I’ve been having fun cooking up Poland, but with the fun “What if” of Konstantin being crowned King of Poland.
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The Tired One
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<Snipped quote by Lauder>
muahahhahhhahahahhahahahhahahahahhahaha
I shall stake my place as the Land of the Poles! Maybe this time they won’t be eaten by three separate countries and constantly turned into a puppet country!
Poland can into space!
Poland can into space!
Nalusa
“Behold yonder and seeth our shah, so resplendent and fustian a sir yet succumbed with grief and tragedy. Doth thee not seeth yond that gent suffers with us? His sons hadst been lay base upon the day of red sun? Certes any sir wouldst beest wrought with despair to seeth his children dead by any such hest, coequal shouldst it cometh from the gods?”
-Herald of the Great Shah Hurang
Hurang lay upon his bed, merely gazing upon the wall in a sadness that no parent should ever have to come to terms with. His sons all lay dead upon the field of battle and he knew that it had been his fault for sending them to lead his armies into those now bloodied fields to the south. Had he been less impetuous perhaps they would yet live, but he could still hear the hallowed words of the Red Sun ringing in his head - compelled to fight against his better judgment. But now, Hurang merely clutched tightly upon the sword of his eldest, the sword that he had gifted his son to aid him in battle. The shah had since lost the ability to weep for his lost children, only hoping that his misery would soon come to an end - death would return him to his sons soon enough.
The Nalusan Shah shifted in his bed to check his shoulder, seeing that his wife had long since left his bed - not content to sleep next to a weeping man such as he. It was a pitiful thing to be dejected by one's own wife, for it had been days ago where he had been merry and treated her as if she were the only thing that he could live for in this world - the news of death, however, forced them apart. That said, Hurang wished for nothing more than to be alone with the hallowed items of his sons to comfort him, not that he could receive comfort in the death of his children. After all, who amongst his subjects could share in his grief?
Turning in his bed, trying to get comfortable, he let out a pained hiss as a reminder of the sun’s existence made itself known in his eyes. Has the sun always been so bright? Had it always looked upon him in such a pitiful manner? With a melancholy sigh, Hurang knew that he could not plead for further sleep for the sun beckoned him to attend to his people - to attend to matters of state. Yet, even as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, knocking the goblet to the side without care, Hurang could not release his clutch of his eldest’s sword. How could he let go of the one thing that he currently held so dear to his heart.
Hurang would eventually get to his feet and dither about before finally dressing himself, making himself seem of disheveled royalty. Slowly did he walked through the halls of his home, his feet seemed so heavy that they must be dragged forwards. There was nothing more that Hurang could do as he slowly crept his way to his throne for all of his court to see - the priests, the nobles, his confidants, and his wife could all see Hurang trudge his way to throne. Yet, they said nothing, no words to console him nor any gesture for him to distract himself from the entropic pain that ate at him. All they did was pity him, gazing upon him in silence with sorrow filled eyes as he sat upon the throne and slumped down, unable to muster the energy to even seem regal.
The day dragged on, he answered questions that he hardly focused on - merely spouting out whatever would get whoever conversed with him out of his hair. Hurang no longer cared about his post as the malaise that his mind would always remind him to clutch his son’s sword until eventually he felt his emotions begin to get the better of him. The shah gazed into the sword and the reflection he saw was that of his eldest, his heir. It made his broken will shatter and all that he could do was weep, breaking down in front of his court.
“M-my Lord, but one more cometh for an audience,” a courtier said nervously, attempting to help the shah bring himself together before the final person would come before the court. The servant continued to whisper into Hurang’s ear, “He is an outsider, we mustn't show weakness to those of another land.”
With a drawn out breath, Hurang straightened himself and looked to the door with an impassive look, merely ready for the day to finally be at an end. Yet, his tired mind would be stirred as the stranger walked in with his dog, while it would have been mundane, it was the garb of the stranger that made Hurang’s interest rise. The man was adorned with jewels and golden wears that certainly could not have come from any of the nearby lands - certainly he must have come from outside of Nalusa. His black beard was finely kept, braided in a way that a woman would do her hair and a golden band wrapped itself around the short curls of his head. The dog’s fur was blue upon the top and white upon the bottom with jewels of different colors impeded in the beast’s skin. Light spilled from behind the two, the setting sun cascading into the room threatening to blind all in the room.
Hurang would not be the first to speak as the stranger did not wait to be welcomed by the shah or his court, his voice carried with it a cruel satisfaction, “Good day, little shah. I have traveled far to marvel at the wonders of your city. I have heard it is so great and opulent that it would match the moon in its beauty.”
The stranger’s words made the shah cock an eyebrow before he would respond slowly and solemnly, “You will find nought but heartache and woe, stranger. Our city has lost much the past few moons, there are hardly any men to stand vigil at night.”
The strange man let out a light laugh, “Such is the cost of war, Shah Hurang. We must celebrate your victories, surely your sons would be out making merry with the people!”
“Speak of my sons again and I shall rip your tongue out!” The shah snarled in a sudden anger, causing the stranger’s smile to change only to mild interest. The room was silent with the exception of the dog who growled lightly at Hurang, positioning itself between its strange master and the shah. Hurang leaned back in his throne, allowing his son’s sword to rest in his lap for the time being. He would speak again, this time restraining the sudden urge of anger, “There will be no celebration, even if the gods themselves demanded it.”
The stranger frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the answer but, without another word, turned away from the shah with a flourish of his cape. The dog snapped its jaws at the shah before turning to follow its master out the door which came to a close without the aid of any of the servants. Hurang slumped back in his seat and loosed a pained sigh, knowing that the interaction had been merely too much for him. Sleep called for him again and he stood to dismiss the court but before he could, there was a sound of drums and music that came from outside the temple palace. The court all looked at each other and muttered in confusion, but many broke from their positions to see what would be happening, including the shah himself who continued to keep the sword clutched tightly at his side.
Upon the balcony, the shah saw the opulent stranger rousing the populace into a fervor of festivities that would have been reserved only for his own triumphs. The people formed a circle around the stranger’s form, watching as he spoke to them, but Hurang could not make out what they said. His own coronation as the Shah of his own lands had seen such happiness and jealous rage began to spur within his heart as he moved towards the stairway of the temple. Yet, he stopped when he saw the dog sitting vigil on the way down, staring at Hurang with glowing yellow eyes and a growl so fierce that the dog seemed a demon!
Hurang stopped a few paces from the dog, too afraid of moving past it, but, focusing back to the crowd of the people around the stranger, the shah would scream and holler to get the people’s attention. Eventually all would look to their leader in time, but before the shah could even bother to speak it would be he, the foreigner who would call out to Hurang. The voice mocked him, “Oh look upon the shah! So inconsolable is he that he would come to ruin our fun!”
The crowd began to boo and jeer at their shah, but Hurang’s anger would quell them, “I will not be mocked by some cretin from far away! I do not celebrate our losses nor will I celebrate victory in a war compelled by the gods that cost my sons!”
“But the gods are what brought you victory! Even the lands that you rule!”
“The gods are nothing! They took- no, killed my sons! Have you not seen the red sun!”
It was after that statement that Hurang would come to regret his words as within the blink of an eye the stranger was not within his sight. Hurang looked around before he saw a silhouette behind him, but quickly seeing that it was the stranger, the shah raised his sword to stab at Him.
Yet the sword was shattered upon His skin, metal fragments clattering to the ground as His glowing eyes pierced into Hurang’s own. As He spoke, light came from His mouth blinding the shah and forcing him to look away, raising his hands to block away His light.
”You would dare say that I am nothing? That my Lords are nothing?”
Hurang could only stutter, unable to find words in His presence.
”I grant you power to rule and you shun me after the loss of your sons.”
“You are not more important to me than my sons!” Hurang cried, falling to his knees as His divine will compelled him to, his legs having become weak in His presence. He did not know what to do any more, not even able to form any further coherent thought as the growling dog drew closer and closer.
”I am Shahansha, Shah of Shahs! You have abandoned me, He Who Stands Above All, the Great Sun! Your sons serve me in death!”
It was at these words that Huran’s eyes widened and he was forced to look upon Shahansha with tears streaming from his eyes. He knew not what to say but could only fall and prostrate himself above his Lord, pleading to see his sons once again and to return them from a death wrongfully deserved. Yet, there was silence, no answer from Shahansha, who cast his light elsewhere, bringing darkness to Hurang’s world.
”You have abandoned me, and so my Light shall abandon you. You are no shah any longer.”
“Behold yonder and seeth our shah, so resplendent and fustian a sir yet succumbed with grief and tragedy. Doth thee not seeth yond that gent suffers with us? His sons hadst been lay base upon the day of red sun? Certes any sir wouldst beest wrought with despair to seeth his children dead by any such hest, coequal shouldst it cometh from the gods?”
-Herald of the Great Shah Hurang
Hurang lay upon his bed, merely gazing upon the wall in a sadness that no parent should ever have to come to terms with. His sons all lay dead upon the field of battle and he knew that it had been his fault for sending them to lead his armies into those now bloodied fields to the south. Had he been less impetuous perhaps they would yet live, but he could still hear the hallowed words of the Red Sun ringing in his head - compelled to fight against his better judgment. But now, Hurang merely clutched tightly upon the sword of his eldest, the sword that he had gifted his son to aid him in battle. The shah had since lost the ability to weep for his lost children, only hoping that his misery would soon come to an end - death would return him to his sons soon enough.
The Nalusan Shah shifted in his bed to check his shoulder, seeing that his wife had long since left his bed - not content to sleep next to a weeping man such as he. It was a pitiful thing to be dejected by one's own wife, for it had been days ago where he had been merry and treated her as if she were the only thing that he could live for in this world - the news of death, however, forced them apart. That said, Hurang wished for nothing more than to be alone with the hallowed items of his sons to comfort him, not that he could receive comfort in the death of his children. After all, who amongst his subjects could share in his grief?
Turning in his bed, trying to get comfortable, he let out a pained hiss as a reminder of the sun’s existence made itself known in his eyes. Has the sun always been so bright? Had it always looked upon him in such a pitiful manner? With a melancholy sigh, Hurang knew that he could not plead for further sleep for the sun beckoned him to attend to his people - to attend to matters of state. Yet, even as he swung his legs over the side of his bed, knocking the goblet to the side without care, Hurang could not release his clutch of his eldest’s sword. How could he let go of the one thing that he currently held so dear to his heart.
Hurang would eventually get to his feet and dither about before finally dressing himself, making himself seem of disheveled royalty. Slowly did he walked through the halls of his home, his feet seemed so heavy that they must be dragged forwards. There was nothing more that Hurang could do as he slowly crept his way to his throne for all of his court to see - the priests, the nobles, his confidants, and his wife could all see Hurang trudge his way to throne. Yet, they said nothing, no words to console him nor any gesture for him to distract himself from the entropic pain that ate at him. All they did was pity him, gazing upon him in silence with sorrow filled eyes as he sat upon the throne and slumped down, unable to muster the energy to even seem regal.
The day dragged on, he answered questions that he hardly focused on - merely spouting out whatever would get whoever conversed with him out of his hair. Hurang no longer cared about his post as the malaise that his mind would always remind him to clutch his son’s sword until eventually he felt his emotions begin to get the better of him. The shah gazed into the sword and the reflection he saw was that of his eldest, his heir. It made his broken will shatter and all that he could do was weep, breaking down in front of his court.
“M-my Lord, but one more cometh for an audience,” a courtier said nervously, attempting to help the shah bring himself together before the final person would come before the court. The servant continued to whisper into Hurang’s ear, “He is an outsider, we mustn't show weakness to those of another land.”
With a drawn out breath, Hurang straightened himself and looked to the door with an impassive look, merely ready for the day to finally be at an end. Yet, his tired mind would be stirred as the stranger walked in with his dog, while it would have been mundane, it was the garb of the stranger that made Hurang’s interest rise. The man was adorned with jewels and golden wears that certainly could not have come from any of the nearby lands - certainly he must have come from outside of Nalusa. His black beard was finely kept, braided in a way that a woman would do her hair and a golden band wrapped itself around the short curls of his head. The dog’s fur was blue upon the top and white upon the bottom with jewels of different colors impeded in the beast’s skin. Light spilled from behind the two, the setting sun cascading into the room threatening to blind all in the room.
Hurang would not be the first to speak as the stranger did not wait to be welcomed by the shah or his court, his voice carried with it a cruel satisfaction, “Good day, little shah. I have traveled far to marvel at the wonders of your city. I have heard it is so great and opulent that it would match the moon in its beauty.”
The stranger’s words made the shah cock an eyebrow before he would respond slowly and solemnly, “You will find nought but heartache and woe, stranger. Our city has lost much the past few moons, there are hardly any men to stand vigil at night.”
The strange man let out a light laugh, “Such is the cost of war, Shah Hurang. We must celebrate your victories, surely your sons would be out making merry with the people!”
“Speak of my sons again and I shall rip your tongue out!” The shah snarled in a sudden anger, causing the stranger’s smile to change only to mild interest. The room was silent with the exception of the dog who growled lightly at Hurang, positioning itself between its strange master and the shah. Hurang leaned back in his throne, allowing his son’s sword to rest in his lap for the time being. He would speak again, this time restraining the sudden urge of anger, “There will be no celebration, even if the gods themselves demanded it.”
The stranger frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the answer but, without another word, turned away from the shah with a flourish of his cape. The dog snapped its jaws at the shah before turning to follow its master out the door which came to a close without the aid of any of the servants. Hurang slumped back in his seat and loosed a pained sigh, knowing that the interaction had been merely too much for him. Sleep called for him again and he stood to dismiss the court but before he could, there was a sound of drums and music that came from outside the temple palace. The court all looked at each other and muttered in confusion, but many broke from their positions to see what would be happening, including the shah himself who continued to keep the sword clutched tightly at his side.
Upon the balcony, the shah saw the opulent stranger rousing the populace into a fervor of festivities that would have been reserved only for his own triumphs. The people formed a circle around the stranger’s form, watching as he spoke to them, but Hurang could not make out what they said. His own coronation as the Shah of his own lands had seen such happiness and jealous rage began to spur within his heart as he moved towards the stairway of the temple. Yet, he stopped when he saw the dog sitting vigil on the way down, staring at Hurang with glowing yellow eyes and a growl so fierce that the dog seemed a demon!
Hurang stopped a few paces from the dog, too afraid of moving past it, but, focusing back to the crowd of the people around the stranger, the shah would scream and holler to get the people’s attention. Eventually all would look to their leader in time, but before the shah could even bother to speak it would be he, the foreigner who would call out to Hurang. The voice mocked him, “Oh look upon the shah! So inconsolable is he that he would come to ruin our fun!”
The crowd began to boo and jeer at their shah, but Hurang’s anger would quell them, “I will not be mocked by some cretin from far away! I do not celebrate our losses nor will I celebrate victory in a war compelled by the gods that cost my sons!”
“But the gods are what brought you victory! Even the lands that you rule!”
“The gods are nothing! They took- no, killed my sons! Have you not seen the red sun!”
It was after that statement that Hurang would come to regret his words as within the blink of an eye the stranger was not within his sight. Hurang looked around before he saw a silhouette behind him, but quickly seeing that it was the stranger, the shah raised his sword to stab at Him.
Yet the sword was shattered upon His skin, metal fragments clattering to the ground as His glowing eyes pierced into Hurang’s own. As He spoke, light came from His mouth blinding the shah and forcing him to look away, raising his hands to block away His light.
”You would dare say that I am nothing? That my Lords are nothing?”
Hurang could only stutter, unable to find words in His presence.
”I grant you power to rule and you shun me after the loss of your sons.”
“You are not more important to me than my sons!” Hurang cried, falling to his knees as His divine will compelled him to, his legs having become weak in His presence. He did not know what to do any more, not even able to form any further coherent thought as the growling dog drew closer and closer.
”I am Shahansha, Shah of Shahs! You have abandoned me, He Who Stands Above All, the Great Sun! Your sons serve me in death!”
It was at these words that Huran’s eyes widened and he was forced to look upon Shahansha with tears streaming from his eyes. He knew not what to say but could only fall and prostrate himself above his Lord, pleading to see his sons once again and to return them from a death wrongfully deserved. Yet, there was silence, no answer from Shahansha, who cast his light elsewhere, bringing darkness to Hurang’s world.
”You have abandoned me, and so my Light shall abandon you. You are no shah any longer.”
The Monarch of All
The palace yielded armories upon armories yet there were no souls to garrison them.
Weapons and armors were being made upon the Galbar within the continent-sized forge raised by Voligan, and yet there were none to wield such great and terrible tools.
The Divine Palace, in all its resplendent glory and filled with gardens and libraries, was devoid of life to walk upon those hallowed grounds. There were mice and rodents, but they seldom strayed into galleries of art or into any room occupied by another. The Monarch of All was left with none except for Tlanextic who had taken up the mantle of guarding the great bridge that connected the Galbar to the Divine Palace. Yet, Tlanextic was the master of the Palace Guard with no guards to lead or organize into ranks to defend the Great Sun and all His domain. It was a fact that the Monarch of All knew that He would have to rectify, especially now that some gods may rally against HIs cause.
Thus, Tlanextic was summoned to that hallowed throne to once more pay heed to the Monarch of All’s words and wisdom - two bright souls sitting with each other. Bowing to the Great Sun, it was then that the Monarch of All would speak and let His will be known to the First Tlatoani of Chicomoztoc. His words echoed throughout the chamber, as if a chorus of His will was making itself known to the two kings.
”Tlanextic, it has come time that we have made an army for you to lead and bring strength to my domain.”
“Thy will be done anon,” the brazen spirit’s voice echoed from within a suit of divine armor, “within heaven, as on the Galbar. Whencesoever they might hail, this soothfast servant will guide them in thy name.”
The Monarch of All may have not been visibly smiling but it was clear that He was for Tlanextic was one of the few that knew how to stroke His ego, the only mortal that had been able to truly please him. It was another moment of thought as the Great Sun thought of how best to discern what souls would be able to fight for him. For only the most dedicated of souls and only the most brave of the mortals would be able to serve after death, none other would be able to hold the mantle as one of His guardians. There was no idea that could presently come to His mind as He was perhaps too critical of most other mortals, knowing that there would never be another Tlanextic that could grace His palace halls. Though, perhaps there needn’t be such a need for another god-king to be recruited to His cause for the Monarch of All looked down upon the mortal.
Who else would know who would be best for the Palace Guardians than the very captain of them?
”Tlanextic, I seem to be struggling on how best to recruit those suitable enough for your men. If it were my way, it would be more of you, and yet, I know that there will never be another Tlatoani of your power and devotion. Who would you feel best to be amongst your ranks, o’ wise Tlatoani?”
”Shouldst thou count any number of my progeny thither worthy, ‘twould be an honor to raise the fain to thy repair and thy host.”
He shifted in the throne, looking onto Tlanextic with amusement before His voice once more spoke and cast away the mortal’s original idea.
”If they prove themselves worthy then yes, but a force of your progeny alone would not be enough to stand against the forces that would be against us.”
”Nowise beyond thy power be it to fashion a host from nothing,” Tlanextic reminded his lord. ”Still, fire that coldens anon has an appetency to break asunder. If it behoof thee to claim only the most tested of rocks, then quiz the crucible yonder,” the guardian went on, opening the heavenly bridge if only to use it as a window. “There, I See war,” the Protector of the Vestibule finished, one of his many hands pointing through the aperture to the rugged grasslands of Nalusa.
There, far below, a war began as man fought maramoda. From his silent post above, Tlanextic had watched their doings with his two eyes and Seen them with his third. From his bridge he heard the grass grow, and felt the thuds of the dead as they fell upon the ground. Some among those warriors were worthy; others were recreants, but the crucible of war sorted them easily enough.
Yet, he did not notice the Monarch of All extending out a hand to seize the heavens of that country until the light of the fields of battle turned red - red as if blood itself made up the sun. Turning around, Tlanextic saw not the familiar sight of his liege, but a wrathful being that cast off pride and sadism in droves and He watched Nalusa with a burning red glare. This was one aspect that Tlanextic had not yet seen - that none of the gods had claimed quite yet. It was War, bloody and unrelenting. His red glow cast itself over the warriors, burning within them the desire to fight - the desire to survive and win. The Great Sun looked upon both Human and Maramoda, and so War uttered unto them a single command.
”Fight.”
Voligan Week
There in the heart of the Forge of Worlds, the great anvil of Voligan in which countless artifacts were amassed in the name of the Monarch of All, stirred the many hands of the Earthheart’s servants. They toiled and pounded away upon metals, warping their forms into shapes of all those mortals that inhabited the Galbar - those that would be chosen to serve the venerable Sun God in all due time. Those husks knew not what they did, less so the purpose of their task, but all was to the Earth Lord’s design for autonomous production. The Automatons there stirred endlessly - without tire or hunger to compel them otherwise in the march forwards in the name of their creator and his Liege.
Yet, just as meticulously as the automatons went about their duties, a single light descended from the skies towards the continent. The Forge of Worlds may have had deterrents against outside forces but this light attracted no such ire for it could not be seen by those who were not of divine blood. It traveled the length of the great workshop, inspecting the automatons all the way until it settled behind one. The light wordlessly fluttered around the empty vessel, looking upon the sword that it was crafting, pounding metal against metal in a monotonous fashion. Once the sword was formed into shape it passed it to another of its kind before the light entered the form of the automaton.
The metallic being studied itself with a consciousness that it did not have, yet it knew exactly what it was and even knew of its purpose! Not many beings could confidently know such things and yet the simple automaton did, and it was proud of such a feat. It stood triumphantly with its form before a voice that repeated in countless echoes spoke out, uttering a name to itself, “Vilicus.”
Vilicus turned his head and looked at another of his own kind before clumsy shuffling over, it was odd to have limbs but it knew how to use them in some capacity. He took a chest piece and held it to the sun, inspecting it with eyes that it did not have before carelessly throwing it to the ground with an angered grunt. The other automaton did nothing more than look at the one who threw away its project, but did not complain (for it simply could not) and went to pick up the chest piece before its hand was slapped away by Vilicus.
“No! You cannot use such a ghastly thing! It has no form - nothing even remotely ornate about it!” Vilicus scolded the soulless machine, though letting out a disappointed sigh as the being continued to pick up its project and walk back to its post. Looking back to the sun, Vilicus spoke to the Great Sun, “Master, why do these things not understand true art?”
Without waiting for an answer, the life-filled automaton stomped deeper into the Forge of Worlds towards an area that seemed to be storing the finished goods. The artist could do nothing more than let out a desperate cry at the sight that had befallen him! He turned away and felt as if he needed to wretch (even though he physically had no such feeling) and fell to his knees in tears! For all the arms and armors were nothing more than bare metals, unpainted and ghastly beyond reproach! He slammed a metallic fist into the ground unable to comprehend the horrors that had tainted his mind.
“This cannot stand! I will not allow a single shipment to go like this!” He raged, unable to allow these to exist in His world. Vilicus looked to the air once more, gazing at the perfect artistry that was the Great Sun and His great architecture. How the soul wished that he could have been back there, creating art with the new body that he had possessed! Yet, he would not shirk the duty in which he was charged by the great and venerable Monarch of All. The automaton pointed a finger at the sun, declaring to it with a dramatic tone, “Know this, master, know that I, Vilicus, shall make sure that all these pieces shall be fit for even you to wear!”
The automaton stood back up and turned to the ghastly mountain once more, hunching over a bit in intimidation. Surely he would not have to do all of them, after all it was a fair bit for even the likes of a lowly servant of the Monarch of All. Vilicus knew he would need aid, apprentices to his great artistry who might be able to aid in making these pieces truly something the likes of a Divine Guard of the Monarch. Looking towards the sky, Vilicus did ask a simple question, “Tlanextic, could you send a couple of people my way?… Not that you have to of course I know- Never mind, I’ll find a way.”
Vilicus shook his head before stepping to the great mountain and pulling one of the ghastly blades from a neat pile and looking over it. He had no tools but he would be able to grab some from the other beings that worked the blades.
“This will take a lot of time.”
After Day 3 Council had concluded
Usriel’s Room
The door to Usriel’s room vibrated slightly as Kaldun banged on it. “Brother! I have come to talk with you! I missed the rest of the council when I left to calm myself! I need you to tell me what happened in my absence!” The door slid open and Kaldun strode into the room with a vibrant grin. “It is good to see you again Usriel!” His arms went wide to hug his brother but he paused. “I almost forgot! You do not want to be embraced!”
“Tell me! How are you doing!? I saw that the events of the Council affected you greatly! It was a trying time for all of us, but we made it through without a drop of blood being spilled before our father! That is a victory!” He sat in front of the blackened meeting table, beaming across at Usriel. “So I ask again brother! How are you holding up after today’s Council session?! I could feel father’s anger crackling through the air even after I had left! It must have been as passionate as the debate that I participated in!”
Though, even as Kaldun came and exclaimed, the father of the nineteenth had not moved from his seat, only a slight turn of the head with the red glare of his helmet pointing back at Kaldun. There was a moment of silence before Usriel would respond, “Indeed. The Stargazers were being held accountable for their motions of disembodying Astartes with grievous injuries and putting them upon augmented chassis. After all, only in death does duty end.”
Eyeing the Golden Conqueror for another moment, Usriel leaned back in his seat, bringing his hands into a steepled position as he cocked his head ever so slightly. While his voice did not show it, it was clear there was an air of skepticism as he continued to speak, “Yet, I feel as if that is not what you had come to talk about, Kaldun. After all, you seem to be more inclined to go to that shapeshifting witch far more than wanting to deal with myself. So I ask now, why have you come?”
Kaldun shook his head with a laugh. “Come now! I love most of my family, but that does not mean I am blind to their faults! Eiohsa views the Stargazers actions emotionally and as great crimes against our sons and daughters! She would have only informed me of her view on it, which is not something I need!”
“You however, I know will only tell the truth! You are many things Usriel, but you will not lie to me or spin any of the facts in your own favor!” He gave a dismissive gesture. “As for my other question, can I not ask my brother if he is doing alright after seeing him cry?! What kind of brother would I be if I simply ignored that?!”
“My tears over my niece were the same as any other atrocity committed against my sons and their cousins. Though, I suppose I cannot argue against your kindness,” Usriel responded in his normal coldness, his gaze unwavering. A moment past as he adjusted his hands to grip his chair, speaking out as coldly as he could, “Now, since you have come to talk, let us talk. How do you feel about Daena’s promotion to warmaster?”
Ignoring the increasing coldness of his brother, Kaldun responded with a beaming smile. “As you say! Just know I am always here for you Usriel! That is what family is for!” He turned his head to the side in confusion at the next question, but shrugged. “I think she is an excellent choice! Impartial, logical, fair and very dedicated to the cause! There are some who will call her a mutant, but given the existence of the Edict and the wide variety of our own siblings that our father has shown no issue with I think that she will be fine! A far better choice than me, at least! Someone who will care about the day to day operations and how well all of us are working together! I would just point in the vague direction of the galaxy and say ‘Conquer all of that’!” He laughed, pleased with himself.
“Why do you ask, brother?!”
“Mere curiosity,” Usriel said blankly as he began to condense the loud words of his sibling into the whys as to why Daena had been made into the warmaster. He turned his head to look towards the wall bearing the Cog of the Mechanicum. Another moment of silence before the colder of the brothers next spoke, “I suppose she is a fine choice, I hold her in high enough regard to say that she will prove capable for the time being.”
“A fine compliment brother! She will prove capable indeed!” Kaldun laughed again, amused at the idea of one of their siblings, genetically designed by their father to be perfect and nigh unstoppable, being merely capable at the art of war.
“Speaking of war brother, are you joining us on the craftworld siege that Augor is preparing?! I hear that there is a great deal of tech and information on the planet that will benefit the Imperium and our efforts!”
“Of course. Albeit, I am not attending out of the prerogative of implementing the foul xeno-tech, but I am attending to behind reaping vengeance for my sons. Augor had since restrained me from bringing the entirety of the Steel Sentinels to bear, but I will be taking my finest,” Usriel responded, his coldness breaking away momentarily as he seemed to relish the idea of purging the Aeldari there from existence.
“Excellent brother! I look forward to purging the xenos that refuse to surrender with you! I have not spoken with Augor myself yet, but from what I understand our Imperial forces need more psykers to combat the psychic powers of the xenos themselves! Unless I am mistaken I’ll bring my own finest sons to battle their finest psykers in glorious combat! Which brings me to my next question!” Kaldun leaned forward onto Usriel’s desk, excitedly. The desk groaned under the added weight, almost inaudible beneath the primarch’s words.
“You have connections to the Mechanicum, yes?!” Before Usriel could respond, Kaldun continued. “Of course you do! That means you could get robots with specific designs built, yes!? My sons and I need to increase the variety our Guardians! The factories we have managed to secure for our use have been satisfactory, but are not up to the standard of flexibility of the rest of our army! Could you help us in this endeavour, brother!?”
“Perhaps…” Usriel mused for the moment,
bringing his gaze back to the Golden Conqueror, pondering the thought of reallocating some of the production to aid another’s legion. “However, retooling manufactorums and production lines takes time, Kaldun. Not to mention, you have not spoken of the STCs regarding these ‘Guardians’ of yours. Upgrading those sacred instructions will take time and will need to be approved by myself, the Holy Synod of Mars, and the Synod of Vion 5.”
“Aha! Fortunately you will not need to upgrade the sacred instructions of Baalros!” Kaldun declared, with more than a little amusement, setting a datapad down in front of Usriel. “My sons have identified STCs that will require minimal modifications! These models are perfectly designed to allow a psi-crystal into their matrix! That will allow them to be controlled even better than the Mechanicum’s own cybernetic warriors can!”
Kaldun started pacing around the room, swept up in his idea. “We can test them out on the Craftworld invasion, the Eldar are strong warriors and they will provide ample testing grounds, and if they are a success we can look into improving other robots so that my sons and other Librarians could use them to the same effect as these designs!”
“Think about it brother! Your own librarians would doubtlessly be even more skilled at controlling such designs than my own sons, and you could keep them more secure from being targeted by the various enemies of man!”
Usriel had a moment of pause as he thought about the words of Kaldun, knowing full well of how useful such weapons could be against the Aeldari threat. The Nineteenth son watched Kaldun’s pacing, before his mind was nearly instantly concluded. He said in a more of an enthused tone, clear that he was smiling faintly behind his helm, “You need not to say another word to convince me, Kaldun. I shall have some lines of production altered so you may have these weapons. Of course, all modifications will need to be approved, but our standing as sons of the Omnissiah will sway the Synod of Mars.”
“Excellent! Soon enough we will be able to crush our enemies with the might of the Astartes and the cunning of the Mechanicum!” Kaldun beamed back at his brother. “We will see the perfect testing grounds upon the craftworld as we bring the vile Eldar to heel! It will be a glorious sight as we crush them beneath the might of the Imperium!”
“How soon do you want me to visit and pick up the designs!?”
“I will send you a message as soon as we have the first working one made so that you may see and judge for yourself,” Usriel responded, bringing up a data-slate and typing into it for but a brief moment, “As soon as I return to Vion 5, I will have Fabricator-Technis Arx work upon this. Should I not be there, it is he who you will speak to.”
“Excellent! I knew I could rely on you brother! Between our two forces we will crush the Xenos that oppose us!” Kaldun grinned again, practically shaking with excitement.
“Which reminds me brother! What happened during the rest of the Council after Sarghaul’s crimes were revealed? I know there is something about Augor happening, but I had to leave lest my rage overtook me and made me do something regrettable!”
Usriel paused for a moment only another Primarch could register, thinking to himself before speaking, “It was about the Stargazers as a whole, it seemed they took the critically injured Astartes that were no longer able to healed and took their brains to be put onto metal chassis, so that their duty does not yet end. They did so to other legions as well, such matters did not seem of much import for me to note otherwise, though the Witch was against Augor’s view.”
“Ah! The Stargazers’ practice of keeping Astartes fighting! A sensible action that some of our siblings seem to have taken issue with! It is no different than dreadnoughts no? Regardless! Which ‘witch’ spoke out against Augor? That moniker could describe any of our sisters who are psychically inclined!” He laughed again, grinning at a memory. “I have been called such a title by rebel humans who had never seen psychic abilities before! So really, any sufficiently psychically powerful sibling of ours could get such a moniker! So! Which of our siblings is against Augor?”
“Eiohsa and Nimue,” Usriel answered simply, before proceeding to elaborate, “Though I will admit my comment of ‘witch’ was based upon Eiohsa alone.”
“Nimue and Eiohsa agreeing on something? That is the amazing part of this! Though I suppose Augor’s methods go both against the morals of Eiohsa and the aesthetics of Nimue! It is a strange thing to be caught upon, preserving the life of one of our children when each of them is a precious resource to be conserved at all cost! I imagine the three of them argued for some time, so we can skip over that! What was our father’s ultimate decree upon the matter after hearing the arguments for and against?”
“The Emperor decreed that the Stargazer’s procedure shall be mandated and taught to the other legions,” Usriel stated, before bringing his arm up to a display that appeared on the table. The blue hum echoed across the darkened chamber, though the contents were clear enough, a frame of Eiohsa and Augor clad in their respective armors. The two were facing each other down, weapons drawn with the intent to kill each other. “Though, the warmaster decreed that Augor and Eiohsa settle their differences through a duel. That is something I figured that you’d enjoy much more than talk of proceeding and rulings,” Usriel revealed, leaning back in his chair and cocking his head towards Kaldun.
Kaldun immediately stood up with such force that his chair flew backwards and crashed against the door behind him. “There was a duel?! And nobody told me?! When?! Where?! Who won!? How did it happen!? Don’t answer that! I can just watch it!” He paused, and then looked at Usriel. “Could you start it instead of showing me a screen?! Quickly, please! I want to see how Eiohsa’s distractions affected her fighting! And how Augor did against a psyker of such potent power, without the might of his full army behind him! Our brother is formidable, but a duelist he is not!”
Usriel allowed a silence to pass before he brought up the recording, allowing the duel to play out just as how it had been recorded for the public to see. The standoff, the fight, the carnage, and Augor being declared the winner by the warmaster were those parts that were only useful for Usriel to even be given so much as a light grumble about. The Nineteenth was happy to see Augor having won the duel, more so to see that Eiohsa had gotten her dues for being the shapeshifting witch that he saw her as. However, Usriel could truly only care for Eiohsa, not her well being, but rather the fact that he viewed her injuries as not enough to satisfy his own roiling anger against her.
Kaldun commented, mostly to himself, as he watched the duel.
“I think each of them brought enough firepower to destroy a planet! Shame they aren’t like us, and use only simple weapons and powers eh brother?”
“Yes! Yes! You’re a stronger Psychic, use that to your advantage!”
“A ranged fight? Hopefully not the entire battle!”
“I spoke too soon! Go, go get him!”
“Aha! That is a big gun! Nothing like a spear of course, but explosions are always exciting!
“Hit him directly! Stab him with the spear!”
“Golden shields! Works every time!”
“How many guns does he have, anyway?”
“Throw his weird metal tentacles away, haha!”
“Rip him to shreds! To shreds!”
“Hmm, she’s distracted! He’ll take advanta-Yeah, there he goes!”
“Scrambler grenades? A bold strategy!”
“Oh, boo! How can we watch if they’re in the middle of magma?”
“Why are you helping him? He’s clearly not done! This will just-there it is!”
Kaldun looked over at Usriel, a grin across his face. “An excellent duel, brother! I feel that having it so soon after Eiohsa’s battle and claims against Sarghaul was a mistake, as she was clearly distracted! But, it is what it is! Hopefully this will put Augor’s petty oath to rest! He’s always been unnecessarily sensitive! Was that the last thing I missed? Or was there another exciting development from the argument?”
“No,” Usriel said simply, commenting in a grim tone, “Though in my opinion, Augor should have finished the duel properly.”
“He was already being pulled from a molten death by Eiohsa! Even with her distraction he only won due to her lack of thought!” He looked his head at Usriel, smile fading. “Unless you mean killing her! That would be a foolish decision! In addition to killing family in cold blood being the gravest sin you could commit, his life and his legion’s life would be forfeit! A duel is not a battle to the death, and killing your opponent is murder! And, as I’m sure you’re aware brother, murdering one of our father’s children is treason! The punishment for treason is death!” His voice was sharp and disapproving.
“That witch is nothing more than a security risk, even less a sibling. Her worlds are already proof enough that she cannot be trusted, but her ability to change bodies at will is something I cannot abide. No secret is safe so long as she exists,” Usriel hissed at Kaldun, standing from his seat with such intensity as to almost knock it back, his hands laying upon the smooth surface of the table. The Nineteenth Primarch, spoke in a voice wrought with anger and paranoia, “She is a treacherous wretch, Kaldun. She is unfit for leadership if she is to allow her daughters to be taken by some rogue Astartes! I will never call her sister, nor you or any of the others brother or sister! My family has been long dead and none of you are ever going to replace them!”
“Do not think you are the only one who has lost his first family!” Kaldun snarled back, leaning in to face Usriel, his fingers digging into the desk. “We have all lost those who raised us, some of us were not even lucky enough to have them! Do not think you are not the only who has known the shock and grief of finding out they are gone, and you are certainly not the only one to mourn such a loss! We’re all you have left! We’re the only ones in the entire galaxy who can even begin to understand what you’re going through Brother! We’re your family!”
Kaldun shoved off of the desk and began pacing back and forth through the room, waving his hands as he ranted.
As the door opened, Kaldun threw up a hand and blocked it off with a barrier of golden energy, preventing the Sentinels from interfering. He continued, growing louder and angrier with each word and every step.
“Your paranoia is getting the best of you! You see a dagger in every shadow, a lie upon everyone’s lips! Eiohsa does not do the things she did during the Rangdan if she was a traitor! Billions of potentially useful humans and thousands of her daughters, annihilated! We’re Primarchs! We’re all security risks! Sarghaul flouts our father’s commands and experiments upon humans, which even you can’t pretend is the work of rogue sons of his! He created the Infestus, and he taught his sons how to make more! Why do you think the Imperial Army fears working with them?! Death is preferable to what they do to you if you are wounded! I possess a temper so strong that I could destroy entire armies if provoked enough! Nimue is so arrogant and ambitious that she openly sides with Sarghaul out of sheer spite of Eiohsa, accusing her baselessly and plotting her death! To say nothing of her ability to influence others!”
“Augor is so blinded by religion, something banned by our father I might add, and so fragile that he is willing to swear a treasonous oath of murder and vengeance upon loyal citizens and astartes of the Imperium! Who knows what spying technology he has placed to ensure that his cult is protected and he is never caught unaware! Wode cares so much for his men that he might choose them over the Imperium! Nelchitl is as easily filled with rage as I am! Sekhmetara only speaks in honeyed words that hide her true intentions! Daena is capable of pronouncing dooms that force people to obey her word! Kaelianos has his own personal empire and endless drive! Micholi is a master of subterfuge and diplomacy with the Xenos! He doesn’t see them as slaves, he sees them as equals!”
“You are a master of fortification, loyal to the Omnissiah, and filled with paranoia! We are all security threats! By the very nature of being Primarchs, we are a threat! The only thing keeping us in check is loyalty to our father, and our combined vision of a united galaxy! And your complaint against Eiohsa is that she possesses abilities that several of us also possess? She can shapeshift! So what?! Nimue can manipulate the minds of all of those around her! I can destroy almost anything in front of me! That all means nothing! You speak of rogue astartes? What about yours? Your rogue sons started a war that was only averted by the Inheritors coming and making things worse!”
“Trea-!” Kaldun began to continue to rant but was cut off by Usriel’s fist coming into contact with the Golden Conqueror, snapping his head back. A staggering blow that had come from a Primarch that normally allowed words of others to go through him.
“None of my sons are rogues, you wretch!” bellowed Usriel in an anger that bordered hatred, the nineteenth Primarch now showing the full extent of his care of his sons. He brought back another fist, moving to continue his assault, exclaiming, “You know nothing of MY sons!”
Kaldun grinned at Usriel, blood trickling down his jaw, as he stepped back and deflected the follow up punch. He blocked the next one, mocking Usriel. “Ah! You punch harder than the witch! Maybe add that to your paranoia! ‘Eiohsa is fortunately not physically stronger than me!’”
He with his own flurry of punches speaking as he stepped forward. “Forgive me, brother but sons who ignore orders and do what they will sounds an awful lot like rogue astartes! Do not worry though! You have no rogue sons because the Daughters of Iron killed them as soon as they acted against orders! Convenient, no?!”
“They did not ignore orders! The Daughters’ idealism got in the way of protocol, you oaf!” Usriel bellowed, stepping away from Kaldun’s flurry, seeing the strikes coming before Kaldun had finished with the last. One impacted into the armor of his shoulder before Usriel rammed his side into Kaldun to push him towards the wall. He cried out, “They killed MY sons for following protocol! My sons! They are nothing but idealist wretches waiting for their mother to lead them to slaughter again!”
“We all saw the report! Your sons were ordered to stand down, and then they fired upon the Daughters!” Kaldun stepped to the side, avoiding most of Usriel’s shoulder charge. Usriel was not the only one with prescience. “When the Daughters retaliated in self defense, your sons were killed!” Kaldun grabbed the desk and threw it at Usriel, immediately following behind it with a charge.
Without a word, Usriel let loose a cry of anger, sending a blow through the desk and carrying it through to Kaldun in his charge. Kaldun deflected it with his arm and crashed into Usriel. The force of Kaldun’s charge took the two of them through the wall, breaking through with a thunderous sound. The two Primarchs fell to the ground, still struggling.
It was then that the Astartes of the Nineteenth managed to breach into the room, having to resort to using plasma cutters to drill through the wall. The sons of Usriel came in, following the devastation and raising plasma rifles at Kaldun before a loud voice, shrouded in authority and anger at the fighting Primarchs came over the two, “Father, Uncle! Stop this madness!”
Kaldun paused and looked up, fist raised to strike at Usriel, a quizzical look on his face. “What? We are simply settling differences of opinion! There is no madness here!”
The sons of Usriel looked unswayed and Kaldun gave a small shrug as he pulled himself to his feet. "Very well! I will meet you on the Craftworld brother! Together our legions will crush the Eldar!" With that and a cheery wave, met with smoldering silence from Usriel, Kaldun headed back towards his own quarters. The plasma rifles followed his every step until he was out of sight.
Usriel’s Room
The door to Usriel’s room vibrated slightly as Kaldun banged on it. “Brother! I have come to talk with you! I missed the rest of the council when I left to calm myself! I need you to tell me what happened in my absence!” The door slid open and Kaldun strode into the room with a vibrant grin. “It is good to see you again Usriel!” His arms went wide to hug his brother but he paused. “I almost forgot! You do not want to be embraced!”
“Tell me! How are you doing!? I saw that the events of the Council affected you greatly! It was a trying time for all of us, but we made it through without a drop of blood being spilled before our father! That is a victory!” He sat in front of the blackened meeting table, beaming across at Usriel. “So I ask again brother! How are you holding up after today’s Council session?! I could feel father’s anger crackling through the air even after I had left! It must have been as passionate as the debate that I participated in!”
Though, even as Kaldun came and exclaimed, the father of the nineteenth had not moved from his seat, only a slight turn of the head with the red glare of his helmet pointing back at Kaldun. There was a moment of silence before Usriel would respond, “Indeed. The Stargazers were being held accountable for their motions of disembodying Astartes with grievous injuries and putting them upon augmented chassis. After all, only in death does duty end.”
Eyeing the Golden Conqueror for another moment, Usriel leaned back in his seat, bringing his hands into a steepled position as he cocked his head ever so slightly. While his voice did not show it, it was clear there was an air of skepticism as he continued to speak, “Yet, I feel as if that is not what you had come to talk about, Kaldun. After all, you seem to be more inclined to go to that shapeshifting witch far more than wanting to deal with myself. So I ask now, why have you come?”
Kaldun shook his head with a laugh. “Come now! I love most of my family, but that does not mean I am blind to their faults! Eiohsa views the Stargazers actions emotionally and as great crimes against our sons and daughters! She would have only informed me of her view on it, which is not something I need!”
“You however, I know will only tell the truth! You are many things Usriel, but you will not lie to me or spin any of the facts in your own favor!” He gave a dismissive gesture. “As for my other question, can I not ask my brother if he is doing alright after seeing him cry?! What kind of brother would I be if I simply ignored that?!”
“My tears over my niece were the same as any other atrocity committed against my sons and their cousins. Though, I suppose I cannot argue against your kindness,” Usriel responded in his normal coldness, his gaze unwavering. A moment past as he adjusted his hands to grip his chair, speaking out as coldly as he could, “Now, since you have come to talk, let us talk. How do you feel about Daena’s promotion to warmaster?”
Ignoring the increasing coldness of his brother, Kaldun responded with a beaming smile. “As you say! Just know I am always here for you Usriel! That is what family is for!” He turned his head to the side in confusion at the next question, but shrugged. “I think she is an excellent choice! Impartial, logical, fair and very dedicated to the cause! There are some who will call her a mutant, but given the existence of the Edict and the wide variety of our own siblings that our father has shown no issue with I think that she will be fine! A far better choice than me, at least! Someone who will care about the day to day operations and how well all of us are working together! I would just point in the vague direction of the galaxy and say ‘Conquer all of that’!” He laughed, pleased with himself.
“Why do you ask, brother?!”
“Mere curiosity,” Usriel said blankly as he began to condense the loud words of his sibling into the whys as to why Daena had been made into the warmaster. He turned his head to look towards the wall bearing the Cog of the Mechanicum. Another moment of silence before the colder of the brothers next spoke, “I suppose she is a fine choice, I hold her in high enough regard to say that she will prove capable for the time being.”
“A fine compliment brother! She will prove capable indeed!” Kaldun laughed again, amused at the idea of one of their siblings, genetically designed by their father to be perfect and nigh unstoppable, being merely capable at the art of war.
“Speaking of war brother, are you joining us on the craftworld siege that Augor is preparing?! I hear that there is a great deal of tech and information on the planet that will benefit the Imperium and our efforts!”
“Of course. Albeit, I am not attending out of the prerogative of implementing the foul xeno-tech, but I am attending to behind reaping vengeance for my sons. Augor had since restrained me from bringing the entirety of the Steel Sentinels to bear, but I will be taking my finest,” Usriel responded, his coldness breaking away momentarily as he seemed to relish the idea of purging the Aeldari there from existence.
“Excellent brother! I look forward to purging the xenos that refuse to surrender with you! I have not spoken with Augor myself yet, but from what I understand our Imperial forces need more psykers to combat the psychic powers of the xenos themselves! Unless I am mistaken I’ll bring my own finest sons to battle their finest psykers in glorious combat! Which brings me to my next question!” Kaldun leaned forward onto Usriel’s desk, excitedly. The desk groaned under the added weight, almost inaudible beneath the primarch’s words.
“You have connections to the Mechanicum, yes?!” Before Usriel could respond, Kaldun continued. “Of course you do! That means you could get robots with specific designs built, yes!? My sons and I need to increase the variety our Guardians! The factories we have managed to secure for our use have been satisfactory, but are not up to the standard of flexibility of the rest of our army! Could you help us in this endeavour, brother!?”
“Perhaps…” Usriel mused for the moment,
bringing his gaze back to the Golden Conqueror, pondering the thought of reallocating some of the production to aid another’s legion. “However, retooling manufactorums and production lines takes time, Kaldun. Not to mention, you have not spoken of the STCs regarding these ‘Guardians’ of yours. Upgrading those sacred instructions will take time and will need to be approved by myself, the Holy Synod of Mars, and the Synod of Vion 5.”
“Aha! Fortunately you will not need to upgrade the sacred instructions of Baalros!” Kaldun declared, with more than a little amusement, setting a datapad down in front of Usriel. “My sons have identified STCs that will require minimal modifications! These models are perfectly designed to allow a psi-crystal into their matrix! That will allow them to be controlled even better than the Mechanicum’s own cybernetic warriors can!”
Kaldun started pacing around the room, swept up in his idea. “We can test them out on the Craftworld invasion, the Eldar are strong warriors and they will provide ample testing grounds, and if they are a success we can look into improving other robots so that my sons and other Librarians could use them to the same effect as these designs!”
“Think about it brother! Your own librarians would doubtlessly be even more skilled at controlling such designs than my own sons, and you could keep them more secure from being targeted by the various enemies of man!”
Usriel had a moment of pause as he thought about the words of Kaldun, knowing full well of how useful such weapons could be against the Aeldari threat. The Nineteenth son watched Kaldun’s pacing, before his mind was nearly instantly concluded. He said in a more of an enthused tone, clear that he was smiling faintly behind his helm, “You need not to say another word to convince me, Kaldun. I shall have some lines of production altered so you may have these weapons. Of course, all modifications will need to be approved, but our standing as sons of the Omnissiah will sway the Synod of Mars.”
“Excellent! Soon enough we will be able to crush our enemies with the might of the Astartes and the cunning of the Mechanicum!” Kaldun beamed back at his brother. “We will see the perfect testing grounds upon the craftworld as we bring the vile Eldar to heel! It will be a glorious sight as we crush them beneath the might of the Imperium!”
“How soon do you want me to visit and pick up the designs!?”
“I will send you a message as soon as we have the first working one made so that you may see and judge for yourself,” Usriel responded, bringing up a data-slate and typing into it for but a brief moment, “As soon as I return to Vion 5, I will have Fabricator-Technis Arx work upon this. Should I not be there, it is he who you will speak to.”
“Excellent! I knew I could rely on you brother! Between our two forces we will crush the Xenos that oppose us!” Kaldun grinned again, practically shaking with excitement.
“Which reminds me brother! What happened during the rest of the Council after Sarghaul’s crimes were revealed? I know there is something about Augor happening, but I had to leave lest my rage overtook me and made me do something regrettable!”
Usriel paused for a moment only another Primarch could register, thinking to himself before speaking, “It was about the Stargazers as a whole, it seemed they took the critically injured Astartes that were no longer able to healed and took their brains to be put onto metal chassis, so that their duty does not yet end. They did so to other legions as well, such matters did not seem of much import for me to note otherwise, though the Witch was against Augor’s view.”
“Ah! The Stargazers’ practice of keeping Astartes fighting! A sensible action that some of our siblings seem to have taken issue with! It is no different than dreadnoughts no? Regardless! Which ‘witch’ spoke out against Augor? That moniker could describe any of our sisters who are psychically inclined!” He laughed again, grinning at a memory. “I have been called such a title by rebel humans who had never seen psychic abilities before! So really, any sufficiently psychically powerful sibling of ours could get such a moniker! So! Which of our siblings is against Augor?”
“Eiohsa and Nimue,” Usriel answered simply, before proceeding to elaborate, “Though I will admit my comment of ‘witch’ was based upon Eiohsa alone.”
“Nimue and Eiohsa agreeing on something? That is the amazing part of this! Though I suppose Augor’s methods go both against the morals of Eiohsa and the aesthetics of Nimue! It is a strange thing to be caught upon, preserving the life of one of our children when each of them is a precious resource to be conserved at all cost! I imagine the three of them argued for some time, so we can skip over that! What was our father’s ultimate decree upon the matter after hearing the arguments for and against?”
“The Emperor decreed that the Stargazer’s procedure shall be mandated and taught to the other legions,” Usriel stated, before bringing his arm up to a display that appeared on the table. The blue hum echoed across the darkened chamber, though the contents were clear enough, a frame of Eiohsa and Augor clad in their respective armors. The two were facing each other down, weapons drawn with the intent to kill each other. “Though, the warmaster decreed that Augor and Eiohsa settle their differences through a duel. That is something I figured that you’d enjoy much more than talk of proceeding and rulings,” Usriel revealed, leaning back in his chair and cocking his head towards Kaldun.
Kaldun immediately stood up with such force that his chair flew backwards and crashed against the door behind him. “There was a duel?! And nobody told me?! When?! Where?! Who won!? How did it happen!? Don’t answer that! I can just watch it!” He paused, and then looked at Usriel. “Could you start it instead of showing me a screen?! Quickly, please! I want to see how Eiohsa’s distractions affected her fighting! And how Augor did against a psyker of such potent power, without the might of his full army behind him! Our brother is formidable, but a duelist he is not!”
Usriel allowed a silence to pass before he brought up the recording, allowing the duel to play out just as how it had been recorded for the public to see. The standoff, the fight, the carnage, and Augor being declared the winner by the warmaster were those parts that were only useful for Usriel to even be given so much as a light grumble about. The Nineteenth was happy to see Augor having won the duel, more so to see that Eiohsa had gotten her dues for being the shapeshifting witch that he saw her as. However, Usriel could truly only care for Eiohsa, not her well being, but rather the fact that he viewed her injuries as not enough to satisfy his own roiling anger against her.
Kaldun commented, mostly to himself, as he watched the duel.
“I think each of them brought enough firepower to destroy a planet! Shame they aren’t like us, and use only simple weapons and powers eh brother?”
“Yes! Yes! You’re a stronger Psychic, use that to your advantage!”
“A ranged fight? Hopefully not the entire battle!”
“I spoke too soon! Go, go get him!”
“Aha! That is a big gun! Nothing like a spear of course, but explosions are always exciting!
“Hit him directly! Stab him with the spear!”
“Golden shields! Works every time!”
“How many guns does he have, anyway?”
“Throw his weird metal tentacles away, haha!”
“Rip him to shreds! To shreds!”
“Hmm, she’s distracted! He’ll take advanta-Yeah, there he goes!”
“Scrambler grenades? A bold strategy!”
“Oh, boo! How can we watch if they’re in the middle of magma?”
“Why are you helping him? He’s clearly not done! This will just-there it is!”
Kaldun looked over at Usriel, a grin across his face. “An excellent duel, brother! I feel that having it so soon after Eiohsa’s battle and claims against Sarghaul was a mistake, as she was clearly distracted! But, it is what it is! Hopefully this will put Augor’s petty oath to rest! He’s always been unnecessarily sensitive! Was that the last thing I missed? Or was there another exciting development from the argument?”
“No,” Usriel said simply, commenting in a grim tone, “Though in my opinion, Augor should have finished the duel properly.”
“He was already being pulled from a molten death by Eiohsa! Even with her distraction he only won due to her lack of thought!” He looked his head at Usriel, smile fading. “Unless you mean killing her! That would be a foolish decision! In addition to killing family in cold blood being the gravest sin you could commit, his life and his legion’s life would be forfeit! A duel is not a battle to the death, and killing your opponent is murder! And, as I’m sure you’re aware brother, murdering one of our father’s children is treason! The punishment for treason is death!” His voice was sharp and disapproving.
“That witch is nothing more than a security risk, even less a sibling. Her worlds are already proof enough that she cannot be trusted, but her ability to change bodies at will is something I cannot abide. No secret is safe so long as she exists,” Usriel hissed at Kaldun, standing from his seat with such intensity as to almost knock it back, his hands laying upon the smooth surface of the table. The Nineteenth Primarch, spoke in a voice wrought with anger and paranoia, “She is a treacherous wretch, Kaldun. She is unfit for leadership if she is to allow her daughters to be taken by some rogue Astartes! I will never call her sister, nor you or any of the others brother or sister! My family has been long dead and none of you are ever going to replace them!”
“Do not think you are the only one who has lost his first family!” Kaldun snarled back, leaning in to face Usriel, his fingers digging into the desk. “We have all lost those who raised us, some of us were not even lucky enough to have them! Do not think you are not the only who has known the shock and grief of finding out they are gone, and you are certainly not the only one to mourn such a loss! We’re all you have left! We’re the only ones in the entire galaxy who can even begin to understand what you’re going through Brother! We’re your family!”
Kaldun shoved off of the desk and began pacing back and forth through the room, waving his hands as he ranted.
As the door opened, Kaldun threw up a hand and blocked it off with a barrier of golden energy, preventing the Sentinels from interfering. He continued, growing louder and angrier with each word and every step.
“Your paranoia is getting the best of you! You see a dagger in every shadow, a lie upon everyone’s lips! Eiohsa does not do the things she did during the Rangdan if she was a traitor! Billions of potentially useful humans and thousands of her daughters, annihilated! We’re Primarchs! We’re all security risks! Sarghaul flouts our father’s commands and experiments upon humans, which even you can’t pretend is the work of rogue sons of his! He created the Infestus, and he taught his sons how to make more! Why do you think the Imperial Army fears working with them?! Death is preferable to what they do to you if you are wounded! I possess a temper so strong that I could destroy entire armies if provoked enough! Nimue is so arrogant and ambitious that she openly sides with Sarghaul out of sheer spite of Eiohsa, accusing her baselessly and plotting her death! To say nothing of her ability to influence others!”
“Augor is so blinded by religion, something banned by our father I might add, and so fragile that he is willing to swear a treasonous oath of murder and vengeance upon loyal citizens and astartes of the Imperium! Who knows what spying technology he has placed to ensure that his cult is protected and he is never caught unaware! Wode cares so much for his men that he might choose them over the Imperium! Nelchitl is as easily filled with rage as I am! Sekhmetara only speaks in honeyed words that hide her true intentions! Daena is capable of pronouncing dooms that force people to obey her word! Kaelianos has his own personal empire and endless drive! Micholi is a master of subterfuge and diplomacy with the Xenos! He doesn’t see them as slaves, he sees them as equals!”
“You are a master of fortification, loyal to the Omnissiah, and filled with paranoia! We are all security threats! By the very nature of being Primarchs, we are a threat! The only thing keeping us in check is loyalty to our father, and our combined vision of a united galaxy! And your complaint against Eiohsa is that she possesses abilities that several of us also possess? She can shapeshift! So what?! Nimue can manipulate the minds of all of those around her! I can destroy almost anything in front of me! That all means nothing! You speak of rogue astartes? What about yours? Your rogue sons started a war that was only averted by the Inheritors coming and making things worse!”
“Trea-!” Kaldun began to continue to rant but was cut off by Usriel’s fist coming into contact with the Golden Conqueror, snapping his head back. A staggering blow that had come from a Primarch that normally allowed words of others to go through him.
“None of my sons are rogues, you wretch!” bellowed Usriel in an anger that bordered hatred, the nineteenth Primarch now showing the full extent of his care of his sons. He brought back another fist, moving to continue his assault, exclaiming, “You know nothing of MY sons!”
Kaldun grinned at Usriel, blood trickling down his jaw, as he stepped back and deflected the follow up punch. He blocked the next one, mocking Usriel. “Ah! You punch harder than the witch! Maybe add that to your paranoia! ‘Eiohsa is fortunately not physically stronger than me!’”
He with his own flurry of punches speaking as he stepped forward. “Forgive me, brother but sons who ignore orders and do what they will sounds an awful lot like rogue astartes! Do not worry though! You have no rogue sons because the Daughters of Iron killed them as soon as they acted against orders! Convenient, no?!”
“They did not ignore orders! The Daughters’ idealism got in the way of protocol, you oaf!” Usriel bellowed, stepping away from Kaldun’s flurry, seeing the strikes coming before Kaldun had finished with the last. One impacted into the armor of his shoulder before Usriel rammed his side into Kaldun to push him towards the wall. He cried out, “They killed MY sons for following protocol! My sons! They are nothing but idealist wretches waiting for their mother to lead them to slaughter again!”
“We all saw the report! Your sons were ordered to stand down, and then they fired upon the Daughters!” Kaldun stepped to the side, avoiding most of Usriel’s shoulder charge. Usriel was not the only one with prescience. “When the Daughters retaliated in self defense, your sons were killed!” Kaldun grabbed the desk and threw it at Usriel, immediately following behind it with a charge.
Without a word, Usriel let loose a cry of anger, sending a blow through the desk and carrying it through to Kaldun in his charge. Kaldun deflected it with his arm and crashed into Usriel. The force of Kaldun’s charge took the two of them through the wall, breaking through with a thunderous sound. The two Primarchs fell to the ground, still struggling.
It was then that the Astartes of the Nineteenth managed to breach into the room, having to resort to using plasma cutters to drill through the wall. The sons of Usriel came in, following the devastation and raising plasma rifles at Kaldun before a loud voice, shrouded in authority and anger at the fighting Primarchs came over the two, “Father, Uncle! Stop this madness!”
Kaldun paused and looked up, fist raised to strike at Usriel, a quizzical look on his face. “What? We are simply settling differences of opinion! There is no madness here!”
The sons of Usriel looked unswayed and Kaldun gave a small shrug as he pulled himself to his feet. "Very well! I will meet you on the Craftworld brother! Together our legions will crush the Eldar!" With that and a cheery wave, met with smoldering silence from Usriel, Kaldun headed back towards his own quarters. The plasma rifles followed his every step until he was out of sight.
Chailiss Week
These are the dark days of winter
dismal dull dawn becomes dreary dusk
then darkness
and yet another sunless daybreak.
A few sullen lonely snowflakes
waft on frigid breeze
reluctantly falling to sodden soil.
This existence leaves an aching
in one’s spirit
a taste in one’s soul
like cold ashes of the dead.
These are the dim days of the season
the gloomy season of the year
a shadowy year of life.
So all be ware of winter’s might
lest you feel its frigid bite
and know the daggers of ice -
come for all who heed not his advice.
He stalks the season, stalks our dens
stalking our kits and stalking our kin -
casting a spell of cold upon all us.
Yet even he, so frigid and cold
would save us from beasts of green
and avenge kits yet lost
by the green murder’s hunt.
For even the wolves and bears must retire
as the frost come hither and desire
her pelt, her fangs, her time of hunt.
Her waters chill to ice
And her breath now shown in air -
we see her the green murder there
so that we may flee from her own snare.
It was then we knew and felt his grace
to save us - our salvation
and let his breath sweep all the land.
Now know his touch, his cold embrace
know his love and snowy dance
as frost and ice come out and play -
The Northern Lord is here to stay.
Cycle 4
Yudaiel defied sleep, even as it clawed at her and tried to carry her away. In the wake of her battle with Iqelis and things unknowable, things far worse, she was weary, but she willed herself not to rest, not to succumb.
Weakness, Pain, and Exhaustion returned like old friends, just like they had after she’d struck down Ashevelen and battled with Epsilon. And some ‘friends’ they were! They were the fingers of sleep’s choking, grasping hand. They invariably crooned and whispered every conceivable justification to surrender her will and give in. But she was stronger now than she had been back then when last she’d dreamt, or so she’d like to think.
Hysteria, Psychosis, and Mania made for better company. They kept her vibrant, alive, and struggling, even if they couldn’t keep her mind in one piece.
”That foolish, tree-dwelling Horse claims dominion over the dreamlands now,” Mania hissed.
“Yet it’s hardly a part of the Tapestry; it existed before the Horse and will long after. So what if the Horse claims it? It’s all just pretension,” echoed the soft, resigned voice of Weakness.
”I want us to return to that lazy river we dreamt of long ago, to rest and be at peace,” Exhaustion admitted.
”Peace? There was no peace there. Even there we were harried by our foe the Fly, until we smote him again. There, we Saw that horrific cyclops, and He Saw us too!” Psychosis shrieked.
Pain’s sharp and insufferable cadence cut through the clamor, “And He was a horrible threat, but He can evidently See many things anyways, and His coming or going cannot be stopped if that is what He intends. There are worse things, like those that struck from the blackness, the void. We must hide from them and recover. I WILL be heard!”
Pain’s sharp and insufferable cadence cut through the clamor, “And He was a horrible threat, but He can evidently See many things anyways, and His coming or going cannot be stopped if that is what He intends. There are worse things, like those that struck from the blackness, the void. We must hide from them and recover. I WILL be heard!”
Everything trembled – Yudaiel’s mind throbbed – as Hysteria battled with Pain and the two shook the rest of the chorus, until Pain finally relented. A silence so short-lived as to be nigh imperceptible followed, before it was then broken by Hysteria’s roar, “Dark forces loom everywhere! We SHALL remain vigilant and See them as they come! We SHAN’T succumb to weakness or blindness or the clutches of that Horse’s den!”
A defiant Mania tried to hiss its dissent and uncharacteristically urge for caution just out of spite and obstinance, but Hysteria and Psychosis brutally mauled it alongside the other three. They crushed, devoured, and assimilated all other shards of Yudaiel’s fractured psyche, and then joined together. Her mind was one, once more. Another voice rang through it though, a foreign and yet familiar one:
”Jingui, the Monarch’s Wit, know that your contributions to the realm have been seen and are appreciated. And though our dear Rosa has fallen, let it be known that she is the Unforgotten.”
Before she’d had time to contemplate the implications of such developments, the speaker made His entrance. In one moment she had been alone on her pale white rock, and in the next the Monarch of All had suddenly loomed before Yudaiel’s field of view. This time she hadn’t kept him waiting; she had Seen the coming of His arrival. Still, the goddess said nothing in greeting and only met the gaze of His eyes with her one. The silence between the two, however, would not last as His words wormed their way in the depths of Yudaiel’s psyche, making His voice heard.
”No ideabstractions? I must say, your silence astounds me for once.”
Echoes of her quarrels, that with Iqelis and the horrors and that with her own mind, faintly resonated through the bridge between their minds. Annoyance and anger was there, too; it was masked and yet it simmered beneath the surface as hot and violently as a volcanic vent lurking in depths of the seas.
”Please, I know your brawl with that upstart has you on edge but I have not come to talk about that, despite the spectacle that it was. Rather, I have come about the beast you two encountered.”
The Monarch of All’s words were filled not with the normal malice that He bore towards Yudaiel but rather of curiosity, a genuine curiosity towards her ordeal. Yet, she knew that He did not truly mean well, or have that genuine feeling, it was written all over how He acted. She could even See it woven into the Tapestry and within the Flow. His dance was an ominous one.
So the reticent goddess was loath to surrender the entirety of the truth and what she’d witnessed, and yet she was also certainly afraid to defy Him outright – especially not now, not while she was still weakened so. Fortuitously, it was easy to deceive when the contents of a memory were already so fractured and nonsensical – all thoughts of that light in the dark, that glorious Lord of Rippling Shadow that Towered over All, the one whose voice had lent her strength and clarity from within the horror’s gullet… all thoughts of Him, she buried deeply.
But everything else, in all of its madness, she relayed with perfect lucidity.
The Ancient One had listened intently with an unmoving form, His light solely focused upon her as she showed Him. When she had finished, the Monarch of All idly turned His gaze to the great void, past the light of the palace and into the great cosmos unknown to the gods. There was a moment as He seemed to recall something, though there were no words that He would speak. Yet, the silence could not last, even Yudaiel knew such.
”Such creatures, so wild and unyielding. They refuse to be tamed no matter how much power one has. I must commend you and Iqelis for being able to challenge one.”
Yes, it had been just one, kaleidoscopically split into too many shards to count, some paradoxically greater even than the whole. It had been like a puddle made of a million droplets, each grander than a lake.
Hmph. Praise was often an easy enough way to make Yudaiel glow, but not now.
The Galbar, the moon, and even the resplendent Jade Palace were all revealed as just mountain peaks on one tiny isle. The endless black ocean of the void was all around, and with piercing gaze, the vision revealed the endless schools of fish. The cosmos and realities beyond teemed with something analogous to life, though much of it was monstrous and abominable and anathema to even reason in every way – for every one of the infinite stars out there, there was a Horror, and all knew it.
Where rivers of light and warmth left the island to meet with the shore and their deltas sated it with warm and life-bearing silt, the fish were drawn nearer. Closest to the ocean was the summit of the moon, and atop it a single eye, albeit one endowed with Sight beyond sight, was set alone to spear the lurking monsters and stave away the madness.
The Great Lord of Reality nodded to Yudaiel, affirming her vision before His light would turn back to meet her gaze. Within a single step - He traversed the entire surface of the moon, seeming to inspect it all the while and admiring certain aspects of it. There was a pause as He came back to Yudaiel, His gaze unwavering from her until His arms folded over His great and infinitely deep wound. His voice penetrated her mind once more.
”Yes, I am aware that they would be drawn here and there are likely more yet to come. Precisely when or where, however, is lost upon me as I can no longer See into the Tapestry. That is why I have come to you, Yudaiel.”
So the mountain whose summit was crowned with an eye twisted around, its stony spine cracking as it turned its back to the shore (even if only briefly!) and faced inland towards the mountain of the sun. Staring expectantly into the dawn’s light would have blinded many, but not this Eye. The deleterious rays of incinerating, blinding heat would have smitten many things and cast them into the black river of the Flow, but not this eyed moon-mountain. It was scarred, and yet unyielding.
And so further moon-mountains yet all of the same Eye rose upon the periphery of the shores, all gazing outwards into the oceans and upon the abhorrent beings. Great ships sailed out to meet each of the beasts, beings bearing the banners of the sun skewering each yet cheering the moon-mountain’s name. The great island was now joined by many against the teeming fish and now able to call upon great armies of the sun, such power gifted to the Eye allowed it to stand triumphant over the void.
Such works could be constructed, such aims achieved. Yudaiel envisioned another two jewel-bastions patrolling the Galbar’s night sky, one black as onyx and one an immaculate but hazy grey opal. The trinity was perfect: one Eye blessed with three pupils so as to see past, present, and future.
Figments and wisps of such fancies manifested in the ideabstraction. A storm of thought suddenly focused upon the Monarch Himself though, but it was not interested in Him as a person so much as His potential – specifically that of an instrument for attaining her desires. The storm’s charged aura coursed not over His visage but into the bottomless depths of His wound, towards one specific crystalline shard.
The Monarch of All seemed to recoil at the sight of the shard, not out of fear or shock, but of pain and anger of yet another god looking to steal more of His power. His hands clenched, claws digging deep into the Artist’s palms and drawing from it His very ichor that slowly pulled itself downwards and threatened to fall upon Yudaiel’s immaculate sculpture. The anger radiated and it consumed the moon in its entirety as He stared down the great eye, wordlessly.
The island was no longer in the void, a time before such creation. But then it rose, first as a low-lying atoll, and then as that proper isle with its two peaks of the sun and the Galbar. The Eye was still able to make its own summit along the shore, raising the moon-mount from the tide. Why could it not do so again? Why did the great eye-mountain need the shard in order to make further more? The Mountain of the Sun stood defiant against pleading and power hungry masses that came to ask for further pieces that made it whole.
The churning seas circled the lonely island hungrily (or perhaps they were still as the island danced and spun and twirled; it made no matter) and the fish followed the currents. Warmth and silt and shallows by the beach nurtured reefs, and those reefs lured in those alien fish of the deep sea from the outer currents. Abominable, thrashing, fleshy things that were part shark, part whale, part godfish defiled the reefs and creation, and those fish-Horrors multiplied and clambered onto the shores with strangely misshapen and asymmetric legs.
Here and there, one strayed close to the Eye’s mountain, and she defended its slopes and fjords vigorously from atop her summit. There remained a great deal of shoreline that she did not defend, and would not defend, for it wasn’t hers; after all, what was hers was here, and there, and everywhere: the ephemeral, the Key to Seeing the Past, the Future, and Far and Near. Nothing so tangible as the sandy shores, or the craggy cliffs… not even her own mountain was truly, fully hers so long as the Sun greedily possessed its Key.
Moreover, a rainbow wall consigned her to guard her own mountaintop; she couldn’t descend down to the island’s jungles below even if she’d wanted. The Sun Mountain had decreed it, and so the rainbows forged from His prismatic light had bent themselves into a great barrier around her peak.
Still, rainbows were tenuous barriers, and they had proven no hindrance to the Eye as she had conjured great gales to sweep up and abduct a mortal – the one that was called Biluda – from what should have been its sanctuary below. It likewise did little to stop the moon-mountain as it gushed out great wellsprings that flowed downward as rivers that carved and gouged and reshaped the island all around as the Eye willed. In body the eye might not have wandered, but in spirit, it had most certainly violated its oath, and the Sun’s blinding radiance illuminated each of these transgressions in turn as they were shown. Still, He was a warm and just sun, and so had done nothing but simmer even as his patience was tested. So then, great torrents of the fish swarmed first the Moon Mountain, before the Sun sent His armies to stop the greedy beasts. Perhaps she would learn her lesson if she were left alone to the mercy of the circling wolves of the void that were so eager to prey upon all those who were not protected by His command.
The entire island tore itself from its foundation to flip upside down and soar into the emptiness of a plane above this ocean. As it ascended above and crumbled into nothingness, it cast a reflection in the waters below: that of another island that could have been. The one Horror which had contained and become so many other Horrors appeared again, but this time when it attacked, the Eye merely fled. Unassisted, the Fly fell before the monstrous extradimensional invader, and then with glamors and tricks and folds of the Tapestry, Yudaiel masked her own presence and diverted the thing to the peak of the Galbar where it wreaked havoc.
A ripple pulsed through the ocean, tiny by the grand cosmic standards of this surreal perspective, but massive enough to erase that small reflection of a universe. When the wave had passed, a more familiar reflection returned: that of their present Reality, and one for which the Eye’s lord ought to have been grateful.
The great claws of the Monarch of All dug into the eye of Yudaiel, dragging her form so that all she could see was His blinding radiance. Anger was all that she could see, and that anger enveloped her surrounding everything and invading all her senses. He had been angered by her constant visions of trying to merely leave His kingdom and abandon her duties, yet this rage was subdued.
His mind was harder to entomb within a prison of illusions than the likes of the Fly’s, or any of her vapid ‘peers’, so when her progenitor broke free with such ease and struck at her in Reality she recoiled with a hiss. To her credit the amorphous pupil dissipated and then reappeared somewhere else within the storm of consciousness, mostly unscathed from the rending swipe… mostly. With her Sight blurred by that strike, she still looked clearly into His wound and Saw what she wanted, and so much more, just waiting in there. He was inside her sea of consciousness, within her grasp. It was so, so tempting to reach into His chest and seize what she wanted, to eviscerate Him herself…
”Not yet.”
The whisper was faint, so faint that she was certain none beside her would have perceived it, and she almost took it for the Monarch’s own voice. The familiar tone was almost like the Monarch’s own cadence, but not quite… it was colder, more distant, less passionate.
She heard it and obeyed, arresting her racing thoughts before the Monarch sensed something amiss.
”You would not survive out in that void! You know not what lives beyond the periphery of my domain - beasts and monsters would be the least of your concern if you found ‘him’!”
Psychosis stirred from its slumber and reared its head once again, just long enough to relay an ideabstracted memory of that dream by the river… that part where the cyclops in the sky had peered at her.
The Monarch was a mountain before the trees of his making, which clung to His side and in His shadow. But proud as He was, upon the horizon were many, many more peaks… some that threatened to perhaps tower even taller than He.
The venerable Monarch of All was wordless, not because He lacked coherent thoughts or words to answer the question, but because He did not want to answer it. Lowering His arms, the Monarch of All looked back towards the star-filled void and watched it for the briefest of moments as His claws dug into His palms once more. There was a new feeling that emanated from Him, one that was unknown to any of the gods - fear gnawed at His mind as he glimpsed into the void. A single utterance graced Yudaiel as she watched the unmoving form of her liege.
”Amphiboles.”
So He had offered up a name to that alien giant with the nigh-omniscient eye, yet names meant little. Yudaiel knew and Saw many things: things that she should not have been able to See, knowledge that should not have been possible to attain, secrets that should have been forgotten. She knew that somewhere out there was that cyclops – Amphiboles – and that such a being might well be the Architect of His Undoing, if it smelt weakness and division.
Yudaiel, with no even a hint of subtlety, projected thought at the Monarch of All and imparted into his mind the suggestion that she keep careful vigil over the Tapestry’s threads so as to track the movements and machinations of that ‘Amphiboles’... perhaps the Tapestry’s weave could likewise be obfuscated in strange and arcane ways, so as to hinder that probing eye of the cyclops.
The Monarch of All continued His gaze outwards, looking beyond the great void that contained His opulent realm. With a sigh, He turned back to Yudaiel and gave thought to the proposal that He Saw. In the end, He nodded to her in silence, giving her the duty to watch over the tapestry so that the great Architect would not meddle within His affairs. The safety of His realm would not be guaranteed with her aid, but it would be a step in ensuring a warning.
And yet the apparition of an open hand, its palm still empty, invaded his mind.
Silently, yet angrily, a hand went to the deep wound upon His chest and went to the great many shards that made up His being. The Monarch of All felt His fingers pluck away one of the crystalline structures from its place within His core. He let out a sharp, pained breath and staggered - almost losing balance as yet another piece of His soul left His body. There was a moment as He stood there in pain, staring at the crystal that contained countless different orbs - an untold number of moons that could possibly be crafted and controlled. The Hallowed Lord regained His composure after a brief time and extended the hand holding the shard out towards Yudaiel.
”Do not make me regret this.”
Yoliyachicoztl Week
The great fields were alight that night.
Fields are smoke,
Smoke is air.
Gazing ever on to the dancing light,
The only light that could give us fright.
It took the moisture from our throats,
It came and made us dry.
It was Fire.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious Fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
You show no mercy – no regard:
A writhing army uncontrolled.
At least you don’t discriminate,
Coming to exterminate:
All dealt with equal pain untold.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious Fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
In time of drought you run amok –
An open chimney of the land.
Prefer to scorch than suffocate:
In blinding zeal, incinerate
To blackened vista now unmanned.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious Fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
Destruction be your only goal
For you to vent your jealous wrath
On gentle life with caring soul
And human victims to console:
As you are none, but psychopath.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious Fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
So there it is – you are but flame:
Reacting gases to adorn –
With orange flicks of flailing arms,
You’re flaunting your demonic charms!
Now leave us for bereaved to mourn.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious Fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
So many lives to claim.
Too many for you to swallow.
And yet that roaring flame -
It would soon make us hallow.
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