a creative one, but I must warn of botteling up your emotions like you tried to do. It does work, but also leave them building pressure like volcanoes over time. Be aware of your emotions, but do not let them control you."
This ended their first session. Over the next few years Anvarian taught him in all manner of ways, usually involving the harsh environment as a crucible to forge his being. Much to the frustration of his teacher, he did turn out to be a feisty student, willing to spend a great time frustrating upon a particular lesson until he had mastered it to his own satisfaction. Much to the delight of his teacher however, he turned out to be a smart and attentive student, quickly learning whatever dicipline or lesson Anvarian had in store for him.
His teacher was aware the Aeldari way was only partially applicable to humans, but he still tried to instill the basics of their paths onto him, taught him about the Fall, about She Who Thrists and the Ruinous Powers and their never ending personal battle to control their emotions. By the end of the five years of training in the wilderness, Alek had grown even further. He had matured, mastered all diciplines his teacher had been able to teach him. His being was now an iron star, dense and hot yet indrecibly stable. His mind could reach far, much farther than he would ever had anticpated. He could see the little connections in the environment, how it was all connected. It was all so fragile, a single of his thoughts could have swept it away, shattered the mighty trunks of iron oaks but why should he. This world, harsh as it was, was beautiful and ancient in a way he felt hard to put into words.
He had physically matured as well. The years having formed his body into a exemplary specimen of humanity. His body burst with lean, powerful muscles that enabled him to shatter rocks with his bare hands, his physique an expression of the growing strength of mind as well. At ten years old he had seemed to reach the end of his physical growth turning into a…(Vote for one)
[]Tall Man (Comparable to Alpharius)
[]Towering Presence (Towards the Middle over all other Primarchs)
[]Gargantuan Behemoth (Towards Vulcan)
Both teacher and mother agreed he should take up at least something from the concept of Aeldari Paths. Anvarian argued it would be a good outlet for his emotions, something to anker his mind, to steel his resolve. Ma thought him having a hobby would be nice. Alek normally would have just done things his way, but for once they seemed to agree on something. It would not be the Aeldari paths, but his own, personal, Way. A particular aspect to focus his development on appealed to him. (Vote for one)
[]Way of Biomancy
All living things, except your Ma, are overflowing with life force, residual psychic energies. It takes only little effort to pull on those threads, closing wounds, healing flora and fauna alike, spawning them to grow stronger. Mastering this part of his abilities would be his Way.
[]Way of the Seer
The future is uncertain, but glimpses can be gleamed via way of the Immaterium, the closer the more accurate. Knowing the future is a powerful tool, but his mother warned of this Way, telling him that knowing the future could come at a terrible cost.
[]Way of Prowess
Alekandros is stronger, faster, more durable than the average man. From Anvarian's and Ma's tellings is clear that the Galaxy is a hostile place and his Way is ripe with blood. He will strive to become profiscient in all forms of combat, focusing his mastery of his psychic talents upon this aspect.
[]Way of the Mage
The Immaterium is a place of power that can be drawn upon for destruction. Ones thoughts are only required to send forth roaring infernos, destructive waves of force, bolts of lighting and creating indomitable shields. Mastering this aspect of destruction would be his Way.
[]Way of Mind
Souls are easily influenced and tricked, it requires a great deal of effort to pull someone strings of mind, to weave a perfect illusion. This would be his Way.
[]Way of the Artisan
Why use psychic powers to destroy or harm, when you can use them to create. Being an artist or artisan is already putting a part of oneself into ones work. This would be his Way.
Furthermore, as their time together drew to a close. The Aeldari actually surprised Alek, providing him with a boon, a token of respect for his powerful pupil. Teaching him the Aeldari Language. It was difficult, Anvarian often chiding him for his crude proncounciation and barbaric butchering of grammar, until he finally succeeded.
His training finished, they parted ways, unknowing if Fate would make them ever cross paths again.
Thanks for participating. I reserve myself the right to disregard, interpret, change and add to WH40k and 30k lore as I see fit to support the narrative. Comments and feedback sustain my soul.
[X]Way of the Artisan
[X]Tall Man (Comparable to Alpharius)
The Moneran Escalation Begins
The journey back towards civilisation symbolized Alexandros growth over the last five years of intense tuition, physically, mentally and psychically. His Improved confidence, abilities and focus enabled them to return to the settlement they had last set foot in all those many years ago. Heat, cold or the challenges of the terrain barely held him back anymore and even from far away he could already feel the logging village, sending a thin tendril of his mind forth to explore, basking in the feeling of being surrounded by other humans. It tickled a nostalgic string in him, although this time was different. He had been able to see the sparks of their souls before, but now he could see so much more. The flow of residual energies connected them all, connecting people and places in an interwoven web of memories, good and bad. Festivities in the town square when spring season began and the weather grew a little more tolerable or upon Unification Day, but also memories of hunger and disease, ailments rampant everywhere on Tenus where people where forced to huddle close together to protect from the elements. There was also a new fear, almost an anxiety, hanging over the town and her people, the specter of nuclear annihilation.
He did not breach the topic with his Ma until they had reached their destination, briefly stopping by in a diner to eat their first real meal in years. Eggs and fried potatoes, it was not much, but he had found a new appreciation for it, finding it interesting what he could gleam from the food via a little use of divination. The cook was a hardworking woman, working day and night to provide for her three children, their father having died in the Great War.
His mother did not share his enthusiasm for the deeper meaning in the food, wolfing it down without much care, listening to the public vox broadcast playing from a speaker.
"Seems like Silimin has their own nuclear weapons now." She stated dryly, ripping Alexandros from his lunch based fascination to listen closer.
"Tensions run high as the Empress defends the stationing of short range ballistic missiles on the island of Moten, putting Coalition cities into nuclear strike range. As a response, the Council has announced a new wave of military investments in the face of…"
"Those who play with the devil's toys will be brought by degrees to wield his sword." She hums and pokes her eggs.
Alek nodde, drawing a minor illusion around them so noone else would listen in too closely. "This is what you were talking about before we left? I could feel it long before we got here. People are tense, afraid." He shook himself slightly. "The threat of destruction haunts them."
"Seems like you returned at an opportune time then." She smiled at him. "A good period to make a name for yourself."
"I fail to see what I can do in this situation short of forcefully controlling all relevant figures in Solimin. But that would be dangerous, they have their own psykers."
"The Sorcery Academy, yes." Ma took a sip of recaff. "None of them are as powerful as you."
"That does not make it less dangerous. If pushed into a corner they could do something desperate like summoning forth demons or worse." He paused, seeking the gaze of her green eyes. "But if you have wisdom I do not have, tell me of it."
"As one chapter of wars close another one opens." She folds her hands in her lap. "A chapter of smaller scale conflicts and proxy wars, of espionage and diplomatic power plays."
Alek stared into his potatoes. "I could do without that. If I could I would return home, see how the district is doing. There is so much I could do for them now with my talents." He meandered on. "I would like to go to university, learn engineering and art, buy some paints, learn how to paint the north lights we saw when the sky was clear and the firmament full of stars."
"If you could?"
He met her gaze, fidgeting with his hands. The fact that his mother was unreadable to him frustrating him. "Maybe together we could-"
"It is sweet of you wanting to include me Alek", she smiles warmly. "But I like to keep a low profile. There are powers out there whose attention I do not want to draw." Her face grows sour. "By adopting you I will already have drawn that of your creator. I am an Outsider, this is not my Way."
"I can protect you."
"I knew you would try." Her smaller hand moves to cup his. Pale skin meeting recaff cream colored brown, warm, reassuring. "But please, trust me. I can only assist you in a way that a mother can."
Alek throws her a grin, turning his hand to give hers a gentle squeeze. "Then, can I have some Talers. I want to buy some things."
She returns it, rummaging through her bags to pull out some stenciled metal bars. "Of course, sweetie."
The train ride back south was uneventful. The yellow lumen above them flickered, while outside in the tunnel the occasional maintenance light zoomed past. The compartment was full with civilian and soldiers in Coalition uniform, the seat he sat on made for someone much smaller than him. If he were any taller he would have come to regret it. Using biomancy hurt like hell and he was glad to stay as he was. Ma was sleeping in the seat next to him, leaned against his shoulder. Or at least he was sure she was sleeping. How exactly his mother worked was an ongoing mystery, but he did not try to dig too deep even if he desired to understand her. She gave him the gift of privacy and it was fair to return it.
Carefully not to wake her, he moved through his bag to take out what he had bought before they had left for the south. One of the better things about living so far north was that paper was much more affordable. Ma had still be slightly mad when he had come back hands empty after buying a single sketchbook and a set of graphite pencils, not wanting to tell her he had given the rest to a homeless veteran living in the public corridors. He had spent a minute talking to the man, who had clutched the Talers, crying and praising Alek in the name of the heavens. A sense of sadness had filled his heart upon hearing his story. Fixing his simple arm prosthesis was easy, requiring nothing more than a few subtle applications of psychic talent. His bad teeth and aching knee wound where harder to deal with, but with what little time he had he had at least been able to close heal cavities and inflammations, while suppressing the mans pain perception while he did what he could. It was far from perfect, but Ma was waiting for him.
He opened up the sketchbook and took ahold of one of the pencils, staring at the blank white paper in front of him. He had never taken an interest in drawing before, but it was a skill he needed to learn. The way of the artisan would be based on being able to draw sketches and plans, develop a comprehensive feeling for bringing ideas to paper and then into reality.
First he tested the pencils, carefully figuring out their hardness, how the lines behaved he could make with them, trying different angles. He let go of emotion and let them all flow into the paper through the pen, the graphite nothing more than an extension of his soul with which he could bring things into reality. He listened carefully to the whispers in the graphite, hard pencils for sketch lines, soft ones for shading, how he needed to move his hands over paper to create perfect lines and circles, covering the entire piece of paper in hundreds of them, observing and examining each for faults, imperfections, before he tried again, opening himself up to feeling how the pencil should be moved. In union, they replicated this over hours, making careful use of each square centimeter of paper real estate, until it all was filled with fine lines of increasingly refined nature.
When it was done he returned into reality from his deep, artistic meditation, relaxed and exhausted at the same time, feeling contradiction emotions of frustration and delight as his progress. He could feel the emotion in the lines he had brought to paper, the contradicting emotions flown into his practise sheet making it all look disjointed and wrong.
He sharpened his pencils and tried again, flipping to an empty page of virgin potential. The tip of the graphite hovered over the paper while he closed his eyes and pondered what he would try now. Images flipped through his mind, until one of his Ma came to the forefront. He furrowed his brows, browsing his memory for still impressions of his mother. Her gentle eyes, her warm smile, her friendly face, the eyebrows she could wiggle in a way that had made him laugh when he was younger.
The pencil moved, partly conscious effort, partly going with the flow. He tried to keep his emotions steady, coherent, pure, an expression of the love he felt for her. His pencil strokes grew quicker as he grew in confidence, using small movements to bring out the subtle details of her face. He could feel himself on the edge of deeply relaxed state of stoic creationism, peaceful, harmonic, nothing mattering but himself and the sheet of paper in front of him, frustratingly pushing onwards towards the edge, wanting to get there.
He faltered, missing a step somewhere as he pushed too hard, emotions boiling over in frustration as he made a small mistake, the pencil tip breaking off as his psychic flow state flickered. He could feel himself falling, panicking, being drawn deep by a whirlpool of energies focused on the image of his mother. Suddenly he was somewhere else, a tear in reality high above his heads as endless armies of machines fought a never ending battle in the shadow of a Black Sun.
He felt himself be pulled back as icy coldness enclosed his being, siphoning energy from his soul, the familiar feeling of teeth and daggers at the back of his mind. He gasped, looking at the drawing of Ma ruined by the small imperfection, before turning his gaze down towards her. There was a glow in her eyes and the lumen in the carriage flickered ominously. She blinked and everything returned to normal, her face furious as she looked up at him. "Don't ever do that again. She hissed quietly. "There are things I am not telling you for a reason. Do not attempt to use Divination on me again. Some knowledge is dangerous."
He swallowed, quickly falling into the familiar patterns to calm his emotions and steel his mind, smothering the flames of his soul. "I was not-I was trying to." He showed her the sketch and her anger disappeared immediately. "Alek, this is perfect. I didn't know you hid artistic talents this amazing from me all these years."
"It is not perfect", he quickly corrected her, examining his creations. "It's experimentation. The lines are still not right and the shading could be better."
She hummed in agreement, before growing serious again. "More seriously, please be careful in the future."
"I will." He hastily closed the sketchbook and it and the pencils away. "I promise."
The way home was cut short in Lengington, the last change of tram before they would have finally reached home. Alek was currently engaged in sweet talking the tram officers when an emergency message played through the underground tram stations vox speakers.
"Breaking News: After months of buildup and posturing, the Kingdom of Merunia has begun an offensive into the territory of the Principality of Monera. The Coalition and our allies have called out this act of aggression as a further step of escalation in the ongoing Moten-crisis. The Empress of Solimin has yet to comment, but Empire spokespersons claimed they were supporting the territorial rights of their ally, but would not directly involve themselves. The Council is assembling at this very moment to formulate an answer to this illegal act of aggression."
In that moment he felt a hunch, a strange pull forcing him into actions. He apologized to the officer and begun searching for his Ma, cursing her soulless nature, for it made finding her in crowds excessively difficult. For once his height was more useful than his psykers powers.
"You heard that," he asked as soon as he had found and reached her, trying to figure out the look on her face.
"Did you see something?" She tilted her head.
"Felt, I think…I think I need to go." He swallowed, expecting resistance. His ma just smiled and moved a hand to caress his cheek.
"Write me regularly, allright?"
"That's it?" He frowned in confusion. "No be careful?."
"You are powerful. I do not expect something to happen to you."
He chuckled and moved in to embrace her. "Something every ten year old wishes to hear from his mother."
"You are a very special ten year old." She kissed him softly on top of his head. "Do you need some money for wherever it is you need to go."
"Yes please", he laughed, worming out of her arms. "I might need it."
Alek confidently strode trough the Coalition naval port, clad in the multi-weather combat uniform and carrying his gear and M16 autogun over his shoulders. Around him in the roofed over loading dock, armored vehicles, supplies and soldiers were loaded onto the titanic landing craft that would set course towards Monera within a few hours time. He had psychically scanned the various officers around the space shouting orders for the specific one he needed to talk to, but playing dumb never hurt.
"Excuse me", He politely approached Colonel Harskin, putting on his most charismatic smile. "I am looking for Colonel Harskin."
Harskin, a surprisingly stout man with a scar across his temple looked up at him with an expression on intrigued confusion. "Heavens boy, what did your Ma put in your lunch. If you're looking for Harskin, that's me."
"I have these transfer orders." Alek handed him the small sheet of paper which he had talked, and psychically nudged, a very nice military administration woman to make for him, which Harskin read carefully. "You're late, Private Bourgh." He finally said after a minute of careful examination. "The 5th Armored Regiment is leaving harbor shortly. Get your ass in gear and get onto that beauty there." He pointed at the leviathan landing craft, face serious before grinning and slapping a beefy hand on Aleks shoulder. "Welcome to the 5th, Private, you look like someone I would want to anchor myself in a storm. Now go, find Sergeant Higgus. I need to make sure none of the idiots in logistics hurts themselves."
Alek mirrored the grin and saluted the man with a "Yes sir," before moving on. The Leviathan was a massive landing craft, its belly full of gear, supplies and soldiers frollocking around. Some of which turned their head to oogle the new arrival, but Alek projected a mild field of unimportance. He just wanted to find Higgus. Following the line of surface reads of peoples minds and simply asking politely, he eventually found the man and froze.
He knew that specific Bor Higgus.
Bor had already turned around and spotted Alek, the spark of recognition firing wildly within his mind. He could just smother that spark with some psychic pressure, but he would need to do it again and again and didn't particularly care for rewriting the mind of one of his childhood friend's brother's.
"Alek" Bor said confused, half question, half statement. He decided to roll with it. Smiling and striding forward to meet him. "Bor, ey, as if fate wanted to bring us together?"
"Someone you know Sarge", one the soldiers he had talked to before asked, mustering Alek top to bottom.
"We come from the same district." Bor explained drily, eyeing someone who he remembered as playing dirtball with his younger brother, someone who now towered over him. "Make yourself useful. I want to catch up to him in private."
Murmured complaints came from the men as the scrammed off, Alek never breaking the friendly act the whole time. As soon as they were out of earshot range, Bor pounced on him.
"Alek, what happened you and your Ma are suddenly swallowed by the elements and then you return and like-" He motioned helplessly up the young primarchs body. "What are you, fourteen."
"Ten."
"Heavens", Bor massaged his temple. "Five years ago I watched over you playing in the dirt with the kids and now-" He repeated the helpless gesturing.
Alek waited for as long as possible with answering, until the ships internals began to rumble and the leviathan left the dock, then he turned to the Sergeant, face serious.
"Okay, Bor, we can do this two ways."
"What are you talking about?" He sat down on a crate of ration bars, looking exhausted.
"One, you keep this little secret for yourself and I make sure nothing happens to you." There were things he'd rather not do than tell his friend, no matter how far apart they were by now, that his older brother was dead. "Two, you try to get me thrown out. I know my paperwork is in order. Claiming I am ten years old will only get you in trouble."
He smiled, wide and with teeth. "Do we understand ourselves, Sergeant?"
Bor threw death glares at him from his sitting position. "I am going to be sign your name in for so many maintenance shifts, Private." He spat but with no harshness in his tone.
"Good that we understand ourselves. Now, I need somewhere to bunk."
The weeks of ocean travel were uneventful. Storms shook and rocked the leviathan, but Tenusians were a hardy people, accustomed to the harsh elements of their home planet. As threatened, Bor took special care to punish Aleks presence with as many maintenance shifts as he could get away with without drawing suspicion. He did not mind. It was easy to push the mechanics into giving him a rundown of how things worked and he swallowed it all up like a sponge. Whatever item was put into his lap was taken apart, cleaned, oiled and put together again the full attention and focus of his mind, heart and soul. He could practically feel the journey the parts had taken to be here and now, ore mined deep in the bowels of Tenus, refined and forged in impossibly hot foundries, assembled in factories with workers taking sometimes more, sometimes less pride in their work. The little residual touches of maintenance personnel could be felt all over each item, giving it a unique story and personality. Listening to them was easy, mending their ires as well. They were not alive, not conscious, far from it, but he wondered wether or not if a machine was maintained and repaired long enough, wether the countless touches by countless people would embude it with a machine spirit that was more than a lingering suggestion. It took sometimes more, sometimes less nudging with his mind to return broken parts to service and he made sure to return each item in as perfect a condition as he could manage to. When he went to rest after his shifts, after having cleaned forearms and hands of grease and oil, he would take out his sketchbook and let his mind wonder. By now his autogun has been taken apart and put together again so many times that each of the parts were like an old friend for him. He would then draw sketches of his own creation for guns, support equipment even an armored transport, plans for how to make one himself one day.
His skill went not unnoticed and soon soldiers from the 5th would seek him out with scraps of paper from everywhere, to draw them or, his more favorite trick, have them describe someone close to them: a wife, a girlfriend, parent, child, sibling, and then draw a perfect rendition of their face based on their description and the psychic resonance carried in their soul and words. Some would even come to him with more special requests and occasionally would oblige them, enjoying the giddy look on their face.
They had thrown anchor somewhere close to Monera and Colonel Harskin has assembled as many soldiers as possible in the big utility room, but as usual kept the men under his command waiting for a litte. 'Letting them cook' he had heard him say it once.
"Ey Bourgh, whose that?" Wechsler spied into Aleks lap as he was drawing in his sketchbook. "Damn, she's hot. Girlfriend, wife or sister?"
Bor huffed from a row in front of them. "That's his Ma, Wechsler."
The wiry man scrambled backwards in mock fear. "Please don't eat me, Bourgh. I swear I had noble intentions."
Alek grinned, closing his sketchbook and putting one of his large hands on Wrecklsers head. "I promise I wont, if you damn well make sure write your Ma once the higher ups let us."
"We got a deal." He cackled and lightly punched Aleks side.
"ATTENTION", Harskin bellowed, marching on stage. "We have our OOOOOOOOORDERS."
He waited for the murmurs to die down before continuing. "As you all know, the weather cursed Imperials think they can do whatever they want now that they have nukes. Problem for them is, we have them as well." The lights went out and a flickering map of Monera was projected onto a screen. "Damn Merunians have pushed back our allies almost all the way back to the shore. We can't have that obviously. Command in their wisdom will do something the Empire bootlickers will never suspect and launch an naval invasion to take the port of Nuzia, all the way up here. The city is a critical relay point for supplies so taking it will be of highest importance. For the next part, everyone put on their raincoats please."
The map shown changed. Alek took great care in memorizing every single detail, while the Colonel continued.
"We will wait for a raining period in the weather and then attack. The Bootlickers wont know whats coming for them. Coalition soldiers are not afraid to get a little wet, are we?"
Laughter came from around them. "Coalition soldiers fight in every wind and weather", someone howled and the room begun to cheer, Alek joining into the commotion, excited to do his part for the communal psychic spirit in the air.
"Intel suspects the weather will shift in our favor in the next few hours. The 5th will be part of the second wave. More detailed orders will be given to your superior officers, I expect everyone to be ready within twenty minutes, is that clear."
"Yes, Sir." The room bellowed back and Harskin smirked.
The atmosphere in the the armored transport was tense. Everyone's repertoire of jokes was used up and now all that was left was listening to the groans of the landing leviathan around them and the distant sound of the Coalition battleships flattening Merunian positions. Alek was in the back, psychically scanning the shore. Coalition marines had done a good job creating a landing spot, but by now royal forces were reorganizing and were starting to put up a resistance. If he interpreted the psychic shatter around him correctly, the second wave would begin soon.
"Prepare yourself", he warned them. Bot huffed, but checked his weapon, as did the others in the squad. Moments later the order came.
"Alright gents", Bor grinned, while the leviathan groaned louder as its massive engines forced it forward towards the shore. "Lets show those bootlickers why we won the Great War and they did not."
Tension built until there was a sudden shock forward and the forward ramp of the leviathan opened its maw. The driver immediately pushed onto the gas and the transport jumped out of the belly of the beast and onto the shore, gravel and stone cracking under the threads of the armored transport.
Alek could read the enemies trap the moment the armored regiment rolled forward to support the marines, the heavy rain doing nothing to impede his psychic might. "halt immediately", he shouted. "The shore is littered with anti-tank mines."
"They would have blown the Marine support vehicles to hell." Bor rolled his eyes, but Alek did not care much, easily wrestling the vox from Wrechslers small frame. "5th Regiment halt, the shore is trapped. I repeat, the shore is trapped." He put as much psychic authority into his voice as he could and the entire regiment ground to a halt. Harskin was for a moment taken aback as well, before he could collect his wits and shout into the vox to continue advance again.
A single APC followed his order and blew itself up twenty meters further.
"Heavens dammit", the Colonel cursed. "All squads disembark we will do this one on foot from here."
Wrechsler rubbed his wrists. "How did the Marine support-"
"Variable pressure-" Alek explains, moving towards the back of the APC. "The Marine support vehicles are not heavy enough to set them off."
"Shit", he grumbled, correcting the position of the vox unit on his back.
"Doesn't matter now, out." Bor ordered and they disembarked the vehicle and went out into the rain.
In truth it did not really rain as much as the sky emptied itself, adding to it winds that resulted in a 45 degree angle for the direction of the fall. Great streams of water run down from the soldiers raincapes and helmets as they pushed forward from the shore and onto the sparsely populated land. Visibility was almost zero for them, but also for the enemy…unless. Alek carefully eyes the thick curtain of rain in front of them.
"Almost no cover." Bor shouted over the rain, leading the squad forward. "Wish we had the protection of the transports."
"Wish we them to protect us from the rain." One of the others bellowed.
"Afraid to get a little wet?" Alek joked.
"In your dreams Bourgh." came as an answer.
The navies bombardement at least had punched a lot of craters into the flat landscape, allowing them to advance somewhat undisturbed. When they had reached the roadway, the turned right and advanced onwards into Nuzia."
The fighting at the edge of the city was hellish.
"We are fucking stuck here." The Marine sergeant spit some water onto the ground. "Bootlicks have stubbers everywhere at the port and we don't know where. Where are the APCs?"
"Stuck, because of mines until the corps has cleared the beach."
"Damn", he cursed and leaned against the wall that hard served them well as cover, the occasional bullet causing a small splash of pulverized rock. "Anyone have ideas."
"Give me all your guys grenades." Alek ordered, already forming an idea in his head. "I will take them out from afar."
"Bourgh, you look like you can throw me over an APC, but be realistic." Wechsler shouted, flinching each time an explosion or shot came close to them, but handed Alek the two frags he carried with him.
He took them without comment, reached out to the stubber crews defending the port entrances, confused their minds with a few pulls and pushes and then threw six grenades one after the other. The throws would have been impossible, even with his enhanced physique, violating all laws of ballistic arcs by using his mind to guide them where they should go. When they exploded, taking the stubbers with them, he put a little extra oomph into the explosion just to make sure. The suppression fire ended and he motioned the soldiers to move forward. The marines were first to accept his authority, his own squad taking a second longer get going. The stubbers destroyed, royal troops were streaming out of their holes to take over the firing positions that now layed silent, but Alek would not let them. He killed the first seven before they had even spotted him, using his psychic powers to guide his aim, the third he threw against a wall so hard he died then and there, his spine pulverized under the impact, the last one he simply gave a psychic command to sleep, moving ever onwards. Besides him the Marines and the 5th did as he did, falling upon the unprepared fire positions out of the rain, cleaning them out in a matter of minutes. Ever moving, Bor advanced was next to Wechseler, shouting into the voc receiver that the western gate had just been taken. From here they entered the city proper, all subsurface, narrow corridors. Normally they would wait for armor infantry to come and advance through there, but Alek had studied the maps of the city well and an idea formed in his head.
"What do you think of taking out their command staff?"
Of course they followed him. Alek wove simple illusions to keep the way free as much as possible, making sure they were in good positions to jump upon enemy groups where conflict was unavoidable, as they worked their way through the inner city past one beautiful, now war-torn, arcades, shopping streets and public spaces until hey had reached what was tentatively used by the local Colonels as a command post.
They never had a chance.
Caught unaware and unprepared the Coalition troops engaged them from point blank range, water still dripping of their coats. Merunian officers drew their tunnel swords, but engaging Alek in close combat was as fruitless as doing so from afar. He was a whirlwind of destruction, moving, weaving simple illusions to keep the upper hand, shooting when he thought he had a good target, an punching them to death with the butt of his rifle once ammunition had run out.
When the dust had settled they had killed or heavily wounded all but the highest ranking officers, Alek's rifle was broken in two, much to his dismay. Wechsler had been wounded, a flesh wound from a stray shot only, but the man complained like he would die any minute. The Marine medic treating him was rolling his eyes.
The enemy Colonel, who was wearing a uniform totally unfit for combat in Tenus weather, looked at Alek with a measure of fear and disdain as he walked close. The Young Primarch towered over him, carefully and with a smile on his face putting a vox receiver into his hand. "Tell your forces to surrender." He said carefully, loading the words up with as much suggestion as he could draw from the warp. The Colonel deflated, the words working.
Harskin was looking very pleased with himself as he walked into what had only a few hours ago been the office of his equivalent on the enemy side. "Heavens be damned, Bourgh", he addressed him. Alek was standing straight to attention, Bor throwing him angry glares from his position standing next to him. "What you did was crazy, reckless and should not have worked, but-" He ignited a victory lho stick from the enemies stash, taking a deep pull. "-It worked and we took the port and the city with minimal casualties, thanks to the stunt you pulled. And you are missing a Platoon Lieutenant after the previous one got himself offed." Harskin yeeted the rank insignia onto the table before him. "See it as a temporary promotion. If you can prove this was not a one off, you will make it far in the Coalition forces. Now scram off and let me celebrate with this high quality lho sticks confiscated from enemy combatants."
They saluted and left the Colonels office, on their way to visit Wechsler in the infirmary with the others guys.
"You are impossible." Bor groaned.
"You are impossible, Lieutenant." Alek teased him. "Want to become my second in command?"
"Do you even know what that is."
"No", Alek admitted, jumping away from a kick that was so heavily telegraphed a Leviathan battleship could evade it. "But I assume you do."
"I remember disinfecting a scrape on your knee you big child. What would you ever do without me. starting tomorrow we will have some lessons on what being Lieutenant actually means."
What Weapon does Alek craft to replace his broken rifle? (Vote for one)
[]Artisanal Double Swords While useless in a firefight, in the tight environments of Tenus cities double swords would enable him to become a close range nightmare.
[]Artisanal Sword and Autopistol Trading one sword for an autopistol replaces some close combat capacity for a simple ranged option.
[]Artisanal Autogun Autoguns are simple, versatile, precise and not too heavy. The ultimate weapon for the war at hand.
[]Artisanal Heavy Stubber A heavy stubber can let loose a hailstorm of bullets. Normally a heavy weapon for a team, Alexandros incredible strength would allow him to use one like a rifle.
[]Artisanal Autocannon An autocannon is a heavy auto-weapon for use against lightly heavy infantry and light vehicles. Normally a heavy weapon for a team, Alexandros incredible strength would allow him to use one like a heavy rifle.
[]Artisanal (Write-in Ask me First)
How do Alekandros Bourgh and his platoon distinguish themselves during the Monera Escalation? (Vote for one)
[]They broke a encirclement trapping hundreds of Coalition soldiers
[]They held an important position against impossible odds
[]They freed thousands of Moneran prisoners of war.
[]Not a single act of valor, but an unbroken record of excellent service.
Thanks for participating. I reserve myself the right to disregard, interpret, change and add to WH40k and 30k lore as I see fit to support the narrative. Comments and feedback sustain my soul.
[X]Artisanal Autocannon
[X]Not a single act of valor, but an unbroken record of excellent service.
The Moneran Escalation
They called him a madman, they said it could never done, and still, they egged him on to try anyway. It was one of those hot weather phases. The sky was empty, blue and calm, the air unmoving and hot. Tenus's sun shone down on them mercilessly. Everyone had their multi-weather uniforms changed up for hot weather, sleeves and pant legs shortened, taking a heat break in the makeshift camp. A large cliff faced rock jutting out of the earth provided some shadow and with it relief from the sun. The soldiers of the 5th were either seeking refuge there or under countless prefabricated and quickly erected sunshades. Under one of those, soldiers of the 2nd platoon of the 2nd company, and a few guests from the wider 5th, were watching Lieutenant Bourgh struggle to unscrew the turret mounted autocannon. Sergeant Bor Higgus was watching the whole happening with a sense of resignation, taking deep gulps from his water canteen, Wechsler was chatting with the scout patrols, but the occasional glance toward his CO betrayed his interest, while the rest were mumbling, exchanging bets in the form of Talers, ration bars, sweet treats or shifts for latrine or patrol duty.
The whole thing had begun when Private Dienst had joked that the Lieutenant could probably carry a heavy stubber like a rifle and after the idea had gotten traction in the platoon Alek had decided to oblige them. The roaring energy from them when he successfully did so and blasted some carefully placed target rocks with a spray of scarily accurate bullets was worth it, Alek finding the recoil of the heavy weapon relatively easy to handle.
Then talks had shifted to if the Lieutenant could wield an autocannon. The idea was ridiculous. Totally insane, absolutely undoable, if he were a normal human, which he was not, so he obliged them to try.
Only Bor held suspicions. The word witch and mutant had crossed his mind once or twice when Alek had browsed the surface of his mind, but more as part of trying to figure him out than any sense of malice. To keep the suspicions of others at bay he could coat himself in a psychic aura of normality, subconsciously telling the men what he was doing was normal enough to not arouse suspicions. It felt strange, how easy it was to influence them. Should he try, really, really try, putting all of his will and energy behind the intent, what was he capable of doing to their minds? The thought bothered him. The people's fear of psykers were not only deeply routed in the largely forgotten threat of incursions from beyond the Veil, something that could be mitigated with training and education, but also in the fear of what they would and could do with their powers. The souls of ordinary humans were sparks, small flames at best, and would be easily overwhelmed by the roaring star of his soul if he wanted to. If he did he could direct and lead them to battle, take control, turn them into puppets at his minds whim. It would improve their battle efficiency, coordination, tactics, reduce their casualties. Humans were easily subject to fear and pain. Alekandros could override those instincts, turn the 5th into an unbreakable and unbeatable sword in his hand. The thought appealed to his him in a way. If he used his abilities to the full extent, if he pushed himself to his limit, taking control of the battlespace, directing his allies and sowing fear and confusion into the heart of his enemies, how quick could he win this. How fast could he push back the Royal troops back to the borders and past them. If he really wanted to.
But he did not want to.
What if that were him? What if another will more powerful than his own were to dominate him, use him like a puppet? Deep inside his men's heart, they were afraid of that. They had been told the bedsite stories of witches breaking minds and spirits. His Ma was powerful, but she only ever helped people in small, subtle ways. Taking charge was not her Way.
He pondered on his own Way as he unbolted the autocannon from its turret mount. It needed to be oiled and greased anyway. Stencil, the gunner, had claimed it was fine, but fine did not exist in his dictionary. He held his platoon and their equipment to a higher standard and expected it to be maintained and cleaned on the regular and if he had to do it himself.
What would Ma think of him if he decided to play into the narrative people had of those with psychic powers, what would he think of himself? Were suggestions like he used until now fine, loading his words with psychic authority to subconsciously convince them to follow his orders? Or was that already too far?
The last bolt sprung free and he carefully placed it on a piece of cloth on the searing hot hull of the APC. He stood up and heaved the autocannon out of its mount, turning around and grinning to see his men howling in almost childlike anticipation. The mighty weapon was heavy, but not to a degree he could not handle.
Anticipation build as he jumped down onto the rocky ground, knees uncaring of the extra weight, and loaded a single round into the heavy weapon before aiming down at a target rock, reaching out with his mind, trying to forsee where the shot would land, stabilizing the weapon and his hands using subtle applications of psychic powers.
The autocannon bucked in his hand, crashing against his shoulder with enough force to pulverize a lesser man's bones, the rock exploding in a shower of dust and debris. The echo of the weapon drowned under the shouting and cheering of his audience. Winnings were exchanged and curses to the heavens murmured, but in Alek's mind an idea began to form. When they were forced to change camp for an approaching dust storm, seeking shelter inside the APCs for the night, he began to sketch and plan. One of the logistics guys had procured some second hand engineering books and he had begun to study them intensely for his project, his enhanced vision enabling him to do so even under the cover of darkness.
As soon as they rotated into reserve for a few days in a location with a machine shop, he went to work. At first he was content to watch the people working there intensely, sitting in their working aura, until he felt like he had a good grasp on how to use the various tools. His first attempts were all rejects, to his frustration, not fulfilling the standards he set himself. Slowly, part for part, his project became reality. His skills and confidence grew. He learned to listen to the flow, to the metal, to the machines and tools in his hands. Learned to feel and understand. Learned how to do instead of think and worry. The fires of his frustration cooled down, leaving him in a state of intense concentration as he worked the various components, the full power of his psychic might in the act. Much to his luck, arcs of static energy did not spark from his body. He labored day and night, the men worrying he had lost his mind, but after more than a week Alekandros emerged, satisfied with his creation and ready to show it off.
An autocannon battle rifle created by an artisan of impossible skill. It never jammed, always working perfectly no matter the amount of dust, sand, mud or water in the mechanism, it always hit on target regardless how hot the barrel became and it never broke apart when he used his considerable strength to hit someone or something with it.
In theory it was perfect, but it had yet to prove itself. As fate demanded, he would soon have the option to do so.
They fought in a hailstorm. Massive dark clouds above them clouded the terrain in darkness, the battlefield only illuminated by bursts of gunfire betraying where enemy and ally was for seconds and a time, the clouds releasing enough hail onto the battlespace to quickly cover the ground in a layer of little ice ball as high as a mans knee. When the engagement had begun, the storm had been primarily characterized by constant lightning above them, occasionally striking the earth loud and bright enough to confuse and disorient soldiers on both sides. The 5th fought on regardless, even as the icy bullets struck them with enough force to bruise skin. Coalition soldiers fought in every wind and weather, so they continued advancing along, huddled into their multi-use coats, protected under helmet and behind goggles they exchanged fire with royal troops along the frontline. it was the first time the Alek was engaged in a battle as large as this. Over many dozen kilometers, the Coalition had ordered its troops to advance before the enemy could dig in, he and his platoon in the middle of it.
Bor had taught him well and in return he had made good use of those lessons, training his men as hard and as often as he could. He would heal their sore bodies with biomancy when he could so so secretly, aiding their recovery. He would give them new strength of mind when they felt like they had none more to give, repeating weapon and maneuver drills again and again until they were as good as they could be.
It showed. The second platoon was advancing so fast they had to slow down to allow the elements in their flanks to catch up. The enemy line was basically melting away under their assault, greatly assisted by Aleks autocannon.
He was the god of destruction on the battlefield. Nothing could shield the enemy from him, neither cover or the hail. He knew where they were. Alek felt a royal rocket trooper try to target one of his APCs, its turret mounted gun suppressing a different enemy. He turned around and aimed his weapon with inhuman speed and precision, pressing the trigger and turning the trooper into bloody mist with a single shot through a wall. A simple application of pyromancy giving the autocannon cartridge the extra penetrative power it needed. He turned again and quickly emptied the magazine in a direction where another enemy squad was taking cover, before he clicked empty and retreated back into his shell hole for reloading while Wechsler and Dienst were covering him. With an almost casual yet quick set of moves he removed the empty drum mag and slapped a new one into the weapon, pulling the bolt to load it through, when he frowned.
Where was Bor? He quickly expanded his mind, scanning the souls on the battlefield, trying to find his friend, needing only a split second to locate him. He was in distress and with someone else close to death, huddled behind a small rock. Alek burst forth from the crater and began to move, bellowing a "Squad One, cover me", voice psychically enhanced to carry over the hailstorm. He felt them react to his order immediately while he ran, uncaring of the weather or the thick ground layer of hail. Bombarding the enemy with subconscious confusion.
Bor was trying to stabilise a Coalition soldier who was profusely bleeding from his stomach, a piece of shrapnel having cut apart most of his internal organs. His life force was flickering. He was afraid. He would die. All that was obvious to Alek while he ran towards them, emptying another magazine in the direction of the enemy, missing twice, continued running, sliding into cover next to them, coming to a perfect stop next to Bor. "What's his status." He shouted, already knowing the mans fate well.
"Massive bloodloss. We need to a medic here."
Alek nodded. "Ceren is closest. I will carry him."
"Are you stupid, he will die if you move him." Bor shouted, flinching as another bullet bounced of near him with sharp crack.
"He will die if we don't." Alek retorted, slotting in another drum mag and leaning behind the rock to take the enemy line under fire. Him and Bor were in a stretch of relatively open terrain. Dienst and Wechsler and a few others were pinned down twenty meters to their right, Squad One ten meters behind them, huddled behind the back of the APC. By now the air was filled with a hell of a lot of bullets, trying to hit any of them. Bor had spotted their closeby allies them as well, his mind working, pondering.
Alek looked up, feeling a CAS flier approaching with the intent to hit them. He twisted the pilots perception a little, causing her to drop her payload dozens of meter short, causing her to hit her own people with two massive explosions.
"You go first and tell Ceren to get a her kit ready", Alek told Bor, referring to the medic of squad one. "I will cover you and then come after"
Bor did not feel like arguing and began to ran trough the hailstorms. The young primarch peeked behind the rock with his gun to give off a few suppressing shots into the enemies direction, before returning into cover, settling his attention on the dying soldier. Lexer Furor was his name. He had a wife and a son he had never met that were waiting for him. Alek sighed and reached out with his mind. The piece of shrapnel flew out in a small, bloody arc with a renewed gushing of blood. Furor howled in pain and Alek sighed, putting a hand on the man's wound and reaching out with his powers, knitting together flesh and muscles with the powers of the immaterium, pushing a bit more forceful into the mans mind to surpress the pain that came with biomany. As soon as he thought him stable, he threw him over his shoulder and sprinted back behind the APC covering them. Ceren immediately jumped on the patient as soon as he could, cutting open his uniform under the constant assault of hail. "Higgus, what the fuck." He cursed, goggles focusing on the sergeant. "The guy is fine. You got me worked up for nothing."
The enemies presence changed. Alek took a moment to sort through their thoughts, reaching out and making the tank gunner targeting them miss his shot. The shell went wide, blasting up earth and gravel ten meters to their right, a basic psychic shield the squad from shrapnel.
"Guys we got company." He announced, peeking behind the APC to look at the outline of a heavy royal battle tank through the hail. "Enemy tanks."
"Of course they would put them where their front was closest to breaking." Bor groaned. Alek brought his rifle to bear, aimed, put as much pyromancy into the gunpowder as he could without the barrel exploding and fired. The first shots bounced off, the second penetrated but didn't cause any damage, the third finally hit the gunner, causing the turret to swerve to the side, no longer targeting them. His shoulder ached, the recoil having been strong enough to hurt.
"And now that we have drawn them out we will withdraw orderly and give our air support their positions." Alek explained, turning to Wechsler, who had appeared within the last few seconds, panting, and his vox caster. "Wechsler, do your thing."
It was hours later. The battle was over and the weather reshifted to a heavy, hail-less storm. Dead were counted and casualties treated far behind the frontlines. The enemy was pushed back another few kilometers and Coalition forces were now only a few days away from the still occupied capital of Monera. Alek was checking on his men and the other wounded, doing some quick applications of biomancy where he could. Finally, he reached Bor. His second in command had finally been hit by a stray bullet in the knee. It were always the strays. Alek could confuse the enemy all he wanted, if he didn't want to fly over the battlefield, eyes glowing with power and warp lighting arcing off his body, he couldn't do anything about the strays. Bor was sectioned off by simple plastic curtains in the field hospital. His surface thoughts betrayed he was very much in pain.
"Bor, can I come in." Alek asked, examining the presence behind the curtain.
"Sure, Lieutenant", the young man growled and looked up at his visitor as the curtain was drawn back. Alek could feel Bor's mind racing, thinking, screaming the word witch and sorcery out like an air raid alarm.
"I think we need to talk." Alek closed the curtains off and sat down on the prefab floor, his large body just about fitting in what little room was awarded to the Sergeant, who fell back down onto his cot and sighed. "Yeah, we do. Are you some kind of witch?"
"I don't like the word, but yes." Alek answered, browsing the surface of Bors thoughts carefully. The wounded man nodded, his thoughts turning fearful and panicked.
"Witch is loaded with a supernatural undertone. There is not really anything supernatural about being a psyker." Alek added, hoping to soften the blow of the revelation.
"Will you do something to me if I scream for the guards?" The uncertainty and wavering in the question hurt more than any physical punch of his ever could.
"No", Alek looked down, saddened. "I won't."
Another nod. "How"- Bor begun, his thoughts confused and tangled. "How do I know you even are Alek? How do I know you are not in my head already? How-", he voice began to break. "How can I be sure anything anything is real?"
"You can't and I am sorry I do not have a comforting answers for you."
Laughter was the answer to that, more out of desperation than anything else. "So I will have to trust you?"
"I am afraid so. But you knew something was up with me since we met on the landing leviathan. You still decided to trust me."
Bor did not respond, but his thoughts were calming, the storm inside his head ebbing down and the two of them simply remained there in silence for a minute or two. Alek focused his attention on his friends wound. At least he hoped he could think of Bor as a friend. The bullet had shredded his knee, he would be able to walk eventually again, but with a limp.
"Don't they have any painkillers for you." He asked, the emanation of pain distracting.
"My case is not bad enough." Bor turned his head to look at the sitting Alek. "Luckily our platoon doesn't have any wounded aside from me. Did you witch some spells and curses to help us out?"
"I helped out a little, yes, but most of that was the result of training: Knowing how to safely advance, how to cover each others, do a fallback maneuver, all those little things you taught me."
"You did drill us rather hard." Bor groaned, the memory paining him a little.
"To be an officer is to be a leader of men. I strive to be the best. For that you all need to be the best."
His conversation partner groaned, sitting up and carefully touching his bandages knee. "Too bad I won't have a chance to be one of them I guess."
Alek smirked. "I would not be so sure."
"Doc's told me my military career was done."
"Want me to fix your knee?"
Bors brows furrowed in confusion as his mind connected the dots. "What do you-I did not imagine things. Furor was dying but you saved him."
Alek simply nodded, causing Bor to sigh. "I am in so much pain its not even funny and I want to play dirtball with Eric again. Do your magic thing."
He fell back down onto the cot. Alek smiled in good memories of he had been playing dirtball with Bor, his younger brother Eric and the others in one of the communal tunnels. "It's about as magical as electricity." He tried to explain while putting a hand on the damaged joint. "Also warning, it will hurt really, really bad."
He then pulled on his powers directed psychic energy into his friends leg. Bor cursed, his body stiffening as he called forth the name of the heavens.
"Seems much like magic to me." He shook his head, carefully moving the leg. "Couldn't you have done anything about the pain."
"I could have pulled some strings in your mind." Alek shrugged. "But I figured you would not want that."
"Yes, you stay out of my head." Bor laughed, this time not because of nervousness. "I have things in there no ten year old should see."
"Bor", Alek said with the most deadpan tone, rolling his eyes. "I know what sex is."
"Your Ma is going to kill me."
"You are aware it is me who had been drawing all these raunchy drawings for the men?"
"Harskin is still trying to figure out who is responsible for it."
"Oh, am I in danger?" Alek mused with mock fear.
Bor laughed. "You are his golden boy. If he learns it was you he will want one autographed." He threw Alek a conspiratorial grin. "But no worries, your secret is safe with me."
For three years, Coalition forces fought Merunian Royal troops on the Monera peninsula. For three years people fought and died on both sides, the frontline moving up and down the region, but slowly, inch by inch, meter by meter, the Coalition was winning, pushing back the royal invaders beyond the initial borders. In all three of those years, Alekandros Bourgh and his men assembled an excellent service record. Wherever they were deployed, they excelled, fighting harder, with less casualties and losses in equipment than other units, their own equipment always maintained to the highest standard. When told to advance, they advanced. When told to fall back, they did so, always with well executed tactical movement and timing, truly embodying the motto that Coalition soldiers would fight regardless of wind and weather.
As such it was not surprising that before the Escalation came to an end, Alek was promoted to Commander of the 2nd Platoon of the 5th armored regiment. The individual engagements and battles which the 5th would take part in were too many too recount. Alek would describe them all in his letters to his dear mother, never once really struggling in his role or on the battlefield, until one of the last and largest battles in the course of the Moneran Escalation.
The battle of the Overhand Pass was one of the most brutal and costly engagements of the war for both sides. One that the Coalition would ultimately win and one that would ultimately bring an end to the war. (Vote for one)
[]Lone Survivor The entire 5th armored regiment was slaughtered to the last man, leaving Alexandros as the only survivor.
[]Revelations The Royal troops were supported to Imperial battle mages, forcing Aleksandros to reveal himself as a psyker to both sides.
[]Breaking the Way The sheer intensity of the fight forced Alek's mother to intervene. A move that might draw the wrong attention.
[]Pandora's Box The Coalition won, but only with the deployment of tactical nuclear weapons. While a full nuclear escalation could be prevented, it set a dangerous precedent for the future. The specter of annihilation drawing closer again.
Thanks for participating. I reserve myself the right to disregard, interpret, change and add to WH40k and 30k lore as I see fit to support the narrative. Comments and feedback sustain my soul.
The Principality of Monera was connected to the wider continent by a single pass in a mountain range shielding the western flank of the peninsula. The pass itself and much of the land neighboring the mountains had been in the hands of the Merunian Kingdom. The principality itself had been a rebellious province of the Kingdom until the Great War, when they had fought for and won their independence with Coalition support. The King had since then ever been vocal about wanting to reclaim what he considered to be theirs and now the price of human fallacies was paid.
Royal forces had been pushed back to the opening of the Overhand Pass where they had dug in. One last battle would be required to push them beyond the pass and into Merunia proper, from which the Coalition could negotiate from a position of strength, bringing an end to the war. Three hundred thousand soldiers, thousands of tanks and artillery pieces and hundreds of aircraft were readied on both sides for the final battle, converging from all sides all into the small valley city of Kepon, protected from the elements by the towering mountains on both sides of the pass.
Morale on the Coalition's side was high after the collapse of the enemy frontline and the subsequent push that had allowed them to get this far. The war had been brutal and exhausting for soldiers and civilians alike. Coalition air and naval forces had bombarded the peninsula with more than two thirds the amount of ordnance used in total during the great war and much and much of the landscape, the surface infrastructure and many of the upper city levels had been flattened after the royal air force had been overwhelmed by the airpower brought to bear by the Coalitions carriers battlegroups, forced to restrict themselves to disruption operations only.
Top brass had discussed whether or not they should try and take the pass or not. The closer they got to it, the higher the chances Solimin would become involved, the pass was too strategically valuable. If they wanted to take it, it would have to be fast. Plans were drawn up, operational schedules set and orders were sent out.
The Heavens seemed to feel the climactic energy in the air. During the early tentative engagements in the outskirts the weather was eerily calm, but as artillery exchanges, tank engagements and brutal urban infantry fights grew in intensity the weather did too. Dark clouds covered the sky and a storm of storms began to brew, accentuating the fighting underneath with thunder and lightning, wind and rain that were funneled into the pass and the valley by the mountains.
The stage was set for the Battle of the Overhand Pass.
The fifth was part of the frontal assault corridor. For hours they had advanced, inch by inch, closer to an enemy that would not budge. Three years of fighting and arduous, sometimes impossible seeming training- and exercise-drill regime had turned them into hardened, experienced veterans that did not show fear when they advanced under fire, only professional caution. They had complained, some had cried, some had vomited, and he had listened to their complaints, lifted their spirits, healed their sore bodies. He wanted every single one of these men back home to their families, to set their lives on a path more than destruction and death. For that they needed to be better, to be perfect.
But now even they showed uncertainty as he advanced through Kepon, block by block, house by house, resistance always high, counterfire always suppressing them. They had trained for this, they knew how to cover each other, how to advance safely while the APCs suppressed the enemy, how to shield their valuable rides from missile launcher teams, how to spot and disarm mines and other explosives traps.
But for an hour they had not moved an inch. Resistance was too firce. Alek was in there, huddled behind a corner neighboring one of the major streets through the city and towards the pass, Bors squad on the other side. Private Reggins threw him what the men called a giantnade, six frags strapped together. None but he, their commander, could hope to throw it with any kind of accuracy. He looked to Bor, made some hand signs and his second-in-command answered, holding up three fingers. Lightning crashed as both squads fanned out, Stencils autocannon howling over the thunder that followed, all suppressing the enemy, immediately finding their targets. He jumped from behind the corner and threw the giantnade with all the strength he could muster, psychic powers making sure it hit its mark, splattering the inside of a prefab bunker on the other side with shrapnel. He never stopped moving, brought his autocannon rifle to bear and began to pepper the enemy downstreet with heavy fire, emptying half his magazine before his men swerved back into cover, expertly carrying the wounded with them, not wasting a single second.
He crashed next to the Bor into the wall, the enemy beginning to put them under fire again the moment they had made it all back to safety. Guns were reloaded and wounds checked, the medics working with steady, fast moving hands even with the sound of battle raging on and the storm raging around them. Wechsler moved as soon as Alek motioned him closer, the vox-carrier always a trusted asset at his side, always ready to jump into the heart of the fight with the heavy piece of equipment on his back. Alek took the receiver from him and began calling up air command.
"Bourgh here, we have encountered stiff resistance at", coordinates followed, no need for a map, his enhanced mind and psychic powers telling him exactly where he wanted the bombs to fall.
"Copy Commander, we will divert air support ASAP." Alek cursed the heavens, another lightning bolt hitting close to them. Why did the enemy not budge? Over the curse of the last hour the 2nd company and the 5th in their wake had moved up so much they were now fighting the enemy at what could be considered mudfight range, sometimes not much more than twenty meters away, both sides stuck in cover most of the time, firing the occasional unaimed salvo into the enemies direction.
If they would not move back they would die.
"Commander, we can't advance further." Bot pleaded, shouting over the storm as water ran down his helmet and goggles in heavy flows. He spat out water, adding to the considerable ankle high flow now covering the ground.
"But we will Lieutenant." Alek shouted back. "As soon as we have a plane in the air we will prepare to advance."
Bor lowered his head, but began shouting orders into Wechsler's vox and to his own men. Alek leaned close to the edge, reaching out. All along the front, royal troops were digging in their heels. Coalition command told them to advance further, a schedule would need to be kept if they wanted to be victorious. Enemy and allied artillery support ramped up, barrels running hot as Kepon was destroyed. His company was the best of the best and even they were affected. Something was going on, what were they planning, how was their morale holding?
Alek frowned, they were afraid, terribly so. The weather, the constant shelling, the screams of the wounded and the dead calling out for medics or their mothers, it was too much. They were fighting out of a sense of desperation, forced into a desperate frenzy to resist, to not step back. They feared the Coalition, but there was something else they feared more than the hammer crushing against them again and again and again and again and again…
The confirmation came, a allied bomber hit the street with perfect precision, the aim of the pilot and trajectory of the bombs aided by Alek. As soon as the wave of the explosion had washed past them the company advanced forward, the unstoppable force crashing against the unstoppable object. Fighting became a brutal, close range brawl. Guns were fired from point blank range and steel knives, crowbars, wrenches and showels drawn as they descended into brutality. Men fell upon men, Alek pulverized frenzied royal soldiers with the butt of his rifle, caving in their heads and chests in with his inhumane strength. A third basically disappeared into fine bloody mist as he fired his battle rifle from a few centimeters away, blood mixing with water.
Blood…
Alec turned down to one of the dead royal guardists, dipping two fingers into the blood flowing out of their ruined bodies and tasted it: Iron, salt and a hint of madness, almost impossible to detect, but that he found it he could see it, a massive web connecting all of the royal soldiers together, a massive spell that had them all in their grasp, forcing them into the sense of madness that had befallen them. He reached out, mind expanding, powers building, drawing enough energy from the warp that a single arc of lighting jumped from his body as he dispelled the spell locally. The atmosphere changed, the royal troops awaking from a deep trance, quickly faltering, retreating or surrendering to his Company.
Minutes later, there was eery quiet as the 5th experienced similar events all across their battlespace, pushing forwards to find the enemy retreating or surrendering. The frontline faltered, bending under their assault now that whatever held them together was no longer there. They took the blocks and districts according to schedule, now preparing to take the next one as the schedule demanded.
Alek however was suspicious, someone would have needed to woven this particular spell, someone close, maybe in preparation for this battle. Bor looked up at his CO, tilting his head and grinning. "What's with the dour face?"
"They are here." Alek responded drily, scanning Kepon and surrounding regions. "Imperial Battlema-"
As soon as he said the word his hairs stood up, knowing he made a mistake. Words and names held power. They had been looking for who had dispelled the blood spell, saying their name had enabled them to spot and see him, but in return he saw them, he saw what they were doing.
"Fuck", Alek cursed, kicking the water in frustration. He could feel the static in the air building, his men pausing to find their noses bleeding. Bor shouted something but he did not listen, running trying to find the highest nearby point, smashing in the door when he had found it, further scaring the scared and traumatized inhabitants as an angered giant marched through their hideout and up the stairs. When he exited onto the roof, the static was strong enough to cause sparks on metal surfaces. Alek put down his helmet and goggles, washing the water off his face as he scanned the sky above him. Clouds laden with psychic energy cackling above him as the battlemages prepared their ritual. The young primarch cooled his inner fire, raising a hand towards the sky, took a deep breath in and reached out, touching the building energy of the clouds. Lighning was by that point already descending down from the skies, targetting soldiers and civilians, enemy or ally, it did not matter. Glowing arcs of fire found their targets in a way normal lighting would not behave.
The effect was imminent and explosive. Growling clouds setting loose thousands of arcs of lightning, all jutting towards the ground, all towards a single extremely tall man standing atop a stocky tower and into his hand.
It hurt, the skin of his fingers blistering and cooking under the intense energy he tried to dissipate. Soldiers from both sides, from all over the battlefield were pausing to observe the mad electrical phenomenon, as an entire lightning storm unloaded onto a single point. Then it was over. He breathed out, blackened skin healing quickly. That particular attack was defused, but there would be others. Solimin was here and they had sent their witches. He could already see the spirit of the Coalition soldiers shifting, faltering, fear replacing courage. Too many had also recognised him. There was no one else as tall as him carrying a rifle that large. There would be questions, there would be fear, someone would do something dumb…
Alek shook his head as he descended, looking for Colonel Harskin. The stout man had set up his command post in what maybe once had been a communal meeting place. Its windows were blown out and its walls destroyed, but the roof was still standing and it provided protection from the rain. Harskin was arguing with high command about what had just happened. He could feel the loaded words being said without needing to hear them.
"Code Purpure?"
"Yes Commander", Harskin sighed, solemnly watching Aleks wet form. "High command is ordering Admiral Kensky to load up a bomber as we speak. The Empire is here. "
The specter draws closer, tightening his grip on this fragile world…
He shook his head. "I know where they are, but there are dozens of districts and heavens know how many royal troops are between there and here. I need help to get to them."
"What do you mean, son?" Harskin asked carefully, eyes squinting.
Alek tipped on a place on the map between the city and the pass. "The mages, they are here. I can fight them, but I will need help to get there."
"Bourgh, tell me you are joking?" Harskin's pleaded, eyes wide. "If you are trying to tell me what I think you are trying to, you are getting us all into big trouble. Me, your men, your Ma."
"I am prepared for that. This bomber never can make it into the air into the air and I will do what it takes achieve that."
"You think we couldn't defeat some Imperial witches on our own, son. We fought them with sticks and stones, guns, artillery and bombs during the great war and before."
"I think they will buy enough time for Imperial forces to be brought through the pass." Alek responded angrily. "High command wants the pass taken. We have battlemages complicating the situations. Solimin and Muneria are doing everything they can to buy time. I am afraid someone will do something dumb. They already cast some spell on the royal troops to cause them to keep going beyond what should be considered normal behavior."
Harskin looked at Alek, then down at his map, then sighed. "I am too old for this." Taking out a wrinkled picture from his shirt pocket, before calling his Adjutant. "Summon the company commanders."
The regiment broke through the city, the enemy faltering wherever Alek went, warp fire arcing of his body and eyes glowing with the energies of the immaterium made manifest. He broke the spell that bound the royal troops in their way to fight on, broke their morale, forcing them to run and flee from the armored transports and the experienced soldiers moving down the streets towards their final destination. Everywhere else fighting had become more fierce, every soldier freed from the spell's grasp caused the rest to fight on more madly, without a sense of self preservation. As soon as they were out of the city, they mounted up to ride the road towards victory or death.
Two more times they tried to destroy, calling forth the destructive powers of the warp on him and the approaching column of vehicles. Two more times he had shielded himself and the regiment, but it had become harder each time. Each drop of blood spilled pumped more energy into the sky and air, the mages probably unknowing what dark powers they were utilizing. Alek sat atop the first in the column, sorting through the feeling of the 5th. The perfect and liked perception of him in their heads had become warped, deep rooted fears nagging at their resolve, but the bonds of camaraderie held strong for now. They would follow him and he felt relieved at that. Even after all that, there was still a measure of trust.
The storm began to grow worse, the sky preparing to set the appropriate tone for the fight ahead. By now he could feel them more clearly, three hundred psykers and a regiment of Imperial Guardists to assist them. None of them were as powerful as him, but they were trained and motivated by the hatred of the Coalition, as an enemy and murderer of their kind, by the Empresses orders and the fear of their superiors should they fail. Alek could see the bonds of fellowship and camaraderie between them glowing as they worked in tandem to utilize their powers, not a chain where the weakest link would fail the whole, but a strong, well crafted rope, each strand supporting the others.
They ranged in age from teenagers to up in their eighties, men and women, a mishmash of people and experiences bound together for this destructive purpose. He reached out, touching them all and speaking into their minds, hoping to solve this situation without the need for violence. "I do not wish to fight you. Retreat from this place."
No answer came. They huddled together, seeking courage and comfort in each other. Many small flames standing against the smoldering inferno coming their way. He could reach out and crush them, breaking their resolve. They were nothing against him, tunnel rats beneath his feet, but Alek paused.
If he won too hard, someone might do something stupid. Imperial commanders on the other side of the mountain might deploy the bomb, their psychic supremacy broken, The battle psykers might use something more dangerous than lighting, warp-fire and simple blood spells. Cornered tunnel rats were the most dangerous after all. "I do not wish to fight you. Please, retreat from this place."
This time he got a telepathic shockwave as an answer that actually surprised him, the punch making his nose bleed, breaking the connection. He smirked, blood disappearing into the rain running down his face, as he stood up upon the moving vehicle, gripping his rifle, blood itching for the fight ahead.
Mere minutes later the two sides crashed into each other in an almost open space. The much better equipped Imperial Guardists were at the front, being supported by the groups of battlemages in the back. Alone the 5th would have been outmatched, but they had him.
Alek walked amongst his men, wielding warp-fire and lightning in one hand and his rifle in the other he fought with them, leading the charge, his company going where he went. It soon became a battle of who could support their own troops better and Alek was winning. He was simply more powerful, able to shield his allies and call forth attacks from much further away than they could alone. The battlemages congregated, soon standing him down three hundred to one.
The 5th had pushed through the Guardist line and was now doing their best to keep them out of the real fight between the forces from beyond this world. They bought each minute with their lives against the vastly superior enemy while he fought the desperate and inferior enemy on his own battlefield.
He was impressed, they were drilled and trained quite well, using their powers together to call forth destructive energies and defensive barriers. A constant battle of illusions and counter illusions, telepathic attacks and defenses waged between them. The air was thick and heavy with the smell of ozone and ionized air. They had trained this type of fight, against other psykers, against each other many times. They were good in an area where he was merely talented, forced to learn on the fly, the only ace up his sleeve his heavy ranged weapon that broke as many enemies' concentration and bodies alike, by bursting barriers and illusions.
The stench of the warp was heavy. Not once did they say a word to him. They were focused, their chosen way that of destruction. Their souls were beautiful, burning bright and strong as they called forth destructive energies upon him, struggling against a psyker that outclassed them individually so far beyond their measure, but that were able to put together a resistance together.
But then, finally and hours of gruesome battle later, the Empire withdrew, their psykers exhausted, and Alek and the 5th let them pass unchallanged. The spell flickered without their upkeep and dissipated quickly. They were exhausted and the wounded and dead needed to be taken care of. The only thing they did before creating makeshift camp in the rain was moving out of the way of the many retreating royal troops, not up for another fight.
It was done. His secret was out. Alek could feel the atmosphere shifting. People avoided him. Medics did not allow him near the wounded, even if all he wanted to do was help. He understood why. How could he make them understand that what they witnessed was not supernatural and to be feared. More importantly, he could not make them do so without violating their minds.
He needed to think. He anchored a utility tightly between some rocks and began to disassemble and clean his rifle in the small space of dryness provided by it. The storm was still raging, rain providing a nice ambience as it hit and ran down the tarp as he descended into his thoughts. The situation was shifting, for all intents and purposes the Coalition had won the battle for the pass, but the psychically enhanced resistance had taken its toll on their forces. The pain and suffering of the dead and dying rang out across the valley like a psychic scream, his hands paused. Alek took a deep breath in centering himself, before he continued. The Coalition had begun moving artillery pieces into range to target him and the fifth, but there were no orders to do so. Somewhere far away, top brass was trying to figure out what had just happened. Alek could just disappear, flee into the wilderness or to the Solimin, the pass just lying there open for him.
But that would just prove their fears right. A witch placed amongst them as a spy, a plant, a subversive influence. For what purpose? Any they could think of, no matter his accomplishments in this conflict. To counter their fears, he needed to lay things out open as they were. He checked his disassembled autocannon rifle one last time, proudly feeling how the parts and mechanisms fit and worked together, before he got up and returned into the rain.
Harskin, the other company commanders and Bor were inside one of the bigger survival tents, discussing something heatedly. They froze when Alek announced his presence.
"Can I come on?"
They paused, thinking. Harskin was the first to answer. "Yes Bourgh."
Alek ducked into the tent, water dripping off him onto the ground. He scanned them, none were attempting to draw their weapons, but they observed him carefully. He unshouldered his weapon, carefully dropping it to the ground together with his knife and anything else he had on his person that might constitute a weapon. His body and mind were things he could not just lay off, but it was the symbol that counted he hoped.
"I surrender." He held out his hands. "Please take me into custody."
"I hope you are joking, Alek." Bor responded, face furrowed into an ugly snare.
The young primarch shrugged. "This war is won. I have achieved what I came here to do. At this moment top brass is preparing to bomb this place. This land has seen enough destruction. I will try to not add further to it." He motioned to his wrists again. "So, if you would please arrest me."
"They will try to kill you, son."
"If they try to, I will just escape." He shrugged. "But my hopes are something better will come from this."
They finally relented. Talks were had with command via vox and a few days later he was driven back to Kepon in cuffs he could have escaped from relatively easily, where he was received by men in witch hunter uniforms. From there he was interrogated. Was he an Imperial plant? What was he trying to do here? Did anyone know? Why did he choose to reveal himself? The questions were asked again and again. Each time Alek answered in a way that did not put his mother, friends and men at risk. They flew him across half the world back home in heavy iron chains, interrogated him again, flew him to a different location, interrogated him again, until finally the interrogations stopped and he let himself be locked up in an old, unused salt mine, kilometers underground.
The notion they might think salt inhibited his powers was funny to Alek. If he wanted to, he would be able to escape, climb the shaft or dig himself out with some of the old mining tools strewn around, but they were not trying to kill him. Ration bars and water were brought down via a small elevator each day and so he waited and decided to pass the time by learning to sculpt.
It was hard. The rock was unsuitable and the mining tools were made for work this fine. Many failed attempts littered the dark tunnels, but he had time on his hands and nothing better to do. Each attempt became better, more according to his own standards, until one day, three months into his imprisonment, something happened.
A vox caster was provided with the food and water for today. It was easy for him to use the device, even in complete darkness, activating it, dialing in send and receive frequencies and putting the speaker and receiver to his head.
"Hello?" He asked tentatively.
"Hello Alek." A distorted voice answered. "Glad you are awake at a time this late."
"It's not like I have any real sense to measure time down here." That was a lie. He was aware of when now was at all times. "Might I know your name?"
The voice chuckled. "I am afraid not. I know how this works. Names give your kind power and I need to look out for my safety. You may call me Handler."
They were right, but probably not in the way they thought. "So Handler, is there anything I can do for you?"
"You are a fascinating young man Alek. After all we uncovered in our investigations it became clear to me I had to talk to you personally."
"Not very personal right now are we."
"No, you are right, maybe one day." They trailed off. "It was difficult to get the witch hunters to cooperate. Many of them advocated for flooding the mine, to take care of the problem once and for all. But I managed to convince them."
"I am grateful for that."
"You are welcome. Say Alek, what is your relationship to Rayenne Bourgh?"
"She is my mother and I hold her very dear." He answered with a frown. It was unlikely they would manage to actually hurt her, but the shift to the topic of her was nonetheless strange.
"You very much don't look your age Alek. The witch hunters are convinced you are an adult witch who has mind washed the poor woman and everyone in your district to think she raised you. Luckily for you I managed to get a hold of your sketchbook. You are a very good artist by the way."
"I still have a long way to go."
"What piqued my interest were your drawings of Rayenne. The way you drew her eyes. The drawings are overflowing with the love a son has for his mother. No deception or malice in them." Alek listened to them ramble on. "I thought, what if this one was not a witch trying to get ahold of power, to further his own sickening agenda? What if this one was just a young man, trying to do his best? What if this one was just a son loving his dear Ma."
"Is there a point you are trying to get to?"
"Of course there is. We are at war, Alek. A war that could spill over into catastrophe at a moment's notice. A war that cannot be fought on the battlefield of clashing men and metal between the participants. A war you can be a tremendous asset in."
"I desire to see this world not scoured by nuclear fire, Handler. Make your offer then."
"We keep your mother in our custody as collateral, for now. You will be permitted to exchange communication in writing. In exchange you get to go free and to keep this world safe for her, for everyone else you hold dear and for everyone living under the heavens. Be the Coalition's glorious hero, the wonderchild, the good witch. What do you say, Alek?"
He pondered the offer for a while, hands hovering over the send button. "I accept."
Where does Alekandros Megalos Bourgh go from here?
[]The World of Proxy Wars
[]The World of Espionage
[]The World of Diplomatic Power Plays
Thanks for participating. I reserve myself the right to disregard, interpret, change and add to WH40k and 30k lore as I see fit to support the narrative. Comments and feedback sustain my soul.
The witch hunters were not happy to let him go, that much was evident as they freed Alekandros from his salty prison, this time without chains and shackles. There was hatred and disgust in their hearts, but also fear in their minds. Whoever Handler was, they obviously held a lot of sway in the Coalition, but the hunters at the salt mine did not know who exactly his benefactor was. There were vague connective thoughts to the Coalition Council Alek could gleam by browsing the surface of their minds, but no specific person or name.
A hurricane was raging at the time, delaying his departure from the improvised psyker prison. His former wardens had no interest in his comfort, but allowed him a shower. Three months of living in an abandoned mine and spending the time learning to sculpt had left his skin and hair covered in dust and salt. Not the most comfortable experience he had the pleasure of experiencing in his short life so far, but it sure beat the dusts- and rock-storms Alek and his men had weathered in the open plains of the Moneran peninsula during the Escalation. He hoped they were well and that his revelation did not affect them negatively. Handler had not said anything about them, but the young primarch presumed they had been interrogated vigorously. Maybe Bor was already home, celebrated as a war hero and in the loving embrace of his family. He hoped so. Three years of bloody, brutal conflict and most of his men had died in the last battle of the fight. They had given their lives to ward off a greater catastrophe.
The storm abated and his transport arrived, not one of the bulky, crude military transport, but a civilian one, slender and nonthreatening. It would not withstand an autocannon salvo, but it was not meant to. It was made for comfortable and fast travel in the rough weather of Tenus, which had its own worth. He made a note to read up on how to build a plane once he had time before he entered the plane and embarked onto the next phase of his life, which, much to his amusement, began with the aftereffects of his actions at the overhand pass.
Peace negotiations to bring an end to the escalation were held in Strion, a small nation in one of Tenus most inhospitable mountain chains prouding themselves on their neutrality since forever. Apparently negotiations had stalled and his arrival was planned to get things moving again, either with his direct help or just his passive presence.
The airfield they arrived at was a long, wide tunnel dug through a mountain. When Alek disembarked, watching the other transports at the airfield, he was already awaited.
"You are late, Commander", he complained loudly, tightening his coat to ward off the icy winds as Alek walked out of the transport. His soul was ordinary, a small flame, but with a solid feeling, a man of willpower and character, but also one who thought very highly of himself, screaming his identity out into the wind: Sacharia Linds, Coalition diplomat and respected member of the Council.
"I can't control the weather", Alek joked. It was a lie. With some time and a effort he could have dispelled the hurricane, but he had been surrounded by witch hunter and didn't want to give them any reason to do something stupid. Standing in the storm, eyes burning with warp fire and lightning arcing off his body would have accomplished just that. He did not bother trying to shake Linds' hand. The man would not have accepted.
"The name is Linds, Sacharias Linds, or did you already pull that from my mind?"
"I did not."
Linds huffed. "Let's hope you are honest, Bourgh. I prefer to have my mind unviolated. I also prefer not to stand in this cold." He turned around, walking towards the edge of the landing tunnel where warmth and protection from wind waited for him. Two security guys quickly scanned the new arrival, before they flanked Linds to follow him, Alek in their wake.
Alec smiled and gently put some psychic pressure in the form of honesty in his words when he responded. "And I prefer to leave others' minds unviolated."
"And tomorrow galactic human civilisation establishes contact with us again." He laughed, pressure crashing against his will to no effect as they left the cold outside, where more security received them. One of his aides ran up, her mind nervous and fearful, gaze focused on Alek, a bag in hand, containing a suit his size if he interpreted her thoughts correctly. "Put this on." Linds ordered, the whole procession stopping at a public bathroom. "Instead of whatever it is you call clothing now."
—
"So listen Bourgh", Linds explained, making himself comfortable in his chair. Alek listened intently, but part of his attention was focused at the rooms provided to the Coalition delegation. The space was decorated with the Strionic style of art and architecture and he made a mental note to get a hold of a book about it. "Does Solimin have witches listening in right now?"
Alek reached out with his mind, careful not to alert any soul he touched. Two of the nearby flames were burning brighter than the others, psykers, perceptive and experienced. It was questionable if they could listen in from so far away, but without probing further he could not eliminate them using some kind of assistance, a spell or runes to spy on the Ambassador. "Yes, two."
"Heavens curse them and their children." Linds spat out. "Do your thing and shield us."
"As you wish."
Linds seemed to wait for something, watching Alek expectantly. "Well, are you gonna start anytime soon, Bourgh."
"I am already shielding us, Ambassador, and that does not require whispered words of power, animal entrails, spilled blood and runic symbols of power carved into the floor." Alek recognized his thought process, answering a question he had not even managed to ask yet.
"If you say so", He grunted and took a sip from a glass of water. "Anyway, Commander, now that we have privacy I should inform you of your role here. The primary purpose of this negotiation is getting the heavens-be-damned Empire missiles off Moten."
"Isn't this a peace negotiation, what does Moten have to do with it?"
Linds laughed. "Peace in some form is already fated to happen, the Empire doesn't want to risk escalating to full scale war and neither do we, but we may be able to cash in our gains for concessions on their part. This is what this is all about, Bourgh. Diplomacy is making the other party think you don't really want what you really want and figuring out what they really want. Dealing with Solimin is always a pain in the ass. They always have witches with them, trying to get ahead of us on the diplomatic battlefield, but thanks to you Bourgh, we have reached parity on the field of battle of interests."
"So, you want me to shield you and your staff from their psykers and tell you what they really think."
"Fast learner, heh, I like it." Linds chuckled. "If you can do both the better."
"I can do it from here", Alek explained. "If you don't want to show me off."
"Nah, you sit next to me. Sometimes it is important to show, but don't tell. And with you we can keep them guessing."
Hours later, when the next round of negotiations were to begin, Linds walked past the Strion guards watching the metal door, opening them up as loud as he could. "Lord Ambassador Keerin", he walked into the large room, an iron wood table at the centre where the two delegations had already assembled. "You look great today."
Alek scanned the people present, browsing the surface thoughts of the high ranking empire officials and their aides, two psykers. Not very powerful, but perceptive. They seemed to realise something was off, one of them leaned over to the Lord Ambassador and whispered something in his ear. They might have been able to pinpoint it was him, but the first thing Alek had been taught was how to control his presence. If he wanted to, he could appear ordinary to them.
"As do you Linds." Keerin chuckled, his moustache vibrating up and down. "I hope you managed to take care of whatever business you needed to attend to."
"We had some domestic things to work out." Linds sat down on the centre of the table, motioning Alek to sit down next to him. "This is Commander Alekandros Bourgh, getting a hold of him was the reason for the break."
"A soldier, how interesting." Keerin leaned forward to shake Aleks hand. "And one so tall. Are you one of those fabled gene crafted super soldiers I have heard fables about? I am Lord Ambassador Edart Keerin, a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"The pleasure is mine." Alek said, mirroring the man's emotions on his face and shaking his hand: fake smile, going up to the corner of his eyes. Keerin thought him young and inexperienced, and did not yet know who he was. There were a lot of little things in his mind he could pull and push if he wanted, a lot compared to Ambassador Linds.
"I hope you happen to prove more reasonable than my dear friend Linds. Three months of talking and not one step forward."
"If I can help it, things will move faster now." Alek smiled.
And faster move things did. With his psychic assistance and under Linds' experienced hand, the negotiations ended ideally or, how Linds described it, not satisfactorily for everyone. The missiles were moved off Moten, in return the Coalition returned all the occupied royal territory back to Merunia, including the Overhand Pass. Alek thought it cynical watching the progress he and his men had won with their sweat and blood be rendered none and void in a matter of days, the lines moving back to where they were before, but Linds reminded him that his men and their families would be safer without those missiles. The Ambassador proved to be an interesting person. It was not hard for Alek to make him trust him more, stoking down the fear and distrust with a little bit of time. If he was to serve as the Coalition's diplomatic superweapon, he needed to learn all he could about it and Linds was a very good source. Over multiple evenings at the venue's bar, the diplomat had quickly taught him the most important lessons and a little more. It was fun, hearing his stories about the behind-the-scenes of important events he had been a part of. Alek felt a desire to be good at his role, as good as he could, but his heart was not in it. His heart would need to wait until he was home again.
Once he was he took care of a couple of things. First was having a conversation with Handler. They were satisfied with his performance and brought him up to speed on how things worked from now on, including where the letters for his Ma were to be deposited, Handler noting their agents would read and censor them if they deemed it necessary to do so. Second was finding a home in New Silue, where the Coalitions headquarters were located. It took him a couple of days, but having three years of an officer's pay saved up, a well paying government job and referral in his pocket and some nice, psychically supported words, finally got him a place. There were better things Alek could have imagined than moving out of his childhood home at just thirteen years old, but that was the price of being special and revealing himself he figured. Third, he wrote a letter to his mother, informing her of all that had happened. He briefly considered if he should try to experiment with adding psychic runes to make sure the content of his letters made it to her unchanged, but discarded the idea. There was no need to antagonise Handler and he would need to get better first. Fourth and finally, he bought some paints and created a satisfactory depiction of the beautiful northern lights and stars that had burned themselves into his memory, creating a considerable number of failed attempts in the process of experimenting and practising. Finding more joy in the act of creation itself than the finished work, he gifted the finished piece to Ambassador Linds the next time Alek saw him, to whom it proved popular enough to be put up in his office in viewing range of the ambassador's desk. The following three years proved to be very enlightening on that front as it gave him more time than the army ever could to pursue his passion. His skills on multiple fronts of creation and crafting expanded beyond what he had ever hoped for on multiple levels, adding sewing, pottery, smithing, painting and more to his catalogue, the first being especially useful as he found his self-made suits much better suited to his current task than the ones provided by Handler.
Those three years were dominated by playing psychic support to important international and or domestic diplomatic affairs. The Coalition itself was about as divided politically between its members as the world stage was. The bonds and regulations holding them together were flimsy and rudimentary compared to what unity they could show when it came to the threat posed by the Empire of Solimin. Coalition internal politics proved to be just as harsh and unforgiving as external ones. But to truly understand politics, he had to go back and expand his understanding of Tenus history.
The Empire of Solimin was the oldest and most powerful single nation state. It was in their capital city of Umeria, an ancient and pre-collapse dating fortress city and the only settlement to survive the madness and horror that followed in its wake, where the Empire was founded. Much of the pre-collapse knowledge had been lost and what little remained was maintained by the Order of the Archivists. Over centuries and millennia it expanded to fuel the ever growing hunger for the natural resources of Tenus of the Capital until it had become a world spanning realm of great power. The succession crisis of Emperor Glion the fifth had brought an end to that era, the Empire fracturing into countless city states. It took a century of warfare fought with swords and crossbows to reunite the continent of Solimin under the banner of the righteous ruler, but the damage had been done. The Empire was too weak to project its power beyond its borders at this time and thus unity became a dream held by Emperors and Empresses to this day.
Before the great war, the Coalition itself was only a loose band of various different city and nationstates on the northern continent of Sargell united in one desire only, hatred and spite towards Solimin, who had in times of increased interconnectivity brought on by the rediscovery of air transports and leviathan ships began to assert it interests more aggressively. The balance of power shifted when the Empire suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of Coalition troops during the great war and the Coalition suddenly found itself a fragmented superpower and, for a while, the undisputed one due to their nuclear supremacy. The Coalition used this period of absolute power to expand its political interests beyond Sargell by making a lot of allies, especially in the comparatively fertile equatorial regions of Tenus.
Nuclear parity was quickly reached and Tenus dissolved into the current fragile balance of Unfought War, the Empire and Coalition trying to one up another in any realm but the battlefield, the nuclear spectre above them laughing as their arsenals and their methods to deploy them grew.
This was the world Alek found himself in. A dou-polar world in which lines had been drawn and the battle raged over those not yet on either side, making offers or threats to get them to join your team. It was also a world of an unstable political situation at home, with the Coalition members oftentimes having irreconcilable views on issues, until the decision would even mildly annoy the Empire in any way. Politicians were like children sometimes, Alek found out, dangerous, intelligent and ruthless children wielding the political power of their governments behind them.
Whether or not intended by Handler, Alek found himself a person of expansive influence on both stages over the next three years. While he could not act directly and never brought forth political resolutions or offers directly himself, the stigma against witches was simply too strong. He could place ideas into people's minds by simply talking to them about things, pushing and supporting them to bring these ideas into fruition was the second part. In this way Alek found he was mimicking Handler, who only seemed to assign him to cases and ideas that helped their own mysterious agenda.
There was one especially important domestic and international diplomatic issue that was brought to completion thanks to Aleks subtle and less to subtle influence. What was it? (Vote for one per category)
International:
[][International] Arms Control Agreement The last years have seen an exponential increase in the size of Coalition and Empireal nuclear arsenals far beyond what either power should need. Reduction in size not only saves resources and cost, but also serves as an important step towards deescalation.
[]][International] Cooperative Space Program Everyone on Tenus knew that humans came to this world from the heavens and returning there had been a dream of many wanting to one day reunite with their lost brothers and sisters between the stars. Instead of starting competitive programs, Solimin and Sargell could set aside their differences and bundle their resources.
[]][International] Tenus Food Security Agency Food security remains a problematic issue on Tenus. With much of the planet being hostile to open-air agriculture, food has to be grown in expensive greenhouses or limited underground spaces. That is a fact that cannot be changed, but what the superpowers can do is make their technological and agricultural expertise and seeding material available without weaponizing them for the Unfought War brewing between them.
[][International] Nuclear Non-Proliferation Agreement Atomic weapons are dangerous weapons that could set a dangerous precedent if ever used. Limiting the number of third-party actors with access to them reduces the chance one gets deployed.
Domestic:
[][Domestic] Coalition Expansion By now the Coalition has many allies all over the world, many of which would be tremendous assets by becoming members directly, but the process of which is held back by internal disagreements only someone with supernatural powers could overcome.
[][Domestic] Atomic Energy Bill Nuclear power offers tremendous potential for civilian use, but the secrets to which are held by a small number of the most powerful member states, who are unwilling to give them up. The AEB would offer technical and monetary support to every member wanting to build reactors for civilian use themselves.
[][Domestic] Reduction in Defence Expenditure Ever since the great war all Coalition members have spent an unthinkable amount of their resources on procurement, maintenance and development of weapons, defence and security, causing many other issues in need of funding to be neglected.
[][Domestic] Council Reform The Coalition Council is in need of reform to make it more effective. Proposals take years to be passed, if they are at all. Restructuring it would require a serious domestic political endeavour to get all members to agree to the new structure proposed, but it would have never been easy.
Thanks for participating. I reserve myself the right to disregard, interpret, change and add to WH40k and 30k lore as I see fit to support the narrative. Comments and feedback sustain my soul.
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Diplomacy, a Game of Knives, White Lies and Favours
[Domestic] Council Reform
[International] Tenus Food Security Agency
Diplomacy, a Game of Knives, White Lies and Favours
An alarm rang out from his living room, Alek being able to hear it over the sound of his tools. He paused and listened to it, enjoying the perfect sound it made, before he turned the lathe off, switching the lever with his psychic powers, while he began to put back his other tools until his workshop was perfectly neat and uncluttered again. He was very proud of it, all the tools he needed for whatever project he desired. Some bought from all kinds of places and improved, some he made himself. Satisfied, he washed off the oil and grime from his hands, finding that the new water boiler he made and installed two weeks ago was working much better than the old one.
In his bedroom he quickly exchanged his dirty workshop gear for an attire befitting his workplace: Suit, jacket, shoes in Coalition colours, all self-made, all perfect in all aspects. He picked up his pocket watch, turning the impossibly thin and light time piece in his large hand, reaching out with his mind. He might redo that one, he could feel a disharmony in a few of the gears he would need to fix at some point, but the list of his projects was getting ever longer. Alekandros didn't really need either, his enhanced sense of time and the general psychic background noise of people going about their day allowed him to pinpoint time with surprising accuracy, but alarms were useful when he was too deeply absorbed with his creative endeavours.
He pocketed it and moved on with his morning routine.
Creating the time pieces in his pocket and on his wall had been an instructive project. One had pushed himself past his limit, the other one was a neat but uncomplicated construction. He had spent many evenings crafting and putting together the impossibly tiny gears and springs for the watch's internal mechanism, some only as thick as a few strands of hair. The quartz one on his wall had on the other hand only required a few easily crafted electric components and a quartz crystal. Psychically tweaking it to run perfectly accurately had been easy, but it left him with a question. Both timepieces ran perfectly accurate as far as he could tell, but one had required much less work. He always felt a drive to perfect his projects to his own standards, but what was that supposed to mean?
He pondered the question while he continued packing his things. Already thinking about something else when he closed the door behind him and locked his place. Both were his own creations, a project focused on exploring very basic psychic runes. They were in the paint direction patterns of the door and on the inside of the lock mechanism. Invisible to everyone but others psykers, but they made his door almost unbreakable, drawing residual psychic energy when attempted to be forced open. He considered it a good outcome for his level of experience, but would probably need to redo it soon. Figuring out the intricacies of psychic geometry was a difficult and frustrating process without a book or teacher to consult. The laws governing the arrangement of shapes only revealed themselves to him stubbornly, requiring deep scrying sessions for even the most basic of shapes, but, slowly but surely, they revealed themselves to him. He still needed to duck when leaving his home, nothing he could do about that if he did not want to draw attention to himself by coming to work one day a head or more shorter.
"Morning Mister Bourgh." One of his neighbours greeted him with a bright smile, the young woman dressed in similarly professional garments as himself.
"Morning Miss Delon." Alek returned her polite smile, ignoring the sense of infatuation radiating off her when she saw him, slowing down to the much shorter, though tall by normal standards, woman's speed when he felt her desire for casual conversation. "Do you have an early shift today?"
"Yeah", she sighed exhaustedly, glanced down for a moment, fiddling the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "Overseer wants to prepare. Given the Coalition Reform Bill is likely going to pass later this week we have a lot of changes coming up at work. But you should know that, you work for the Coalition administration don't you?"
"Yes", he nodded, brushing over the surface of her thoughts. A few times Handler had placed agents in his neighbourhood, but she appeared to be genuine. "I am an aide to Sacharias Linds."
"That's one of the foreign department officials?" He did not need to see her face to feel her surprise. He nodded as an answer. The tunnels were filled with other people going or coming to work. Under the earth shift work was the norm, independent of day and night outside. Stefanie Delon was keeping close to him, walking in the wake of his massive frame he produced in the dense crowds on their way to the tram station.
Alek nodded. "I worked on the TFSA agreement with him?"
"That thing?" She raises an eyebrow and immediately Alek could feel some resentment against the Empire flowing to the surface of her thoughts. "Heavens must have been a nightmare to bring that cooperation over the finishing line."
"It was…" Memories of himself threatening a particularly nasty anti-Empire Councilwoman with the release of proof of her affair ran through his mind. "...Difficult to convince both sides."
"Empire bootlickers would rather let people starve than do anything that could benefit us." Miss Delon cursed, a flare up of anger running through her aura.
"Again, half my job was convincing our politicians", he pointed out, chuckling with a sly grin. He could feel her anger dissipate immediately, infatuation flaring up again as she glanced down in front of her feet before catching up with him.
"Maybe after today it won't be as difficult anymore to get the Coalition to do anything anymore. If children don't have to starve then that's good." She admitted with a shrug, the images projecting out from her showing that she too had seen the advert clips on the public vid channels. "And more relevant for us is that sugar and fruit prices are supposed to go down again." She glanced up at him, studying his profile while she continued. "I never asked, you are not a UCE citizen are you?"
They had reached the tram station and stopped in the public section, Alek quickly checked the time for when his high sec tram would arrive, finding he still had a few minutes. "I am from the south of Ungentia."
"Oh you have those beautiful cliff sides right?"
He nodded with a smile, reminiscing in memories. "And the valley of calm."
"I always wanted to visit, but well, Monera happened." Her face turned sour.
"Lost someone?" He inquired carefully. She nodded, the face of an older man, likely her father, washed over the surface of her mind.
"I served as well, through the entire war."
That piqued her interest. Miss Delon quickly looked at the flickering electronic tram board, looking for when hers arrived, before she glanced up at him, smiling warm and being radiant. "Would you mind telling me about it at a later date?"
Her intention could not have been clearer if she had decided to scream them at him.
He had been aware of it for a while, but never really considered inviting her for a cup of tea or dinner somewhere. Did he even desire a relationship with another person? Was it weird that he was only sixteen years old? Could he do something about the inherent power imbalance due to him being an extremely powerful psyker? Should he tell potential partners the truth?
He was pretty sure he held no special regard for romantic relationships when he searched within himself. It was a topic he could not easily talk about. He did not want to breach the topic in his letters to his Ma where Handler could read his every word and he had no one else he trusted enough to share this problem with.
He was on his own. (Vote for one) (Note: this is a vote for how he generally pursues relationships, not only this one in particularly)
[]Leave it be
[]Might as well try this once to see how it works out
[]Might as well try to see how this works out
[]Might as well try and attempt to make it work
Finally on the high security tram, the doors closing with a quiet hiss in the luxury compartments, his thoughts returned on his Way. The last three years were very productive in that regard. When not on an assignment or working, he pursued it by educating himself via books or experts in their field and of course pursuing his many creative projects, touching countless disciplines and fields of knowledge.
He showed his identification to the security officer on the tram, pressuring him psychically to not bother him further and went in search of a seating spot. His posting in the Coalition together with a little psychically enhanced charisma meant he could easily get access almost everywhere. Three years of learning from different craftspeople had turned him into a legend in some circles of New Silue artisanal and industrial circles, as much as it frustrated them that his knowledge and skills were apparently not transferable to others. Alek's craft was dependent on his psychic might to guide his hands and shape his work. He held respect for the, for the lack of a better word, normal craftsmen and creatives he had encountered wandering his Way. They had mastered their fields via years of pursuit and study while he appeared to master these things with what felt to him like little effort, threading paths others had walked before. He hoped to soon experience a breakthrough with runecraft of some kind, but until then he felt like a row of smaller projects off his list. He still had to master clay pottery.
Creation of the TSFA, the Tenus Food Security Agency, a body to assist in the adoption and spread of advanced agricultural techniques and seeding material, has been simmering on the agenda since forever, but problems on either side of the diplomatic divide cutting Tenus in two had made the whole thing always collapse. The Coalition and the Empire despised each other with a burning passion and only the promise of getting access to the other's technology in the field even allowed him to get a foot in the door.
It had taken two years of political manoeuvring, blackmail, threats of violence, careful development of friendships, psychic and normal persuasion, many nights out involving alcohol and exchanges of favours to finally get the Agency off to a rocky start. They received technology and budget from both superpowers, their headquarters operating out of Strion, but otherwise both governments cared little for the fledgling organisation beyond being supported by a few isolated voices from both camps. It had only been a year, how much things would improve was still in the heavens. What had changed was how much the global trade for agricultural products had opened up with all the former secrets out in the open.
The tram stopped and its passengers stepped outside into the Coalition Headquarters. Alek fixed up his suit and followed them, checking his pocket watch while he scanned the crowds. The mood was good as planned. The upcoming proposal should have the support of the important players. His tall form stood out among the crowd of officials, diplomats, aides and assistants arriving and quickly he was surrounded by his own aides. Alekandros Bourgh was naturally good at what he put his mind to and over the three years he had become Linds' right hand in almost all matters. Sometimes he thought he held the Ambassadors position in all but name, people considering Alek's words and actions over his. It had resulted in the occasional grumbling from him, but smoothing over the feelings of jealousy was pretty simple for him.
"Sir, I have the current reform proposal for you." One of Linds', or his',assistants ran up to him and handed him a thick paper printout of the specific reform that would be discussed today.
"Thank you Ters." Alek put it in his briefcase to be read later during recess. "How is the newborn?"
"A little angel brought to us straight from the Heavens." Ters beamed, parental love Alek wished his Ma could have shown him flowing out from the man's soul. It was sweet and almost distracting.
"I hope we can count on you this week, Ters." Another woman from Alek's delegation added, the rings under her eyes visible even with the heavy makeup. "We all know the reform bill won't be passed today."
"I fueled myself in the little one's presence yesterday. I won't disappoint the boss or Mister Bourgh." Ters declared proudly, drawing a chuckle from the other dozen people as they streamed into the impressively large headquarters building. A couple of senior witch hunters eyed him with quiet anger, but let him through the security checkpoints regardless, the normal officers and the lower ranks none the wiser. The psychic buzz in the building shifted as a rumour started to spread, carried from one person's ear to the next. Alek felt no need to pry it out of people's minds, it would reach him sooner than later.
As it turned out, it reached him in the form of Sacharias Linds.
"Heavens be damned Bourgh", he marched through his office, frustration radiating off him with an intensity unmatched by anyone else. The painting Alek had gifted him three years ago still hung on his wall, its serene and beautiful aura sucking the anger out of Linds' mind.. "The president of the UCE has decided to veto the reform bill."
Alek could feel the confusion and horror in Linds' team begin to grow. They had started pushing this particular rock down the hill a year ago by getting the explicit approval of the UCE president first. The United Cities of Erslin were by far the most powerful Coalition member and without their support the whole bill in Alek's briefcase was but wasted paper fit for the trash. A year of work wasted for nothing.
There was only one question in his mind. "Why, I thought we had a deal?"
"I thought the same", Lind leaned down on his table and sighed deeply. "Good thing you are wearing your best suit. We are going to have a talk with him. You guys, go do research on why. I want to know as much as possible beforehand."
"Sir, this is not my best suit." Alek tried to defend himself, Linds already out of his office on the way to a meeting and out of his normal hearing range. He groaned in frustration and went to work on his desk, reminded again that he needed to make himself a bigger one.
Maybe he should show up to work one day a head shorter.
Mingling Renalt, the UCE president, was a retired Coalition navy admiral in his late sixties. The aura of absolute confidence and leadership was all too apparent to Alek from across the table in the meeting room, the flags hung dense with the flags of all Coalition members. His aides and the security officers behind him revered him with a confidence that was all too obvious in their thoughts. Linds stared at the balding man, matching his energy while the topic hung above the two sides like an angry stormcloud.
Renalt leaned forward, a smile appearing through his thick greying beard. "So…", he began. "...this is how we see each other again, Special Asset Commander Alekandros Bourgh. You look good son. Suit's looking good on you. Do I need to worry, or is your leash still holding strong?"
Alek smiled politely and bowed his head, internally snaring at President Renalt. "I still am the Coalition's psychic attack dog, if you want to call me that?"
He leaned back, looking satisfied and filling his pipe . "Excellent. By now you have heard I decided to veto the reform bill. I assume this is why we are here?"
"Of course we are, Minling." Linds spat, conflicting feelings running through his head. "We discussed each of the items first with you just so we could make sure we could have you on our side. What changed?"
"A lot of things have changed." He looked very satisfied with himself.
Alek could feel it moving beneath his thoughts, the reason why they had decided to block the reform bill.
What was it? (Vote for one)
[]Empire Interference Solimin has taken control of Renalt. It's a psychic subversion of the highest ranks of the Coalition's leadership.
[]Promethium The nation of Yunion recently experienced a revolution and the new government is less amicable to the Coalition. Renalt wants Coalition support to pacify the region to gain access to their promethium fields.
[]Into the Woods According to intelligence reports, Solimin has been supporting rebel groups of Coalition allies in the far north. The rebels make use of the Ironwood forests to hide and organise and a full military response from the alliance is required.
[]Proxy Warfare Sale of UCE weapons to rebels and subversive groups in Solimin and the Empresses allied territories was recently blocked by the Coalition fearing an escalation, Renalt wants the sales unblocked and the Coalition to officially start supporting these groups.
Thanks for participating. I reserve myself the right to disregard, interpret, change and add to WH40k and 30k lore as I see fit to support the narrative. Comments and feedback sustain my soul.
[X]Might as well try and attempt to make it work
[X]Promethium
The Yunion Situation Begins
"You should know what changed." Renalt puffed his pipe two times, the inconceivable expensive smell of burning tabback leaves filling the meeting room, clouds quickly disappearing under the intense light of the lumen above. "How are things going with the new Yunion ambassador Sacharias?"
Linds did not give him the satisfaction of a reaction beyond a deepened frown, but Alek could sense him come to the same conclusions he had come. Years of working with the man had softened up the mental barriers he projected, making it easier to get glimpses of his thoughts even without diving deeper. "We are having talks, but I need more time."
"And I don't have time." The UCE President groaned. "In less than a year's time the Cities' Assembly will convene to pick a new president."
"And you wan't to use this situation as a boost for your reelection chances?" Alek inquired, straightening himself to appear taller, his face impartial, mind extended to figure out the president's motive.
"Correct", Renalt smiled behind his beard and pointed with his pipe at Alek before he turned to Linds. "I am sorry for not being honest. I invited you here to talk to the Witch, not you."
Linds huffed, leaning backwards but a subtle nod and the surface of his mindscape telling Alek to proceed for now. He took a moment to scan his opponent with a little more care, thoughts slowly coallessing into a whole picture. Renalt wanted the Good Witch, he could have him.
"Your political opponent, City Master Unz, is using the situation to boost his standing with the nationalistic hardliners." He summarised, picking off details from Renalts mind. "You want to assert Coalition interests in Yunion with a military intervention to boost your reappointment chances."
"I didn't even get to that part. Either you are good, boy, or it's like you read my mind." Renalt chuckled, fidgeting with his pipe. For a brief moment Alek could feel a wave of worry and uncomfortableness running through the man's mind, before it disappeared again, hidden under the facade he projected outwards. "The Yunion lords were good allies and business partners for the UCE and the Coalition. The revolutionaries, bleh, why I call them that. The rebels are very much not."
Alek frowned. The Union lords had received weapons, investments and technology transfers for their agricultural and extractive sectors and in return the Coalition received access to cheap promethium in return. The lordships lay on the second largest promethium reserves on Tenus, just behind Solimin. A thread of thought in Renalts' head surprised him. He blamed Alexandros for the rebellion, the TFSA having significantly reduced the threat of starvation in the area due to no longer being dependent on Coalition agricultural imports.
The President meanwhile continued. "I hope you know how much resources we invested into the pump and pipeline infrastructure. A significant investment that has now disappeared into nothing, because the rebels don't want to hold the obligations of the government they replaced."
"Mingling, I beg you." Linds interjected, his mind going wild with thoughts. "A war carries a significant risk of escalation with Solimin."
"Anything carries a significant risk with Solimin, Sach. Hell, your reform pet project has already been criticised by her majesty because it makes the alliance a bigger threat to her Imperial ambitions. The far bigger risk here is that others start to believe they can walk right over us."
He blew out smoke, the plume quickly absorbed by the air mounted air exchangers, his gaze focused on Alek again. "I know you have been pulling strings behind the scenes for the TFSA and the Reform Bill. The heavens-be-dammed agency has really riled up certain elements in the UCE, but I respect your spirit, Bourgh. I too want to see the Coalition at the top and for that we will need reform, but I want to be on top with it. Give me my war, Witch, and I will give you the reform we need and you want."
"And how am I to accomplish that?"
The President shrugged. "You are Handlers diplomatic attack dog, figure something out."
Alek tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows slightly. "You don't actually want a war."
The steady rise of smoke from the pipe stopped. "Oh, does the Witch suddenly know me better than myself?"
The young primarch continued, ignoring the snarky comment. "You want to be reselected. For that you think you need two things. Something to appeal to the hardliners and stabilise the promethium prize, both ideally archived before the year ends."
Renalt nodded his head. "And military intervention will accomplish those things."
"If I achieve both without war, will you support the Reform Bill again?"
Renalt paused, glaring at Alek from across the table. "How do you intend to achieve that?"
He shrugged, pushing his mind against the President's with a boring sense of trust to underline his next sentence. "I do not know yet."
A huff left a greying beard. "Sure, Bourgh. If you can convince Handler of whatever it is you plan to do, we have a deal."
The unofficial deal was sealed with a handshake and then they parted ways, Aleks mind already working on figuring out what had happened as they made their way back to Linds office through the busy headquarters. The ambassador used him like an ice-breaker leviathan, walking in his wake through the crowded corridors as People stepped aside when his large figure entered their field of vision.
Renalt had taken the near term future of the coalition hostage. His political rival Destan Unz would block any bill that would threaten the UCE's power in the Coalition Council. If it was not passed under Renalt, it would not be passed for the next decade, while the Unfought War continued to brew between the two superpowers. Linds seemed to come to the same conclusion, his aura furious and angry beyond belief.
"He has always been an ambitious guy, but this." The ambassador muttered, carefully glancing at Alek. "Bourgh, couldn't you like…force him to retract his veto?"
"I could", Alek sighed, hand playing with his pocket watch. "But I can't solve every problem this way."
"Then what do we do?" Linds wondered, curious as he entered his office again.
Alek let the question simmer as he addressed the aides behind their desks who had turned towards them upon their return. "Whatever it is you are doing, drop it. Ters, we need every Councillor's opinion on military intervention in Yunion, Lievell, a projection summary on the next UCE presidential selection, Harman, a report on promethium price developments and potential solutions to stabilise the price." The aides and their assistants began to scurry at their desks, making landline vox calls and hurrying off to request records from the archives.
Linds emanated sadness for a single moment, enough for Alek to catch the sombre expression of his face as he looked down at the Ambassador. "Sometimes it feels like they listen to you more than to me." He shook his head before looking up to meet his gaze. "Do you have a plan?"
"My plan is to figure out our options first." Alek sat down at his own undersized desk and took out his work sketchbook and began scribbling down ideas and names. "Could you speed up your talks you have with the Yunion Assembly ambassador? Maybe we can achieve something on that front, figure out what they want?"
"I will see what I can do. Do you want to speak with her personally?"
Alek ponders it for a moment, never pausing making notes. "Probably a good idea."
"Time to harass the embassy for a meeting then." Linds complained, taking a deep breath to centre himself before he entered his personal office. Alek pondered his situation for a moment, before he got up and walked up to Ters' desk, the short aide looking up as soon as Alek's large shadow moved over his desk.
"Ters, do you have a moment?"
Ters frowned, before he told the other person on the landline call that he would call back and put the receiver down. "For you, always boss. What do you need?"
Alek made sure to keep his face neutral while he spoke. "I plan to ask out a woman that is infatuated with me. Do you happen to know any restaurants in New Sileu appropriate for a first date?"
The young father stared up at his towering quasi-superior, confusion radiating off his soul and his face. "Gena and I didn't actually…forget it, I know a few places." He ripped out a small piece of paper from his notebook and began to write down addresses, occasionally pausing as he searched in his memories for names, addresses and landline vox numbers. Alek helped a little with some subtle psychic pushing of his memory cortex, which resulted in an impressive amount of items on Ters list, but he before handing it to Alek, wondering something. "How much do you like her, Bourgh?"
"That is what I am trying to figure out", a quick scan of his mind's surface revealed to him he had meant something different. "She is nice and I will try to make it work?"
"That committed already, huh?" Ters raised an eyebrow and scratched through some of the items on his list. "These are some of the more prestigious places. Might be difficult to get a reservation, but I am confident you will manage."
Finally Alek received the list, even if he had already learned and memorised the items on it via glances at Ters mind, but it was the thought that counted. "Thank you, and yes", he added with a grin. "I will give details as soon as possible and I know about the bet."
"How…who snitched. Was it Lievell?"
"Noone told me anything", he laughed, quickly coming up with a lie to cover the psychic spying. "But I do have ears. Next time wait a little longer with the gossip after someone leaves the table."
The explanation using their regular after work meetings seemed to satisfy his colleague, Ters resigning himself to the fate of having lost the bet. Alek encouragingly patted him on the shoulder before he went off to participate in his own share of the challenge ahead.
Alek had taken the first and best opportunity to ask her out, working on his projects at home, while occasionally scanning the surface of the neighbour's mind for a fitting time. Said fitting time proved to be the day after, when he was leaving for work again. A date and time were quickly figured out and that left Alekandros to prepare.
First was actually getting a reservation. During lunch break he used the tram to travel to the city centre, believing himself better chances as the subtle psychic charisma aura he projected worked to its full extent only in person. He was successful of course after explaining his predicament first to a waiter and then the owner themselves. Nice words, a charismatic smile and subtle psychic pressure finally made them relent, leaving him roughly a week to prepare the rest.
The domestic fallout from the sudden veto of the reform bill brought a lot of trouble into the headquarters and into Alek's work as the Coalition descended back into infighting from the cusp of renewed unity. He spent the week calming down Councillors who had similarly invested into the passing of the bill and subtly preparing them for what would need to be done to make it pass. His team was working similarly hard, aides and assistants delivering daily reports to his desk with the current information on various topics relevant to their assignments, while Linds did what he did best, foreign diplomacy things, subtly and sometimes not so subtly collecting information and talking with officials from Solimin and third parties, including the Yunion Assemblies ambassador.
The files piled up high enough to block Ters view from his desk, Alek eventually being forced to forbid the young father from sleeping in the office and telling him to go home. It did not work on the rest of his team, who refused to budge and worked themselves to exhaustion. Stress or tiredness would have surely made some of them pass out, if Alek did not keep a watchful eye on things and helped out occasionally with strengthening applications of his powers, but most often being the one to bring takeout noodles to the office proved enough. An act that not only kept them fed, but also had him hailed as a great leader or similar things in a joking manner.
It was just like being in the armed forces again, only that soldiers could occasionally feed themselves. At the end of the week he had reworked the office command structure into something more befitting the current situation, with people on dedicated meal delivery duties and rest watch.
But before their work could be reviewed, he had a date.
It was the evening of the last day before rest day in the week, as much as it could be evening underground. The ceiling lumens were ever so slightly dimmed, as Alek stepped outside, wearing his best suit, to pick up Natalie Dellon. He could feel her excitement and nervousness through the walls before leaving his home. It was cute in a way how her soul's aura made a jump when he rang her doorbell. To say that he was blown away when she opened the door would be an overstatement, but he could appreciate the effort she had put into her appearance. Her dress was factory made, but it accentuated her figure well, the colours matching nicely with her jacket.
"You look nice Natalie", he told her as such, smiling because of the excitement radiating off her. The remark caused a flutter in her thoughts as she quickly scanned his appearance in return, a short burst of admiration and…lust flaring up before she centred herself again.
"Thank you", she looked up at him and smiled before focusing her attention on the wrapped object in his hand, her mind making a wrong connection, but Alek let her finish before correcting her. "Are those…flowers?"
He could understand the confusion and expectation in her voice, cut flowers were exorbitantly expensive for how quickly they wilted and died. A symbol of wealth and a forgotten age long gone. No native flowers existed on Tenus, those that were grown in greenhouses all around the planet were brought here when galactic humanity had settled this planet thousands of years ago.
"Yes and no." He gently handed her the wrapped bouquet for her to open it. Watching expectantly as she realised what it contained?
"Wait…those are…" She paused for a moment, lost for words. Her admiration of his gift filled him with pride, his creations rarely looked at in this way. "Alekandros these are beautiful, I can't, I don't…"
She wanted to ask for a price but did not dare in fear of being impolite so he saved her. "Sheet metal flowers, I made them myself." Of course these were no ordinary sheet metal flowers. Each of them was a masterpiece, impossible, delicate and detailed to imitate the real deal. His workshop had been covered in dozens of rejects before he had managed to get the technique right to his satisfaction.
The explanation did not seem to help. "Do I put these in a vase?" She joked out of lack of knowing what else to do. They did not need water obviously and he had made them for being put in one, but he knew she had figured that out already.
"I think just put them down somewhere, for now." He suggested tone light to ease her unease. "But if you want to, we can continue standing in your door."
"Of course, just give me a moment." She walked back into her housing unit with a smile on her face, letting the door wide open behind her, putting them down on a table gently before coming back. Natalie took Alek's offered arm with a suppressed sense of excitement, while they wandered to the tram station with no sense of hurry. Even though she was relatively tall, the size difference was nevertheless a little awkward, but to a degree that seemed to bother her.
"Natalie, do you want to know where we are going?"
"You know", she squeezed his arm ever so slightly. "It did not even come over me to ask, but please do tell."
"Have you been to the Sapphire Emporium before?" He asked, knowing the answer already.
"I actually have been, last year in spring season. My boss celebrated his wedding there."
"Then you know more than me. I hope it is as good as my colleague claimed."
Natalie grinned widely at Alek, while leaning ever so slightly against him. "It's a nice place, don't worry. How did you get a reservation only a week in advance?"
"I went there and asked during lunch break."
"Now you are pulling my leg." She mused.
"I can be very convincing if I want to." He replied, grinning widely, the remark tickling a chuckle out of her.
"You have to convince me of that."
Similar banter continued all the way to the station, on the tram and on the way to the Emporium itself. Alek continued being on his best behaviour, offering to help Natalie out of her jacket and assist her in getting seated. She seemed to value the attention positively, even if she politely declined both times. Seated in a small table near the centre below the sapphire laden ceiling, the remains of a once rich gem vein running through the mountain New Sileu had been built in, they pondered over their menus.
A flash of amusement running through Natalies mind turned his attention from the menu to his date just in time to see her glancing down at the synth leather bound menu again, chuckling to herself.
"I apologise, it's just…", she began, trying to find words, Alek already having figured out the source of her amusement due to her surface thoughts. "...you look a little bit awkward sitting there."
He smirked, put down the menu and held his hands up demonstratively. "You should wait until you see me hold the cutlery they serve here."
That drew another amused sound out of her, as she gently reached out to hold one hand against his, comparing sizes. "How tall are you, around eight feet?"
"Little bit less, just enough so I don't have to hunch down walking down the corridor streets."
She hummed understandingly, eyes still on his hand, her thoughts going back to his sheet metal flower bouquet. "I don't think many would believe someone with your frame would be capable of creating such delicate things."
"These hands are indeed capable of very delicate and precise work."
"Don't threaten me with a good time", Natalie teased, the innuendo not lost on Alek with the burst of emotion running through her. She pulled her hand back and focused her gaze back on the menu before her. "I think the stone mushroom pastry in wine sauce sounds good, what do you think?"
Alek agreed, but decided on butterfish on root vegetables for himself. Getting the attention of a waiter was relatively easy via subtle application of his psychic powers. The arrival of their food put a dent in the conversation speed, but it continued nevertheless, the topic switching over to their respective workplaces.
"No, that's not how it works." She explained a question of Alek's. "Taxes, tariffs and tributes first go to the union government who then gives shares of it back to the local administrations." She paused, taking a sip from her whine before continuing. "And my job is essentially just making sure the numbers in the New Sileu budget add up how they are supposed to, which all too often they do not." Her face turned sour.
"Corruption?" Alek inquired, following up on the trail of thought she had left open, some of his attention focused on divining information about his meal.
"Corruption, criminal activity, negligence, bureaucratic inefficiency, you name it, we have seen it." Natalie sighed, poking her pastry with her fork. "Most often we can't even really do anything about it because the problem lies in how the UCE lies within this strange web of Coalition institutions. There are simply too many interest groups and not enough rules and regulations to bind them. And now President Renalt has vetoed the reform bill, making weeks of prep work useless."
Alek paused, studied her surface emotions before he hulled the table in a psychic aura that would stop others from listening in. "Renalt uses the Reform Bill as leverage to force certain Coalition officials to help him get reselected next year."
Natalie nipped at her wine glass, frowning. "Is that even legal?"
Alek chuckled ominously. "I don't think legality is a thing to worry about in those circles. It is as you said, too many interest groups: Politicians, industrialists, unions, guilds, the witch hunters, the military, they all have a stake in the game and their own interests. Getting them all to agree on something is…difficult."
"Does not sound to me like you like your job." She grimaced.
He shrugged. "I am good at it, but you are right, my heart is with other things."
"Oh, like what?"
"Creating metal sheet flowers for a beautiful woman." He smirked, satisfied to see Natalie blush ever so little. He rummaged through his pocket to retrieve and show her his pocket watch. "This is one of my more recent creations. I required one thousand finely crafted parts. It took a lot of experimenting with different alloys for the gears and springs. I discovered that using nickel-" Alek continued for a whole minute to talk about the up- and down-sides of working with different alloys, before stopping himself, thinking, then sighing. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"
"No I have not." She laughed, his excitement appearing a little weird and…cute to her. "You want me to tell you about the books I have read recently?"
He smiled at her warmly. "Sure."
Some time, and a tram ride back, later, Alek and Natalie said good bye in front of her door, his date having found the evening to be most enjoyable. It appeared he had managed to impress, meaning he had achieved his goal as far as he was concerned. Talking with her was…nice, he found as he made his way home.
A few days later Linds' exhausted and tired team assembled, more than a dozen people crowded together, sitting or standing in the ambassador's small office. The mood was grim and defeated. For more than a week they had gathered documents and reports, asked and convened with experts. Alek and Linds had met with countless other Coalition and third party officials to scout out the lay of the land, explore alternatives to the Yunion promethium, but nothing. There was no short or medium term replacement for the former lordships' wells.
The situation was, as they had found out, shit. As he had discovered in his talks with the Assemblies' ambassador, the Yunion was intending to play both superpowers against each other, see who would give the most concessions. A dangerous gamble, at some price the concessions they demanded would be more hassle than a military intervention by either side.
If Solimin outbid the Coalition or decided to intervene first, they would have a major strategic and resource advantage in the power struggle over Tenus. This was a..suboptimal outcome, but any outcome would likely lead to an escalation in some way.
This did not mean there were no options however. If Renalt wanted to block the Reform Bill, Alek could either force him psychically to retract his veto or even outright remove him. It might not go down well with Handler, but Renalt had enough enemies he could use as a cover. The UCE chancellor, who would take up the role of UCE president until a new one was selected, was much less driven by self interest in regards to the Reform Bill and would not veto it, if Alek had read him correctly.
In regards to the Yunion assembly however, there were two options, the plans he had gleaned from the Empire ambassador had been clear. Force them the Assemblies to yield or invade.
He could influence things to his design or engage as the Coalition "psychic attack dog" as some liked to call him. Handler had not put him on assignment for months and had told him previously when not to engage with certain ongoing events.
What was he to do?
[]Do nothing There would be a future opportunity for reform and the promethium price would stabilise again with time. None of the other options were to his liking.
[]Mind control President Renalt It would be relatively easy to have Renalt retract his veto. His will was strong but Alek's powers were stronger.
[]Assassinate Renalt The President was in the way of the reform and the chancellor, who was in line to become president should something happen to Renalt, was not.
[]Mind control the Yunion Assemblies Forcing the Assemblies to yield with his psychic might would be a bloodless way to regain access to the promethium fields.
[]Militarily Intervention Alas, there was convincing the Council of the necessity of military intervention. It would, according to the research of Lind's team, solve Renalts dilemma and would also turn him into a future ally.
[](Write-In)Combination of the above
Thanks for participating. I reserve myself the right to disregard, interpret, change and add to WH40k and 30k lore as I see fit to support the narrative. Comments and feedback sustain my soul. I am really not happy with these parts. Thats because diplomacy hard, but we need to get through it to get to the Crusade stuff.
VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED: The last part of this update contains some suggestive, although not explicit writing.
[X]Militarily Intervention
Intervention
Alekandors looked down into his mug with a sense of exhaustion. The bar they were in was full at this time of day and the amount of people enjoying a few hours after work created a pleasant psychic aura, countless voices and thoughts of people turning into an incomprehensible buzz when his concentration slipped for a moment. The ceramic vessel appeared comically small in his large hand as he raises it for a toast, the people sitting around the chair mirroring him. He took a moment to read their faces and their auras, before beginning to speak. "Before we begin, let me say something." He nudged their minds to turn their attention to him, waiting before he had everyone's attention before he continued. "Each and everyone of you has performed above my and Linds' expectations. You should be proud of yourselves. Thanks to your hard work we have saved the Reform Bill."
His short speech produced some hidden irritation amongst his team, one of which decided to voice it openly. Lievell was already slightly buzzed, her thoughts feeling sluggish. "You mean we spent a week for nothing Boss." She slurred, the bags under her eyes a little less bad than they had been the week before.
"Our mission was to figure out our options, not to prevent military intervention." Alek elaborated. "If we could have solved the situation without firing a single shot we should have done so, but your research laid clear there was no solution. In a better world we would not have to convince the Council to send in troops, but we live in a world where Solimin constantly seeks to undermine the Coalition. We need to look out for our interests too." He ended solemnly, taking a deep breath.
"If you say so, Bourgh." She mumbled, taking another sip. Alek had been so close to just doing nothing. What he was about to do would cost lives and cause destruction all over the former lordships' realms, but he could not exactly lock himself in his workshop every time a decision got tough. She however was not convinced, so Alek reached over with a hand to covertly imbue her with some positive psychic energy, her spirits lifting immediately. They were not here to brood over work anyway. "Come on Lievell. Relax a little."
"Maybe I will." She took a sip from her beer mug. "It is going to be a feast to see you sway the heavens-be-damned Council to go to War tomorrow."
Alek shrugged, gently smiling seeing her aura change towards a better mood. "Sway is such a strong word. I prefer 'convince'."
"Spoken like a true politician." She raised her ceramic mug, smirking, meaning it as a compliment. "On the boss and Linds."
"On the boss and Linds." The convened members of Linds team mirrored the toast, the conversation finally changing towards more casual topics.
"Sooo", Ters nudged Aleks massive side. "Wanna tell us about the mystery woman you have been seeing?"
"There is nothing mysterious about her." Alek defended himself, amused at the thoughts running over the surface of the young fathers mind. "We have been seeing each other for a few weeks."
"Will we get to meet her?" Lievell joined in.
"When I can be sure you all behave yourself." He joked, winking at her while he took a big gulp from his cup. The beer was bitter with a slight, alcoholic burn. Whether or not it was because he was a psyker or another quirk of his superhuman physiology, he had found he could not get drunk, no matter how hard he tried. It was a useful ability to have in the game of politics. Alcohol was served at almost any negotiation or council and tended to make others more sluggish, more open to suggestion while Alek remained steadfast as ever. "Did Ters ever bring Gena here?"
"She was always busy." He lamented and peeled some rock nuts, throwing them in an arc into his mouth. "And someone needs to take care of the little one."
"I for one am content to let Bourgh reveal her at his own pace." Harman grumbled, fiddling with his glass of cider. The older aides scratched his short beard and glowered at Ters. "You Ersliners are all too damn nosy, let the young man enjoy himself."
"I am sure he is enj-Ow." Ters was stopped by Lievell hitting him on the head.
It was the evening of the final council session, but Alek was still working. There was still a final piece of his plan into position, the most important one, one last councillor was to be convinced. Linds was following behind him, nervously throwing glances at the security officers accompanying them. The officers however were more concerned with Alek's solid and muscular form, who towered over the tallest of them by a foot and did not show the slightest bit of weariness in his stride, confidently marching forward in a well tailored and immaculate suit. They reached an ancient ironwood door, the officer's sergeant stepping forward to poke his head in. "Mistress, Linds and Bourgh have arrived."
"Send them in please."
The two of them stepped inside, Linds taking the lead, Alek following as his massive shadow. The room was massive, cavernous with a high ceiling. The lumen light fixtures were switched off, only a promethium gas fire at one end of the room providing light, casting everything in hard shadows. The woman at the other end was strong willed and excluded an aura of confidence as she turned around in her chair. She was old, her eyes were glazed, an infection having robbed her of her sight decades ago.
"Guild Mistress Catah." Linds and Alek bowed ever so slightly before they sat down on ornate chairs next to the current master of the Free Guilds of Sargell.
"Ambassador Linds, Alekandros Bourgh…" She bowed her head slightly. "...I have heard of you. You have many of the guild master's singing to the heavens at your skills as a craftsman."
"I think this is indeed me." Alek answered with a smile, making sure to pressure the familiar connection with his powers. Her aura shifted ever so slightly under the pressure, but he could not feel if it made a difference. Linds raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, seeing as Alek had made an in with the reclusive guild mistress.
"A shame you decided to not pursue a career in the guilds, you could have made Master of Masters in no time." Her face turned into a sneer. "It most certainly would have left me with a better successor than the current one."
"I appreciate the sentiment, Mistress, but-."
"Oh please", she waved it off. "Heavens, you make me feel old. Call me Catah."
"Catah, but", he continued. "I assume you know why we are here?"
"Of course"; she remarked, shifting a little in her seat. "You need my approval for the so-called military intervention in Yunion."
"Actually, we have more in mind." Linds interjected, leaning forward to hand her a manuscript typed in braille. He still felt nervous about this course of action, even if Alek was confident it would work. "We want you to give the opening address for the intervention at tomorrow's Council meeting."
"Have you lost your mind or do you think I'm a fool?" She huffed in anger. "I campaigned against this so-called military intervention since that idiot Renalt proposed it. When I was a child, the powers of Sangrell formed the Coalition to protect themselves against Solimin, not to become then."
"We are most aware." Alek replied politely, pressuring her with psychic waves of trust. "But I think I can convince you."
"You have a minute, mister Bourgh." She sneered, but less angry than a few moments ago.
"When you were a child and the Coalition was formed, the world was a different one. Solimin was the dominant power on Tenus, her old cities unyielding and her industry unmatched. Then the Great War happened and the Empire was defeated. The Imperator took his own life out of shame, leaving a child on the throne."
"I have lived through these events, mister Bourgh, don't give me a history lesson."
"I apologise, I was just setting the scene. Today, we live in a doupolar world. Tenus is dividing itself among two lines, those allied to Solimin and those allied to the Coalition. The day will come when the lines will be drawn fully, but it is not this day." He paused to stand up and continue his speech standing. "I would like to just spend my days making stuff. I want to draw and paint and smith and craft, but today I have a choice to make. Today we have a choice to make. We could decide to be better than Solimin and reject mirroring what you deem to be imperial ambitions, but this would just change the lines to be drawn less in our favour. If the world was not divided this way, maybe we would not need to act this way. Maybe one day, when everyone on Tenus is part of a whole, be it the Coalition, the Empire or something else entirely, can we cease this useless infighting for resources, land and people. But today-" He made a dramatic turn. "Today we have a choice to make. Would you want to draw the lines in our favour, in the Coalition's favour, the Coalition in whose Council you wield influence or in hers. She has decided to make use of witches and sorcery to defeat us."
Alek grew quiet for a second, taking a deep breath in. "I served at the battle of the overhand pass, Catah. I have faced the sorcerers in battle and have witnessed their unholy machinations. The heavens were full of foul lightning and the air heavy with their magic. I don't think you want to balance the weights in favour of the woman who puts us at risk of damnation."
Alek smiled, reinforcing his words with subtle psychic pressure, satisfied that his words seemed to fall on fertile ground within her mind. "I must think about this, but take your stupid drafts speech with you."
"Of course mistress". Linds replied neutrally, throwing Alek a confident smile. They did not speak until they were back in the high security tram, where Linds clapped his briefcase victoriously. "I think we got her."
"I will require some time, but I think yes, we were successful."
"Genius idea with the remark about the witches, Bourgh, didn't figure you would go against your own people."
Alekandros stared at him with a raised eyebrow, his glare intense enough to make the ambassador flinch. "Linds, would you believe me that I had never spoken to another Witch casually in my life?"
"I am sorry." Alek can feel he is. "I…I did not think."
"Yes you didn't. You don't even know why you are afraid of psykers. And I know what you think, no, it's not mind control. If I could or would just psychically dominate every person I came across this job would be so much simpler. What I said is true, Linds, Solimin is playing with forces they don't understand." The memory of the blood spell and the smell of electric air run through Aleks mind.
"But…you do?" The Ambassador's face is a shade paler.
Alek sighed. "There is much I don't know, but I know enough to know to keep my hands off a few things."
Alek sits in the council session, the large bowl shaped room filled to the brim with council officials, their aides, spectators and reporters as Mistress Catah holds her speech. It is a good one, full of heart and spirit that carries forth wide. The rest of the important Councilmen and -women were able to be convinced via favour trading and a reminder of dirt Alek had on one of their sons. He was hoping Coalition internal politics would become less of a knife fight once the Reform was passed. Nat had complained about corruption and here he was contributing to it to complete his own goals. Making her work more difficult seemed like something he did not want to do. "...and this is why fellow Councilmen that we have to assert ourselves against the aggressor who desires nothing but total domination of Tenus. We have given the neutral parties in this standoff between power long enough to pick a side. It shall be us, not the Empress and her corrupt court, who will carry the light of civilization forward into the future for all those that come after us."
Maybe it had worked a little too well, he thought to himself, as the council began to applaud the call for war by its most peaceful member. Linds stared neutrally into the room and clapped out of politeness, Alek mirroring his mentor as good as he could. The leader of the guilds finished and seated herself, Renalt followed the speech up with one of his own.
"There are many things to be said, but as the one who began to lobby for this course of action I commend the Council for coming to this decision." He declared, voice clear and filled with purpose. "And given this decision I have decided to retract my veto on the Reform Bill, given this institution appears ready to take the next step towards our every interest…"
Alek could feel Renalts gaze upon himself as he let the man rant on, applauded and cheered for. He had another data later with Natalie and this current task did not require much of his attention. He zoned out, shaking hands and smiling just to get the evening over himself, when a familiar figure approached.
One of Handler's agents.
He was led into a side room in the Coalition headquarters, nothing more than a storage closet, but with a vox receiver placed inside it. After squeezing himself inside, he picked up with a sigh and held it to his ear. "Hello Handler."
"Hello Alek, I take it you have been well."
"I have, how have you been? We did not speak for several months."
"Not everyone of us can have your constitution. I have spent the time observing how you would fare without instructions."
Alek stared against the blank wall for a moment. "Was that really necessary?"
"It was but you have performed as expected. I…" There was a pause in the connection, a slight default static in the connection before it opened up again. "...I have nothing to complain about."
"And what now?"
Handler chuckled. "Now, I think you have a date with a certain Natalie Dellon. I wish you a good evening, Bourgh."
The evening had indeed been good. The motion pict Natalie had chosen had been a tense, action filled tale of a man on a mission between the stars. She had mostly followed the movie for the story being told, while Alek had racked his brain trying to figure out how they had filmed the void battles between the hero Starjaunter and the enemy xenos, ugly things with big, ugly heads and green skin. It was a unique challenge, as there was no one's mind to scour for information. He was pretty sure the void vessels were models, but for figuring out how they had been placed into the darkness of space and the other environments he had to admit he did not know enough about cameras and film making to come to a conclusion, leaving him a little frustrated and on edge. He thought about using scyring to figure out the secret, but it would have been a little noticeable of he actually drifted off in his seat in the middle of the motion pict hall.
He still had fun. The way back was filled with excited discussion about it. Nat glad he appeared intrigued by it as well and promises were made to see other classic motion picts. For him the evening could have ended there, in front of her door as always, wishing each other good night or a nice day, but he could sense his data had other thoughts. It had been at the back of her mind ever since he had picked her up and the little flare became a small fire as she asked if he would like to stay the night.
First he explained that there would be a problem with that, as her bed would probably not fit him, so he suggested she stay the night at his place instead, which proved enough to make her blush in a very cute way, but she agreed. He did not need to read minds to know what was to follow and had prepared accordingly for this scenario, figuring it would occur sooner or later. Their height difference proved to be a renewed source of awkwardness between them, but there was no need to rush anything. They went slowly, trying to find a rythm that was comfortable to them both.
The experience itself he thought was nice enough, something he could see himself doing again in the future. Even if he discovered that he seemed to draw more satisfaction from Natalie's experiences than his own. Satisfying one's partner proved easy when one could read minds and had superhuman stamina, making it easy figure out what to do and what not do to and to keep doing it, but he could not help but feel a certain detachment when comparing his feelings with the one she had, less sensual, more muted, as if something was different about him. The train of thought continued until after they were done some time later, an ordeal that had left her sweaty, breathless and thoroughly exhausted and him yet barely out of breath content with stroking her long, dark brown hair.
"What is going on in your big head?" She asked him, still a little exhausted in the cover of darkness, putting her chin on his chest as she traced the outline of his defined muscles his her fingers.
"My head is not big."
"Everything about you is big." She joked and Alek could not help but pinch her a little in retaliation for the dig. Natalie giggled in response, wiggling against him, before leaning down on him again. "So what are you thinking about?"
"Spring tolerances", he lied. He did not dare to actually inform her of his thoughts. He had gone into this willing to try and make it work, but at this point he had fully realised there would be a disconnect to how she could feel about him and how he could feel about her. He liked Natalie, he cared about her. He appreciated her closeness and the conversations he could have with her, but could it be more? He did not know.
Then there was also the fact that she may become a target. Handler knew of her and if this relationship became official, she might just become the target of his ordinary political rivals. Ma was powerful enough that he did not need to worry, but Natalie was not, she would require his protection, even if she may not think she would need it. He could of course try to tell her some of the truth, but he could not predict how she would react perfectly.
"You are such a big dork you know that"; she hummed against his chest. "I think I now need to introduce you to my mother?"
What should he do?
[]Keep things as they were Some knowledge is dangerous had his mother told him often and maybe it was true. They had a good-ish thing going, she did not need to be involved.
[]Break it off Associating with her was no longer worth it for whatever reason. He would break off the relationship for his and her good.
[]Tell her some of the truth She deserved a little of the truth, enough so she would know what was in store for her.
[](Write-In) (In case one of you has a novel idea, needs to convince me)
How does the military intervention come to haunt Alekandros? Vote for one.
[]Favours comes to haunt the trader Convincing the Council to intervene in Yunion militarily required some behind the scenes dealings. Some of the people he traded favours with have come to collect upon them.
[]A war more brutal than thought The military intervention was supposed to take a few months at best, but for one reason or another it turned into an attritional slog that cost countless lives on both sides.
[]Geopolitical turn The intervention spooked several of the Coalition smaller allies into seeking protection under the Empress protective umbrella.
[]Disruption despite all efforts Destruction of the Yunion promethium extraction infrastructure during the intervention crashes the global Tenus promethium market.
What did Alek focus on during the next three years? (Vote for two)
[]The Lines are Drawn The first phase of the unfought war ends as all of Tenus is divided into being in the camp of one of two sides, The Sangrell Coalition and the Empire of Solimin. Alek used his diplomatic talents to make sure the lines were drawn favourably for the Coalition.
[]Arms Control Agreement The last years have seen an exponential increase in the size of Coalition and Empireal nuclear arsenals far beyond what either power should need. Reduction in size not only saves resources and cost, but also serves as an important step towards deescalation.
[]Cooperative Space Program Everyone on Tenus knew that humans came to this world from the heavens and returning there had been a dream of many wanting to one day reunite with their lost brothers and sisters between the stars. Instead of starting competitive programs, Solimin and Sargell could set aside their differences and bundle their resources.
[]International] Nuclear Non-Proliferation Agreement Atomic weapons are dangerous weapons that could set a dangerous precedent if ever used. Limiting the number of third-party actors with access to them reduces the chance one gets deployed.
[]Coalition Expansion By now the Coalition has many allies all over the world, many of which would be tremendous assets by becoming members directly, but the process of which is held back by internal disagreements only someone with supernatural powers could overcome.
[]Atomic Energy Bill Nuclear power offers tremendous potential for civilian use, but the secrets to which are held by a small number of the most powerful member states, who are unwilling to give them up. The AEB would offer technical and monetary support to every member wanting to build reactors for civilian use themselves.
[]Reduction in Defence Expenditure Ever since the great war all Coalition members have spent an unthinkable amount of their resources on procurement, maintenance and development of weapons, defence and security, causing many other issues in need of funding to be neglected.
[]Handler Identity So far Alek did not feel the need to figure out the identity of his mysterious benefactor, but it was probably time to do so, carefully and covertly as not to cause any rash reactions.
[]Master of the Guilds Alexandros spent some time perfecting all the skills the Free Guilds of Sangrell could teach him.
[]A Runic Start Discovering the knowledge behind runic symbols and words is a time consuming and work intensive progress, to make some headway with it Alek needs to dedicate some time towards it.
[]Corruption No More Apparently, the Coalition has certain corruption issues. While Alek has little experience in administrative matters, his status should allow for the removal of some red tape.
[]Councilman at Last Alekandros Bourgh is a well known figure in Council circles, but those who know his true nature also fear him and fear him in any position of power. Regardless, he will try to become an official on the Coalition Council.
[]Once more into the fire Alekandros still has the rank of a Platoon commander and he knows how to make use of it. He spent some of his time commanding units in the Intervention to bring it to a fast conclusion.
[](Write-in) (In case one of you has a novel idea, needs to convince me)
Thanks for participating. I reserve myself the right to disregard, interpret, change and add to WH40k and 30k lore as I see fit to support the narrative. Comments and feedback sustain my soul. Vote goes for two days so I can sign off on everyones write-ins.
