The Grandmaster of the Reliquary's Hall(Formerly the Lord Governor Subsector's Hall), Hive Medusa
Sagarius, Paracelsus System
Sorcerer-Lord Dionysos Xanthous walked through the former hall of the Lord Governor Subsector, a pair of Rubicon Marines following at his sides obediently and silently, the eyes of their helms glowing green with witch-light. The hall had been undoing successively greater and greater renovations since the uprising, at the behest of the new Grandmaster of the Reliquary of Metamorphisian Mysteries. Dionysos admired a couple of the Daemonic frescos and inscriptions of heretical prayers and designs scrawling out across the walls in mad configurations, whose artistic significance likely wasn't even fully known to their creators. Such was the nature of Tzeentch's minions, though. Their Father, Magnus had taught him and his brothers that much at least.
These particular minions had served The Lord of Change's designs quite well, of that there was no doubt. However, that did not mean Dionysos's opinion of them had changed much since he had arrived in the system via the portal they had created for him and his brothers. He felt that the humans served their purpose only to help him ascend to further power and know their place as being their loyal servants, if they obtained a little more power for themselves or sought other ambitions along the way, he didn't really care. Most of the time there wasn't an issue, but these Grandmasters, and he'd been through four of them now since he arrived, just proved to seem to have ambitions beyond their stations more often than most.
This latest one, Morpheus Malthian was more cunning than most, but he was just another maggot feeding off of the corpse that their Lord, and the saviours he had sent provided for them. Dionysos pushed that image out of his head abruptly, maggots made him think of Nurgle, the archenemy of Tzeentch, and he didn't want to attract the attention of him; despite the fact he highly doubted that any of the Gods would be paying attention to mortal concerns right now unless it was of the highest importance to the Great Game. The False-Emperor's ascension to the Godhood he sought saw to that.
No matter, Morpheus had his uses, and he could be made to serve Dionysos' purposes one way or another in the end. The Grandmaster himself was waiting in his office as Dionysos and his silent bodyguards finally reached it, two traitor guardsmen at either side snapping to attention and opening the rune-inscribed doors to ward off hostile psy-forces, competition for the position of Grandmaster was obviously still fierce. Inside the office, there was dust and candles everywhere, stacks of esoteric tomes littered the floor, and Morpheus himself was reading one at his desk. His dark robes draping over the chair he was sitting in and covering most of his body; Dionysos knew the robes were mostly to cover Morpheus' hideous skin mutations, the physical rewards Tzeentch had given him. Offering not much physical detriment or strengths, Morpheus simply covered it because he hated looking at himself in mirrors like that, for he looked more like a corpse than the powerful psyker and living repository of forbidden lore that he was.
Morpheus peered up from his book as the giant in blue and gold power armour and robes stood over him, he stood up and bowed in a small gesture of respect. Dionysos could tell it wasn't entirely sincere.
"My Lord Xanthous, how might I serve you?"
Dionysos loomed over Morpheus, his Rubic Marine Guards may have been statues with glowing eyes.
"I have come to inform you that Magos Athir has finished his inspections of the stolen capital ships and that we shall begin the next phase of our plans."
"Very good my Lord, what is my role in this?"
Dionysos smirked under his helmet.
"You shall remain here, Grandmaster, at least for now. In order to ensure that what we have claimed for Lord Tzeentch shall not crumble into ruin while I am gone. I shall, however, require the services of Seeker Carnelian, his services should serve us well in the near future."
Morpheus bristled beneath his cloak, the thought of the Thousand Sons leaving him behind to run things while they claimed the glory of fighting in Tzeentch's name was a deep wound to his pride. He kept his temper in check though, for he know that it was unwise to challenge the will of the Sorcerer-Lord of the Thousand Sons
"Fine then, I'll send for the Seeker to transfer himself and his men to your company, and then meet with Taskmaster Gorgos so that we'll start setting defensive and manufacturing priorities in order."
Morpheus arose and setting his book aside, he began to leave to carry out the instructions. Dionysos stopped him with a gauntlet on his shoulder before he made it past him.
"Just to make things clear, the only planet I care remotely about in this subsector is Sobebek. Do whatever is necessary to see to it that planet and its relics do not fall into the hands of the ignorant or unworthy, use every means at your disposal, sacrifice all of Sagarius and Lorian III and summon a warp storm to consume it if you must, anything but to let them have it. Understand, Grandmaster?
Nervous as Dionysos let go of him, Morpheus fought to stop himself from shaking in fear at the icy command. He simply nodded under his hood before storming off.
"Perfectly, Lord."
Dionysos followed him out several second later after glancing at what Morpheus was reading, a treatise on Daemonology. Vain fool, thinking that he'd ever have the strength to withstand the mutations, let alone the power which Tzeentch would give him if he succeeded in serving him well. It took all the skill and power the master sorcerer Ahriman to do that for him and their Legion so many millennia ago, and Morpheus, for all his might, was a speck of dust before their flame. Dionysos had no desire to inform the human of this knowledge, it would make his eventual death and feeling of betrayal all the more sweeter. Instead, Dionysos simply left the Grandmaster's office in search of transportation his freshly completed fleet waiting in orbit.