Alrighty righty. Warhammer 40k Fanfic. Wew. Ignoring most formalities and basic human decency. This fic is based on my 40k tabletop army. The first few chapters is basically the backstory, while later chapter hopefully will be actual games I've done with my army. Which means if someone named dies in-game, they die in this fic! Suspense! Anyway, the first chapter a bit dulling. Hopefully, I can figure out how to actually write in the chapters to come.
The planet was a 'special' planet. Gazing out the Warden Palace's windows, and looking down from upon its grand balconies, you would see a bustling and buzzing city below a light, cloudy blue sky. It's slow industrialization spreading further into the rural areas surrounding it. It's Fedule building being replaced by factories and forges. Streets being remade with cement and horse-drawn carriages slowly being replaced by motorized vehicles. The populace who wandered the town's streets were of great variation.
Some sat down in front of alleys on wooden crates, dressed in yellow turbans and sandy cloaks, polishing apples and other orchard fruit they brought from the North to sell. Others carried heavy boxes to storefront to storefront, wearing dapper suits and feathered hats while men with rags hardly covering their body carried an equal load. The tall, strong, hairy, and less educated laboured shirtless, both men and women, on the planned, large construction sites littered throughout the city. Towering all but the palace looming overhead on a pleasant hill.
A man seated in a white trench coat, a fur hat placed loosely on his head, preparing a pelt. He worked on a wooden table, out on the street in the shade. His bow was laid by his game, while to his right a woman, dressed in a higher, though not high, level of social dress, fine-tuned the robotic cybernetic that took the place of her left arm.
Wagons carried supplies, horses snorted, men with technology embedded into their eyes walked alongside men with tattered sandals on their feet as equals. Women gave cold shivers, huddling alongside others who seemed uncomfortably hot in the lukewarm environment. Men dressed formally would wink at poor girls shirking into alleyways without a second's thought as they passed. Cars would pass through the cobbled roads, driving a bit until arriving at a concrete one to arrive in front of a large house, crafted exquisitely out of stone and polished wood, electricity flowing through it as it powered odds and ends when right across from it was a small straw shack
The city spanned thousands of miles. Progressing in technology and improvements at different paces, depending on what section of the city it was. Millions upon millions wandered, worked, shivered, waited, traded and migrated in and out of the city. Though industrialization was slow, this did not affect the massive size of the city. Every civilian, despite their clothes, profession, appearances or role in society, treated each other as equal. Because every civilian who didn't carry a pistol, or saber on their hip as they patrolled the streets, or did not ride in automobiles or fancy, well-crafted carriages were slaves.
In the North, 'There is strength in numbers' those who know that are the only ones who survive the scorching desert heat, under the watchful eye of the Golden Fox. In the south, only those who can provide for themselves and a feisty wife survive the unforgiving taiga and oceans of snow, living on under the gleeful eye of the Stoat. Those in the west can only survive the plains and light forests, though more deadly their fellow man if they knew how to keep a rifle on target and know how to keep their cybernetic limbs and organs in prime condition, under the stoic gaze of the Lynx. And finally, only those who can rub two coins together and create a third can survive in the 'Belle of Belleusia' the massive, multicultural city of the East. That thrives off the positives from the climate of the other region's personalities. All under the blood-shot eyes of the Snake.
She possessed the most expensive palace, or was it the largest out of the four? She forgot. She forgot many things. Some minor, like the comparison of her palace to the other three, and others were major, like how 'her' planet was just conquered and made Imperial. The Warden of the East, her fine velvet dresses covered by a large black cloak, trailing after her footsteps as she walked the halls of her home. A shining brooch of a snake was worn proudly on her breast. Similar signals of various snakes were strewn around her palace.
She was still on the fence on this- predicament. The old Warden of the North- No, east, her mother- no, her Grandmother, could have not been more joyful at this rebirth of the planet. The same Warden who condemned the entire planet into slavery to itself, restricting transportation and abusing her powers of the 'East.' She now walked to a Moot, having the joyful process of becoming an Imperial World placed on her shoulders. Already being forced to read dozens upon dozens of documents and other reports to get caught up with today's Imperium.
Her right hand twitched as she walked upon the radiant carpets lining her Great hall, colours of all kind shone into the room through stained-glass that lighted her path. She winced past the phantom pain in her right hand. Not slowing her hasty pace, she rose her hand and sent it a glare. The Mechanical workings of the replacement hand, a gift from the Warden of the West, were acting up sporadically.
"Third time this week… Maria damn you, Lloyd!" Her low mumbling systematically turned to a loud shout as she burst through the doors hiding her Parlor. She took three steps forward, her arms thrown in the air in mock exasperation, fell to her side. The halting taps of her steel-toed boots were the only sound in the large, open chamber, filled with multiple personalities. That being her household guard, some serving slaves, some of her Eastern Freemen whose interest were peaked, and the Three other Wardens of Belleusia.
"Ahh. The lovely Antienta. Stunning with her entrances as always." A muffled voice belonging to the Warden of the North attracted her bloodshot eyes.
"Oh, Lyten," She spoke in an just as dull tone, shrugging off her embarrassment. She sighed, glancing around her Parlor. A table had been set up in the Center of the room, with seats for five. The slaves quickly continued to go about their tasks, one bringing a jar of wine to serve the table. The Freemen and Women, dressed in formal clothes, quickly whispered behind their gloved hands while the Wardens re-settled in their feet.
Antienta gave a huff, nodding to herself as she bit her lip, wondering why there were freemen in her Palace. She shrugged on her cloak, colored black, which was covering the excess silk and velvet garments covering her. Tapping at the clasps over her shoulders, she started her walk again, acting as if she had just entered the room. Once again, the sound of her boots was the only in the parlour. It ends as she finally sat herself down in her designated seat. There was a chair on each side of the table, and the extra chair crammed into her right.
"Now," She paused, thinking of what to say next. She brushed the locks of champagne coloured hair that were covering her left eye, tucking it behind her ear. Only for it to fall back into place. Letting loose another sigh, she gazed at the three personalities before her. Seeing through the threads of her hair. The Warden of the North, clothed in his bland desert attire, a cloak covering that, his face covered by a sandy mask, the rest of his head covered in a yellow turban. A pin of a fox on his golden cloak. The Warden of the West sat directly across from her, glared at her with his red, glowing eye, with veins of iron running into his skull. Along with the rest of his left face. A monstrosity of a mechanical genius in her opinion. She passed over him, and his 'military' uniform of the militia he created out of his House Guard. And finally, the Warden of the South. A tall woman, towering above the other Wardens. Her trench coat gleaming and brimming with gold and silver, and red hair jutting out of her black fur hat and sunk to her high collar. A toothy grin was frozen on her face as her golden eyes looked at Antienta intently.
Antienta raised her right hand, shaking herself and examining its flat, smooth palm, then looking at it's back, wires running into her covered forearm and glowing tubes lighting up dimly as she flexed her hand. Though the inspection was odd, her metal fore and middle fingers twitched while her last two were arched to touch her palm. Painfully refusing to comply with her commands.
"While I love the generosity, Lloyd, the… functions… more so the malfunctions are-are quite unpleasant." Venom was present in her ending words, matching the glare of her tired eyes.
The red eye of the Warden of the West was unwavering. The corner of his metallic mouth twitched, "Maybe… it's not the… producer… of the product-" The Warden's low, dragging voice of steel and copper was interrupted.
"Yes, yes, spiffing. Now, to matters of actual importance." Antienta quickly passed over his words and pressed on with the moot. Waving a hand to the right, where one of her household slaves quickly ran over and placed a small stack of papers in front of her. As Antienta spoke, she shuffled and picked through the stack.
"I shall keep this short, and hope you are all up-to-date on your child-friendly Imperium facts. I believe we were sent a few books-We need a, ah- 'Planetary Governor' as per regulations. Along with a 'Commissar,' a few hundred files of paperwork, some massive reeducation projects, formalization of the Imperial Cult, adding of a few Aquilas here and there, a standardized PDF, or 'Planetary Defense force' A large militia or what-not, and of course, a Tithe."
She gave a moment's pause to examine each face of the Wardens. The North's face was covered, his icy eyes gave nothing but annoyance away, the West's face was as stoic as ever, while the South's face was filled with bewilderment. Antienta sighed, shutting her eyes and thinking over everything for a moment. Thinking on how to continue her always winged conferences.
"Why… Why we give tooths to become a colony?" Antienta jerked her head up and gave a blank stare at the Warden of the South. Her rough voice not helping the comprehension of her horrid grammar. Though in any other situation, the Warden of the East would have smiled at that, probably send a howl of laughter at her too, though now was not that time.
"Tithe… T-i-t-h-e. Not teeth, a tithe. A payment, Shri. A payment." The Warden of the North whose attention was also grabbed by the Warden of the South walked her through the definition of a tithe with the fewest words possible with great annoyance.
Shri placed an elbow on the table and reached up with her other hand and stroked her chin. "Ah…" She nodded along, squinting past Lyten. Antienta could easily assume she didn't understand anything. She gave a huff and glanced over the table once more. Loyd's red eye bored into her unsettlingly.
"Our tithe is a regiment- an army… mother wouldn't have liked this… or would she?" Antienta muttered her ending, glancing once more at everyone's face, trying to understand their opinions on the matter. She tapped her left fingers on the table, combing over her thoughts as she tried to find the best way to explain everything. An administrative agent had landed on the planet, handed her some documents, and left to attend to 'Other vital matters' In a galaxy of only war, she could only imagine. She neglected to remind herself about space travel.
"A force of, uh," She trailed off, parting her mouth and grinding her teeth together, "One and a half million, yes." She would have stopped to give her customary pause, The Warden of the South did this for her, by spitting her spiced wine across the table and shouting. Gaining two disgusted faces and a scowl.
"Two MILLION men?!" The Warden of the West offered a stone grimace, while the North simply showed wide eyes. "That's more than my entire hunting fleet!" She shouted once more, applaud.
"One and a half actually, but yes. Now we simply need the manpower, no need to train or arm them, a representative of the-ahem- Ordo… No- Officio Prefectus… will oversee that with his own materials. Transports should be dropping in soon enough. Yes, now, to keep matters short, you will spread propaganda or what-not of glorious war and you'll offer anyone their 'freedom' for volunteering in the Regiment. It'd diversify our population. I'll leave the numbers up to you all. And finally-"
"I don't recall... the Warden of the… East having so much… authority… do you?" The chilling voice of metal interrupted Antienta. The Warden of the West sent a scowl to the entire table. Antienta faced him directly and bit her lip. She then chuckled.
"No, no I don't. But, seeing how we are all to be replaced with a Governor, that has the powers of a king, with full authority of the planet with no checks, successors, and receives the income of all regional and government property and services, that being every one of our cities save our private estates, which of course, doesn't generate much income, isn't that great. But, it must be done. So, seeing that point said. I shall be leading this regiment of ours. We have a few months to raise the appropriate manpower, or was it a year? Anyway, I leave it up to you three to choose a governor. Which of course, might I add. Have no authority or command over me, or my private estate and property of the Heart of the Belle since I am hereby Colonel… Antienta… snake? Erm… no… of the Astra… Militarum!" A delayed smug smile split upon her lips as she looked back at the Faces of the Three Wardens, reclining back in her seat as her eyes gleamed.
Due to a quick, scrapped up plan of ending the moot as she always loved to do, she had a household slave bring her a pen and a parchment of paper which was one of the several hundred given to her by the agent of the Administratum. Which was to be given to the Regimental Commander of the regiment that has been listed to be raised. Hundreds more were to be sent to the already 'selected'' Planetary Governer who's name was not even listed. She thought herself rather clever. Take that commission herself, protect her estate and region, and most importantly her city. And as an added bonus, she had only half the paperwork to do. She finished signing off the parchment, signalled a slave to come and pick it up. Stood up from her seat, spun around with her cloak and dresses behind her. Her face suddenly falling out of view of everyone. She left her Parlor the way she came. "Wardens..."
"It ain't much… but hey, it's honest work." A northerner's voice sounded cheerfully in a forced voice, mimicking a man right next to him. "Gah… I only said that once..." A southerner growled back at his fellow worker. Cleaning up the table where the moot was held, picking up the chairs and the table itself and throwing it in a dark corner until it was needed again. They gave a quick nod of the head at the Warden of the East as she passed by them once more. She liked to pace through the entire palace when she was bored or waiting for something. Still, her slaves slaved, her guard's guard, and her scribes wrote away with ink at the hundreds of documents she was supposed to sign herself. The palace halls and rooms were all lined with stained-glass, and occasional breaks of carpet to be replaced by polished wood and marble.
The other Wardens had already left with their retinues. Heading off to their cities and affairs. The moot didn't last that long after Antienta's departure. The Warden of the South got drunk, The Warden of the North didn't say a word. The Warden of the west, after a while silence, stood up and said a few words.
"I'll leave you your farms and towns, but I want half the income of your city's."
The Warden drew a golden coin from his pocket, with a stag imprinted on its side, threw it on the table, and then the Warden of the West left.
"Huh… Freedom. Funny word that is." The Southerner mused to himself as he picked up a glass, examining it before placing it on a tray he held. The Northerner let out a laugh, "Are you really thinking about volunteering?" A smile was stuck on his tanned face as he meaninglessly wiped at the table they were standing around. The Southerner shrugged, placing another glass on his tray carefully. "I dunno, Milio. Life's just dead end here. Not even here, this entire fucking planet! Fuckin… Warde-" He quickly shut his mouth and averted his eyes as he heard the sound of Antienta's boots coming back down from the Grand Hall of the Palace. The doors were thrown open to the Parlor, and she quickly paced through the room.
"Ha! Best not to say that out loud, Quorin! But yes, I see your point." He bit his cheek, speaking as soon as Antienta had left the room. Leaving the two alone in the Parlor. "Not that crazy of an idea, I'll be honest," He tossed whatever he was using to wipe the table back on the bare, wood and took a step back. "Wonder what the pay like, huh… probably less than what those westmen pays for those cyber parts," This got a scuff out of Quorin, who agreed with a chuckle. He finally settled with a sigh, "Who knows, maybe she'd be looking for a retinue or something. It'd probably be her household guards, but hey, who knows?" Milio hummed in an agreement.
He glanced over himself, plain in a simple white collared shirt and black dress pants. then looked over at Quorin, wearing the same thing with the small collar pins of the Eastern Snake on him. By no means were they the fat household slaves that resided in the West Palace, but they weren't the agile, collective runners of the North or the tough hunters of the south. But they did their job without the aid of animals, mass number, or any augmentations. Then again, they were merchants, dealing with coin and shipments. Hunting the occasional stag that wanders from the south and hiring the other slaves to do the rougher work.
"Eh, we got time. Well, I dunno. I bet you twenty coin that those million will be prying down every Warden's gate trying to get off this world and outta slavery as soon as the news spread."
It had been three days. Or was it three weeks? "Doesn't matter anyway…" A low murmur was heard in the Colonel's chambers. Antienta stood before a marble sink, her hands gripping the sides and her head leaned over to get closer to the mirror. Gawking at the imagine gazing back at her. Her face was clean, no scars or any marks showing. Her hair was a tangled mess, some of it trained to sway before her left eye. As for her eyes, unnaturally bloodshot and greenish, they stared back at her, tired as always.
She scoffed at the image mocking her by its mere presence. Having the audacity to dress assume she was tired, which meant she was weak, which she would have no one accuse her of being. Pushing away from the sink, she spun a little and walked back into her bedchambers. She was dressed only in her unsurprisingly green smallclothes. Well, fit for her more or less average figure. She always thought her hips were too wide.
Everything was green. The Velvet, carpets, silk and mail; The sheets, the blinds, the cushions and jewels. Even some Relic blades and ornate armour from the previous Warden's rule was a bright emerald. Strewn about the palace in elaborate glass cases or tall stands watching over the halls. At least the palace exterior was coated a rather fitting snow-white, while the rest of the city was a large mixture of colour and paint.
"Take my coin, feel my bite…" She let loose a large sigh, mentally preparing for the gruelling task of starting her day. She called for two of her maids to dress her, and in a few minutes, she was clothed in all her dresses and jewellery. She donned the black cloak that would annoyingly billow behind her as she rushed. She had planned to place her emblem on the back of the cloak but never got around to it. One of her younger maids managed to quickly throw a rose behind her ear, stolen from a forgotten pot of various flowers. While she generally hated having things in her hair, the innocent smile of the maid made her overlook it.
She finally got her steel-toed boots on and placed the brooch on her breast. Fixing the rose placed over her right ear, she gave a sigh, before walking out of her chambers and into the grand halls of her palace.
Of course, she would meet no interesting personalities whilst wandering her halls. Her days as of late have been of little note or purpose. Her scribes still scribbling away at paperwork in their offices, and the odd slave throwing soap and cloth at one of the many statues or bronze decorations in her palace. She had forgotten where their quarters were, but she couldn't care less. As she wandered further, she stumbled across a dusty and obviously abandoned room of her palace. The door concealing the room was painted a bloody red, a crack ran down its centre, and the slightest hint of a misty smoke flowing from the foot of the door, disappearing as soon as it reaches the hall.
She stared at it for naught a second before moving on. There were secrets in all the Warden's palaces, and there was some she didn't want to learn. She continued walking before stopping at an open door leading into a classroom. She peeked in to see a single student being tutored by an older, and well-dressed man. The student, aging no more than four or five, glanced over at Antienta, a smile split on his face as she offered a little wave. The smile made her grin, but she quickly ran off as the Tutor rushed the door, searching for whoever disrupted his lesson even if for but a second.
Antienta managed to outrun the old man, who didn't even leave his classroom. She let out a sigh, her thoughts moving away from the ward and instead to thoughts of a pit match as she sped through some unremarkable halls and made it to the central 'Throne room'. It was much like the parlour, expect the main part of the room was elevated, and two spiralling staircases, flanking either side of the filled platform with a large Viper painted on its front. The Snake of the East seemed to change every hallway. The palace has experienced many Wardens of the East. Each picking their own snake as their personal symbol. Antienta had her own, but it was named after an old, 'cursed' land where a revolution occurred. She decided it was best to use a simple snake.
There were multiple tables thrown about at the foot of the stairs, spread out the room. These were made of simple wood and many free Easterners would have a heart attack if they were asked to sit there. Apparently, it was noon, and most of the slaves who worked the of the palace were eating. She truly didn't care, there were hundreds upon hundreds of slaves working in her estate. She didn't know the numbers. It would be a hassle, and waste of coin to try and supervise them all. So, she let them do whatever as long as food was served, cups kept full, and the palace's interiors sparkling clean. Unlike the north, where you would be put in the mines for making a simple mistake, the west, where you would be used as target practice or the south where you would probably be thrown into a pit with a few starving wolves and be gambled on. Antienta would simply gather up the majority of the slaves and make an annoying announcement. The problem would fix itself overnight.
Antienta weaved through the tables, getting bows of the head, formal greetings, or even smiles by the bold. She made her way to the center of the room and found a table with a man and a woman sharing a loaf of bread and a block of cheese. She asked one to get her a scribe and a few percents of paper, along with a pen. She stood impatiently as the two jumped from their table and abandoned their food to find what Antienta had ordered. Not long after, the two returned with an older man. Antienta quickly spat out her instructions.
Not caring for her image when among her slaves, she stood up upon her table, with the help of both the slaves. She then shouted, catching the attention of everyone in the central room, brandishing a piece of lined paper. "Whoever signs this parchment shall have their chance of freedom!" Not waiting for a second more, she placed the paper down and hopped off the table. She ordered five more pens and turned to the two slaves there originally.
The man was an easterner, while the girl was a west man. The girl odd enough had no visible cybernetics. Her hair was a blonde mess, eyes a rare red. She wore the regular attire of her estate, which revealed nothing of note of her figure. At least she could say she wasn't fat. While the man had green eyes, his hair short and burnt. He was taller than the girl, standing around the same as Antienta, both being 5"11.
"Age?" Antienta asked quickly, assuming the table would be rushed by slaves seeking freedom soon enough. The man was 19, while the girl was 17. Both stood awkwardly, the man being two inches shorter than the girl. "Name?" They chirped out their names, The man's name was Polkn, while the girl's name was Naydma. Their last names were both Ambrose, but Antienta knew it was a bastard name in the East. She nodded and spun around, quickly making her way out of the central room and advanced to her parlour. She wanted to take a walk. Though she made a mental note to have a scribe write down their names.
She frowned suddenly as she stepped out of her estate's grand entrance. A rolling path of cement paved a path through kempt grass of her yard leading to a small archway holding the main gate of her estate. The 'Main Gate' was the entire city's main gate. On its sides lined fencing that spanned on miles around her land. She couldn't explain her displeasure, as she was exposed to the cool winds of the east. Maybe leaving her palace finally gave her a sense of realism about what she was doing. Leading men into combat when she had no experience leading men unknown to her into battle. Maybe it was because she was leaving her home for maybe the last time. Maybe because she was leaving her lands to the cruel treatment of the other wardens, maybe because the men sent to oversee the planet and her regiment still haven't arrived. Or maybe it was because she didn't like how the sun looked in the sky.
The yard was empty, though the gate was manned. And small groups of her guard walked outside, alongside the fence in patrol. She squinted in the sky, wishing for a 'metal bird' to break through the flowing clouds and land at her gates. She was overcome with a great desire to leave this planet. She had been informed of Imperial identification and aircraft, along with travel among the stars. Sighing, she called out for a carriage, wishing to visit the Warden of the South. There was a pit match she had been wanting to see.
Punching wolves and starving dogs until they were dead was not Levy's immediate thought of his first duty as Regimental. He could imagine it wasn't the Planetary Commissar, his Superior as a junior, either. Yet, here he was in a pit fight with a man of 79, a bullet in his left forearm, and sharing said pit with dozen starving beasts, and a few dozen more dead around him and the corpse of two guardsmen missing their flak armour laid behind them.
He threw his left arm in front of his eyes, flinching back as a set of fangs clamped down on his torn arm. Adding to the number of bites and clawing he had suffered in the last few hours. The dog jerked it's head back and brought him down, shaking its head wildly as its teeth tore further into his arm. It let out a squeal as a hand gripped its snout, tore the dog's head off the arm and threw it to the ground. Not letting it scramble away, he planted his heel on the dog's head and stomped down on it, caving its head in with his boot.
He turned around to see the old man on his back, wrestling with the final dog amongst a pile of three fresh kills. Levy fell into a sprint, upon reaching the aging Commissar, he kicked the dog square in the stomach. It gave a cry and flew a near foot away. It wouldn't have a chance to get up before Levy brought his boot down, a satisfying crunch sounding as the mutt's ribs were broken and shards sent into its innards. It let out a final cry before the life disappeared in its hungry eyes.
He spat at the dog and spun around, his uniform tattered, torn, and smeared with mud and other questionable content. He had lost his peaked cap, his sword and bolt pistol taken away from him, and his great coat in need of some refinement. He walked back to the fallen man with a glint in his grey, oddly lively eyes. He extended a hand which the man in no better condition eagerly took.
Levy chuckled out as he hoisted the man back on his feet. "This is the last time I survive a Valkyrie crash…" Tossly snorted, shaking himself and wiping some blood off his bleeding sleeve. "This' the last time I'm frakking retiring!" The old man with greying hair and a poorly shaven face spun around and yelled to the top of the pit energetically. "Frakk you, you cunt!" His and drawn out insult directed to the 'Queen' of this planet.
The Queen or whatever her title was is a tall woman in a trench coat who's decoration surpassed an experienced Commissar. All the woman seemed to do was roar out for more beer or ale, shout jeers at the two, and call out for more dogs or slaves. She sat on a large seemly glass throne that loomed over them from the top of the pit. Surrounding her were what appeared to be some nobles, her guards, and hundreds of peasantry gawking down at them from small stands erected around the pit, spitting out jeers and throwing their trash and wasted food.
"Been keeping count?" Levy shouldered the Tossly, "Dogs, or hours?" "Both," Tossly said nothing, only huffing as he shook some blood from his right forearm. Shaking his head as he rolled his shoulders. Levy glanced to his left, where an iron gate separated them from both freedom and another wave of beasts. " I wonder what the Tactica Imperialis has to say about combating mutts with your bare fists?"
"Antienta! How good to see you! Just in time for the next wave." Shri gave a grin and even stood up to greet the Colonel as she finally jostled her way past the crowds of southerners who gleefully watched the deathmatch below them. Laws weren't that present on Belleusia.
"As well as you," Antienta nodded by the welcome, her attire not changing in the slightest despite the frozen conditions in the south. The north and south were opposite extremes in their temperatures. The fighting pit and the stands were covered by a makeshift roof, consisting of nails, glue, and brittle logs. Shri's smile was frozen on her face as she gestured to a seat to her left.
Antienta gave a final bow of her head before she lost the majority of her formality. The chair to the left of the Warden of the south's seat was reserved for honoured guests, while the right was either the Wife or Husband of the Warden. She sat back in the plainly carved wooden seat with a carpet lazily draped over it, spreading her legs and closing her eyes. She settled in the seat. Raising her hand as she roared over the crowd for a drink. The pit fight had continued and the crowd was relit with excitement.
"So! Who's who?!" Antienta continued shouting over the crowd to Shri, who was sat less than a foot, but much higher than herself. "Some Westmen who were caught killing some of me Stags! OOOH!" She suddenly stood up and let out a roar, tossing her hands in the air and slugging a guard next to her, holding out her large hands to receive a won bet.
Antienta's eyes narrowed as she could hardly see the fight because of the crowd around the rim of the pit. She sat there impatiently, tapping her silent foot as she waited for something to happen so she could see. Rolling her eyes she stood up from her seat and pushed forward, shouldering slaves and freemen alike to get to the front. She had to push past nearly thirty slaves to get an insight into the fight. She finally remembered stealing someone's drink and smashing it over his head as a hand jut out of the crowd and groped her breast. Though that was probably her imagination.
Finally reaching the front, she peered into the pit to finally see the fight.
The two 'Westmen' were obviously freemen at one point, judging from their tattered clothes and torn greatcoats. The older man's attire was coloured black while the other red. Around them stood a couple of dozen corpses of dogs and other southern beasts, But their current combatants seemed to be a gaggle of northern slaves. "SEND IN THE SANDY FUCKS!" Shri's voice boomed over everything. Originally twelve but dwindled down to six, more slaves poured into the pit. She shouldered the faceless man next to her and asked which wave it was. "12 I think! It-" His attention was recaptured by the pit fight as the first casualty ensued.
"Finally. A challenge!" Tossly grumbled mockingly at the appearance of their next fight, kicking down the man whose windpipe he had just crushed. For an old man set to retire to a cozy 'pleasure' world, he was still an able combatant. A bunch of ragged men, probably half-starved and with Tallarn-like attire. Levy shrugged, "Huh, they actually get blades," He made a comment at the butcher knives and other crude weapons they held, and how the first six they had just killed only had their fists. Tossly grunted, shaking his old bones once more for a fight. "For the Emperor," He said more annoyed than anything. Levy gave a final chuckle, "For the Emperor,"
Levy ducked under the backhand and swing aimed to cleave his head off, he made the assault pay by sending a right-hand hook to the back of his head. Ignoring the fallen man, he moved on. There was only six of them, with another down and Tossly already on the ground either choking or being choked. Levy pressed on, having little thought or care of anyone at the moment.
He slid back, avoiding another cut, he stepped forward catching the next assailant in the cheek with his right fist. He struck him in the ribs with a follow-up but could do no more as a weight crashed into his shoulder, then a foot was taken from under him.
Sticking his gloved thumbs into the eyes of the man atop of him, a left jab, and right hook, a cut on his arm, a slice on his great coat, wrestling a man onto the floor just to smash his head on the frozen ground. A blade sliding in between his ribs, a laceration on his palm, At one point he remembered holding a twisted knife in his hands. It went through two necks, parried a blade than snapped like the useless piece of metal it was. Near the end of the wave, signalled by the lowering of the crowd's insanely noisy voices that even a traitor of Slaanesh would have been annoyed of. Levy noticed that there were a lot more humanoid bodies around him than the six original fighters near the end.
He grabbed the last fighter's throat, squeezing tight, he pulled him close, kneeing him in the stomach and throwing him back. Following up, he kicked the fighter's right foot from out under him and stomped on his groin. He then planted the heel of his boot on the fallen man's forehead and stomped down, killing the last fighter.
He sighed, slumping a bit at the shoulders. He turned around to see Tossly surprisingly on his feet. Levy felt himself slowly degrading in strength as a third hour almost passed. He couldn't imagine how Tossly felt. He looked up at Tossly's eyes and saw a dead man standing. His face was drenched in sweat, his right eye flickers between open and shut and he was gasping in breaths of air. His face was painted with dirt and blood. "Just… like… Like…" Levy rushed forward once again to catch the aging Commissar as he fell forward.
Whether the fight had ended in total and the crowds dispersed immediately, or either in awe or shock for the old man finally faltering, it was more or less silent "S'pposed to be an easy retirement…" Levy murmured as he dropped the man where he stood. The corpse stood up for a second, he caught a final glimpse of Tossly's eyes before he fell back. It didn't matter if he was dead or living when he fell, he would die in the next few minutes to come. He felt a small pang of emotion. A small one.
He took a few steps forward and bent down, reaching into the dying Commissar's greatcoat to draw a bloody Uplifting Primer. Tossly's primer was always a mess. The pages torn, cover scorched, and a bullet of some kind making a hole in the bottom right corner. Once being a Regimental Commissar attached to a Death Korps regiment, he always claimed he never had time to get a new one or maintain the old one. Levy himself had his primer in his coat, though not knowing its condition, it had probably saved his life a few times in this fight alone. He looked through it, ignoring the crowd's rising commotion. He glanced at its first pages, where Tossly had written his own information on it. Levy sighed and tossed the primer on Tossly's soon to be a corpse. The dying man made no noise and the ruined book hit his bleeding chest. Spinning around, he searched the ground for his peaked cover, glaring at the ground he finally found it.
Kicking over two dead men and a wolf, Levy recovered the intact, but horribly decorated the peaked cover. Excess mud and blood splattered over it as the dead men piled over it split their innards over it. He held the cover and spun it to remove some of the gore off of it. Spinning it twice, he looked up to the crowd, glaring at the first set of eyes he saw. Levy could have probably hoisted Tossly up to the point where he could have crawled out the pit, but he shook the thought from his head.
A woman with a fancy dress stood glaring back at him. Her hair was more or less a tamed mess, and he found a rose tucked behind her ear. He noticed a glistening brooch on her breast. He stared at her for a second, catching her tired eyes, before placing the cover on his head and walking back to the assured corpse of Tossly. Dismissing the woman from his thoughts and trying to remember the prayer for the dead. Not a second he turned around a sheik of horror sounded behind him. He ignored it at first, his ears simply tuning out the scream. He reached the corpse of Tossly, his empty eyes staring up into overhead wood. Levy let out a dry chuckle, smirking at his old mentor. He only turned around as the horrified words reached his ear.
"STOP THE FIGHT! STOP IT! GET THEM OUT OF THERE NOW!" Antienta howled, spinning around and screaming at the top of her lungs. Almost immediately the large crowd fell silent, the majority of the crowd's attention drawn to the outburst of the Colonel. She stood there, her face red and fists clenched. She stomped forward, outright pushing her way to where the Warden of the South sat. As let out another scream as she saw the appeal face of Shri
"DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE?!" She demanded in a shrill voice. She didn't wait for an answer before she spun around and marched back to look at the pit, the crowd parting before her. She threw a finger and pointed at the only man standing in the pit. "That is an Imperial Commissar!" She screamed in a less booming tone at Shri, who still sat shocked in her seat, didn't say a word.
"Get him out of there!" She screamed at the closet face she could, pulling on his collar and pushing him away, then stomped back to Shri. "You just killed the Planetary Commissar! You just kidnapped the two most important powers of this world and put them in a pit! And made them fight to the death! What did you do with their ship?! What did you do with their escort?! Their men?! WHAT HAVE YO-"
Antienta did not know how long she ranted, screamed, and nearly cried. Shri had not spoken a word yet still managed to exclaimed just as a bullet entered her skull. She almost found it funny, no, she did find it humorous. Very humorous. How the red, flustered and shocked face of the Warden completely ceased to exist. Rather, an explosion of gore and blood took place. A loud shot nearly deafened her left ear.
She spun to her left, gawking at the Imperial Figure she had recognized too late standing with a fierce look on his face. Steaming blood dripping onto the frosty ground as his left arm was extended, a pistol was in hand and smoke rising out the barrel. "How…" She muttered to herself, wondering not only how fast time has passed, or even how he had even got up her and rearmed when it seems like she had just started screaming just a second ago.
He lowered his left arm and craned his head forward, and spat at the headless body's foot. As soon as he turned to face his 'saviour' the raggle of southerners over and their shock came upon him in a mindless fury with cries and roars of bloodlust. The Commissar went down in a flurry of nails, knives, pistols and rags. In seconds the Commissar disappeared from sight.
Antienta took a step back, her left ear did not recover, and she could hardly see or understand anything before her. Her eyes blurred quickly as a sudden feeling of lightheadedness struck her. She suddenly found herself staring down the sight of an ordinate pistol. She had never fired it before, nor had she ever drawn it before. She couldn't see anything as her finger pulled at the trigger, and lost feeling after she felt a light push on her back. She felt the floor as it came up to meet her face. Everything went black.
"Blood for the blood God..."
Green. Everything green. The sky was always green. The walls, the floor, her dresses. What another color would they be? She then opened her bloodshot eyes. Only just to see more green. She sighed, shutting her eyes again and trying to go back to sleep. Her room was dark, but no doubt the sun was trying to pry its way into her chambers. She ignored whatever was brushing against her right leg and shifted uncomfortably. Her room was dead silent, though she heard shallow breathing to her right. As soon as the ringing appeared in her eyes she threw her bedsheets in the air and slid out of bed. She stumbled a bit as her bare feet touch the floor, wincing as pain flared in her upper back. Groaning, she hobbled more or less to her bathroom's door across the room from her bed.
Apparently, she too was beaten when she fell to the ground. If she even fell that night. Or was it a day? Her memory did not improve whatsoever nor did the pair of eyes staring back at her in the mirror. Her eyes never improved, they only worsened. She had a purple bruise on her right cheek, dried blood on her nose and another bruise on the bridge of her nose, and a cut starting from her left cheekbone and extending to the corner of her lip. "Another gift from the south…" She commented on the probable scar and passed over it and it's the gruesome effect on her face. She glanced down at her chest to see she had taken a few punches in the stomach, bruises dotting her body. A single cut was left across her right collarbone which she traced gingerly with two fingers. She noticed she was only wearing a dark bra she had not seen before. She gave a dry chuckle, pushing away from the sink, she turned and entered her chambers. She ignored the stranger resting in her bed and turned to her wardrobe.
"Green, green, green, green, green…" she muttered as she swiped through her dresses in the dark. There was one black dress, but that was for mourning purposes and probably a few sizes too small. All she had was her cloak that was a different colour than green. She didn't bother calling up her maids to get dress. She slipped into her silks and velvets, fitting tighter than usual around her figure. She glanced at her shadowy figure in the mirror propped up against the wall behind her. Narrowing her glinting eyes as she couldn't see herself in the dark room.
"Thought it was s'pposed to be a black and white world…. not black and green." She Complained loudly as she spun from her wardrobe and slid across her with her bare feet trotting across the emerald rugs. She saw a chair was pulled up next to a drawer hugging the wall across from her bed. Her eyes adjusting to the dark, Antienta noticed the peaked cap that finally led her to recognize the Imperial Agents in the fighting pit, hanging off the chair. Walking around it she found the stranger's mended uniform folded neatly on the chair while his polished boots laid next to said chair. Glancing at the drawer, she remembered she lacked socks or panties. Fishing some out of the drawer, she slid on the socks and placed a foot on the back of the chair. Inconveniently and out of tiredness, Antienta spent a long while slowly slipping her laced small wear up her left leg, only to realize soon after she only had one leg in the laces. Not letting go of the small clothes, she hobbled around rather hopelessly, trying to fit her other foot in. She hopped around for a second or two before her head snapped to her bed.
"Having trouble?" The pained voice of the stranger occupying her bed cause Antienta to pause in her efforts of getting fully dressed. She balanced on one foot as she glared in his direction. She made the outlines of his head and some of his face. But she couldn't quite tell if his eyes were open, or tell if there was a smile or smirk on his face. Nonetheless, she fell backwards as she was unfocused in her basic task of staying upright. The stranger chuckled but cursed immediately as laughing seemed to hurt. Antienta said nothing and instead took her time on the floor to get dressed. She made an effort to stand successfully, wiping the oxygen off her dress she spun around walked hastily towards her curtains, which she quickly grabbed and three open, sunlight filled the room. Everything did hurt, but the pain was ebbing away. The stranger let out a groan and shuffled in her bed. She spun around, glancing at the stranger. His eyes were closed, a hand raised to block the sunlight cast directly into his face, A loose undershirt covered his chest and probably nothing else. His face fared much worse than hers, and she could safely assume the rest of him did no better. She threw open the other set of curtains on the other side of her bed and moved on.
She said nothing as she threw the stranger's cover at him from a short distance away, the hat landed at his feet. He was fully awake as he leaned forward and snatched it up, laying back and placing it over his head. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she picked up his bundled clothes and dropped it on top of him. She was about to walk away before he spoke.
"You have my thanks… for my life… consider me in your… 'debt'" She glanced at him with a bloodshot eye over her shoulder. His voice was rough, but oddly enough had that sense of nobility around it. She made a note on how sparingly used the word 'debt' and recalling what she knew of Commissars she doubts it meant anything. She hummed and continued walking, heading for her door. It was the first time a stranger had shared her bed and offered her a 'thanks'. She rolled her eyes at herself, knowing full well this was the first time anyone had shared her bed.
She had made good progress as she rushed down her hall before the sudden appearance of the stranger, clothed in his full appeal, appeared behind her. Half limping after her with a stiff right leg. She more or less ignored him as she kept her brisk pace. Her mindfully set on the predictable response of the South. No doubt some freeman, or the captain of the guard would rally the South and attempt something absurd.
"I don't believe I've had the honour of knowing your name," she left him in silence for a few seconds, before responding harshly. "Commissar, while I would love to treat you to a formal welcome, your… distasteful arrival has created some difficulties I do need to solve." She glanced over her shoulder, still keeping her pace. She noted that he had already found his weapons. A sword on his belt and the same pistol used to kill Shri was in a holster. "What type of difficulties." His sober voice was something new to her ears, compared to the accents of Lyten, the droning of Lloyd, and the roaring of Shri. "Oh, you know, a funeral, flowers, and The possibility of being at war." She answered in an upset tone. "A revolt?" "No, well..." Her answer was short as she turned descended down a set of stairs.
The Commissar's boots sounded heavy behind her. "Are you not the Planetary Governor?" He asked. "Hmm? Oh, no, no. I am the Colonel. I'm sure the paperwork is around with one of the slaves, anyway the Governor would be the Warden of the West. No worries, you killed the Southern Warden. Now, Lloyd wouldn't care if a Warden was killed, but seeing how the blame would most likely be placed on me. You being in my care, or… Yes, actually-he'll try to take me out of power and lynch me or something."
The Commissar stopped in his tracks, mulling over her rushed and confusing rants of Information., Only to rush after Antienta after she burst through a set of doors just to go down another set of stairs, and hop through yet another door.
"This... is my parlour, and you should be seeing the 'Heart of the Belle' soon enough- Slave! Get me the Captain at the Main Gate!" She yelled at the first man she saw before continuing on. "Slaves?" The Commissar asked curiously. "Yes-" She pushes through another set of doors, and then a final set before emerging outside her estate. "Everyone is a slave save those who can afford their freedom. It doesn't mean much in the East, but everyone volunteering in the regiment gains their freedom." "Volunteers?" Antienta rolled her eyes with a huff. Drawing up her knowledge she tried to halt his questions. "For the best of the Schola Progenium, you sure do ask a lot of questions." Without missing a beat she hopped into a prearranged carriage waiting for her. She gave a word and the carriage sped off without the Commissar, causing him to run and hop in the missing doors before he was left behind.
"Pardon me-" he sat down across from the Colonel, upset. "But waking up in a stranger's bed with a nothing more than a nod, and right after fighting for my life in a pit added to being knocked unconscious, I believe my questions are justified." Antienta huffed, saying nothing as she stared at the Commissar's eyes, crossing her arms under her breasts, she averted her gaze to the side of the carriage and observed six of her household guards, armored in boiled leather and chainmail, run down the main road of the city carrying two heavy machine guns and boxes of ammo. Despite the guard himself only being given a pistol, she did enjoy heavy weapons, and thus kept them in production. She remembered setting a monthly quota, but forgot the numbers The main road lead west, directly to the main gate of the city and originated from her palace. The carriage driver keeping a heavy pace on the horses easily outran the guards and kept tumbling down the road.
"Do you not have any motorized vehicles?" The Commissar asked after a long moments of silence. Twenty minutes of silence actually. The Colonel's gaze fell upon him. "Yes, but I prefer my horses. And the city isn't that large, I think," Antienta leapt out from her carriage as soon as I came to a halt, the Commissar at her heels as they reach the main gate. The Colonel disappears into a stone gatehouse and reappears climbing to the summit of the 70-foot wall.
She finally reached the top of the wall. She herself did not know how long it stretched, but she knew the walls were six feet thick. "They'll hold," She murmured to herself, giving a quick glance around herself. The battlements stretched across the wall with many stone gatehouses sprinkled along the walls with a garrison and a heavy weapons team. A guard dressed differently than the others and with a somewhat familiar face greeted her. She heard him speak some words, but instead was drawn to the edge of the battlements and found a pleasant surprise beyond her walls.
"Apparently, your city is being sieged." "Apparently." Colonel parroted The Commissar's words as he peered over his shoulder. A force of a thousand or so was assembled in front of her gate. Tents were being set up by camp followers in the back, the thousand assumedly southerners stood in two formations with two wooden ladders laid to the side. Three caravans stood off to the far left, waiting until the conflict was resolved. An unremarkable figure stood before the others with a small retinue. He did become remarkable once she remembered that Shri had a bastard son.
The Colonel let out a long sigh, "What are the-" "They want both your, and the Representative's head along with the rest of the city." "A thousand men… what do they think to accomplish? My guard is ten times their size and the Belle has her stores… southerners…." The captain glanced at Commissar, about to say something, but redressed the Colonel, "My lady, shall we send a- 'Messenger?'" A sly smirk grew on her face. Levy rethought his initial impressions of the woman. "Yes, but bring me an extra stabber," She gestured to one of the machine guns a few feet to her left. Levy had taken interest in the weapon. It looked like a large heavy stubber, but required two men to operate one, and was called a 'stabber'.
The six guards they passed before arrived on the scene, bringing ammo and two more 'Stabbers' By the time they arrived and set their guns, the messenger the Colonel sent with malicious intent had reached the besieging 'army' lines. From his point of view from up on the battlements, the slave had nothing in his hands and only had words to offer to Shri's was leading the siege against them. A few seconds passed, the slave spun on his heels and began running towards the gates. He would get far as three arrows planted themselves into his back. The boy who thought himself a Commander spun on his heels and walked away from the siege.
The Colonel crackled in laughter, ignoring the look Levy was giving her. She turned to her captain with a grin and gave an order. "Cut them down."
It first started with a loud tapping, a small rattle sounding after every piece of brass hit the stone battlements. Another tapping joined the first, then another, then another. Four Heavy 'Stabbers' Hardly a fraction of the city's defences and manpower, fired into the two formations waiting for a response to their demands.
The 12.7 calibre bullets, bought from Western factories, poured into the 1000 southerners who had the audacity to even try and attack the city's walls. Two guns were trained on each formation, each gun fired 650 rounds per minute, holding as many bullets as the boxes of ammunition held. The two rabbles of southern hunters and household guards broke ranks before the first fifteen bodies hit the ground. Two mounds of bodies already existing as the childish attempt of a siege failed horribly, and the force of 1000 dwindled to 300 in the first minute of fire.
The Colonel crackled once more in her amused voice. "A thousand… one, thousand. Heh… adorable." She tapped the closet gunner with her foot, pointing him in the direction of a splinter group from the main route. The gunner nodded without emotion as he swivelled his gun and fired three bursts into the back of the fleeing men. A bullet severed a leg, another tore off an arm, and a third managed a shoulder. The rest suffered cleaner deaths.
The tapping of the stabbers continued, castings bouncing off stone and bodies alike.
She frowned at those she ordered dead. "Are you using AP?" She tilted her head and questioned the gunner, looking at him from the corner of her eye. He elbowed his partner, who examined the chain of bullets they were firing, and called out, "Explosive caps, M'Lady!" The Colonel hummed, losing her smirk and instead glared at the corpses. "A waste of coin…" Not a single man survived the massacre, their bodies trailing only a few meters away from where they stood. Their route failing. She spun around to her captain and gave him instructions.
"Five more Stabbers spread them about the walls and organize some daily patrols. Get some slaves and clean up that mess. Send out some foresters and get some crosses. Not a single grave will be spared for these traitors. Or are they radicals? Start investigating anyone entering or leaving. Look for papers, their hair, eyes, or whatever. I want to know who's leaving and who's entering." She stepped forward and spat off the battlements. Giving a cold glare to the riddled corpses loitering in front of her city. She didn't know if Regimental Commanders were allowed to have property on Imperial Palaces, but all that matters is that the other Wardens think they can.
"That is… one way to deal with a siege…" said Levy, giving the Colonel another revaluation at her response to the waste of time. He gave her an inquisitorial side look, interested in where this infighting will lead. She said nothing but hummed, a small smirk growing on her face as she began to descend the wall's steps. She paused as a voice called out to her, it was one of her guards. "M'Lady! Are… are we at war?" The Colonel sized up the guard, peering into her eyes. She looked not afraid, but obviously upset. Antienta said nothing to her guard directly, instead, she turned and continued walking down the stairs.
"Time will tell… The bodies too,"
Righty-righty. Congratulations to whoever reads this. I do recognize some of this is rather boring, and I'm (though even generally) poor at writing hand-to-hand. So do leave your reviews, tell me to go to hell, kill myself, or any of that lovely stuff. Or you could be nice and tell me why i'm such a sad excuse for a writer and even better how to fix that. Anyway, have a lovely day, and poka.