"Father, isn't this too dangerous?" Calliphone's brow furrowed, her tone heavy with concern. "Have you forgotten the assassination attempt at the theatre last time?"
Dammekos, however, appeared confident. "Now that the whole world is at peace and all hearts are united, what danger is there?"
"My son conquered all of Olympia for me. Doesn't his father have the freedom to watch a simple play?"
Seeing her father's resolve, Calliphone suggested, "We could summon the troupe to perform in the palace."
"Where's the fun in that? You don't understand. Only in a theatre can you truly feel the atmosphere of a play!"
Calliphone persisted, "Could we wait two more days? Brother Caelan and A-Bo are almost back."
Dammekos waved his hand grandly. "No need. Even without A-Bo, I am still the master of Olympia!"
"Besides, this outing was my last-minute decision, not some Wise Man's suggestion. How many assassins can Lochos possibly have? And even if there were, what are a few petty thugs to fear?"
Dammekos's stubbornness filled Calliphone with a sense of helplessness. She knew her father too well. Ostensibly, he wanted to enjoy a play, but really, he just wanted to bask in the adulation of his subjects.
Calliphone sighed softly. "If your mind is made up, I'll arrange the escort."
After Calliphone's figure disappeared down the corridor, Dammekos gazed at the empty room and murmured to himself, "I am the king of Olympia!"
In the eyes of the world, Dammekos was the Tyrant of Lochos, the king and lord of all Olympia. But within the palace walls, he harbored an unspoken loneliness. His children were all busy with their own affairs. Perturabo was helping his brother campaign among the stars. Herakon commanded the legions, already studying opponents beyond the stars. Andos was lost in artistic creation. Calliphone shouldered the burden of state, and was far more capable than he, her father.
And Caelan... his vision was vaster than anyone's. Though he showed Dammekos no disrespect, he certainly didn't take the 'Master of Olympia' very seriously. Compared to the cosmos, Olympia was tiny.
His children all achieved brilliant things in their own fields, but beneath that brilliance, Dammekos had become the loneliest. Perturabo had conquered the realm, and Herakon had played his part. Calliphone managed the kingdom admirably. Andos was lost in art, caring for little else. Dammekos, by contrast, was the titular master of Olympia, but had accomplished nothing. Bitterness welled in his heart.
He understood Calliphone's concern; as a father, he wouldn't fault his capable children. He could only blame his own inadequacy. But understanding was one thing; resentment still stirred. He was the king of Olympia! Did he not even have the right to see a play?
"You are the king who rules Olympia. Of course you do!" A voice echoed in Dammekos's ear, a seductive murmur. "Basking in your subjects' adoration is your birthright."
Another voice, more earnest, said, "Your children are all exceptional, but how could they understand the loneliness of a father left behind by his time?"
The two voices wove together into a comforting whisper, "It's just a play. What danger could there be?"
Dammekos unconsciously straightened his back. He was right, he was the king! Only when he sat in the theatre's red velvet seat, with all eyes on him in a pilgrimage of gazes, and waves of cheers crashing against his ears, could he recapture that long-lost sense of triumph. Only then did he feel like the vigorous ruler of old, not the lonely old father overshadowed by his children's brilliance.
Dammekos stopped and turned, his piercing gaze falling on the two stone statues flanking the throne. They were the legendary Twin Kings of Mount Telephassa, Gozek and Karafes. These massive stone carvings, weighing several tons, had stood here for centuries, since Lochos's founding. Carved by the finest artisans, they were lifeless stone, yet radiated a captivating royal majesty.
Dammekos no longer believed in the gods, but he had kept these statues, symbols of royal authority. He didn't particularly like them; he just wanted to exercise his power willfully. Though Calliphone had vehemently opposed it, Caelan had examined the statues and found no corruption.
Dammekos felt quite secure. "That's right, that's right. What harm could a statue do?"
"Go in peace. We'll watch over the throne for you. It'll always be yours."
The statues chuckled softly. "I promise. Yes, I promise."
...
Calliphone gave Zoris explicit instructions, "Thoroughly inspect the theatre inside and out. There must be no repeat of the assassination."
Zoris asked, "My Lady, should we try to dissuade the King? Lochos is not exactly safe at the moment."
The arrests of the priests and Wise Men were public knowledge, though it didn't affect commoners, the city was still on edge.
Calliphone shook her head. "I've tried. It's no use."
The real problem was that none of his children wanted the throne. As the master of Olympia, her father had the right to be willful. He wasn't harming anyone; he just wanted to see a play. Worried though she was, Calliphone had no compelling reason to stop him. And safety wasn't a major concern. Dammekos wasn't completely reckless.
The theatre he chose was designed by Perturabo, finished just months ago after years of construction. It was in Lochos's central district. Dammekos's itinerary was a last-minute decision. He had layers of palace guard and Shadow Guard protection. The play itself contained no assassination scenes. The risk was genuinely low.
Once Perturabo returned, safety would be assured, but Dammekos had chosen to go now precisely to avoid him. Perturabo had no ambition for the throne, and Dammekos knew it, for Perturabo had far grander prospects. But the public didn't know that. In their eyes, Perturabo could overthrow Dammekos anytime. If the transcendent Primarch and Caelan, seen as having 'divine power,' accompanied him, few would pay attention to the nominal king. He went to be worshipped, not to play second fiddle.
Dammekos thought he hid his motives well, but Calliphone saw through him. She just didn't call him out. Since her father insisted on being willful, she had to indulge him.
"My Lady, the Lord trusts you above all. I will ensure this mission's success."
"As you command, my Lady." Zoris bowed. With the king willful and Calliphone's orders, he had no choice. Whatever happened, he could not betray the Lord's trust!
...
Zoris gathered his men, "Bron, take three squads and sweep the king's route. Detain anyone suspicious."
Soltarn Vore Bron frowned. "The whole city is hunting cultists. Why take this risk now?"
Zoris silenced him with a stern look. "Careful. Remember your oath. We clear threats."
"The rest of you, come with me to the theatre. We must ensure the king's safety!"
"Everyone entering must be thoroughly searched. Any potential weapon will be confiscated."
"Anyone with a blade or firearm, for any reason, may be arrested. If they resist, shoot to kill!"
Act first, report later. Royal charter. That was the Shadow Guard. Zoris had shot a Wise Man in the street years ago. Now, he wouldn't even blink.
"Everyone must pass through security. No exceptions!"
Though Zoris was harsh, the well-armed guards kept the public compliant. They calmly queued for inspection. Zoris's sharp eyes scanned the crowd, seeking suspicious faces. Yet when his gaze passed a young woman walking through the checkpoint, he saw nothing. Stranger still, not only he, but everyone else ignored her. As if she were a ghost, not truly there.
...
Dammekos cleared his throat, feigning authority, "Calliphone, what play is being performed today?"
Calliphone turned back, exasperated. "Father, you insist on coming, yet you don't even know what's playing?"
Dammekos looked embarrassed. He couldn't admit he'd come just for the adulation.
"It's Ragnarök," Calliphone said, relenting.
Dammekos frowned. "What play is that?"
"Andos's new work. To dissolve the people's ignorant worship of the gods."
The Olympians' belief in the gods of Mount Telephassa was deeply ingrained. Even Perturabo's searing questions couldn't uproot it overnight. They could tear down every temple, but blunt force would only drive faith deeper into the shadows. To shatter faith, they had to fundamentally erode the people's awe of the gods, through defamation and trivialization.
Direct defamation would provoke resistance, but defaming the gods through entertainment would not. Once something becomes trivial, a subject of gossip, it loses its solemnity. Both historical figures and the gods of Mount Telephassa could be trivialized, removing the people's reverence. Even if the gods truly existed, unless they regularly displayed miracles, trivialization could still cut the ground from under them. A lie repeated a thousand times becomes truth.
Andos wrote Ragnarök, but the theory was Caelan's, perfected by Perturabo.
Dammekos laughed, clapping. "Excellent! Fitting for my son!"
Calliphone sighed, holding her forehead. But her father was just a vain man. Sometimes she thought him childish, less mature than his own children.
Suddenly, Calliphone felt a strange gaze. She spun around. A young woman with violet eyes stood beside her, seemingly having appeared from nowhere. Her posture was elegant, hands folded before her, her silk gown draping naturally. She looked at Calliphone, her expression unchanging. It was as if she weren't looking at Calliphone, but some higher being was observing the princess through her eyes.
"There's no one there," Calliphone murmured. The young woman was right beside her, yet Calliphone didn't see her. But why did she feel someone watching? Was it her imagination?
Caelan had warned her repeatedly, beware of illusions and coincidences; they were often more deadly than obvious danger. Trust your instincts, he said. If instinct warns of danger, be vigilant. If it doesn't, be doubly so. Because instinct is silent when there's no danger. There is no such thing as speaking instinct. If an instinct speaks, it must be a scheme of the gods.
Calliphone immediately motioned to Zoris, intending another security sweep. Zoris, seeing the princess's summons, quickly approached her alone, followed by a man shrouded in black. The man's hands were hidden beneath his robes; not an inch of skin showed. He clutched a black dagger, his lips moving soundlessly, "Stab him... just draw blood... divine punishment will fall... the blasphemer will be judged!"
Just as she hadn't seen the young woman, Calliphone didn't see the man. Neither she nor Zoris saw him. They were only mortal.
"Zoris, I just felt..." Calliphone began, but her eyes caught a cold glint.
Zoris's face went pale. How had an assassin gotten so close?! His body reacted before his mind, spinning and tackling the man behind him. But there were more.
Another assassin's dagger struck like a viper at Dammekos's throat!
"No!"
Calliphone's cry choked off. A slender, pale hand had gripped the assassin's wrist. The blade stopped a hair's breadth from the king's neck. Dammekos was ashen. 'Assassins again! Could I not even see a play?'
Before Calliphone could recover from the shock, a third assassin struck from the side! The black dagger aimed for her heart. She couldn't react.
In a flash, the young woman's wrist turned, and the dagger she'd just taken flew from her hand, striking the third assassin's forehead. He crumpled. But the blade's momentum carried it falling toward Calliphone. The assassin's goal wasn't killing, just wounding. Any blood would do. But that pale hand raised again, catching the falling blade between two fingers like a flower.
The guards finally arrived, pinning the two living assassins and dragging away the corpse. They aimed their guns at the unknown young woman. No one knew her.
Calliphone's eyes held complex emotions. "Who are you?"
She looked at the young woman. She'd saved her, but such unexpected kindness surely had a price. And why had she appeared here, like the assassins themselves?
The young woman curtsied gracefully. "Princess Calliphone, your sister sends her regards."
Calliphone frowned. "I have two brothers and one younger brother. No sister."
"Not yet."
"What is your name?"
"You may call me Lilith."
Calliphone gestured for the guards to withdraw. If Lilith wanted her dead, she could have let the assassin strike. They were too late to stop it. And with Lilith's demonstrated skill, even surrounded by guns, killing her would be easy. Whoever sent her, she'd chosen to save her, so for now, she posed no threat.
"Do you have accomplices?"
Convinced Lilith wouldn't harm her and that resistance was futile, Calliphone grew bolder.
"Yes, many like me." Lilith's voice was like wind chimes, elegant.
"Where are they?"
"Not here. I can leave, if you wish."
Curious, Calliphone asked, "How would you leave?"
"Like this."
Lilith curtsied and vanished, then reappeared a second later, unchanged.
The guards raised their weapons, unsure what to do.
Calliphone's eyes widened. "Can you turn invisible?"
Lilith shook her head, "I'm a Telepath psyker. It's not invisibility. I simply cloud your perception of me."
"And these assassins?"
"They are not psykers. They draw power from the gods."
"Which gods?"
Lilith mouthed silently, The Chaos Gods.
"Their souls are corrupted. Their blades are tainted with Chaos."
...
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