[center][i][h2] Nimue Arcada and the VII[/h2]
[h3]in[/h3]
[h1]The Ruminations of Nimue[/h1]
Sometime Before the Second Day of the Council of Nikaea[/i][/center]

The Llamrei hovered idly over the slowly moving mass that was the frontier world, Nikaea. The world that The Emperor had chosen for his Council on the Edict of Tolerance. The world, seemed to be chosen purely at random by The Emperor. Still, Nimue Arcadia, Primarch of the Seventh Legion, had arrived. She had missed the Triumph of Ullanor of course, but it was of no concern - really, if any of her daughters had taken part, it would have been a black-mark against them in the eyes of their sisters and certainly their Primarch. 

While perhaps Nimue would have laughed at the comedy that was the numerous attempts to thwart the Second Legion’s disgraceful actions - she could not do so, not while that man was here. 

The Emperor. She had not spoken to him in a great deal of time, and not for more than a few moments, moments to give new orders and reports of completed tasks. The last time that they had spoken at length was her arrival at Terra, before the Rangdan Xenocides. And before that… that day.

“My mistress” a voice softly said beside her, breaking her from her ruminations.

“The second session of the Council of Nikaea will likely commence soon. I am sure you have found the recordings of the first session most… enlightening?” the voice said. It was Nimue’s favoured aide and Equerry of the moment, Elizabeta, a daughter of one of the Autocrats of the Hive-World Krieg that the VII had made compliant. 

“To be honest Elizabeta, little of what was said was anything I have not yet already heard or knew would be said”. Nimue replied.

“Then… surely this session will be more fruitful? My father has ensured me that his contacts have ensured a large pool of examples against the Edict… and that Adept with the models… And with so many of your siblings… Your father-”

“The Emperor”. Nimue cut her Equerry off then. She would forgive Elizabeta, as she was newer to her inner circle and so did not understand the complexities of The Emperor and the Primarch. 

Her father, the one she loved and respected, was at Engraila still. 

“The Emperor, then. Surely he will have to take this all into account?” Elizabeta spoke then, more hesitantly than before. 

Nimue breathed in deeply, and was silent for a few moments, before finally deciding to speak again.“You will not repeat this, but I must inform you of certain truths. Micholi’s Edict… will never be dismantled. Presenting evidence to an emperor who certainly knows all the contents of the evidence already - who in fact is likely listening to this conversation as we speak, is futile. Nothing will come of this council. Micholi will speak of the Xenos as brothers, we will speak how we must suffer them not to live... The Emperor will conclude that we are both wrong and that of course it was always the purpose of the Imperium to make the xenos 'useful'. We will continue as the status quo".

“H-How could you possibly know this? Have you foreseen it?” Elizabeta gasped.

“One does not need to look into the threads of fate to see the outcome of this meeting. They only need to know the past. The Primarch of the Second Legion… is one of The Emperor’s favoured. He has been given more leeway and exceptions than any one of us, perhaps other than that hideously ugly thing they call Eiohsa. To remove the edict would mean destroying Micholi’s playthings… and even if the other Primarchs do not believe it, Micholi would fight and die for those things. He would choose them over us”. 

“Then so be it!” The Equerry said confidently, having no more love for the Second Legion than her mistress. 

“You forget, little one. This is The Emperor we speak of. He will not slay his favoured son over the complaints of us, any of us… let alone myself”. Nimue had no illusions to her own status amongst the twenty. That she was the least of them in The Emperor’s eyes. “We must sit, and perhaps rage against the winds, as Micholi makes a plaything of the Imperium” Nimue said, anger cold and restrained by defeat and resignation. “What would lead to my destruction in mere moments, the Emperor will permit his favoured many times over”.

“That is simply what it means to be a Primarch”.

A terrible and awkward silence followed, as the Equerry contemplated the words of her mistress, the hopelessness of their cause. From then, the Equerry and sevitor aids went to preparing for their appearance at the Council. The Equerry was present for her mistress’ changing, the Primarch demanding, as usual, that they dress her. She could certainly do so herself - but it was as tradition dictated. Usually they would talk idly of small matters, but after such a conversation this ritual was done in silence. 

Nimue did not wear her usual translucent silks and jewellry. While her nakedness on Engraila as its Goddess or amongst other mortals was acceptable, as the engulfing light of her golden aura made her but a silhouette, amongst so many powerful figures beyond the scope of mere morals her aura would be significantly dimmed. She also did not wear the height of fashion as she would have otherwise wished to, something Sekhmetara would likely be disappointed in. Instead, she wore a bastardized fusion of a dress and ceremonial armour, decorative curaisse surrounded by frills and complex patterns of cloth. 

The intention, at least, the Equerry theorised, was to convey the purity of her purpose: She was here for conflict, but amongst the elites of society rather than on the battlefield, where true Astartes armour would have been more appropriate. To Elizabeta, Nimue appeared impossibly beautiful in the ensemble… but then, to her, Nimue would likely be impossibly beautiful in anything.

Made ready now, the Equerry followed Nimue and a small gathered entourage for the flight down to Nikaea, and towards, what her Mistress believed to be a lost cause.