Chapter 1
589.M38 Segmentum Ultima, Pologram Sector
Magora, planetary capitol of Pologram Majoris
Royal Colosseum
The Celebration of the Grand Harvest
The young warrior proudly reveled in the moment as he stood in the sand covering the floor of the Royal Colosseum of Magora. Tens of thousands of people filled the stands and were screaming in anticipation, awaiting what came next. The sun reflected off the polished surface of the shield strapped to his left arm and the tip of the spear held in his right. He was a sculpture of bronze muscle obscured only by a dark leather skirt and a helm with a great black mane woven into it.
The crowd grew silent.
A great hole opened in front of the warrior and a dais began to slowly rise from the depths beneath the colosseum. Murmurs of anticipation began to circulate in the stands.
The beast lying upon the dais was terrible to behold. It was feline in form, covered in golden fur. The massive paws did not openly display their razor claws as they were retracted and awaiting the proper moment to rend flesh. A black mane surrounded its enormous head, a head whose great maw was filled with sharp teeth. The mane obscured a leather collar on the beast's neck, but not the great golden chain tethered to it and stretching to a great golden ring set into the floor of the dais. Finally, the dais came to a stop, the beast lying upon its top tier well above the warrior.
The warrior carefully watched the beast in front of him as its tail slowly twitched back and forth. Worry grew in his face, masked by the maned helm he wore. He had seen lions before, but never one such as this. The beast leapt to its feet and stood perfectly still, menacingly eyeing the warrior.
Silence filled the colosseum.
The warrior stepped back with his right foot into a crouch. He raised his polished shield, positioning it in front of his body with his left arm and readied the spear in his right. He was in the Royal Colosseum and this was the opportunity he had trained his whole life for.
A low whistle, impossible for the crowd to hear, signaled the beast's release from its tether. It sprang forward, impossibly fast for a normal animal of its size. The bronze warrior tried to adjust but he could not hope to match the beast's speed and brace his spear against its pounce. The mighty lion crashed into the warrior's shield, bowling him over onto his back.
The crowd screamed with excitement.
The lion and its prey thrashed upon the ground. The warrior struggled to reach his spear, but it lay on the ground hopelessly beyond his reach. He gave up on the spear and frantically tried to draw his gladius from his belt. But, his attempts were fruitless. The great cat weighed down upon him, pinning his body to the ground and his shield to his chest. He grasped its great head with his free hand but was no match for its strength. The lion clamped its maw down upon his throat and crushed. His body grew still but the great cat continued to tirelessly crush his throat.
The crowd grew eerily silent.
The great cat leapt to its feet, the warrior still clenched within its teeth, and trotted back to the top of the dais carrying its meal. Horns blared in triumph as the dais slowly sank back into the ground. The crowd erupted into near madness.
Within the Royal Suite of the colosseum, Queen Zamora slowly sipped wine from the long stemmed glass she held and then politely clapped. Those around her quickly joined in, lest they be caught not showing proper deference. Now that the battle between the warrior and lion had been completed, all eyes turned to the queen as she was a sight that few could resist admiring. She wore a short white linen dress that revealed her olive complexion and the long, muscular limbs of a warrior. Her long black hair was fashioned into many braids and her emerald eyes enchanted any whose glance she chose to return. As always, she was the center of attention.
The man sitting to her left was as enraptured with her as the rest of the entourage. He was of middling height, but plump in build, and middle aged with a balding patch in his short hair. His name was Titus Vescue and he was her husband. He was also the Imperium's assigned Planetary Governor of Pologram Majoris. Despite his impressive title, none seemed to notice him. None save for the Arbiter.
The Arbiter turned his black armoured body and goggled gaze away from the blood sport of the arena. He typically enjoyed such sporting events but the warrior had been no match for an organism biologically augmented off-world by a Genetor of the Adeptus Mechanicus. But, he paid that little heed. His presence on Pologram Majoris was to investigate reports the planet would not adequately meet its Imperial tithe requirements this Harvest. His investigation had found the reports to be valid. "Governor Vescue, I ask that we speak in private," he said.
All talk and movement within the suite ceased.
The Arbiter had not taken the courtesy to wait until Queen Zamora had given him leave to speak and it shocked the Queen's entourage. However, the Arbiter did not see himself as being subject to the rules of courtesy held by any society of the Imperium, much less a feudal state as this. The Governor looked at him, apparently befuddled by the situation. The Arbiter assumed the Governor was most likely feeling the effects of the wine he had been drinking. Then, the Queen whispered something into the Governor's ear and he took on a more sober appearance. "You may say whatever you wish in front of us all, dear Arbiter," said the Queen with a mocking smile.
Not the least perturbed by this turn of events, the Arbiter spoke plainly and forcefully. "Governor Vescue, the time has come for the Imperium's Grand Harvest. With the technological upgrades you have introduced, the Adeptus Administratum has adjusted the tithe requirements of Pologram Majoris as you requested. However, the troops levied as regiments for the Imperial Guard are inadequately trained and supplied with substandard equipment. They do not match the previous standard of excellence exhibited by this planet's levies." The Arbiter, paused to gauge whether or not he had the Governor's attention and then continued. "I have verified that the PDF's Premier Guard is satisfactory in both training and equipment. If they are substituted with a minimal delay time, this will be forgiven and your rule will continue uninterrupted."
The look of confusion returned to the Governor's face. Quickly recognizing something was amiss, the Arbiter took hold of his bolt pistol. Someone to the Arbiter's left threw his wine glass and splashed it on the Arbiter's exposed cheek. He quickly drew his pistol and turned to face his assailant, but found something was wrong. His vision become blurry and his hands shook. The Arbiter collapsed to the ground. He realized too late that the wine in the glass of his assailant had been laced with a contact poison. Pologram Majoris was not a world that possessed technology capable of matching the Imperium's production of war gear, but it had its own useful creations.
Queen Zamora laughed and her entire entourage laughed with her.
A short while later…
The crowd gave a subdued cheer as the chained warrior was raised from the chambers beneath the arena floor. They were initially puzzled by what they were witnessing. The chained warrior was young and muscular, but the pallor of his skin was so white as to mark him as an off-worlder. He held no spear or shield but had a great gorget about his neck that would give difficulty to any of the big cats used in the games. Neither did he have the traditional leather skirt worn by warriors of the games but instead was dressed in smallclothes whiter than his skin.
Then a lion was raised upon another dais, the hungry beast eyeing its prey. The cheer of the crowd began to swell. This, they understood.
The lion and off-worlder were simultaneously released. The pale off-worlder ran with great speed but was no match for the lion. It pounced upon his back, raking him with its claws. Then, it shuddered as if it had been shocked, and released the off-worlder. Somehow, despite the blood pouring from his open wounds, the off-worlder hopped to his feet and pranced in a circle about the lion.
The crowd screamed and laughed with excitement. This was a Grand Harvest unlike any they had witnessed before.
The game continued for a while. The off-worlder would run and then the lion would strike. Then, the lion would release the off-worlder and the chase would begin again. Finally, the off-worlder had lost so much blood as to be unable to continue and the lion tore him to shreds. The crowd erupted into a near riot.
Everyone in the Royal Suite stood and cheered. Governor Vescue smiled at his bride in a dull manner, oblivious to the words she whispered aloud, but to herself. "Just as the prophecy predicted, I will leave this planet for the stars. But, it will be on a ship of my choosing and not on one of the Black Ships like the one which took away my brother."
