The Primarch strode through the streets of Ummaria, his insistence on being let in to see its ruler somehow having had the entirety of the guard give him free reign to walk through the great city he was in. Hundreds, soon thousands of people came to watch the silver child. From afar that was certainly what it looked like. Yet those at the very fronts of the crowds would realize that this thing had corded muscles that even to the naked eye could be seen to be greater than that of even the mutants on some of the planet’s cursed lands. 

Nobody spoke to it, all were in awe. Sheitan, some people called it. They had seen the rabid tribesmen bring forth such creatures at times, and this stranger certainly had an otherwordly appearance like they did. Yet, it was not prancing about tearing people apart. In fact, it had an otherworldly beauty and not one that brought the mind to immodest thoughts like the sheitan that were of handsome form.

Priests murmured strange thoughts as they saw it pass by, was this a Deva? An Avatar of God, of the Truth? It certainly seemed to foresee a higher purpose for itself, as it went right towards the palace of the Grand Heirarch. 

It ascended the steps with the confidence that it was meant to be here, time almost slowing for the onlookers. The steps designed carefully to take a solar minute for most men to ascend seemed to take lazy hours for the arrival to traverse. But, if one looked at the sun it would not have shifted by any amount.

At the top, two guards stood sentinel. Their wills were stronger than that of billions on Brahms, but they melted as they saw the Primarch smile at them in a way so horrific. The corners of its lips went as high as either eyeball, and at that moment they opened the gates. 

The smile very abruptly became the usual friendly gesture as the two men acquiesced to the unspoken command of the skylander, the child walking inwards. There in the distance sat Roskandar, the Heirarch. His son flanked his left side, the High-Priest of Ummaria flanked his right. 

As the Primarch stood before him with hands clasped behind his back, Roskandar’s desire to wait for the intruder to explain himself wordlessly as a show of his will collapsed even quicker than the spines of the guards that had let it in. “What are you. I know of your arrival, the messenger pigeons flew faster than you came. You were not invited!” The Grand Heirarch roared, rallying some of the menace that had let him climb to his current position all those years ago.

For its part the child cocked its head, examining the Heirarch for a few minutes, as if watching an interesting new insect under a microscope. Eventually however, he knelt and then pressed both hands and forehead to the ground in supplication in an almost instant reversal of what many present has mentally parsed as an attempt to intimidate the ruler of Ummaria. 

“Oh Lord of Ummaria, you are a ruler noblest, one to whom I am supplicant.” The stranger said, its voice not in the slightest suppressed by its position and indeed seemingly louder, as if spoken by lips within one’s very ears. Yet despite this it was soft, tender almost like a lover’s touch.

“I seek to find service under you, such that your throne may eclipse the very sun.”

“Rise.” The Grand Heirarch growled faintly as he was mollified but still confused. “That tells me little, no-name. Explain yourself. Who are you, where from, why do you believe I should take you in? What do you offer?”

Only when the Grand Heirarch did finish speaking did the Primarch stand as commanded, bowing to reiterate his almost unnatural recognition of a superior. 

“I shall answer your queries in the order that makes the following best understood.”

“Go on.”

“I do not know where I am from, not in a meaningful sense. I know I came from the stars, my arrival heralded by a sharp descent from the stars. I come from a realm outside of this world, and yet I know not any more. The primitives of the wild seemed to think they had brought me forth, yet this I believe to be wrong. They believed me sacred. This I too believe to be wrong. I have no name, not one I care to keep. But I know I am destined for greater things.”

“Explain.”

“I am more intelligent than you. Any of you.” He said, turning to the High Priest and the many other nobles present within the chamber. Indignant gasps spread out across many voices, with the brows of the trio before the Primarch furrowing in a synchronous fashion. 

“I mean this not as an insult, but as a mere observation. The previous sunrise, I knew not your language. I have been here some few hundred heartbeats, yet I know it better now than any present. If you would but give me the means, I can show you I can create great works faster than you could even think of them. I have already concluded knowledge your greatest researchers believe to be lost to time. I am stronger than any present in any physical test, with my bared flesh I could destroy your armies.” The Primarch closed its eyes, and inhaled deeply.

“But I will not. I know now that my betterness than any man on this world does not mean I cannot be humble and see the chinks in my proverbial armour. I am inexperienced, I know not of this world, how to lead it. But I may still serve, tell truths and wisdom none else will.”

“You wish to be an advisor after presuming so much?” The Heirarch demanded, for now to the surprise of the court not sounding particularly angered.

“Advisor, and student. There will come a day when I will be of greater import to this realm than you, but I can promise that when that day comes your children, grand children, and great grandchildren all of whom I will outlive will have secured themselves a finer life and fate than you could even dream of in this moment. This is a promise not out of mere confidence, but an inescapable guarantee if you accede to my request.” 

The Heirarch stood at this moment, walking to a brazier some distance from himself and wafting the scented smokes leisurely drifting skywards back to himself. As sweat began to come from his crowned forehead he turned back to the Primarch.

“You come into my home, and promise to supplant my dynasty? Ambitious, but I am afraid I must decline. I bid you no ill will, child, but your promise is not enticing enough. If that is all, I believe I must exile you for this statement. I do not wish assembled company to believe this to be an invitation to come forth with similar ideas.” He stated, waving a hand across the onlooking court. 

Shock came over the face of the Primarch, followed by a brief panic, its face molding and remolding itself into different shapes as it could not settle on emotion until eventually coming upon a pleading one. “You do not understand, I fault you for this. I warn you now. Should you reject me, I will find another realm to perfect. It will eclipse your’s, and in likely jealousy you shall strike out, forcing me to thereby destroy your majesty. I beg of you, do not do this. Ummaria is the greatest land of this world, I wish to see it prosper and grow! Not, to burn and shatter.”

“Is that all?”

“Please!”

“Leave.”

Fluid skin turned this way and that upon the child’s visage, until eventually settling upon a stoic one even as fluid tears came out of yet incomplete eyes.

“I hope you can forgive me for what will have to be done.” With another thought he turned to the Heirarch’s son. “I hope you can forgive your father for what he will bring upon you.” 

With that, the Primarch left Ummaria as wordlessly as he had first entered it.

[hr]

He wandered the deserts for some days, perfecting his thought, his speech, coming to new conclusions, thought systems and patterns. His musings in the arid sands were stopped abruptly as a column of people walked towards him. A majority were shackled, with some prodding and goading the restrained folk with spears and other cruel implements. 

With great curiosity the Primarch walked towards them. “I say!” he called out. Hundreds of heads turning this way and that to try find where the newcomer was. “I say!” He repeated, this time using the power of his voice to have all the humans instantly know where he was calling from. 

In a flash, he sprinted towards them, in particular stopping before their leader based upon his head-dress having the most flowers and shiny stones on it.

“Tell me, why are these men so restrained?” he asked cheerily. 

“What?” the warrior asked.

“These people. They are not able to act freely owing to these chains binding them. Why is this?”

“They are mine?”

“Elaborate, please.”

“You have something in your ears, sura? We defeated the Godless. Did the wisemen not summon you?”

“They do not wish to be like this?” the Primarch asked, ignoring the latter question. The thought was very common!

“The desires of the faithless do not concern sons of the great four!” The tribal shouted, seemingly pleased with himself as he roared and shook a spear to the subsequent cheers of his fellow warriors.

“I see.” It took a little more than a second for the warband to be slain, most of the fallen bodies having only a finger-shaped hole in their throats. 

With a flick of its wrist, it tossed a rusty key towards one of the shackled men who undid his collar and then passed it to the next one. 

“Who are you?” the bearded fellow asked, his skinny, starved frame trembling slightly as his freedom was bought with a sight far more terrifying than he had imagined the horrors his captors would inflict on him. 

“I have told this tale many times, but I am delighted to recount it again. Very simply, I came from the sky. Many believe they called me forth from their Gods, but this is likely a thought in error. I do not know of anything before I fell from above! I have no name, but since it is so often asked of me, would you give me one?”

A small rope of stunned drool hung from the man’s beard, before in awe he rasped a phrase. “Amunal. Born of the Sun.