"Mother, you should be more proactive."
The Night Lord broke the silence.
Dorothy lowered her head, swiping open the data-slate's screen. She hesitated for a moment, then typed into the 'Loving Family' group chat:
"What should I do when a Primarch has a sudden episode while working?"
First Captain (Anonymous): If a child is disobedient, just beat them.
Philly: (｀・ω・´) Sister Dorothy, could you describe the symptoms in more detail?
Corax: Ten minutes.
Evernya: What happened?
Konrad reprimanded: "Mother, I must remind you again, my mental state is very stable."
Dorothy pressed her lips together, holding the data slate to her chest. "How should I be proactive?"
"The only advice I can give is, when Father returns, find a way to keep him here."
"I wish." Dorothy murmured to herself. Some people had too many advantages. Konrad didn't even know how his mother could win. But winning wasn't necessary; she just couldn't lose. The position wasn't unique.
Konrad said, "Mother, the security arrangements for you and Philly still have loopholes. I've ordered reinforcements."
Dorothy paused. Nostramo had millions of mortal Auxilia, five thousand Night Lords Astartes, and an entire Imperial fleet permanently stationed in orbit. A fleet commanded by a Primarch typically had only a few thousand Astartes. Such defenses could conquer most worlds alone.
Dorothy hesitated. "Isn't this too cautious? The Crusade's progress is already badly delayed."
"If I neglect your protection for efficiency's sake, and you are harmed, Father will never forgive me!"
"Not just me, but my other brothers as well."
Konrad's voice was resolute. Dorothy didn't argue.
BANG!
The door burst open. Corax's cold gaze fixed on Konrad. "Konrad, what are you doing now?"
Konrad didn't explain. He just stood. "Come, brother. Let's meet our guests."
"You didn't mention guests."
"I don't need to report everything to you, brother. We are equals."
"Where are they from?"
"Terra."
When they entered the council chamber, the two visitors were already waiting. The woman wore golden power armor. Her assistant was a girl of about ten, in a plain white robe, the sacred double-headed eagle tattooed on her shaved forehead. Scrolls of parchment hung from her waist, inscribed with High Gothic texts of ancient rites and oaths.
The woman signed. The girl spoke for her, "Greetings, honored Primarch. I am Celia Harroda."
"I am my mistress's assistant, Nitil."
Corax forced himself to look at the woman. Her presence made him instinctively recoil. It gnawed at his mind, like darkness eroding light, dragging everything into a deep twilight. Even for a Primarch, the discomfort was indescribable. She was like a greedy void, consuming all light around her. Standing near her, Corax could feel his own spirit being devoured by a hungry nothingness. It was subtle, the loss minimal. But Primarchs have keener senses than mortals.
He could endure the negative feelings. It wasn't hard. He wasn't that type of Primarch. And it wasn't her fault. These Sisters of Silence were Blanks. They were naturally repulsive. No exceptions.
Konrad said, "Welcome to Nostramo, Lady Harroda. My father has surely explained the purpose of your visit."
Nitil watched her mistress's hands, translating rapidly, "By the Emperor's command, we will establish a convent on Nostramo, recruit new Sisters, and fight alongside your Legion."
The Sisters of Silence, with the Custodes, form the Emperor's Claw. They are the Emperor's most elite warriors, bar none. The Custodes' arsenal is unmatched; the Sisters are second only to them. Both are above the Astartes. In number, the Sisters are between the Custodes and the Astartes. The Custodes number only thousands; the Sisters, tens of thousands; each Legion, tens of thousands.
The Sisters have always played a vital role in the Imperium. This special force of Blanks is a weapon against the Warp. But due to their Blank nature, they are rarely massed. They are usually dispersed on Black Ship fleets, collecting tithes and hunting psykers across the Imperium.
Konrad's request for Sisters was inspired by his brothers.
"Furthermore, I need you to help screen for security risks on Nostramo, and protect my mother."
Nitil said, "Personal protection is impractical, my Lord. You know our nature."
"No need for close protection. It would hurt her." Konrad said. "You can protect remotely, scanning for psychic dangers."
Psykers and Blanks are naturally repulsed by each other. They can sense each other from great distances. When a psyker approaches a Blank, they feel instinctive fear and loss of power. Blanks can also use this to identify those with psychic talent or Warp corruption. No one is more professional in anti-psyker matters than the Sisters of Silence.
His brother had already encountered danger. Konrad had to take precautions.
Konrad said, "Corax, discuss the details with them. I have other guests."
Corax frowned, but Konrad had already vanished into the shadows, giving him no chance to speak. Corax looked at the two visitors, silent for a moment. "Salvation also needs a convent."
Nitil said, "Lord Corax has also requested a convent for you. The fleet is already en route."
...
Frex knelt. "Primarch! We have..."
Konrad raised a hand, cutting him off. "The fleet is standing by in orbit. They will synchronize the coordinates and star charts to your Navigators. Your strength is insufficient against the Black Judges. My sons will accompany you."
Frex's breath caught. The Primarch's foresight was awe-inspiring.
"But there is a condition."
"Please command." Frex bowed his head lower.
Konrad said, "When you see my brother, tell him... ask him to visit Nostramo, and bring his sister."
Frex struck his chest. "By the Emperor's name, I will personally convey your words to the gene-father!"
"Leave immediately. Time is short. Don't wait for the other fleet. They will rendezvous with you directly from Barbarus."
Frex's fists clenched. Konrad's prophecies never failed. 'Time is short' meant every second was precious. A dangerous thought crossed his mind, 'What had the Primarch foreseen?' But reason suppressed his curiosity. There was no time to ask. What right did he have to question a Primarch? If the Primarch wished to tell him, he would. If not, he wouldn't press.
....
"Father sent you to me?" Angron's brow was furrowed, his gaze hesitant.
"Absolutely, my Lord. Would I dare invoke the Master's name falsely?" Vosoto looked at him eagerly.
The main force of the 12th Expeditionary Fleet remained in the Inwit Cluster, helping Inwit fight the Orks. He had personally led a small fleet to Nuceria, to bring back their gene-father as soon as possible.
Angron pondered. He did know where his brother was. The Warp route was charted. On a galactic scale, Nuceria and Macragge were close, both in the Realm of Ultramar. He knew this from his father's memories. But Angron hadn't gone to Macragge. He feared it would affect his brother's development. That would be too selfish, too unfair.
So instead of seeking his brother, he'd sent ships to blockade the route to Macragge, forbidding any expedition fleet from exploring it. As Nuceria was far from the Solar Segment, the exploration fleets based there belonged to the 13th Expeditionary Fleet of the 12th Legion. His orders were absolute. No one dared defy a Primarch.
"Little Angron, you should welcome your brother yourself." The woman's lazy voice carried undeniable authority.
Angron still hesitated. "But..."
Claudia's lips curled. "Don't worry. Time isn't linear for dear. When you arrive, the time may be just right."
Angron said, "But it's always been linear."
Each Primarch's return was strictly chronological, perfectly connecting with the previous and next.
Claudia said, "That's because dear hasn't awakened yet. He doesn't realize that power is far deeper than you imagine."
Angron was concerned. "Is Father's awakening good or bad?"
"For you and your brothers, a timely windfall, a welcome embellishment."
Claudia's eyes were wistful, a bit plaintive. "But for me... perhaps half and half."
She hated wooden men who didn't appreciate her. Why was tricking him into marriage so hard?
...
Eldrad stood beneath the dome of the temple, gripping the Staff of Ulthamar. Through the wraithbone-framed viewing port, the Eye of Terror slowly rotated in the void, a wound in reality that would never heal.
"Eldrad, what diad you see? You can't even tell me?"
Eldrad looked back at Lanthrila. He slowly shook his head. "Some truths, once known, invite Their gaze."
He wasn't unwilling. He was afraid. For this reason, the spirit stones of those kin had not been integrated into the Infinity Circuit. He kept them himself.
Lanthrila argued, "Too late. You know the truth yet remain on the craftworld. What harm would telling me do?"
Eldrad was silent for a moment, his eyes flickering. "He has a mortal body in the material universe."
"Which one?" Lanthrila shuddered, almost collapsing if not for the wall.
"You know who."
"Yo-you mean... She?"
Eldrad nodded. Lanthrila trembled uncontrollably. It was over. She'd come to reality. Where could they run? The Webway? She'd devoured the Aeldar pantheon. The Aeldar gods knew the Webway better than the Aeldar do. If he could reach into reality, the Webway was probably full of her too!
Smack!
Lanthrila slapped himself. 'Stupid mouth! Why did you ask?'
"Lanthrila, calm down. Perhaps she's not coming for us."
Years ago, when he'd first discovered that presence reaching into reality, his despair had been just like Lanthrila's.
"Yo-you... expect me... to be calm?" Lanthrila's voice broke with trembling.
Eldrad reassured, "We are not destroyed. So don't worry."
If she wanted to destroy the Aeldar, she would have acted. Yet the doom Eldrad had foreseen had not come. No craftworlds had vanished. No maiden worlds had been corrupted. Commorragh still indulged. Nothing had happened.
Lanthrila, still trembling, steadied himself. "Why?"
To the Aeldar's long lives, a few years is nothing. To an eternal being, even less. But if he had placed pieces on the board, there should be some ripples. Yet there was only silence. Like the calm before a storm. Eerier than the storm itself.
Eldrad shook his head. "We thought her gaze would forever be upon the Aeldar. But now, she seems to have lost interest. She lets us scrabble in her shadow."
"You divined this?"
"No."
"Why?"
Eldrad's gaze was evasive. "I'm cautious."
He'd wanted to divine the future countless times, but always stopped himself. For years, he'd restrained the urge. He was afraid of the trap. If he divined, he'd be doomed. His soul would be annihilated. Covering his ears was foolish. So he stayed home.
Lanthrila asked, "Then how did you conclude this?"
"I met an old friend."
"Who?"
"Aenor."
Lanthrila's face lost all color. "Why her?"
"Yes, why her?"
Eldrad had wondered for years. She had been Aeldar. Perhaps still was. She and her followers... call them the God-Touched Aeldar. Regardless of his attitude toward the Aeldar, she was a true god. By some means, at some cost, they had been reborn.
Their souls were not intact. If she wanted sacrifice, she could have taken all their spirit stones. But they hadn't erased the traces. They had let him see the truth. Was it provocation? Or warning? Eldrad had always thought it provocation.
Lanthrila took a breath. "Aenor was once the noblest among us. But whoever she was, she now serves her. Abandon your foolish fantasies!"
Eldrad shook his head. "I have no fantasies. This is logic."
Even if she felt some sympathy for her people, wanting to warn them of his arrival, she needn't have been so blunt. She was clever. She could have been subtler. So it was provocation, by his leave. Even if they knew the truth, they were helpless. They could only wait, trembling, for the end. But the end never came. This made Eldrad doubt his conclusion. What was he waiting for?
Eldrad said, "We both know that Warp gods, with near-infinite power, are still opposed by reality's laws."
"Unless invited, they cannot truly manifest."
"Even if they force the Veil, walking as avatars, they pay a heavy price."
"So their actions in reality are always cautious. They use indirect means, not direct presence."
Lanthrila's eyes flickered. "Their power is suppressed. If an avatar is destroyed, the god is also harmed, perhaps even forced into long slumber."
Eldrad warned, "Abandon your fantasies. Even an avatar is beyond us!"
He had no hope of destroying an avatar. Even suppressed, it would be among the most powerful psykers in the world. The Aeldar of old might have matched it. But now? Nigh impossible. And she wasn't alone. She had many God-Touched. If she wished, they could outnumber all the Aeldar in the galaxy.
Lanthrila suggested, "We need not take the risk. We can spread the word and let others do the work for us."
"You mean humanity."
"Yes. Only the Master of Mankind has that power."
"Do not take that risk." Eldrad was tempted, but shook his head. "We don't know why she manifested an avatar. If she only wanted to destroy the Aeldar, descending into the mortal realm would be an excessive waste. We're not worth the risk."
"If we act rashly, we will only bring utter destruction upon ourselves."
"Then what do you suggest?"
Eldrad's voice was low and solemn. "Our immediate priority is to make contact with humanity. In the face of the Chaos threat, our fates are already intertwined. We must unite! If necessary, we can reveal the truth to the Master of Mankind!"
Lanthrila stared at Eldrad. 'Wasn't this the same as my plan?'