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Weapons of the Emperor Final Chapter

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AN:
Hey Deviants, Morgan here. This story took a lot longer to write than I ever thought it would. Originally, it wasn't going to exceed ten thousand words... two chapters at the most. But a fruitful muse, some really good ideas, and a month and a half of not writing all pushed this into what you see before you. Here at the Scions Project, we're really grateful that you guys actually read this, and we really hope to get more content out for you soon. expect more Tyrant of New Babylon, perhaps a story with the White Scars, and maybe a little something with Minerva. Stay tuned.


    It was a dark place, wherever she was. The walls were damp stone, as was the floor. There was no door, nor was there any sort of window or vent. She could feel her way up the walls, but the roof was nowhere within reach. She could still breath, and there was an occasional stir in the air, so she could only assume that this cell was open somewhere. The air was damp, and there was the slightest of chills in the atmosphere.

    What was worse, was the silence. Asano could hear her own heart pumping in her ears. Her every motion scraped on the stone, and her clothing rustled, and she could hear all of it. There was no other sound to hear. She heard her stomach growl, and she heart the motions of her organs. She could hear the creaking and groaning of her tired muscles, and once, she thought that she heard the poisons eating at her flesh.

    Then there was the pain. Asano had been run through, and more than once her Eldar captors had played macabre games with her skin and their bone knives. She had been poisoned many times, and she could not heal properly. The only reason why she did not simply die, was because her Astartes implants refused to let her. The pain was her only companion, and was the only constant thing about her existence. He chest throbbed every time her punctured heart tried to beat. He leg was burning and freezing at the same time, the nerves conflicted and confused by the malign toxins the Eldar had used. She had scars starting to form all along her back, some were Eldar characters, others idle doodles, and more than one was a deep gash.

    But the worst torment was the psychic one. She was completely cut off from the empyrean. Her head ached terribly, and she couldn’t move her mind beyond its natural boundaries. She had never known life without her power, in part because it came directly from her soul. But somehow, wherever she was, she couldn’t reach the warp, and it hurt. Her thoughts echoed off the walls, and every time she tried to gather power, she felt like she was trying to breath vacuum.

    She tried to keep track of the time, but the only thing that she could measure was the metronomic beat of her heart. It took her a long time to isolate which beat was her healthy heart, and without her augmented psyche or even a page to scribble numbers on, the math converting heartbeats to seconds took her a torturously long time. After she had the math worked out, she managed to count six hours before a spike of pain nearly knocked her out. She tried to compare that stretch to her total incarceration, but it became increasingly harder to measure the time.

    Sleep came fitfully at best. Once or twice she thought that she may have dreamed, but she couldn’t tell if that was just her warp-deprived mind trying to fill in the gaps in her consciousness. the uncertainty grew, because she was blind in her dreams as well.

    Her world changed. The air had a smell. It was the smell of stale sweat and old adrenaline. Asano focussed her weary senses as best she could, trying to determine why things were changing. Something was moving near her, she could feel the changes in pressure and the slight stirring of the air. Then she heard the soft hum of a small motor. She strained her ears, shutting her useless eyes to focus every iota of her strength into discerning the source of the sound.

    She felt the syringe slide uncaringly into her neck, and her senses deadened. It was a strange feeling. She knew that she was awake, but she could sense nothing. Her pain was gone, or more accurately, she couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t see, nor hear, nor even tell if she was being moved. She was floating in a sea of inky darkness, so far removed from herself and the world that troubled her that she started to forget…

    That’s when it all came rushing back. Pain. Fear. Loathing. Shame. Scars. Infected wounds. Blades rasping on a whetstone. A halogen surgical light aimed at her face. Her riven heart still beating weakly. Metal bands securing her to a slab. Her senses were back all in one rush. She coughed, and tried not to choke on the blood that came up. Her spine twisted inside her flesh with the sudden pain.

    Her head was strapped to the slab, as well as every other extremity of her body. The metal was cold, and moist, but rust free and clean. Her eyes could see very little of the room, and the light in her eyes made detailed vision nearly impossible. She tried to shut her eyes against the harsh light, but it did little to help.

    Something spoke to her in Eldar, “I hope you understand the restraints.” Something ungainly shuffled around the slab, moving metal items and adjusting machinery. “I’d have attended to you sooner, but we simply didn’t have anything in your, size.” The Eldar kept fiddling around, and Asano tried to follow his movements through the edges of her eyes, but he was just far enough away, that all she could see was a formless shadow. “Oh yes, we had to build all this from parts.” She shut her eyes and tried to fill her mind with empyrric energy, but again, there was nothing to draw upon. “All of this, all for you.”

    She opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue was dry and her throat was hoarse. She rasped the start of an Eldar word, but could no more finish it than she could break her bonds. The Eldar shuffled over to her slab, making shushing noises as he did. “There’s no need for that.” He moved the lamp, and once her eyes readjusted, she could see his face. It was stapled on. It looked as if it were not originally his own face, because it looked too small for his skull. It was bunched and taught at odd places. The eyes behind his lids were little chips of flint, glittering with subdued malice beneath his comically droopy brow.

    “Listen little lamb, you have secrets inside you, and I’m going to find them.” He lifted a long, thin knife and gently ran the flat of the blade along her jaw line. “But it’s not just secrets that you’ll be giving me, but exquisite pain.” He gently lifted the metal bands securing her head and put a seven-fingered hand on her scalp. He rolled her head to the side, and she saw the room.

    This was a theatre, and she was on center stage. There were risers, eight of them that she could see, and lining the walls on each level were crystal sarcophagi. In each one, was a mutilated and horribly warped humanoid form suspended from wires and hoses, dancing and writhing to a silent beat. “You, and your apes, killed these men. And now, your pain will bring them new life.” She was emotionally numb, too stunned to be horrified. “But don’t think that you’ll be used to create anything other than the finest work.” His hand left her head, and his knife pressed down into her chin, almost breaking the skin. “These are trueborn, the cream of the crop, the finest warriors, and the richest nobles.” One of the entombed forms writhed as skin started to grow over his exposed muscles, and veins stitched their way through his flesh.

    Asano coughed again, and the blood wetted her throat enough to speak. Even through the horror of what lay before her, morbid curiosity possessed her. “Why?” she managed to rasp in Eldar.

    The Eldar stopped cutting, pulled the knife away, and moved her head to look him in the eyes. “Why?” He paused, effort and mental effort clear on his features. “I’ve heard pleas for mercy and death in a thousand tongues on these tables. I’ve heard confessions, and answers to questions I never asked. I’ve heard offers for favors, money, whole worlds even.” He drew in a breath, collecting his thoughts, “But no one has ever asked me, why?” He lifted two more arms out of his coat to stroke his chin and adjust his face as he thought.

    “This is not.” She coughed more blood up. “Not Isha’s way.” The Eldar went from intrigued introspection and awe to furious zeal in a heartbeat. He lifted the knife back up and slammed it into her bicep. Asano gritted her teeth and a restrained scream bubbled bloody foam out of her mouth.

    “What would you know about the gods, ape?” He half-screamed half-spat. “I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes, seen entire civilizations like yours rise and fall. You are not allowed to speculate on the divine.” With one of his other arms, he grabbed a pair of shears and cut two of the fingers off of her left hand. With his smaller arms, he grabbed her hair and her chin, and pulled her face up to his. “Speak Isha’s name again and I’ll use your tongue for untold blasphemies.”

    A door opened in the back of the room. And a familiar voice addressed Asano’s tormentor. “Scycir, if she cannot speak, then she cannot tell me what I want to know.” The Eldar that Asano gathered was named Scycir turned to face the intruder in his temple of suffering, but before the hem of his coat had stopped moving, he dropped to one knee.

    “Lord I…”

    He was cut off. “I don’t care what she said about the gods. She’ll be suckling off of Ynead’s teat soon enough.” The lord walked into the room, and cleared his throat loudly. “To all my wealthiest minions… enjoy this. Because if you die again, I’m not paying this fool to bring you back.”

    Asano moved her head as much as she could, and she could see Scycir still kneeling, obviously uncomfortable. She tried to focus on him, to derive as much resolve from his discomfort as she could; in part to numb the intense pain in her arm and phantom-fingers, and also to help her formulate her escape.

    “Scycir…” the lord began. He hopped down from the level he entered at to the next riser down, Asano could hear the thunk of his boots on the stone. “Oh stand up.” He said quickly. There was another thunk, and Asano was sure that he was on the same level as her. “Scycir, you’ve done good work for me, for a long time.”

    “I have sire.” Scycir agreed too quickly.

    The lord grabbed a blade off of the table and jammed it into Scycir’s back. “Don’t interrupt me.” He added only slightly annoyed. “You’ve done good work, but your, religion, I fear that it’s going to get in the way of progress.” Scycir might have groaned, but Asano couldn’t tell whether it was in pain, or annoyance at such a trivial admonition. “This specimen, knows what we’re saying.” He paused and raised his voice to emphasize, while no doubt waving his arms about, “I have met two humans in my life who could even begin to understand verb conjugation in this language. In fact, she may well speak this tongue better than some lowborn.” He stepped over and patted Asano on the head like a man might a dog. “I know I insulted you earlier, and I meant it, but that was before I knew that you were a human.”

    Asano started to gurgle a question out, but the Lord slapped her across the mouth. The backs of his knuckles sported small razors, and her cheek was torn to bloody ribbons. He made a slight tsk sound as he did it. He flicked his fingers at Asano, shaking his hand to get the blood off of his bespoke gauntlet.

    He turned back to Scycir, “Look at her.” He gestured with his bloody hand. “She’s got the gall to speak to me, and, the audacity to swing a sword at me. That kind of courage is unnatural. And she knows about our culture, and our history, and our gods.” Scycir still looked visibly distressed, but curiosity was beginning to replace his violent hate. “I’d like to know how she knows all of this, but I’m more interested in how a huskblade to the heart did not simply kill her.”

    “If I may…” Scycir began hesitantly.

    “You may.” The lord replied.

    “I.”

    “Remember the importance of etiquette and grace.” There was a brief pause, then “Interrupting me is rude.” He cut Scycir off as if he hadn’t even noticed that he had started talking. Scycir waited for several moments, trying to make sure that his lord was done talking, but that only prompted admonishment, “Why are you holding your tongue now, I gave you permission to speak.”

    “Thank you lord.” He pulled the knife out of his back and said, “I believe that her resilience comes from her altered physique.” He gestured to some of her surgical scars, “As you can see here, she’s had extensive surgical augmentation.”

    “Do these augments explain her surviving a wound from a weapon that cuts souls…?” The lord’s tone was as much intrigued as dryly sarcastic and bored.

    “It does not lord, but it does help us to understand.” Scycir finished his sentence before the lord got bored and wandered away. He raised his voice, speaking to his errant master. “She is resistant to poison, and her blood clots rapidly. Furthermore…” He stopped, and looked at the lord. Asano looked at the lord, who was tapping on the front of a crystal sarcophagus, watching the agonized man inside. Tapping the glass like a child at the zoo.

    “Furthermore…” He said, annoyed that he had to encourage his underling to continue.

    “Furthermore,” Scycir continued, keeping his agitation out of his voice. “She has two hearts, three lungs, and a very robust immune system.” He used two of his arms to prop and palpate a section of Asano’s stomach, as his smaller arms pulled up a knife and made an incision across her stomach. She bit down on her lip, refusing to scream. Scycir continued unabated, “Her bones have naturally occurring metals in them, as well as higher concentrations of.”

    The Lord cut him off once again. “Scycir, I am no Haemonculus, tell me what I want to know without boring me into a coma.” Asano looked at the lord, and for the first time, had the right angle to see his face. It was regal, in a way that defined the word. His features were refined and subtle, almost designed to suit a ruler. But what struck Asano, was the color of his eyes. His skin was nearly solid white, and his hair brilliant crimson, but his eyes… they were striking emerald green.

    Scycir continued, “I’ve tested my theories on many of these large humans, and I can conclude that this one is an elite specimen.” Asano understood all too well what that meant. Any number of her men had already died screaming on one of these tables. She felt something more than sadness, a deeper despair than she had ever known. And the glassed-in monsters all around her danced with sudden gusto.

    The lord said, “My… I think we’ve touched a nerve.” He leapt off of the riser he was on, to the ground level and then placed both hands on the edge of the slab. He leaned over her, malicious intrigue in his emerald eyes. “Such a stoic one…” He caressed the ruin mass of flesh that was once her cheek with a bladed finger. “You aren't pained by the ruination of your own flesh…” He crooned. “But perhaps what hurts you most, is knowing that you’ve failed.” A devilish grin was spread across his face, revealing his wickedly pointed, perfectly aligned teeth.

    He backed out of her face and barked, “Bring me her affects!” from outside the room, there was the sound of heavy footsteps, and a monster stepped into the room. Scycir stapled Asano’s stomach open and walked away, affording her a view of the newcomer. He was taller than an Eldar, with skin more tanned than the Eldar’s. He had an iron mask bolted onto his face, and bony extrusions messily extended out of his spine. Asano saw the case in his arms, but before she recognized the stamp on the crate, she saw the solid bone ribcage beneath the skin of his chest. He was an enslaved space marine. New sorrows flooded her mind, which was no doubt the intention of the lord.

    The enslaved marine set the crate down and let the Lord pick through its contents. Asano was biting back tears when the lord pulled her sword out of the container. She tried to scream at the lord to put it down, but all that left her lips was a spray of bloody foam and bits of what was her cheek. The lord had a smile as wide as the gulf between stars stretched across his pale face. He hefted the sword, which in his hands seemed comically large. “This, is disgusting.” Asano spat at him, the blood fell short of her target. “This sword has no art to it, no panache to its design.” He choked up on the handle and mock-swung the blade. “The metal would be better used making a saucepot than a weapon.” he swung the sword again and had to whirl to avoid falling over with the centripetal force. “These weights in the blade only serve to make it even more idiotic.” He pushed the activation rune and watched the powerfield shimmer into existence. “It needs this.” he pointed to the matter-disintegrating energy. “Because the edge on this couldn’t cut a loaf of half-baked bread.”

    He cut her deeply with those words. She carried that sword as a symbol of power and status. It was a masterfully constructed weapon from Terra. To hold that sword was an honor that few had ever known. Yet to the Eldar, it was a stick in the hand of an over-imaginative child… playing at being a knight. His insults and biting observations cut her pride away a sliver at a time, reducing her to something less than what she was.

    “I suppose,” He continued. “That this barbaric sword is a good analogy for your character.” He huffed as he said it, quite pleased with himself and at his perceived eloquence. “You are built from inferior pieces by someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing, destined to shatter the first time you’re tried. You’re too heavy to be easily used, too bulky and slow. You’re garish and conspicuous.” He paused, clearly trying to emphasize his cruelty even further. “And now you, just like your pathetic sword, belong to me.” He was leaned fully over her now, grinning into her hateful glare. In a token act of defiance she jerked her head up and snapped at his nose, hoping to take it off. But just as he was when she fought him with a sword, he saw the move coming and effortlessly dodged.

    He walked away from her, dropping the priceless sword as he did. “Scycir, you know full well what to do.” He climbed up the risers, out of the surgical theatre with ease and grace.

    Scycir bowed at the waist and bid his master farewell, “Of course lord Szerafernos.” Asano heard his name, and committed it to memory. She would kill that man. She would kill him and mount his head upon her wall where everyone could see it. She would kill everyone who had ever sworn fealty to him. She would salt his fields and burn his home. Every slave would be freed and every slaver lashed. She would do all of this. All she had to do first, was survive.

    Scycir glided over to her and began his cutting again. She almost bit through her lower lip suppressing the scream that wanted to erupt. “I’ve noticed in many of your compatriots, a bizarre blindness.” He was peeling skin off of her sternum, looking at the solid rib-plate that guarded her hearts. “Their mechanical components seemed to partially compensate for their disability, but I’m fairly certain that you had to use witchery to fill the rest of the void.” He pulled the dead and infected flesh away from the stab wound in her breast. “It was possible that you used similar sorcery to sustain yourself after surviving what should have been a mortal wound, but as I’m sure you’ve figured out, that can’t truly be the case.” He tapped the flat of one of his blades right between her eyes, where the eye of Morai Heg was supposedly located. He inserted a probe into the stab wound, and the cold metal felt like burning ice inside her chest. He slid in in further, and then retracted it. He walked away from the slab, dropping a bundle of bloody metal into a basin of water.

    Asano tried to breath only when she needed to, to deprive the glassed in men from the pain they so desperately needed. She was so focussed on this that she didn’t notice the whisper in the back of her mind. It wasn’t speaking in words, per se… but instead it spoke in pure reassurance. She retreated inside her mind, as best she could with the pain. She left her senses as far behind as she could, and then she heard the voice.

    “Good.” It said. “Glad you could join me.” She couldn’t place the voice, but it was familiar to her.

    “Who are you?” Asano thought, unsure of how to speak without telepathy.

    “That doesn’t matter right now.” That struck Asano as odd, but she didn’t have time to ask why. “You are about to die, and while that may provide some with passing entertainment, it will deprive the future of a vital player.” Asano realized that she was thinking in Eldar.

    “If psychic channeling doesn’t work here, how are you speaking to me?”

    “Channeling without a focus is impossible here.”

    “So if I had a rune-stave I could gather power?”

    “Perhaps.” The voice mused. “But unfortunately for you, that won’t be the case.”

    Worried, Asano asked, “What do you mean?”

    “I’ve arranged for some friends to help you, but before they can do anything, you need to break out.” He chuckled. “And you’re not going to like how we’ve worked that part out.

    Asano was ripped out of her mental solitude when one of her eyelids was cut off. She snapped back into sensory consciousness with a shock. Her right eye was filled with blood, and the light was blindingly bright. The blade dipped again and removed her bottom lid. She screamed, no longer able to hold it all back. Then metal strips slid around her bloody eye, and clasped together around the back of the orb. Then the haemonculus pulled the eye clean out of its socket.

    Asano blacked out for a brief moment. And in that moment, her mind filled with empyrric energy. She understood now what the voice meant. She needed a psychic focus to gather her power, and due in part to the nature of her power, and her father’s blindness. When that eye left her socket, she was able to find wells of power that were always within her. An ocean of power that had always been just behind her fingertips. Asano opened the floodgates.

    Telekinetic force blasted out of her body, blowing the restraints clean off of the slab and throwing Scycir to the ground. She picked herself up with her telekinesis, and she moved her head to look at the stunned Scycir. She ionized the air and supercharged the pocket she was manipulating. In the air then, she had a ball of contained lightning. She released the ball and blasted Scycir into component atoms. Then she leaned her head back and screamed. She amplified the noise, and shattered the glass on every sarcophagus, killing the reviving creatures inside. She lifted her sword off of the ground with her mind, pulling it to her hand. Her body was too weak to carry it, but she didn’t need to. She used her mind to pinch all of her wounds shut, to put flayed skin back where it went, preventing her from bleeding out. She then floated over to the crate, and saw her tiger pelt. She scooped it up and draped it over her ruined body. She left the blasted room, carrying herself on currents of controlled force.

    She was still bleeding, and she couldn’t really see, but she was fighting back. In the hall she saw a trio of lightly armored warriors with sleek rifles running towards the room. She buffeted them with force, knocking them off balance, then she grabbed them by their feet and dragged them towards her dancing sword. She could only clumsily wield the weapon, but she dispatched all three without much fuss.

    The voice in her mind returned to her. “Remember this, as my time with you is growing short. Follow the men in motley. Don’t trust the blind prince. And even a friend’s cloak has two sides.” Then her mind was silent, and she was alone.

    She ripped the blades off of the armor of the fallen warriors, and sent the jagged flechettes whirling around her in a cyclone of motion. All of this psychic stress was taxing, but she felt more powerful than ever. She could do more, feel more, and compute more. The whirlwind, her psychic bandages, the sword, she was doing all of it, more than any other psyker could do at once. The entire world was an extension of her body, ready to be manipulated and warped to her needs.

    She floated down the hallway, cocooned in hurricane force winds. She felt that more Eldar were near, but instead of stopping to engage them, she let the supersonic shrapnel surrounding her rip them into a gory mess. Nothing stood in her way. She was unstoppable, until she simply fell out of the air.

    She was in the middle of slaying a host of warriors when her control simply ceased. The winds died, her wounds opened, and she fell. The surviving eldar stopped fleeing, pulled out bone knives, and moved towards her. They were cautious, but ready to deliver the coup de grace, and end their nightmare. Asano watched weakly from the ground, searching for the ocean of power that she had once accessed, hoping that she hadn’t drained the sea. She searched and searched, turning her gaze inwards, but before she could save herself, someone did it for her.

    There were only two eldar warriors approaching her, and they were a few meters away from her, carefully stepping over rubble and the broken bodies of their comrades. In a flash, a cloud of fractal images and broken light exploded out of thin air. The leftmost eldar saw it out of the corner of his eye, and turned to face it; but before he finished moving, part of the cloud of hololithic light coalesced into a sword blade and cleaved into his upper shoulder and dragged through his chest and out his stomach. Cut nearly in twain, he fell to the ground alerting his companion. But the other eldar barely had time to turn before a spike was shoved clean through his head. Blood and jellied brain matter leaked out of either side of his punctured helmet, and he fell to the floor.

    The cloud of light blinked out of existence, revealing to Asano a man in a colorfully checkered coat. His outfit was garish and gaudy, with too many bright colors to look at for long. On his face was a long nosed mask with feathered eyebrows. He had a long curved sword in one hand and a long spike strapped to his other forearm. He knelt next to Asano careful not to step in the spreading pool of her blood and caressed her head, lifting her gaze to meet his. He whispered, “Stay alive madam, there is work yet unfinished, work that you must do.” He reached into his checkered coat and pulled out a piece of wraithbone. He pressed it to her breast, and hummed a multi-tonal tune. The wraithbone started to vibrate and grow, extending filaments all around Asano’s body, wrapping her in living psychic material. She looked to her savior and tried to speak. He saw this, and without ceasing his song, leaned down to her and pressed a gloved finger to her lips. Then he finished his song, and the stasis pod he had grown activated.

    He stood up and looked at his charge. Her body was ruined: poisoned, shredded, dismembered, mutilated. But she possessed a force of will and determination that could rival a troupe master’s own. She may only be a mortal human, but he knew full well what her role in the days to come was, and he could not let her die here. He sheathed his sword and picked up the stasis pod, then he opened the webway and left existence.


    Asano did not dream while in stasis. But after some unknown time, she was brought back into the timestream, and she did dream. She dreamt that she was on Chogoris, with Ganzorig. She dreamt about the hunt where she had fallen in love. They had ridden for days, just to reach the tiger’s craggy home. They searched for hours just to find tracks, and followed the trail they found all the way back to a den. They had only brought hunting spears and their wits. The beast had almost killed Ganzorig when it mauled him, but Asano had driven her spear into its heart and killed it. She stitched his wounds shut with a sliver of bone and plant fibers, his laraman cells had done the rest. He helped her skin the beast and tan the hide, and then they had fallen into each other’s arms.

    Her dreams changed, and she was in Magnus’ library. The crimson sisters taught her how to move the air instead of just moving solid objects. Morrigan taught her about the physics of motion and the nature of matter. Eris had taught her the nature of what plasma was, and how to construct lightning from empty air. Hecate showed her the true nature of prophecy. And the trio as a whole taught her what it meant to have confidence in a friend. In turn she gave them the eyeless sight. She also saw the amazed expression in Magnus’ eye when he watched his girls practice; that all-too human look on his alien face had never truly left her.

    At last her dreams lead her to her brothers. Those whom fate had ruined. Cursed by their genetics, they were unfit to be Astartes, so her father abandoned them. They worked in the boilerworks of the silent monastery, powering the seat of their scornful father’s power. Asano missed them, and their adoration. They never hated her for being chosen, nor did they resent their deformities, they accepted their lot in life and tried to do their best at being on the bottom rung of society. Their only visitors were Asano and her mother, and with her failing health and Asano’s long absence, she could only imagine their loneliness.

    When Asano opened her eye, she was reminded of where she had been, but not where she was. The ceiling was unfamiliar, but she recognized the metal construction as Imperial make. She turned her head, and saw a cluster of machines that were stamped with purity seals, and vials and hoses filled with colored liquid. It was dim, but not dark. She raised her left hand and looked for the ruined stumps where her pinky and ring fingers should be missing. Instead she saw pneumatic ceramite digits. She felt her face and brushed her fingers over the gauze pad covering her empty socket.

    A tear welled up in her eye. She was sad, angry, but most of all overjoyed. She was home, or close enough to home that it didn’t matter. She basked in the feeling, joyous simply to be alive.

    Many minutes later, the door to her room opened, and an unarmored apothecary walked in. Behind him followed Captain Tsuki, Captain Hikaru, and a Tech Priest. The Apothecary began adjusting the machinery and raised the back of her bed so that she could look at the captain's sitting up. They politely waited for her to speak first.

    “I hardly know which question to ask first.” Asano began. She moved her head to sweep her gaze over the three men. “Where are we?”

    Tsuki answered. “Two months away from Arashi Tatara mistress.”

    Asano nodded her thanks. “And how long have I been away?”

    Hikaru answered this time. “Almost three weeks.” He paused to choose his words carefully. “After your capture, it took us a great effort to regroup and repel the Eldar.” He paused again.

    Asano interrupted, “How many did we lose?”

    Hikaru was visibly saddened, “Two hundred and five no longer in service. Only sixty seven of those are confirmed dead.” He swallowed and continued. “Many men were lost in the void and we could not locate them. More were captured, but most of our casualties were so badly injured that even with heavy augmentic surgery and biologic therapy, they could not be returned to service.”

    Asano nodded that she understood, not willing to speak just yet. Tsuki spoke up, “However, the… man… who returned you to us also brought us this man.” He gestured to the tech priest.

    The servant of the Omnissiah bowed respectfully. “Harlon Gayl of the forge world Ryza at your service madam Haruka.”

    The apothecary turned away from his work and said, “It was his knowledge that saved your life, and prevented our casualty numbers from being greater.” He pointed to a bandage on the side of her neck. “He had discovered a form of mutant human that could create antibodies to most forms of foreign toxins, and he had modified it for Astartes implantation.” Asano nodded, understanding enough of that to appreciate what all of this menat to the larger Imperium.

    She responded, “Then our mission was a success.” She flexed her new fingers. “A costly success, but a success nonetheless.” She looked to Gayl. “You understand that this knowledge must come to all of the legions, to prepare them for any future conflicts with these Eldar.”

    Gayl nodded in understanding. He spoke again, “If I may madam Haruka, I must return to my compiling.” Asano nodded approval.

    As he left the room, Hikaru stepped forward and in a conspiratorial tone asked, “Do you know how you got here?”

    Asano shrugged and replied unperturbed, “I have a general idea.”

    Tsuki, similarly leaned in and hushed told her, “An Eldar in a jester’s outfit brought you and the magos to us in stasis.” He gestured a hand to Asano in general, “you were horribly injured and almost dead.”

    “But I live.” Asano replied levelly.

    “We know that, but we don’t know so much more.” Tsuki said, concerned.

    “I was captured by the Eldar.” Asano began. “And I was tortured for information, but I managed to escape and meet your rescue party.” The captains looked confused. “Your reports, as well as my own will reflect this truth… and shall mention nothing of the other Eldar.”

    Hikaru was very conflicted and it was obvious in his features. “But why should we lie?”

    “Because I command you to.” Asano said flatly. “This is far bigger than you know, and I am not sure how much I believe myself.” Asano felt the bandage over her heart and continued, “Furthermore, the Legion needs to believe in itself. And it needs to believe in me.” She gestured to the both of the captains, “Without faith in their commanders, the men will doubt every order and we will fail in our tasks.”

    Tsuki nodded. “I understand.” Both captains uncomfortably turned to leave her be.

    Asano asked after them, “What happened to Captain Kogame?”

    Hikaru answered, “His body was recovered, and once we reach Arashi Tatara, he may be interred into a dreadnought sarcophagus.” Asano nodded her thanks.

    She asked one more question of her captains as they left, “Then we are headed home?”

    Tsuki answered, “Yes, but only to refit, repair and rearm.” He looked slightly uncomfortable. “After that we have to set sail for Macragge.”

    “Macragge?”

    “Your lord father received a vision, and he’s mobilizing the legion.” Tsuki stroked the silk blindfold he kept over his ruined eyes. “All we know is that something is about to happen, and while the details haven't manifested yet, the scale will be catastrophic.

    Asano nodded her thanks, and the captain's left her. She laid her head down, and tried to sleep, but rest did not come easily to her. She was worried about what may happen at Macragge, worried about Kogame, worried about all of the other men that lay dying in the medbay. She did draw solace however, from one certainty; Szerafernos will die by her hand. Perhaps not now, or even in a hundred years, but somewhere, sometime, in this lifetime or the next, her sword would taste his heart's blood… someday.
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0502matt's avatar
O_O if what i think is happening is gonna happen, then i think we can consider the Heresy about to happen