Why do I fight? Every world I end up on I hear that question from men and women like you. You've spent your whole lives in ignorance of the harsh truths of the galaxy and cannot understand why anyone would willingly damn themselves to a life of flight, war, and service to the Powers. I understand that. I was one of you once long ago, born into a life of mindless toil and simply another cog in the massive machinery of the Imperium. I wanted nothing more than to tend to my work and raise my children. That was not meant to be. By accident I saw the truth hidden within the lies of the Imperium, I looked behind the veil of fear and superstition and saw it, the TRUTH. Once I did I tried to run from it, tried to pretend it didn't exist but it was too late. I was already walking the Path of Damnation simply by knowing what the Corpse-Emperor's slavemasters had tried so hard to hide. Why do I fight? Oh, you'll hear that story in time but perhaps there's a better question you should ask yourselves. Why will you?
Three things cannot long remain hidden. The Sun, the Moon and the Truth
~Buddhist Proverb
The power of Chaos lies not in its ethereal might nor even in its legions of transhuman champions. No, its power is far more subtle than that. Its power is its freedom, and what a temptation that is for a weak man
~Inquisitor Lord Toqueaz
We will win the universe not with bolter or chainsword, not with virus bomb or treachery, not with Primarchs or Daemons. We will win this universe with the greatest weapon of all: The Truth
Primarch Lorgar Aurelian of the Word Bearers
I
"But father you promised!" The child's voice was shrill, tinged with both sorrow and petulance, the perfect combination to melt a parent's heart.
"I know Tildda, I know. I'm sorry but we can't afford it right now. Maybe in a few days when I am paid." Godwin took his daughter's small hands in his as he knelt down to speak to her face to face. People passed by the two, most barely even sparing a glance. The merchant sections of the city were always busy and no one had time to even berate such a peasant. He and his daughter were beneath both notice and even the consideration of a tongue lashing.
Tildda looked intently at her father with a scowl of disbelief on her flushed cheeks. "That's what you said last time and the time before that. PLEASE Father? It's only seven thrones!"
"I only have five and that has to last us for several days." Tildda thought about that for a second.
"Don't we have enough food to last that long?"
"Of course but if something comes up we might need what little cash we have. Look I promise you doubly now, that if you are patient and wait a little longer that when I receive my wages I will pick it up for you on the way home." His daughter was still not convinced but Godwin could see she was softening to his arguments.
"You promise? Will you swear?"
"Of course, how else could you trust me after I let you down this time?"
"Swear it then!" He chuckled at her seriousness but did as tradition demanded and clenched his right fist to his chest just over his heart.
"I,Godwin Senlis, swear to your terms by the honor of my family, the void above, and the Eternal Emperor on his Golden Throne. I bind myself to this task until such time as I fulfill my vow or my lady release me."
Tildda nodded solemnly and finished the formula.
"May you do this or be counted as one of the Lost."
"So I swear." Finished with this sacred pledge Tildda smiled for the first time and began to pull him up and out of the street towards the shop that held the subject of the oath.
"Can I see it before we go home?" Godwin stood and ruffled her hair looking over at the old shop with the strange blacked out windows.
"Again? Well...I suppose so Til. We have a few minutes before we have to catch the undertram." Smiling he took her hand and led her through the crowd towards the pretentiously named Lorevault of Anaxium.
For a building without any natural light the Lorevault was curiously comfortable. Candles provided a dim but constant radiance and comfortable well-stuffed chairs were positioned before roaring fires. In contrast to the outdoor's chill it was just warm enough to heat a cold man up and yet not swelteringly hot. Carpets lined the floors, each embroidered with scenes from the mythic Crusade that the Emperor had led to reclaim all of humanity's lost civilizations who had scattered throughout the stars. The decor was in keeping with the hundreds of shelves stacked to breaking point with countless thousands of books. Some were religious tracts penned by a wide variety of Imperial theologians, some were the ancient history of Jute, and still others were stories of the endless wars mankind fought against a cavalcade of sinister alien races, from brutish Ork to duplicitous Eldar.
"Can I help you good sir?" A voice piped up from behind a wall of books stacked upon a table near one of the several fireplaces. An elderly man peered over his self-constructed rampart of knowledge and he blinked at the newcomers owlishly. Lines of ages crisscrossed his balding head and as he recognized the two customers his mouth broke into a wide smile showing several missing teeth.
"Why lady Tildda! Here again? To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I've come to look at it again An, would that be alright?" Anaxium positively beemed at the young girl and gestured her towards the back of the store.
"But of course little one, what a poor steward of knowledge I would be if I didn't share it. Go on now child, I daresay you know the way by now."
Tildda dipped a quick curtsy and scampered off through the maze of scrolls, pamphlets and towering bookcases. Godwin and Anaxium watched her go, one with a father's pride, the other with a teacher's affection. Anaxium chuckled and turned to regard Godwin as Tildda disappeared.
"That girl, I've rarely seen such an enthusiastic scholar. And at such a young age! She will enter the Schola Prima for sure."
"Emperor willing and finances allowing. She'd be the first in my family to. I dropped out of the Schola Tertia when my father died. Only remember a few of my lessons but I did well enough to teach her to read and write before her fourth year. Now I can't get her to stop." The old Lorekeeper nodded sagely.
"I remember when my son was of that age. He never was very studious but he was just as energetic! A fight a week, sometimes two, and against boys nearly twice his age. If I hadn't raised him myself I wouldn't have believed him to be filially related to me."
"You have a son? I never knew that. Does he live in the capitol or one of the other outlying towns?"
"No. He was taken from me when he was ten for the trial. He never came back. They tell me he died on the last test trying to shield one of his fellows." His voice remained pleasant and his smile remained but Godwin could hear the sadness behind the words.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know." Embarrassed he looked around for something to shift the conversation to a less sombre topic and failing. Anaxium nodded absently, his eyes distant and unfocused. With a visible effort he looked back at Godwin and smiled again.
"Thank you. It was a long time ago. In any case what news from the manufactoriums?" Taking the hint Godwin happily began to recount what news he had.
"More problems with unrest due to some kind of plague. The Arbites are still trying to discover the source. My sector has been quiet thankfully though several of my friends are in the affected areas. They say that it's all very mysterious. Machinery rusted as if left unattended. Growing illness amongst the workers. Even the food stores there seem affected." Anaxium cocked his head and looked intrigued.
"Plague? At this time of year? Very strange. Then again strange things seem to be happening quite a bit of late. Did you hear about the incident in Lieth? A man, I think he was a butcher, went mad. He murdered several of his customers and the Arbites had to shoot him dead. Funny thing was that from what I heard he was sick too, all bloated and with horrible poxes upon him. Hopefully the two illnesses are not connected." Godwin nodded and was about to continue the conversation when Tildda wandered back to him, her prize held tightly in her small hands.
The book she held was one of the many works of history that filled the Lorevault but with a difference. Unlike some of the more dry and academic tomes this one was emblazoned lovingly with pages of gilt illuminations of the Emperor, his crusade, and his great warriors. Ever since Tildda had seen it weeks ago she had been entranced. The price of seven throne gelt was expensive though and Godwin hadn't been able to purchase it for her at the time. So the two of them visited every few days and she would pour over its beautiful pages.
"Sir?" She looked up at Anaxium who had moved out from behind his massive pile of books.
"Yes lady?"
"Is the price for this book still seven thrones? The price has been scratched out since the last time I was here." Anaxium glanced at Godwin quickly and caught his discomfort at not being able to easily afford the book.
"That is what I was asking for it a few days ago but perhaps I could work a deal for you both if your father is willing." Tildda looked over at her father as well, her eyes speaking silent volumes.
"What are your terms sir?" No harm in at least hearing the Lorekeeper out.
"I will give you the book now. I need someone to run an errand for me to the capitol. I can pay for the journey and some food but it might occupy a rest day. Would this be acceptable?"
It was more than acceptable, it was almost a gift. The book was certainly worth more than the price of a simple errand and with him paying for the trip to the capitol it would be the expensive book for what amounted to a holiday trip. It was a kind offer and Godwin suspected that thoughts of Anaxium's son had prompted it.
"I accept your offer sir, I would be happy to do as you ask." Both men shook hands solemnly and Anaxium fished out a writ for passage on the main tram and a voucher for a meal at an inn along the way. Tildda almost fell over with all her curtsying and trying to carry the oversized tome. As they headed towards the door Godwin and Anaxium discussed the best time for him to stop by and pick up the package he was to deliver.
"I am putting together the order tomorrow so the day after perhaps? If I am not mistaken that is a feast day."
"It is, I will be free for two full days." Godwin looked to see that Tildda wasn't listening. "Thank you very much Anaxium, this is really too kind of you." The old man waved away the thanks with a smile.
"Think nothing of it. If anything you are doing me a favor, I would have had to go myself otherwise and I am not as durable as I once was. Besides, how could I deny such an avid learner? Take care Godwin and I will see you the day after tomorrow. Emperor keep you both."
"Emperor keep you as well and my thanks again."
The journey on the tram was an uneventful one. No malfunctions or delays that sometimes cropped up. All through it Tildda held the large book to her chest as if afraid it would wiggle away from her if she gave it a moment's chance. The tram itself was less crowded than Godwin had expected. Normally the trip back to the depths of the City Below was a jam packed affair with workers returning, nobles out on a lark, Arbites and Administerium clarks out on assignment, even the occasional soldier from the Jutian Imperial Guard on leave. Tonight only a few laborers and a bored looking aristocrat were to be seen.
After about half an hour the tram shuddered to a halt at its final point and, grasping Tildda's free hand, Godwin disembarked to begin the short walk to his small home. As he walked the light from the noble houses above streamed down like the myriad of stars in the actual sky. The City Below was beneath the surface of Jute, carved out by the diligence and cunning of the Adeptus Mechanicus. The rich and powerful lived in the City Above in the many keeps and manors that now cast a pale radiance down upon the lower tier. Parts of the surface had been removed so that the rain and, more importantly, air could still find its way down to the lower classes. The sky was obscured though by the spires of ancestral castles, the drab grey buildings of the Administerium, soaring golden temples to the God-Emperor, and, just visible from a few locations in the City Below, the massive dark iron tower keep in the center of the Sable Falcons' fortress-monastery.
To live on a world that was the chosen homeworld of a chapter of the Adeptus Astartes was a high honor indeed. The chapter recruited its new initiates from Jute and had done so since a time so remote that it was spoken of in whispers, The Second Founding. Whatever that might mean only the Lorekeepers and the Falcons themselves knew for sure. The sight of the blackened metal spire standing tall above the city usually inspired a sense of awe in Godwin, reverence even. Today though he was reminded of Anaxium's son and the sorrow the old man had shown at his loss. To even be selected for the trial was an honor and surely the Emperor would look with favor on the poor boy's soul in the afterlife but he was profoundly glad his daughter would never be picked and that his son was too old to be considered.
His son had already followed him into the manufactorum and they even worked on the same factory was a simple life but one that all the males in his family line had known for generations. His daughter was different however. She had always been bright for her age and Godwin was determined that no matter the cost she would was going to enroll in the prestigious Schola Prima. Between his own small savings and his son's contributions she would be given up to the Schola in another year. Unconsciously he squeezed his daughter's small hand at the thought. The cost of the Schola was in more than just throne gelt. While the common students in the lesser schools were free to live with their families the Schola Prima was a boarding school that started at age seven. Still the benefit for Tildda outweighed his sentiment. With luck she would impress the instructors and be given a good position within the Administerium.
Skirting through the cobblestone streets and around the many vendor's carts of the market road the two weary travellers at last made it back to their home. The house was a reassuringly solid sight at the end of the side street.. Built of stone it was three stories tall and had been passed down through Godwin's family for generations. It was a symbol of his forebears' hard work and relative importance since the vast majority of people either lived in dingy one story homes or else rented rooms from one of the massive hab-blocks that the Adeptus had built long ago. In truth Godwin's family only lived in the top floor and he'd long since rented out the bottom floors, save for a few rooms, to two other families. One was a cousin on his uncle's side and the other belonged to a minor scribe for the Administerium and his family.
As he entered he could hear his cousin Eldwaith's voice along with his wife Cathris' as they argued. The volume was impressive and it sounded like Eldwaith was getting the worst of it. Tildda winced at the noise.
"They are always fighting father. Is that why you put them on the bottom floor?" Godwin smiled and put a finger to his lips as they headed for the stairs.
"Yes, but for Throne's sake don't tell them that Til."
The two passed by the quiet second floor, the scribes family was clearly trying to sleep though how they managed such a feat with the warfare going on below them was beyond Godwin's understanding. Waiting for them on the third floor in their common area was a woman of medium height and ice blond hair cut short to prevent it from getting caught into the machinery that she worked with every day. She looked up from her work as Godwin and Tildda entered. On the table in front of her was a mess of wires and metal. Quickly she wiped her oily hands off and jumped up to hug her Tildda.
"I was beginning to worry about you two. I'd thought you would have been back an hour ago." Tildda somehow managed to keep hold of her book and return the embrace.
"We stopped to see An again, look what father got for me!" She brandished the book with pride. Her mother looked at it then shot a quick glance up at Godwin.
"We made a deal for it. The book in return for doing an errand for him in a few days." Godwin answered the unspoken question quickly. "It didn't cost us a single throne Ealhwyn." Relief showed briefly on his wife's face before her attention was diverted by Tildda trying to show her some of the beautiful illustrations.
"Father? Is that you?" Sigread's voice came from in the home's kitchen where the young man was preparing the family's meal.
"Aye Sig, we've just arrived."
"Just in time too, if you were any later we'd have started without you."
"Good thing you didn't. I'd hate to have to embarrass you in front of your mother with the arsekicking I would have given you." At the joke Sigread's head popped around the corner of the kitchen to glare angrily at his grinning father. His hair, like both his parents, was short cut but where Ealhwyn's was almost platinum blonde and Godwin's was a dark brown he had inherited his grandfather's dark red hair and pale skin.
"An old man like you? Best me? Have you been working too close to the chemical tanks again?"
"BOYS." Ealhwyn interrupted with feigned weariness. "Dinner first, posturing later." The two men shared a mischievous smile and Sigread ducked back into the kitchen to finish the meal. Godwin began to prepare the table, carefully putting the strange device that Eahlwyn had been working on away in her work cabinet where half a hundred such strange contraptions were housed.
It always made him smile to see his talented wife's various projects. She was a lower level member of the powerful Adeptus Mechanicus who he had met while working in the Manufactorium. She had been the tech-adept assigned to the area he supervised and, for him at least, it was love at first sight. Granted, that sight had been her emerging from the depths of one of the massive machines that shaped the molten metal into a variety of weapons. She was spattered with oil and grease and skin shining with sweat. Without looking up to see him she pulled herself out of the maintenance hatch, grabbed a hammer from her tool belt, and raised it.
"Stop! What are you doing?" Godwin yelled. Startled she looked up finally and frowned at him.
"My job..." And before he could say another word she brought the hammer down on the machine with a massive clang. Immediately it started up again. Smiling she whispered something to the now perfectly functioning press, gave it a pat, and then crossed her arms and fixed Godwin with a glare that both intimidated him and made his pulse quicken.
"I'm Ealhwyn, Adept of the Third Order, newly transferred here to maintain the children of the Omnissiah. Are we going to have a problem?" Godwin could only swallow slowly and shake his head while trying desperately not to burst into laughter.
"No my lady, I don't think we will. My apologies for interrupting you. My name is Godwin, I'm the floor supervisor here." She raised her eyebrow at that and a sheepish grin crept onto her face.
"I suppose I should have informed you earlier of my presence shouldn't I? Shall we call a truce then?"
"Truce." The two shook had shook hands and ended up spending the rest of the day working together. And the day after. And the day after that too. Eventually they had started to meet before and after work, spending time together during rest days, as friendship matured slowly into affection and, in time, into love. That had been almost two decades ago, years filled with equal parts happiness and hard work. As a result of her marriage to Godwin and outright refusal to follow the path of the many senior adepts of the Martian Priesthood by replacing more and more of her body with cold machinery Ealhwyn had been denied any chance of advancement within the secretive Adeptus Mechanicus. It was a heavy price for her to pay but she'd made her choice and never looked back for a moment.
This pseudo-excommunication had an unintended side effect though. Freed from the stifling dictates of the Cult of the Machine God Ealhwyn was able to tinker and experiment without fear of sanction. In her spare time she would create everything from practical items to strange contraptions that Godwin, despite her attempts to explain their workings, found a complete mystery. He cleared a space for her new device before setting it down carefully, her work had been known to break quite easily sometimes, and then rejoining his family as they sat down to their delayed dinner.
The meal was excellent though simple. Sigread had long ago taken over cooking after having to suffer through his mother's overly complex attempts or his father's downright horrible efforts. Tonight's menu was a stew made from fresh vegetables and some kind of meat and, to mop it up, freshly baked dark brown bread.
"So what is new with old Anaxium?" Sigread asked as he languidly stirred his stew to cool it. "I haven't seen him in months."
"He seems well enough though he's worried about the plague." Godwin took a sip of his ale.
"'E 'old me tha' the Gov'ner's so 'orried tha' 'e's asked fo 'elp from the 'ower." Tildda, clearly feeling that swallowing was optional in the face of such important information, nearly choked on her food trying to speak.
"Til, chew your food please. Emperor above! What are you in such a rush for?" Ealhwyn's remark fell on deaf ears as Til quickly gulped down a drink of water and continued.
"He said that the Sable Falcons are sending out some of their apothecaries to help in the most affected cities. Do the Astartes really never get sick?"
"It wouldn't surprise me Til but is he sure about that? I hadn't heard anything. What about you, Godwin?" Ealhwyn looked concerned and Godwin didn't blame her. To send out Space Marines to deal with a plague was unheard of.
"All I know is that it's on the other end of the world from us thankfully. If the Falcons are involved I am sure they will sort the whole thing out quickly." That seemed to satisfy Ealhwyn at least.
"May I be excused father? Mother?" Tildda had finished her meal in record time and was already gathering her dishes together.
"What are you in such a hurry for Til?"
"I want to look through my new book, would that be ok?" The two parents shared an amused glance.
"Yes Til, that will be fine." Ealhwyn rose and took the dishes from her daughter's hands. "If you wait just a little I am sure your father would be happy to read some of it to you though." The little girl's face lit up and she immediately set about clearing up the table.
"Hey! Some of us are still eating here!" Sigread protested as he was forced to lift his bowl and cup away from his sister's frantic activity.
"If you didn't spend half the time admiring your work instead of eating you'd have finished already Sig." Godwin couldn't resist the dig and Sigread played along.
"In a life of labor and toil who are you to mock an artist?"
"The one who does most of the laboring and toiling, lad. Come on, shift yourself. We all need to get some rest, it's getting late." Feigning a sigh of deepest weariness Sigread quickly finished his meal and added his efforts to the clean up.
"Which story would you like me to read Til?" Leafing through the book Godwin was struck again by the beauty of the thing. It was filled with illuminations etched in various metallics and with an incredible variety of inks. Some of the pictures could have been works of art in their own right. An image of the Primarch Roboute Guilliman standing resplendent in deep blue power armor on a lush world within the Ultramar system. Another of Holy Terra and the immense Imperial Palace just as the sun rose on the Age of Man.
Still another was of the Emperor himself, in all his golden glory, surrounded by eighteen kneeling forms. Each one of these beings was drawn in great detail and each could not be more different. One was Sanguinus, the Blood Angel, his white wings and flowing blonde hair framing his beautiful gold armor. Another was the rough and wild Leman Russ, Wolf Lord, with his hair in warrior braids and his great runesword held tip to the ground in token of submission. There too was Guilliman, his eyes bright and expressive and Rogal Dorn, rigid and unbending. The Khan and Corax were side by side, their armor mirroring each others. The Khan's was polished alabaster white, festooned with many trinkets from his hunts, while Corax's was so black that he appeared clothed in shadows. The Lion was shown with his helm before him on the ground and his naked blade held out towards the Emperor as if offering a gift. Black skinned Vulkan knelt beside his brother Ferrus Manus whose silver arms seemed to radiate rather than reflect light.
Yet while all of these were known to Godwin the other nine were mysteries. In stature they were similar though their visages were different. One was massive, dwarfing even the Emperor in size, with both red skin and fiery red hair. This giant had only a single eye, the space where there should have been another was smooth, and the artist had created an interesting illusion. No matter how you looked at the eye it was impossible to tell what color it was as it constantly shifted in the light. Next to him knelt a figure that unconsciously made Godwin's blood run cold. Its skin was corpse grey and its eyes solid black. Lightning seemed to crackle across its midnight armor and a smirk that was out of place in such an honored gathering was just visible. Quickly looking away from that image Godwin's eye scanned several others, one tall and gaunt bearing a scythe like death itself, another with a massive mace and fanatical intensity in his eyes. A brutish gladiator with twin chain axes contrasted with a flawless warrior who, even while kneeling, radiated arrogance. The only helmed member of the company in scaled green and blue armor knelt next to a column that cast an exact reflection of him. Next to him a huge demigod in machined steel stared not at the Emperor but at Rogal Dorn with a mixture of controlled anger and calculation.
The last figure was the most interesting. He too was kneeling but only just for he was caught in the transition between kneeling and standing. it was impossible to tell if he was about to follow the example of his fellows and abase himself before the Master of Mankind or rise to greet him as an equal. His white armor was partially cast in shadow rendering the portion facing the Emperor bright and radiant and his side and back blacker than even Corax's armor. Looking closely Godwin could just see an emblem on this magnificent beings chest. A red eye, slitted like a cat's, seemed to stare directly at him.
"Father?" It took a moment before he realized that his daughter was speaking to him and apparently had been waiting for him to start reading.
"Sorry Til. Which one did you say you wanted to hear?"
"This is the one father. The Ullanor Crusade and Triumph."
"Of course." He started to read. The story detailed the threat of the Ork hordes in the Ullanor sector and how the Emperor, beloved by all, had led his magnificent sons into battle personally for the last time. Millions of Imperial Army troopers fought with the greenskins while the god-machines of the Imperium, the mighty Titans, dueled with ramshackle Gargants and Stompas. The Emperor himself stood at the front of a massive attack that drew the orks into battle and distracted them from the true plan: A surprise attack upon the ork Overlord Urrlak Urruk. A powerful speartip assault utilizing drop pods and terminator armored warriors at the very steps of the citadel led by the most loved of all the Emperor's sons, Horus Lupercal.
"Father, who was Horus? I've never heard of him." Godwin frowned, he had no recollection of the name either. From the story he must have been a primarch but he'd never seen his name before.
"I don't know Til. Maybe it will explain at the end of the story." He continued reading about how Horus and only ten of his men made it into the throne room to confront the massive ork and his strongest warrior Nobz. While his brave men fought the many orks Horus made straight for their leader and dueled him with all the strength of his conviction. The battle was fierce for the ork was the most powerful of its kind but Horus proved the stronger. Crippling his foe with a cunning strike Horus lifted the bloated form of Urrlak over his head and cast him from the throne room to fall to his death on the street below.
Only one other survived that last cataclysmic duel, Abaddon, the first captain of Horus' legion the Luna Wolves. The overlord's death left the orks leaderless and they were easily defeated. The greenskins would never again pose such a threat to the Imperium of Man. In celebration the world of Ullanor was transformed by order of the Emperor. The Adeptus Mechanicus remade it into a suitable monument for the final act of the Emperor as the supreme warleader of the Imperium. Standing before the countless mortal soldiers and towering titans, surrounded by nine of his sons and their legions, the Emperor announced his retirement from active conflict. He was returning to Terra, to continue his eternal struggle for the betterment of mankind. In his place he would appoint one of his sons as Warmaster, the commander of all of the Master of Mankind's armies, mortal, Astartes, even mechanical. Taking the laurel crown from his own brow he placed upon the head of the one best suited for such a burden. Horus Lupercal.
The story went on for a few more pages detailing the beauty of the Triumph at Ullanor and the doings and sayings of the Emperor and the Primarchs but there was no answer to Tildda's question. Who was Horus?
The question still hung in Godwin's mind when he returned to the Lorevault to carry out Anaxium's errand. The old bookkeeper greeted him happily and ushered him into a cramped study.
"Care for something to drink?" He proffered a pot of ancient looking kaffe and dispite his better judgement Godwin took a cup and half-filled it with the warm blackish brown liquid. Anaxium cleared off a chair that had been totally hidden under scholarly detritus and waved his guest into it. Looking around in vain for another chair he perched upon the corner of his desk, his short legs not quite reaching the floor.
"So is lady Tildda enjoying her new book?"
"Aye, she's barely slept since she got it. In a few more days she will know the whole thing by heart." Godwin couldn't keep a note of pride out of his voice and Anaxium nodded his own satisfaction.
"That's impressive. I've read through it myself many times and the illustrations are as breathtaking as the stories they paint."
"That reminds me, there was a specific picture and a story Til had a question about. I'm no loremaster and couldn't give her a good answer." He took a sip of the kaffe and was pleasantly surprised to find it was, in fact, freshly brewed and of superior quality.
"I would be happy to illuminate you if I can." Anaxium put his cup down and steepled his fingers, every inch the patient instructor.
"Well the story is of the Ullanor crusade. It tells of the Emperor's great victory there with his sons but a name appears that I've never heard. Horus Lupercal, Lord of the Luna Wolves. The illustration that accompanies it seems to be the author's attempt to depict Horus being made warmaster. But I've never heard of such a being nor heard of such an event." Without answering Anaxium jumped up and hurried out of the room. Godwin blinked in mild surprise at his host's strange behavior.
"Just a minute! I know I left it around here somewhere." Anaxium's voice called from somewhere within his shop followed by several mild crashes. Just as Godwin was about to rise to offer the old man some assistance the lorekeeper returned bearing a tome that dwarfed Tildda's in both size and, if possible, in grandeur. It s binding was of some strange black metal and gold script, untarnished despite its apparent age spelled out its title, De Primi Fili Imperatonis et Hominum Magnus Bellum. Struggling to carry his prize Anxaium stumbled and almost fell but Godwin quickly rose to steady him. Together they cleared a large space on the desk and Anaxium reverently laid the book down, unclasped it, and opened it to the beginning. The old man flipped through several pages before finally arriving at what he was looking for.
"Ah! Here we are. Tell me Godwin, can you read high gothic? No? Well allow me to translate." He hovered a finger directly above a twin headed eagle, one head blindfold and looking to the right, the other with ruby red eyes glaring to the left. In its claws it held jagged lightning and over its twin heads were coronets.
"To answer your question we have to start at the beginning. The Emperor. Greatest of all, master of mankind. Back in the dim recesses of the past he rose to power on humanity's homeworld, Terra. Some men would have been content to rule a world or a system but the Emperor was no mere man. His grand design was to reunite all of humankind, long scattered and fragmented throughout the galaxy. To this end he allied himself with the Martian adepts of the Machine God who recognized him as the avatar of their strange lord." Anaxium tapped the strange cog and skull motif of the machine priests.
"Combining the most advanced genetic techniques and occult powers known only to himself he forged twenty beings from his own flesh to serve as generals in the coming war. These were the primarchs, demigods and fathers of the Adeptus Astartes." Anaxium flipped a page to show an illustration of twenty pods, each numbered from one to twenty, being watched over by a towering golden figure without a face.
"But some tragedy occurred. Somehow the nascent beings were scattered far from Terra and their father. Each was flung through the Immaterium to land on some distant world. In time each rose to become a great leader and warrior, ignorant of their true purpose. Until one by one, the Emperor and his armies found them and welcomed them back with great joy and celebration." He pointed at the winged figure of Sanguinus standing proudly upon the soil of Baal as a golden craft bearing the aquila of the Emperor descended from the skies.
"Each primarch was beloved of his father and were quickly reunited with their genetic offspring, the mighty space marines. Yet no primarch, no man, was as close to the Emperor as the son he found first upon a planet called Cthonia. Horus Lupercal, who for over thirty years fought alongside the Emperor before any of his brothers were rediscovered. His legion, the Luna Wolves, brought more worlds back into the fledgling Imperium than any other legion. As the Emperor was the architect of the Imperium so was Horus his greatest general and confidant. So it was that after the crushing defeat of the Orks at Ullanor that the Emperor raised Horus above all his fellows, naming him Warmaster of the Imperium and his chosen proxy."
The next picture showed the same man that Godwin recalled from Tildda's book. His armor was the deepest black and he wielded a massive claw in one hand and a terrible maul in the other. At his chest hung the token of the glaring red eye that Godwin had seen before. He stood clothed in power and majesty as he directed several transhuman legionaries in armor had changed too, from the white he had read of to sea green.
"But in the Schola they only taught us about nine legions, nine primarchs. This is the first I've ever seen or heard of this Horus and these others. From the sound of it he's a hero, why isn't he celebrated alongside Sanguinus or Dorn?" Anaxium frowned and poured over the work, flipping swiftly from page to page as if looking for something but not finding it. At length he stopped and shrugged.
"I am sorry to say that I have no answer for you here. It seems as if this book was commissioned just after the battle at Ullanor and that whatever erased him and ten of his fellows from the history books happened after. I can, at least, tell you the names of eight of the other primarchs mentioned and their legions. Here they are. Perturabo, Iron Warriors." He flipped to a page with a picture of the primarch. He was festooned with many technological wonders and stood staring at a city his warriors were clearly besieging. Perturabo's face held an interesting blend of anger and resignation that seemed rooted in sorrow.
"Konrad Curze, Night Lords." He flipped the page to show the corpse grey features of the man that had unsettled Godwin before. He stood alone on a rock that rose out of a lake of blood. Godwin swallowed feeling his nameless fear returning and was glad when Anaxium flipped to the next Primarch, the gaunt figure who carried a scythe.
"Mortarion, Death Guard." The primarch's features were obscured by a rebreather and his eyes were fixed upon a cliff that stretched out of the picture.
"Fulgrim, Emperor's Children." Here was the perfect warrior Godwin remembered. This time the arrogance of the primarch was a palpable thing. He held a strange flinty blade and stared out from the page with contempt written upon his too handsome features.
"Alpharius, Alpha Legion." At first Godwin couldn't find the primarch for the picture was of a battle scene and all the legionaries were exactly the same down to the last detail. Anaxium halted and smiled kindly. "He's that one there, the artist left a clue. Alpharius is sometimes depicted with a reflection, see how that pool of water mirrors him?" Clearing his throat he continued.
"Angron, World Eaters." This picture dripped violence and at the center was the bulky form of the primarch carving through shadowy enemies with his terrible chainaxes.
""Magnus the Red, Thousand Sons." Here was the giant with the strange eye. He dueled with willowy eldar though not with a sword or axe. One hand was held in front of him and from it a line of purest white light immolated an eldar while, at a gesture from his other, the very ground rose up to entomb the frail xenos.
"Last of all Lorgar Aurelian, Word Bearers." In contrast to his brothers Lorgar seemed serene and untroubled. With his grey armored sons behind him he knelt humbly in the ruins of a burnt out city. Golden script snaked all across his face and a trick of the light seemed to form the shape of a four pointed crown above his shaven head.
With an effort Anaxium closed the book and drummed his fingers thoughtfully upon its cover and stared intently into the middle distance. He mouthed silently to himself and Godwin caught the occasional word.
"...Horus...The Great Crusade...Lorgar...Lorgar Aurelian...Yes..Yes... Perhaps there..." Shaking himself out of his ruminations he looked back to Godwin who had been waiting patiently.
" There are other books my friend. I have an idea where I can find what you are looking for but it will take some time. Tell you what, while you deliver my package I will look into this further."
"Oh no, I couldn't trouble you further. You've already been so kind and..." Anaxium raised a pale hand.
"No trouble at all. Look around you, does it look like I do anything other than read?" He waved vaguely at the mountains and hillocks of books around him. "In any case, here is the package." He picked up a box that had been sitting at the end of the desk and handed it to Godwin. "And here is the voucher I promised." He passed a tattered script to Godwin. "Now if you leave now you will just catch the tram. The address is on the back of that voucher. Now hurry! I shall find an answer to your questions by the time you return. Oh, and make sure that you put this into lord Brogan's hand personally. He's a bit touchy and I don't want one of his underlings misplacing it and getting us both in hot water. " So saying he shooed Godwin out onto the road and off on his journey to the capitol.
On a hive world cities often grew into each other, intermingling until even the best maps couldn't tell where one started and the other began. Such was the case with the Cantawaren districts of Jute. The capitol, Wye, was surrounded by Eastry where Godwin's family lived and worked and Lympne, the seat of the Adeptus Mechanicus' power on Jute. The three cities in one still clung to their own ancient traditions though and each maintained separate internal government even as they acknowledged the authority of Wye's planetary governor. As he made the two hours long journey through Eastry into Wye Godwin idly scanned the twisting streets below as the tram moved along at a sedate pace.
Today was a full rest day in celebration of one of the many Imperial saints and it looked to Godwin like everyone who could was taking full advantage of it. Children laughed and played in the streets while their parents talked, argued, and drank to the memory of a saint that few of them had even heard of. A few of the more devout joined in the processions organized by the Ecclisiarchy and listened with rapt attention to the fiery speeches of the confessors and priests. As the tram made its way closer and to the center of Wye the affluence of the buildings became more and more apparent. In contrast to the small homes that a few families like Godwin's managed to own or the towering hab-blocks that soared into the heavens the aristocrats of Jute favored enclosed manors with sweeping keeps. Islands of peace and calm within the noise and hurry of the city. The intended recipient for Anaxium's package, the nobleman Brogan, lived in such a castle though much closer to the center of the capitol.
The tram stopped just outside the inner ring of the city, a concession to the nobles who had no desire for lower class men and women to have easy access to the grandeur of the heart of Wye. If he had been one of the rich or powerful Godwin would have been met by retainers and ridden the rest of the way. Since he was not he had to walk instead. The roads sloped slightly upward, rising towards the dark spire of the Sable Falcons. The streets were excellently maintained, no uneven cobblestones or scattered trash, and high walls of various shades and hues hid the beautiful demesnes and cultivated gardens of the noble families.
It took Godwin a full hour of walking before he finally hove into sight of his destination. Anaxium's delivery bundle, though light, had started to become something of a burden and so the sight of elegant gates marked, as noted by the old lorekeeper, with three teardrops of deepest emerald filled Godwin with relief. As he approached the gates to knock a gatekeeper in greenish mail stepped out from an alcove and held up a perfunctory hand.
"Halt sirrah. What business have you here?" The package prevented godwin from easily bowing so he settled for a courteous nod of the head instead.
"I am Godwin Senlis sir. I am here to deliver this package to your lord."
"I doubt my lord needs to be bothered with a factory worker like you. Leave your package and if, as you say, my lord is indeed expecting a delivery I will make sure he receives it." Clearly the guard was not in the custom of letting any visitors in without a good reason. Still, Anaxium had said to make sure that Brogan received the package personally. Bracing himself for an argument Godwin pressed on.
"I was told to deliver this into his hands sir."
"That simply is not possible. Now either leave it with me and I will see to it or not."
"Lorekeeper Anaxium was very clea..." The guard's complexion totally changed at the name. For the first time he smiled broadly and his posture relaxed.
"Old An? This is from him? Why didn't you say so before? My pardon sir, I took you for a common layabout." He punched a quick code into a terminal and the gates began to swing open. Turning back to Godwin he gestured politely for him to enter and led him into the citadel
Behind the gate was a large courtyard paved in granite with a variety of old trees planted in neat rows leading to the main keep. As the two men walked they were accosted several times by various servants and other guards but the gatekeeper waved them off patiently. The keep itself was an inspiring sight and looked to be hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of years old. To be so close to the Governor's palace and the Spire showed Brogan's importance. Unlike some of the newer and more gaudy castle-keeps that Godwin had seen on his journey Brogan's home was built in a solid and traditional manner. Not for him smooth marbled walls or ostentatious gold ornamentation. Instead it was constructed of simple stone blocks that gave it a very squat look. In size it was massive but only about three stories high.
"Been in his family since before the Spire." The gatekeeper remarked proudly seeing Godwin looking up at it. "Built before the hive city or so lord Brogan tells it. Here we are though." They had reached the inner gates which stood invitingly open. Godwin was about to walk through but his guide tapped him on the shoulder and then pointed over towards a small gathering of people loitering at the stable just before the gate.
"He's over there. Tending to a mare that was lamed earlier this year. Always did have a soft spot for his horses."
"He cares for the horses himself?" Godwin asked surprised.
"Oh aye, since he was a lad I hear. Not one of your uppity nobles at all. Got his feet firmly on the ground. Looks like he's finishing up though." A balding middle aged man of medium height rose from inspecting one of the horse's hooves and rinsed his hands off quickly at a nearby fountain. Catching sight of the gatekeeper and the newcomer he plucked a towel from a young servant's arm, dried himself, and waved the two to come closer.
"What have you found here Dreng?"
"Visitor my lord, bearing something from master Anaxium." Godwin approached, carefully set his cargo down, and offered a low formal bow.
"My lord Brogan, I am Godwin Senlis here on behalf of lorekeeper Anaxium. I humbly offer..." Brogan interrupted him mid sentence.
"Rise Godwin, no need for that. You've brought my shipment I see?" Straightening himself up Godwin nodded.
"Yes sir, that package there."
"Excellent. Dreng? See to it please."
"Of course my lord." Dreng picked up the bundle and disappeared into the keep proper along with the rest of the servants leaving only Brogan and Godwin standing outside. Unsure of what to say to this strangely approachable noble Godwin was about to make a gracious exit when Brogan broke the silence.
"So Anaxium sent you...are you and he close?"
"He's always been kind to my family especially to my daughter. In fact my coming here was his bargain for giving her a book."
"Oh? Which book?"
" An ancient history book sir. It was quite valuable and I couldn't easily afford it but Anaxium gave it to her for the price of my delivering your package." Brogan cocked his head to the side and looked interested.
"History book eh? How old is your daughter if I might ask."
"Five, nearly six."
"Heavy reading for one so young. Hard too. She hasn't even gone to the Schola yet. You must be proud."
"Oh yes sir! Hopefully we will be able to scrape together enough money to send her to the Schola Prima in a year. She's a fast learner and a hard worker." He stopped and flushed, conscious that he was rambling on about his family in front of one of the most powerful men on Jute.
"Apologies sir, I didn't mean to bore you." Brogan smiled showing strong square teeth.
"A father's pride is nothing to apologize for. If An has taken an interest in her than I know she will go far. He's always had an eye for talent." Brogan chuckled at a thought. Looking back at Godwin he explained.
"When I was a boy he was my tutor in high gothic. One day when I was nine we were learning a particularly difficult construction that I had been unable to get for the past three weeks. I was a spoiled little thing back then and I confess I threw down my books and proclaimed I didn't need to learn any of it. After all, my family is one of the oldest and most powerful here on Jute, what need did I have of high gothic? Some lorekeepers might have shouted and screamed, others might have just given up but not An. "Master Brogan," he said "You'll go far in your life with or without learning, that much is true. However, how can you rule your household or help govern Jute if you cannot even control yourself?" Took the wind right out of my sails I tell you."
Brogan's smile broadened as he recounted the story. "He was right of course though it took a few years and a few more hard lessons for me to really understand that. Trust me, if he thinks your daughter will do well then even the stars won't be outside her reach one day."
"I hope so, she's too bright to be a factory worker and too free spirited to join the Adeptus Mechanicus like her mother."
"Your wife is a tech-adept?" Brogan seemed mildly surprised, impressed even.
"Yes sir. An Adept of the the Second Order now though it is unlikely she will ever rise any higher. The price of our life together unfortunately."
"Seems a worthy enough trade to me. I take it that you both work in the Euciian Manufactorium?" The question surprised Godwin as he had taken great pains to dress himself appropriately to meet a noble.
"Yes sir. She is the adept assigned to our floor. My son works with us as well, down the production line. How did you know?" Brogan chuckled softly and turned to walk towards the inner section of his keep gesturing Godwin to follow him.
"A guess really. From your accent you are from Eastry and that is the largest manufactorum there. Also how else would you meet your lovely tech-adept of a wife if not at work?"
The two passed through the inner gate and up towards the main house. The gates began to grind to a close behind them. Servants opened the large wooden door to admit them into a grand feasthall that was a hustle of activity. Several long tables stretched the length of the room pointing to a horizontal table at the far end of the room. Green robed servants trimmed the many candles in massive iron chandeliers while pages and serving girls prepared the tables.
"It's in honor of the feast of St. Brinda today. Or is it St. Bridan? I never can keep up with them all. I hope that you will do me the honor of staying here tonight as my guest. The trams will have shut down for the processions by the time you make your way back there." It was a tempting offer to Godwin, he could already smell the beginnings of a wonderful meal emanating in waves from the kitchens. The voucher Anaxium had handed him would get him a small hard bed and a passable meal but no more.
"I would hate to impose sir." Brogan clapped him hard on the back.
"Nonsense! Least I can do for a friend of An's. He waved a hand and Dreng appeared from one of the doorways.
"Dreng, find our friend here a room will you? As for you Godwin, I hope you'll excuse me. I have a few matters to attend to before the feast." He offered a strong calloused hand. Godwin shook it firmly.
"Of course sir. Many thanks for your kindness."
"Think nothing of it. See you this evening."
"More mead wench!" The call came from far down the long table from a man who was clearly in more need of a bed for the night than another drink. The hall was absolutely packed with men and women from all walks of life engaged in all manner of revelry and celebration. Drinking songs drifted through the air along as all manner of toasts were raised, jesters capered and amused all with their madcap antics, and children played underneath the tables. For his own part Godwin was content to indulge in the veritable flood of wonderful food and better drink that poured forth from the kitchens.
The festivities had been going on for many hours and he suspected that they would last until dawn. Brogan had taken his leave almost an hour earlier along with some of the more important guests. It had impressed Godwin to notice that his host had made a point of stopping by at each table and personally greeting all his guests. He drank a toast with some, laughed with others, and sometimes sat down and spent many long minutes engaged in earnest conversation with a particular individual. Godwin had been among that number.
"So how are you enjoying yourself this eve? Is the food to your liking? Did Dreng put you in a good room and not a closet?" He had asked as he sat down next to Godwin.
"He put me in a room the size of my own living room sir, I couldn't ask for any better. Thank you again for your hospitality tonight, the food is excellent and I've never seen the like of a celebration like this except at a distance." His host nodded in acknowledgement and then leaned in close so as not to be overheard.
"You are always welcome here my friend, your family too. As a matter of fact I just had time during the party to speak to Iterator Ormod about your daughter."
"My daughter?"
"Yes, such a promising student needs to go to the Schola Prima and I managed to convince him that the fee should be waived for you." Already surprised Godwin almost dropped his tankard at that.
"My lord...that is most generous. It's TOO generous, if I might be so bold. You barely know me."
"I know a good man when I see one and I will have need of good men. If the price I have to pay is helping that man's daughter then I pay it gladly. Here," He pushed a bulky envelope into Godwin's hand "This here is the writ of admission to the Schola along with Iterator Ormod's personal recommendation. Present it at the Schola within the week and all should be in order." Godwin could feel his face flushing and he almost dropped the envelope.
"I...I can't thank you enough sir. How can I ever repay you?" Brogan slapped him on the back as he rose to leave.
"Let's just say that you owe me a favor. Have a good evening Godwin, let me know if you want for anything further." And with that he had turned and continued the arduous process of greeting the remainder of his guests.
That had been hours ago and many, many, more ales previously and Godwin was feeling the effects. The large chronometer that he could see above the main table said it was 2.16 and he remembered that he still had to make his way back to his home earlier. He managed struggled to his feet and weaved his way out of the hall. As he did he was almost bowled over by an immensely large and staggeringly drunk man who pushed past him. Biting back his anger, it wasn't his house after all, he followed the man up down the winding stairs that led to his room. Or at least where he thought his room was, he had only been to it once and being much the worse for drink he couldn't quite recall the exact route.
Down and down he went peering owlishly at every room he passed but nothing looked familiar. The fat man ahead of him seemed to have a destination in mind and Godwin was less than confident of his ability to find his way out of this labyrinth so he followed in his wake. After a few more minutes the man seemed to reach his destination. An ornate door carved with a variation of Brogan's crest, three circles of tarnished green copper. The large man rapped at the door and a slit opened near the top.
"Who comes?" came a voice from the other side.
"Ator, I got caught up in the festivities above." He turned and looked blearily at Godwin. "Another of our number is with me. Let us in." There was a hesitation for a moment but the door did open and light spilled into the small corridor. The obese man squeezed his way in through the door and Godwin followed behind him. The guard made a strange sign to both of them as they entered, it was formed from combining the two hands with the thumb and pinkies steepled to for a circular symbol with eight points. Whatever it was it meant nothing to Godwin, perhaps it was a greeting of the house guards, he had heard of such things after all.
The air was heavy in the new corridor. Wet, rank even, and with a pungency that Godwin couldn't quite place. The corridor ended soon after the door at a spiral staircase that twisted even further downward. The heat and the smells only increased as the odd pair made their way further down. Strange sounds echoed up from below, guttural and urgent. Drawn forward by curiosity he continued down the stairs until at last he rounded the final bend. What he saw stole his breath.
In form it was like to another banquet, similar to the one still going on above, but that was merely a pretense. Where the food he had eaten previously had been perfectly prepared and fresh the dishes here were heaped with food that had long since begun to mold and rot. Flies buzzed in a monotone dirge as they feasted upon putrescent beef and noxious fruit. The smell of it nearly drove Godwin to his knees and he felt the urge to regurgitate his meal but was too busy trying to make sense of the gathering he had stumbled upon.
Sitting calmly at the tables were dozens of robed figures. Each one bore the same symbol as on the door at the top of the staircase, three circles of rusting or discolored metal arranged in a vague pyramid, on a leathery cord around their necks. Hoods prevented him from identifying anyone and, fortunately for him, their attention was fixed on a small group at what seemed to be the main table. It was from there that the chanting that Godwin had heard was emanating, a slow droning cant that inspired both weariness and despair. Upon the table was the body of a young boy, cruelly cut apart and long since dead. The leader of the gathering waved a rusted knife, clearly the implement of the boy's death, in strange arcs over the body while speaking in a tongue man was never meant to utter.
The profane right was clearly coming to some sort of a crescendo though for the pace of the chanting had begun to increase and the leader's movements became ever more frantic. The buzzing of flies was the underpinning accompaniment to the growling mewling noises that came from the throats of the celebrants. Like a hellish conductor the leader drew more and more volume and passion from the gathered host and his knife flicked flakes of old blood as he gestured ever more wildly. Godwin could feel something in the air, something powerful, ancient beyond the scope of man. A presence, that was the only way to explain it. A consciousness called from the hideous depths of the abyss come to answer this ritual's call.
Without warning the knife in the man's hand flashed, impaling one of his fellows though clearly without intent to kill. Blood spurted and fell upon the child's corpse as one last word, laden with power and corruption, echoed throughout the room as the gathering spoke, screamed even, as one.
NURGLE...
The presence that Godwin felt stirred. Lazily, playfully, reality shifted at this being's name. He could hear a croaking paternal laughter that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. This was wrong, he knew he should leave, quickly before anyone realized he wasn't a member of this...cult. He was just about to backtrack up the stairs when he glanced back towards the front of the room at a sudden flare of light. The boy's corpse was lined with a consumptive greenish light. A wind picked up in the room and Godwin realized that it was the frantic beating of many thousands of insectoid wings as they flew in unison in a massive circle centered on the boy. His limp body was lifted up like a puppet by the alien power invoked and suspended in mid air as the strange fire raged across him. And then he breathed. Breathed like a man who had been drowning and just broken the surface. His body was still mangled and cut, in particular his guts hung precariously out of his body, but life seemed to flow back into him in defiance of nature. His form began to change, morphing from a skinny youth into a grotesque bloated thing whose very sight brought back Godwin's desire to vomit.
"See now the power of the Lord of Decay made manifest!" the man intoned. "That which was dead walks once more! Immortality is the gift of our benevolent father, pledge yourselves to him and you shall walk the ages of the future yet to come as his favored servants. Embrace his lifegiving disease and let his loving touch remove pain from your bodies. Our hour approaches and only his faithful shall be spared. Soon we will open a way through the warp for his soldiers and allies and together we shall take this world for our own! We will cast down the false Emperor and erase his slaves from the pages of history!"
Heresy. Blasphemy. Madness. None of the words that came into Godwin's mind quite encompassed the sick feeling twisting in his stomach. One came close though, Traitors. Something had to be done, but what? Had he been braver, or far more stupid, he would have denounced these heretics for turning from the God-Emperor's light. Had he been more of a coward he would have fled and never spoken of what he saw. He was weighing his options when the men and women stood and began to remove their hoods. As he hadn't been born into the higher echelons of society some of the faces were unknown to him but others he couldn't help but recognize. Many were high governmental officials that he could identify based on the various decorations that were revealed beneath the robes. Others were clearly of the old nobility, members of Jute's most ancient families. Foremost among them was the cult leader who still held the bloody knife in his left hand as he pulled of his hood. Brogan. His erstwhile host was speaking quietly to the child-thing but it was definitely him.
How deep does this run? He thought dazedly. These are the most powerful people on the planet, heretics one and all. What should I do? I have to get word to the Governor, or the Arbites...no, they would have agents there. My family, oh Merciful Emperor, they could kill me and my own and no one would even notice. Anaxium, he will know what to do. He will know what this is. I just need to keep my head down and get out of this alive. Proof, I will need to get something to show An, some proof of the goings on here. He looked around distractedly and his eye lighted on one of the symbols the cultists were wearing hanging on a rack with many hooks near the door.
Moving slowly, doing his best to not attract any attention, he walked over and palmed the item and then made a surreptitious exit. The door guard nodded to him.
"Are they done down there?" Not wanting to cause suspicion Godwin stopped answered him.
"Aye, the ritual is completed. I must take my leave now though." The guard nodded at that and was just about to open the door when he whipped round to look back at Godwin.
"Don't I know you?" He peered closely at Godwin. "Yeah, you're the one An sent, the one with the package." He pulled his helm off revealing the familiar features of Dreng. "I didn't know you were one of us, are you from the Eastry Brotherhood?" Godwin rolled with the question, nothing else to do at this point.
"Yes, I was only recently inducted though. The brotherhood sent me here to witness the greatness of our master." Dreng seemed satisfied at that and moved back towards the door.
"They picked the right night for it, a resurrection, Brogan's own son no less. The gods favor us more and more every day. Well, take care brother," he opened the door and stood aside. "and may the blessings of the Plaguefather be with you." He made the same strange eight pointed sign with his hands and Godwin quickly mimicked him.
"And with you. Until we meet again." he walked through the door as Dreng's voice carried after him.
"Not long now! In a few weeks we will cleanse Jute together!."
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